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cleolinda · 1 year ago

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My sister noticed

Previously on: I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice: So I told you a story about how a Count Chocula used to creep behind me at night when I was a child, and I described my very weird childhood home to you. I told you how my sister had Something Dark living in her bedroom, and I told you about the time she and I compared notes and realized that we also had the ghost of a young woman in the house. Maybe.

I asked my sister to read over the draft for me, maybe gather up the fortitude to fill in some details, and she texted back, "Oh, I'll tell you anything you want. But that’s not how it happened."

I am willing to believe her version for two reasons:

1) My memory has been shit after having covid umpteen thousand times.

2) I actually remember her version of the conversation we had, now that it's in front of me.

I also remember my version, is the thing—the one where I told her about Rebecca when we were younger. And that raises some questions about how independent, how uncompromised, our experiences were. But I think those questions are themselves the story. Can I trust my memory at all? I had such bad brain fog the first time I had covid that I could not remember how to scramble eggs. A lot of things are just mist to me now. There's what I remember and there's what actually happened, but what do I even remember? And that's before you even get into the idea that we're talking about ghosts we "felt" in the house. We saw no apparitions, no shadows, no odd movements.

This is not a story where I'm asking you to believe me.

There are things you experience, and things that happen. An example from the winter of 2016:

What I experienced was standing out on our deck one night and looking up at the stars. They were moving in a slight swirl motion, not unlike the painting Starry Night. I turned to my mom and said, "Well, the stars are moving, so if the world ends or something any time soon, here's our first sign." She stared at me.

What happened was, our upstairs heating unit had a leak, and I sustained mild carbon monoxide poisoning. (I like rooms to be cool, so I had used the heater less than most people would, at least.) This was only discovered during a routine furnace check, after my vision had been a little weird and I had been deeply fatigued for two or three months. I have had a CO monitor upstairs ever since.

Did I see the stars swirling? Yes. Were they? No. That's the distinction I want you to make while I tell you all this. Did my sister and I experience things? Yes. Do I know what happened? No.

So what I agree happened was, we were having Grownup Sunday Family Dinner a few years back, maybe 2019 or so. I had been really into Buzzfeed Unsolved, which later evolved into Watcher Entertainment, but my sister was refusing to watch any of it. She's a big fan now, but she only started watching the guys last year. Yesterday, we tried to piece this back together via text.

My sister ["MS" from here on out]: Like I feel like off and on for years you mentioned [Shane and Ryan's shows] and I refused

MS: And one day my argument was to talk about our own house

Me [let's go with Cleolinda Jones, "CJ"]: You said you felt like fake ghost shows were disrespectful to people who actually experienced [hauntings].

MS: YES I FEEL LIKE THAT WAS THE CONVO

I love paranormal investigation shows, whether they're patently fake or not, as long as I enjoy the people investigating, so I couldn't understand why they personally offended her. Pulling at this thread back in 2019 is how the the whole ghost story started coming out.

CJ: And I was like, okay, but here’s one show where they get, like, nothing, but I can promise you that it's real

(Because the Unsolved/Watcher shows pair a believer with an actual skeptic who still, lo these many years later, does not believe in any of it. I truly believe Shane and Ryan would not stage "evidence," for that reason. Shane makes fun of ghosts and people who believe in them, but he's honest about it, and my sister likes that.)

At this point, we go back to the first version of the story that I posted: my sister had told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her when she was a preteen/early teenager. It felt very dark, very bad, and she had not told anyone else about it until that dinner. The way I relayed it to you, Dear Reader, was that she hadn't wanted to go into detail, and I wasn't sure what it looked like, or if it "lived" in the little witch closet, or what. That night at dinner, I had gone on to tell her that, you know, now that you mention it, I did feel like something used to follow me up there at night. And this was when "My sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears" had come in.

1. Something Dark

CJ: So you were telling me about our house being haunted. Something in your room. How would you describe it?

MS: I think it more lived in the attic

(our pal the dark fucked-up attic room)

MS: but would roam the entire floor so I felt it in the peach room [my (Cleo's) old bedroom and then later, my sister's] but more so in [the Four Closets Bedroom] as it was closer to the attic

MS: The best way I can describe it is just never feeling like I was alone. Feeling like something was always behind me. But I refused to turn around to look. It felt like a darkness that almost oozed behind you in a way that was almost suffocating.

CJ: What I find interesting is that we both describe it as Just Feelings, and never feeling alone.

My sister texted me at this point that she used to sense Something upstairs whether it was day or night; "even in the day, it didn't feel safe." But night was worse.

MS: There was one night in 3rd grade when I was reading and had like my first panic attack because I was newer to living upstairs and I felt it come in the room at night for the first time

MS: I also used to feel compelled to keep the AC running all night like it was never cold enough.

Here's the weird thing: when we moved to the house where I currently live and our rooms were on the same floor, we always fought over the thermostat. My sister hated her bedroom being too cool, whereas I get hot. I remember one night, we were arguing over it, and she was weirdly on the verge of tears: "Why do you have to have it so cold?" In 2023, my sister texted me at this point that she didn't want our childhood home to be cold; it was like the thing wanted that temperature, even if she hated it.

You often hear that ghosts make rooms cold, that's a big ghost hunter show thing—but whatever was up there couldn't lower the temperature on its own?

CJ: "If you can’t make it cold yourself, storebought is fine"

CJ: And you don’t have a visual impression of it, I’m not just blowing past that?

MS: I refused. REFUSED to look. Ever. For any reason.

CJ: I did too, so that’s interesting

CJ: I describe it as a Count Chocula, which should tell you how much it didn’t bother me. Which I find weird

(Truly, there is a reason I titled that post "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice.")

MS: I can’t tell if it was truly terrifying. Or if the amount of data I was getting from it was just so overwhelming that that alone was terrifying to a child. I wish I could answer that now.

CJ: Yeah, in some way I think we’re saying the same thing. I was seven years old and I couldn’t comprehend what it was, either, so I just imagined a silly vampire

CJ: like I can’t overstate how cartoonish it seemed to me at the time, while still being very DON’T LOOK BACK

Part of the problem, she added, was that she felt compelled to go turn down the air conditioning... and the thermostat was next to the (carpeted. shag carpeted) bathroom. And then she had to race back to her bedroom... the same way I used to, as quick as she could.

MS: I also felt like I could NOT run. Like the way you shouldn’t run away from a mountain lion. It would create the need for it to chase me.

MS: What is so strange is that [learning about paranormal investigation] has not changed my perception of my experience in the slightest. Whether that’s the reality or not. It is still something I find dark and terrifying.

CJ: I think you would answer this differently now than you did then: what do you think it was?

We discussed this by text for a while. I mentioned being intrigued that Something Dark wanted to be cold (but apparently was not able to make the room cold). My sister—having agreed to be quoted here—said, "I kinda hope to avoid someone being like 'you had a demon in your house,'" as she doesn't really feel like that's what it was. Her gut feeling (and, bear in mind, we are working off nothing but feelings here) is that it was a spirit or ghost: something formerly human. We agree that it seemed male in some way (again: a Chocula).

And you're probably thinking, This is total bullshit. And it probably is! I'm not claiming any of this to be real evidence! I just find it interesting that we somehow came up with the same bullshit.

CJ: It just fascinates me that I did not experience 90% of this, and yet I got a strong enough whiff of it that I’m like, yeah, I can see it

But what about the female presence, the one I went off to color with in the middle of the night?

2. Rebecca

MS: I didn’t find out you had done the ouija board until we were adults. You didn’t tell me when we were kids

MS: That’s why I was SO shocked when we talked at the dinner table.

See, I was convinced that I had told her about my ouija adventures when I was a teenager, and "What about Rebecca??" flowed really well in the first post. That conversation was already a bit fictionalized in order to condense it from what I remembered—that's how memoirs work, really, unless you have actual transcripts of your life and room to include them. You're telling a story. I thought I was telling a condensed version of a true story. And yet, I do remember how shocked my sister was at dinner that night. And she would have only been seven or eight when I was messing around with that shit. Those two things do support the idea that I wouldn't have told her.

MS: You did tell me skeletons lived in my closet tho

I told you I was kind of a shit.

CJ: when I told you about Rebecca, what was your reaction?

MS: That’s when I went white. Bc I realized we had had a similar experience and I wasn’t just crazy

CJ: The thing is, I WOULD HAVE SWORN I had told you about Rebecca when we were younger

MS: If you did you didn’t name her and that’s why it was nuts when I realized 2 decades later we pulled the same name and we both remembered it.

We did it again, too—I posted briefly about putting this whole saga together, and how my sister asked me to give the ghost a pseudonym (ghosts deserve privacy too). And in trying to think of a good replacement, we both came up with "Rebecca."

CJ: so how did you know the [original] name?

MS: Ouija board with [best friend, redacted] in the playroom when I was like 13. She cried the whole time. We both thought the other was moving [the planchette].

You'll remember the weird, windowless, sky-blue playroom with the scary door from the previous post.

MS: But she was crying so she wouldn’t have been. And I would have never pulled out the name [Not Actually Rebecca]

MS: There was part of me that wonders if I did it but I would have NEVER chosen Rebecca

CJ: So did I bring Rebecca up first in this conversation [at dinner in 2019], or did you? I did?

MS: You said it first. I would have never [told you first] cuz I would have thought you were placating me. Like I’d never really know if you weren’t just agreeing with me

And that's when my sister had "stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone 'go white' until that moment." And I had told her about getting up at midnight and going to color in the weird playroom, and someone else being in there with me, no big deal.

After all this discussion, we do think that Rebecca was briefly my "imaginary friend," but our mom told me to stop talking about that. Not because our mom was spooked, but because she felt like it was rude for me to talk about someone I was presumably making up in front of company. So that stopped. Thinking back on it, I just felt like someone was sitting next to me on the couch. I didn't feel anyone next to me; when I looked, I felt like I could see where... someone was not? The space that someone invisible was taking up? It felt like something reasonably friendly. "Chill" is the word I keep using. Not super eager or possessive, just like a girl who was a bit older, maybe a teenager, a babysitter age, who liked me well enough. There was some dark shit in the attic, apparently—it did feel very oppressive in there—but I would get a sense that a metaphorical desk lamp had been turned on. A presence that stayed back, relaxed, but emanated "hey, I'm here."

What my sister and I agreed on was that we remembered how these "feelings" were both vague and memorable. I can't remember events or chronology accurately, but I remember the actual sensations and presences very, very clearly. They resist reinterpretation. I can't sit here and say, "Oh, Rebecca was totally a guardian angel, I see that now." The Something Dark sounds functionally demonic, but my sister doesn't feel like that's accurate. (If anything, she gets a sense that this could have been a malicious uncle—not father—of some kind to Rebecca, if the two beings were related: particular in their vagueness.) These two presences just... were. My sister says she primarily sensed Rebecca outdoors in our backyard, when we were pretending (were we?) to play with fairies. I didn't sense Rebecca there—but then, I wasn't aware that what I sensed was a someone, not for another thirty years or so. My oblivious ass was up at midnight filling in my She-Ra coloring book with a ghost like, "Yeah, I'm alone in the dark for no reason, this is normal." It's only in retrospect that I recognize atmospheric feelings as things that actually took up space, and I don't know how I didn't see it at the time. I can't explain that, and I can't ask you to believe it. All I know is that my sister still feels very traumatized by her experience of it—and I can't explain why I don't.

I think one of the reasons paranormal investigation shows don't scare me a whole lot is because so much of the "evidence" is random knocks and creaks and movements and vibes, and I'm like, yeah, I've lived in two houses now like that. The door of my current bedroom opens and closes on its own all the time. It's probably a draft from the ventilation system (which does not have CO leaks anymore) (probably). I've seen something at this house that a lot of people might call a shadow person, but I was probably imagining it. So many of these ghost shows just have things that I grew up with and didn't even think a whole lot of at the time; I seem to be protected by a +3 Sphere of Sure, That's Fine. Is my current house also haunted? I honestly don't know. Would I notice if it was?

#part two of two #story time with cleo #long post #the haunting of jones house #spooky season #halloween everyday #me for some reason #first look on patreon

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ellesthots · 4 months ago

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Fateful Beginnings

XXIX. “uncanny valley”

parts: previous / next

plot: you and Bruce dance around the horrors of the weekend, desperate to make things right—or, at least, better.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, angst, mental health issues, descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury, grief, anxiety

words: 6.1k

prev. chapter summary (XXVIII): You go to Wayne Tower on Saturday night to talk to Alfred about ways to get Bruce help. Alfred is hopeless. Bruce intercepts, bitter at your intrusiveness, and storms off. You call Dr. Crane, who tells you to refrain from following him for fear of escalating the argument. On your walk home, you run into a panicked, horrified Bruce in an abandoned alley near his house. He does not recognize you, and after calling Alfred for him to be picked up, Bruce begs Alfred not to tell his parents about him being out so late. After a brief heartfelt (and teary) conversation with Alfred, where he expressed thanks and reassured you were not making things worse (as you thought, and still think), you went home. The next day, Bruce has no recollection of the night before, brought up to speed by Alfred. At Alfred’s urging, Bruce visits your apartment on Sunday, begging you to see his side. The argument becomes heated, and, convinced by Dr. Crane’s horrifying prognosis for Bruce and his own erratic, dangerous behavior, you do a last hail-mary to get him help: you lie about being the person who saw Bruce jump, expressing how terrified you were at thinking you’d watched him die. This immediately triggers Bruce to his childhood, and he does a hard reset on his denial, horrified he’s repeating the cycle, reassuring you he will accept help.

Outside of receiving some calls, you hadn't checked your phone since Thursday night. Texts, socials, it had all been abandoned trying to remove the noose snaking Bruce's neck. After the phone call with Alfred you were able to relax into bed and pull out your phone—immediately smacked by a bazillion texts from Mar, a few from your parents, and some mentions on Scypher. You clicked on Mar's texts first.

Thursday, 11:50pm: OMGGG just now seeing thissss i got so lit tonight. sorry!! idk if i can make it to help you move. def can't drive in the morning tho!!! ttys!!!

Friday, 1:20am: ok lolz i went to a second club 2nite and yahhh i don't think i can make it 2morrowww

Friday, 12:30pm: if ur still in town i could help, i just got a massive headache hahaha have you left yet

Friday, 1:22pm: ur prob on the road byeee

Friday, 1:30pm: wait ur still in Gotham??

Today, 12:58pm: BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! you didn't tell me you did the interview with him!! like actually!!!!!!! okayyyy too famous to respond to me I see? i'll make sure to visit to get your autograph lol.

Today, 2:15pm: bro i got so many more friend requests already today???? some are Bruce Wayne fan accounts. wtf!!!??? this is like blowing up

Today, 6:15pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:16pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:18pm: LOOK !!!!

She'd attached a Buzzfeed article titled: Bruce Wayne's First Interview Came Out Today, and Our Jaws (and Clothes) are on the Floor

You couldn't read any further though, seeing as you had a handful of texts from your parents to sort through.

Friday, 1:45pm: Hey hunny! Your mother and I are home from the second shot. She told me to text you 'I am fine'. We will call you this evening after I finish up the deck.

Friday, 6:37pm: MISSED CALL FROM DAD.

Friday, 6:40pm: Deck done. When you visit next I'll show you. Walter likes it. Love you

Today, 3:13pm: MISSED CALL FROM MOM.

Today, 3:20pm: Hi kiddo. Wow! Congratulations on the article! Debbie showed it to us when she visited earlier. I thought you said you were done with that guy. Love you sweety!

You responded to your dad about your mom, and your mom about the article. You refused to comment on her mention of Bruce, wanting to purge your mind as much as you were able to after the weekend you'd had. You resigned to calling her first thing in the morning, miserable over forgetting about her second shot. After responding to Mar to update her on staying (and to express faux excitement about the article's release), you stayed up a few more minutes to see if your parents might still be awake and responsive. Sleep.

You woke up late that day, around two in the afternoon; the only reason you hadn't slept even longer was a phone call from Dr. Vry startling you awake. "Y/N! Have you seen your article? I can't believe it. Over a hundred applications just TODAY to the journalism program!"

You fought your way through the conversation, the gears in your head finally harnessing enough energy to start worrying again. The call ended quickly, as she 'had a lot of applications to get through', and you called your mom without a second glance at your phone notifications.

"Hey sweetie. I saw your text last night, but I couldn't respond. Walter was finally curled up in my lap, you know how sensitive he is." She sounded fine, neither ecstatic nor miserable. Her energy picked up when she started talking about your article. "Your dad was looking into that Wayne guy, and ran across that article of yours. He didn't know it was you that wrote it until Debbie brought it over!"

You'd padded out to your kitchen to make some toast with the butt of the bread. "Since when is dad researching things about Gotham?"

"He's been very intrigued ever since graduation. He—"

Your dad sounded off in the background. "Hun? Hey! I saw that article of yours! His first interview ever. That's a big family, you know. The Waynes. It's a big deal sweetie!"

He continued without leaving space for you to change the topic. "You know about his parents, right? God, poor kid. Seems to have recovered from it well enough."

You stifled a laugh at him delivering the most famous lore of Gotham city like it was breaking news. "Yeah, I know about his parents."

"You know, I knew I sensed something between you two. When's he coming to visit?" You heard a meow in the background, and you could only imagine your dad was munching on some sandwich he desperately wanted.

"Dad,"

"People don't give their first interviews to just anyone. Must've really impressed him."

"He's never coming over, dad."

"You don't have to be embarrassed honey. He seems like a stand-up guy! Next visit, bring him."

"It sounds like you want to meet him." You rubbed your temples, having temporarily abandoned your peanut butter spreading. You didn't know if you were right, but you could've sworn you heard him shaking his head. Walter meowed again. He definitely had some sort of food in his hand.

"What kind of dad would I be if I weren't excited to meet my daughter's boyfriend?"

The juxtaposition of the past few days to his chipper, nonchalant demeanor was stark, reducing you to a teary mess. No, you wanted to snap at him. I actually visited him in a psych ward. Had to stop his future from becoming a funeral.

"Hey, whoa now..." Your mom spoke in a hushed, frustrated tone in the background. "I'm sorry sweetie. I get it. I won't talk about him anymore."

You continued to cry, unable to get any words out. It was like you were finally able to feel the weight of what had been placed on you, feel the piercing stab of the fear it instilled. Your sobs were so pathetic and deep that your mom kept asking if you could breathe. It took much longer than you were comfortable with to even begin steadying, and when you did you knew it wouldn't last. You told them you had to get back to work, and that you'd see them in two weeks.

Vanity Fair. Vogue. People. Cosmopolitan. Us Weekly. Elle. Glamour. Seventeen. Marie Claire. Your eyes had fuzzed over as anxiety nestled into your gut. So this had been... this had been huge. 600 followers had turned into 13,000, and that was just on Scypher. Instagram had 300, now 6,500. So many mentions, so many comments, you started to panic even more. You tossed the phone across the bed and wrapped your arms around your body, rocking slowly back and forth, squeezing your arms so hard they began to ache. Flashbacks to Saturday night pulsed between your eardrums, projected on the back wall of your mind. You'd never seen someone so out of their element before. The image of him in the fetal position on the ground. The screaming. The nearly incomprehensible rattle in his voice. The stitches that bulged, the skin sloughed off his fingers. The blood. The sweat. The panic. Dread. Fear. Hysteria.

Your hands shook just the same as they fought to text Alfred. Your fingers garbled the message, but you couldn't handle another second without knowing if he was alive or dead. What if he'd taken the whole fucking bottle? What if he was on the floor of his bedroom, the last dregs of his functioning body procuring foamy spit out of his mouth for him to choke on? What if he flung himself off another building? His house was so fucking tall. So empty. So huge. So many places he wouldn't be seen, he wouldn't be found, so many places someone could hide if they needed, or wanted. What if he was strung up by his neck on a ceiling bar?

You shrieked in pain as waves of fear ravaged you. If it were real water you'd be swept under, and you wouldn't even fight it. The water would take away all your troubles, your worries, your fears. But he couldn't know that. They couldn't know what this was doing to you.

You set the phone down.

If he knew, he'd feel guilty. He couldn't feel guilty. Guilt would hurt him more. Guilt could push him over the edge.

Instead, you dialed Dr. Crane. He answered on the second ring, always so quick. "Y/N. I was about to call you. Before we get into it, why did you call?"

Anxiety lurched up into your chest, eager to overwhelm and incapacitate. "Get into what?"

Dr. Crane laughed, a discordant sound that chilled you. "To thank you. Whatever you did, it was successful. This is strictly confidential, but he is accepting treatment."

So he's alive? "I wanted to talk to you about that." You swallowed hard, yanking at a loose thread in your comforter. "I uh, he wasn't going to get help until I, until I lied."

"About what?" Dr. Crane's composure was always strictly maintained, and this time was no different. He never gave away his feelings. "I had to tell him I was the witness. I said I saw him jump."

"Oh."

That was quite possibly the worst thing he could've said.

"Well, that changes things."

"What things?"

"For one, that's a secret you must keep. Glad you clued me in." You heard a rustling of papers, a hushing of his tone. "Usually that would be unacceptable, but if we're both being honest," His candor was unsettling. "I have yet to see someone as deeply in denial as him accept treatment. I went to sleep fully anticipating waking to news of his passing." His tone was suddenly lighter, almost singsongy. "I can't say I'm disappointed in you."

You had no concept of how to respond to that. Guilt ulcerated your stomach and strangled your chest, but at least Bruce was breathing. After a silence that was too long, long enough you were surprised he hadn't yet hung up, you spoke. "Are we, are you, sure?" Words were having trouble finding you. "About the lying? I didn't see it, and what if the real witness,”

"There is nothing to be concerned about regarding the witness. Mr. Wayne has begun treatment, and will soon be stable. Incredible work."

"I—"

"You saved Bruce Wayne’s life, Y/N. It's only a shame it's a badge you can’t share." You could hear the smile in his tone, but you weren't happy. The reassurance you’d been seeking was far from assuring, leaving you situated in an uncanny valley of suspicion. How could he be so joyful? Why wasn't he drilling you about going to such lengths? Had it… had it really been that fucking hopeless? Anger boiled in you at the prospect of Dr. Crane knowingly sending you on a suicide mission. Before you burnt the bridge, you thanked him for the update and hung up. It took everything in you not to throw the phone against the wall.

The shower was scalding. You barely felt it. He must have thought he wouldn't make it. He seemed so fucking resolved to Bruce's death. Fully anticipating waking up to news of his passing? But there was 'nothing he could do'? Not a word of tangible advice besides 'don't go after him'. If I listened to him, who knows who would have found him out there! Would he have attempted again? You also wrestled with the uncomfortable reality that Dr. Crane had been correct; you had played a vital role in him accepting treatment. Had Dr. Crane psychoanalyzed you, deemed you the sort of person to lie if needed? Someone he could push to do things outside of personal liability? A sort of reverse hitman?

As you toweled off, your anxious mind continued its rumination. So he took meds. But did he take just one? Alfred will watch him, right? Hold onto his meds, only give him them as needed? Is he employing a system, making sure he checks under Bruce's tongue, locks the bathrooms, listens for retching, making sure the medication is accurately and genuinely consumed, as prescribed? You needed a break, but you couldn't find one. Sitting on the edge of your bed you knew you wouldn't be able to rest until you knew he was alive right now. And the next day. And the next day. And the next. A boulder jammed down your shoulders knowing you wouldn't be satisfied unless he personally slept on your couch so you could monitor him like a newborn. His attempt and general discontent were affecting you far more than you'd initially internalized.

Bruce sat in Alfred's study by the fireplace, staring out the window towards the grounds. Over breakfast with Alfred he took the first dose of the medication, and only a few hours later he swore he could feel the effects. He'd done some quick googling on olanzapine, and it appeared he was having a placebo effect. At minimum he'd feel effects in a few days, more likely after a week or two. He had to stop researching after that, too freaked out about having to be on antipsychotics, too much still in disbelief about how he'd done something so drastic yet had no memory of it. Alfred convinced him to stay 'home' from Batman for the rest of the week, which was an unusually easy feat considering how he hadn't taken a voluntary night off since beginning the project years ago. It broke him how upset you'd been, and he knew he wouldn't be able to see Alfred cry again. That was unbearable.

He didn't have much to do; he quickly realized he had been living only for the night. There really wasn't anything to do in the tower; no games (outside of a dusty chess board in Alfred's study), one old television (also in Alfred's study, off to an adjacent corner), no gym (he overextended himself enough as Batman), and the house was generally kempt from Dory's attentive cleaning in a house that didn't need more than dusting anyway.

Alfred told him to skip the meeting this week; Bruce initially hadn’t cared much either way, but realized that wasn't an option after misery frayed his nerves with just half a day of sitting around. In order to go in public, he needed to not be scarred and scabbed to hell; he wanted to walk the grounds, but worried about doing it in the daytime in the state he was in. Your article’s release had also prompted a patch of reporters to hang around his house, increasing his surveillance. Give an inch, they’ll take a mile. He and Alfred briefly discussed the contingency plan they kept at the ready: staged police photos of a nasty car crash on the edge of the grounds, but he couldn't share them yet—he wanted to leave you as much time as possible to soak up the success of the interview. You deserved that much, you deserved more after what he'd put you through. At least once an hour he thought about calling you, and he very nearly did a few times. He worried about you. Were you safe? Did you need anything?

On some level, he theorized focusing so much on you was a coping mechanism to escape his failing mental capacity. The more he focused on you, the less real estate his panic had. Last night had been miserable. He'd stayed awake staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with shock and fear. He’d wondered if this is what his mom had endured, but he didn’t have the mental fortitude yet to go digging through Arkham Asylum records. He didn’t know if he ever would again, so he simply sat. Watched the clouds move along the skyline. Watched the shrubs sway in the backyard. Followed the occasional crow floating past the windows.

As soon as darkness fell he couldn't contain himself any longer. The nagging feeling of someone he traumatized being alone in it was too much. He grabbed a hoodie and walked to the elevator, sure he could make a free escape through the old subway route. His hand hesitated before pressing the button. What if you didn't want him to visit? What if it was too stressful? He couldn't keep coming over unannounced, it was weird. Not normal. Alfred had heard the metal rustling and walked into the kitchen. His brow furrowed. "I thought you were taking a break from him?"

"I am." He stared at the ground, lost in thought. "Would you call her?"

"Miss Y/N?" Alfred's voice was soft, concerned. "Sure, why?"

Bruce had conveniently kept to himself that you'd been the one to watch him jump. That you were the witness, that you'd called 911. "I want to give her an update."

Alfred pulled out his phone and Bruce walked closer, bridging the gap between them. "Ask if I could talk to her." He didn't blink until you picked up, hiding a wince at how you'd done so before the end of the first ring. You were scared. Desperate.

"Miss Y/N, I hope this isn't a bad time." Alfred paused with the phone to his ear, his expression faltering before he let out a small chuckle. It was hollow. "No, he's alright. He wanted to see if he could speak to you now."

He handed the phone to Bruce, who quickly scurried up the stairs and into his room. He only put the phone to his ear once the door was closed behind him. "Y/N?"

"Bruce." It was so nice to hear your voice when it wasn't panicked. You sounded a bit tired, breathy, but miles better than yesterday. A sigh of relief heaved out of him, to which you had a reflexive response. "Are you okay?" Your voice rose, both in volume and octave.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"I really don't think it matters,"

He bit back a part of him that wanted to say you were the only thing that mattered. He'd broken you. "Are you?"

You sighed. "Yes. Did you uh,"

"I got the meds."

"Good. Did you take them? Or, one, or, whatever the dose,"

"Yeah." He could hear how clouded your mind was, and it was excruciating being so limited to the phone. He remembered the first week after the murder. His mind had been a hazy minefield, everything running on autopilot. The tears, his limbs, his voice, nothing had been a conscious decision for weeks. Sure, he hadn't died, but you'd thought he had. If… his parents had survived, he figured he would've been in a similar state regardless. He wanted to help you, but he didn't know how.

"How long does it take the medication to work?"

"A few days. Maybe a few weeks." After his parents died, everyone brought him food. Random strangers had brought flowers, and food, and even stuffed toys for him to cuddle with. He'd only kept one, a stuffed dinosaur, now tucked into the back of his linen closet. Alfred checked on him constantly. No longer did he have to do his chores; Dory and Alfred picked up the slack. No longer did he have to deal with hearing his mom demand he eat his veggies and sides before getting another helping of soup, he only had soup. And juice, and soda, and warm blankets fresh out of the dryer. He remembered the warmth. Of the blanket, the soup. Those, paired with the scraggly dino in his arms, were the only things that made a decimal of impact on his devastation. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Do you?"

"Do you want anything?"

"I'm good. What about you?"

He didn't believe it. You were trying to spare him, just like you had by making yourself anonymous. Would it be wrong of him to come over? This late in the evening... probably. But he remembered the nights were the worst part. Alone in the empty darkness. Less cars, less lights, even the reruns on tv were stale at that time. It left no room for distraction. And honestly, he worried if he didn't distract you from your pain, he'd be gridlocked by his.

"Can I stop by?"

Onion, celery, carrots, butter, flour, curry powder, chicken broth, an apple, rice, chicken breast, thyme, and heavy cream. He didn't know how to make much, and Alfred didn't keep much variety around, but you hadn't balked at mulligatawny the first night you'd stayed here, and it was one of the few things he knew how to make without a recipe. It was also one of the few things the old man always kept fresh and stocked, especially now that Bruce was in recovery mode. Most importantly, it was warm. It was only nine, he could get this done before ten, and be gone before midnight. Just in time for you to get tired and go to sleep, without hours spent tossing and turning alone in bed. It was the least he could do for you.

He'd never felt more ridiculous than he did when he opened your door. The backpack was heavy and a reminder that he hadn't asked if he could cook, but assumed he would waltz into your kitchen and work some magic. You invited him in and he went straight to the island, setting down his pack and taking out the supplies. Your face scrunched with confusion. "What are you doing?"

He kept taking out food while he thought of how to phrase it. It was like his mind was slowed down, your apartment a pool of tv static. "I wanted to cook." Pause. "For you." Another pause, and he took out the apple. "It's warm." Fuck, could he have explained it any worse?

He paused and you watched him slowly move to meet your eyes. "Can I?" His hand was hovering above one of the drawers, ready to get to work. "Sure." You didn't understand why he couldn't cook at his house, but you couldn’t complain; still coming down from the nauseating blend of relief and guilt that gnawed at you when you finally saw him in the flesh. Like being attacked by a wave on a hot day; soothing, but bitterly cold at the same time.

You had reassembled the chairs today, and the table. You'd anticipated calling Mar later tonight if she weren’t already at a club, offering to order some takeout and have a movie night. When thinking up a distraction, you certainly hadn't anticipated Chef Bruce appearing with fixings for a mystery meal. Did billionaires even know how to cook? Did billionaire Bruce Wayne ever have to fend for himself in the kitchen? A brief image of him staring confusedly at a box of cereal made your mouth twitch into a grin.

Good. Your humor was still there, thank god. With his back turned to you, facing the burner, you could finally, finally, finally, finally unclench your jaw and drop your shoulders. He was here. It was weird, and uncomfortable, but undeniable. He was here, not hanging from a rafter or god knows where doing god knows what in the city. He was putting butter in a pan, and grabbing a wooden spoon. He was alive.

But... this was still out of character, which raised an orange flag. You waited for him to reach an impasse before speaking, tapping his fingers on the countertop while he watched the rice cook. An apple sat cubed to the left, the chicken sizzling on the back burner. "How are you? Really?"

Bruce needed to toe the line. Too honest and it would shift the focus to him, further distressing you; too dishonest and you'd dismiss it before he finished speaking. His body didn't just ache, it screamed at him. Every step, even every time he spoke, felt like torture. He'd teared up at multiple points between the lobby and your unit. His spirit was entirely crushed, shattered into irredeemable smithereens. He hung his head and let all the air out of his lungs, letting his weight fall into his wrists as he leaned over the stove. "Not great."

It should've pained you to hear that, instead it felt like wind in your sails. He was being honest. You could work with that. Honesty didn't need to be interrogated or sleuthed upon. "How can I help?"

He wanted to say you've done enough and don't want your pity, but it felt too real. You didn't need that tonight, not so close to the event. "Taste the soup and tell me if it needs anything." He prayed you wouldn’t keep asking.

"How would I know?"

"I want it to suit your taste."

"I don't know what it's supposed to taste like." You were hyperaware he hadn't answered you, not in the way you wanted. Maybe it was too close for comfort right now. Maybe all you needed to do was focus on him being here, and ask questions later.

"Pepper, curry flavor. Creamy." He stirred something fragrant on the stovetop.

"What's the apple doing?"

"It's necessary." It felt good talking about something else with you. Something normal. Not Batman, not his legacy, not the attempt. Still, all of it clouded and constricted the conversation, a constant tension you both wittingly ignored. "Smooths the spice."

I barely tasted it that night. Too scary being trapped in the house of one of the most powerful men in the world. You watched as he stirred, chopped, and fluffed. You were brought back home with your parents, watching them make dinner while you sat at the dining table and talked at them. He glanced around and looked at the can of heavy cream. In an instant you were up and grabbing a can opener, desperate to do your part. He instructed you to pour it into the pan, and for a half second he was just another guy; an acquaintance, someone passing through; someone regular, unassuming.

After a few more minutes of sitting around, you grabbed some bowls and spoons. After a quick taste he required you take ("Need to know if I missed something"), he ladled the bowls full, and you both walked slowly, carefully over to the table to set down the steaming soup. Bruce dug in without waiting, while you blowed on a single spoonful until every bit of steam hesitated to rise from it.

He watched you apprehensively. Your eyes widened a bit, and he could see your jaw moving like you were savoring it. "How is it?" It tasted fairly similar to how Alfred made it, which was fairly similar to how his mom had made it. At the very least he hadn't royally fucked up. Who knows, maybe olanzapine changes tastebuds.

You nodded, blowing on another bite. "Mulling it over."

God, that was so droll... it tugged a whispering grin to his lips, his bite slipping back into the bowl at the gentle movement of his dry chuckle.

He was laughing. Not really. Kind of. Weird, but yay! "I've never tasted anything like it. It's good."

"Don't have to placate me."

"It's peppery. Curry. Creamy."

He rolled his eyes and tossed another spoonful into his mouth. "Creative. What's the apple for?"

The tension never left, though you both did your best to selfishly soothe it through dry humor. The most either of you did was grin, breathe a little extra air through your nose. When he wasn't looking your eyes wandered to his purple and green bruises, and the complementary crusting scabs along his neck and hands. You wondered if he was suicidal right now, but wasn't saying anything. When you weren't looking, he studied your body language, hoping it would betray you. Were you scared right now? Did you think this was the weirdest thing ever, like he did? Did you think this was creepy? Was it creepy? Was it helping? Was he helping you?

You both finished and walked your bowls to the sink. He started rinsing them and reached for the dish soap, and you let him for a little. After he pat dry the first bowl, you couldn't sit with this worry on your chest any longer. The food had been warm and energizing, the mood made less intimidating with the joking, and all of it together held your hand as you broached the topic. It made you sick how concerned he was about your wellbeing; yes, he scared you, images of his frenzied, panicked face waking you up in the dead of night, but you hadn't watched him nearly die like he thought. His worry felt like rain on a hundred degree day: unsettling and unwelcome. You inhaled fully, hoping enough oxygen would get to some brave neurons and force the words past your teeth. They caught in your chest and by then he'd finished the second bowl; anxiety palpated your heart, bullying it into silence. You overrode it. "Bruce."

At once he abandoned the silverware and turned toward you. His analytical gaze peppered your face and the fingers that annihilated your cuticles. The stench of something burning singed your nostrils, your eyes tracking the source to the hem of his sweatshirt draped over the hot stove, smoking as small flames burnt through the cotton. Perhaps waiting to be seen, it erupted into a blazing ball of flame. You yelped and jumped toward the sink, grabbing the adjustable faucet and spraying him down. The flames went out, he turned off the burner, and you looked around for some magazines or papers to fan away the tendrils of smoke wafting toward the fire alarm.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You glanced back and saw Bruce sopping wet, his hair having gotten in the mix too, draped over his eyes; the singed, ripped edges of his shirt that he clutched between his hands. You bit your lip to reign in your laugh. He started hurrying the shirt off his back, and gently shook it out to see if it had juice left in it. That was the kicker, sending you bolting toward your bedroom. You couldn't be laughing at him all the time. Get it together! He's hurting! But the laughs escaped your tight-lipped prison, and soon his shadow was in the doorway. As quickly as you'd laughed, you began to cry. You dropped to your knees at the whiplash; what once was dead, was now making soup in your apartment. Dancing around it wasn't helping, it was exacerbating the pain. He didn't hesitate to walk over, his long legs getting him across the room in only a few strides.

He didn't think you were crying about the fire. He stood helplessly beside you, unable to make a decision on what to do next. Guilt bloomed angry, self-flagellating thoughts, wishing he hadn't ran with his ego and coddled his denial. He placed a light touch to your shoulder and you jumped up. "I'm fine." He didn't say anything, only sat and watched as you struggled to reign in your barrage of tears. Your fingers threatened to go numb, and you attempted to shake the tingles away. "My body just needs to cry and then, then I'm done." You turned away from him and pressed your clammy palms to your cheeks, trying to physically shove the tears back into hiding.

After what seemed like an extended period of sniffling tears, you looked back at him. He was sat on the edge of your bed, his sweatshirt draped over his forearm. You could see more of the deeper wounds on his arms now, which was a viscerally surreal feeling. It was impossible not to be aware of his reputation; it preceded him at every turn, he was correct about that. Something entirely new though was seeing the fallibility so transparently.

Before graduation—and honestly, before seeing him breaking down in the alley—you had practically thought he was immortal. You wouldn't have done such ridiculous, dangerous bullshit as walking through an active crime scene at night if you hadn't internalized his heroism. Until this moment you hadn't realized how much you'd relied on that story; the subconscious reassurance that the Batman provided to Gotham's citizens. The mythical creature unfazed by bullets, incapacitating anyone in its wake. Batman's neutralizing force was so accepted it went unquestioned; now you knew it was because no one truly knew him. You and Alfred were the only people who had. Suddenly, the world felt a lot more intimidating. If you were any less shaken up, you might've laughed at the unmasking of Santa; but even children mourned the loss of magic, and here you were muzzling yourself.

"Can I help?"

You needed to nip this in the bud. It was going to come out however it was going to come out, and you needed to be okay with that. "I, appreciate the effort." It wasn't coming out so easily. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. "But I want this to stop." I didn't watch you. "You don't want my pity, and I don't want yours." Too harsh, scale back. "The only thing I need is for you to be safe. Alive."

You sounded so much like Alfred that Bruce bit back a snarky retort. Not the time nor the place. Your bed creaked as he stood up. He hated how your words sat in his chest, but there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it. "Okay."

No argument, no fighting. Like you requested something he already vowed to do. He walked past you into the kitchen, and you followed on his heel. You had never been so close to him alone, and never from behind. His back was broad, making his already impressive height even more menacing. Veins bulged under his skin. Swore a tendon twitched in his forearm every time he stepped on his left foot. If he had turned for the door you might have yelped, but he just finished the dishes in silence while you lingered, then sat on the couch. If someone walked in right now, and was one of the few humans who didn't know about Bruce Wayne, they might think this looked normal. It couldn't feel more foreign.

You didn't wait half a second after the sink turned off to fill the space. From your perch on the end of the couch, across the room. "Will you be safe once you leave?"

Like a knife scraping under his fingernails. So scared he wouldn't be alive the next morning. Skittish. "Yes." He wasn't looking back at you, wishing he hadn't already put down the dish towel so he'd have something to wring. "I promise."

What good's a promise if he's six feet under? Your life had become so singular so quickly, and you were anxious for it to get back to its usual painful mediocrity. "Really?"

Ugh. He turned to face you and followed your eyes searching the carpet. He sighed away his animosity, knowing the rage seeping into his chest was directed at himself; it was nothing greater than embellished fear. He knew this, was well acquainted with it. Maybe he did need to go back to therapy. He leaned his hip against the counter and winced, jamming straight into a blackened, split bruise. He grabbed his hoodie from where it was slung across the edge of the counter, grimacing at the effort only when his face was obscured. “Really.” Within seconds he was at the door, his hand on the handle. He noticed your eyes flash in his periphery, and his entire body constricted at the sight. He forced himself to meet your eyes. It was strenuous. He figured he needed to warn you. "Alfred and I have emergency plans for times like these. Whatever you read in the news, it's a cover-up." He popped open the door, hesitating on the departure. The air was thick with emotional exhaust. "I'll see you on Thursday?"

You nodded, relieved he was being more covert with his concern. Sugaring the medicine. "See you on Thursday."

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baddestbittyontheblock · 1 year ago

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sam kerr fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

༄ you're not yourself sam kerr x fem!reader

-you're not well, but you still go out to watch sam's game; but when she finds out you've come out when you're sick, she drops everything to take care of you

༄ being sam's sam kerr x fem!reader

-headcanons on your relationship with sam

༄ haven't i given enough sam kerr x reader

-When Sam and Y/N met, everything had just fallen into place. Y/N was interning at the local hospital when the Matilda's had come for a charity event, cheering up sick kids on the ward.

༄ chills sam kerr x reader

-the reader steals Sams hoodie

༄ surprise sam kerr x reader | fluff, pregnancy

-you come over to australia to surprise sam

༄ where it all began sam kerr x reader

-sam kerr proposes to you at the same place you both met 16 years ago

༄ that's how it's done sam kerr x reader

-The moment she strikes it, you know it's going in. The curl, the technique, the fact it was struck with such confidence despite being 30 metres out.

༄ ice cold sam kerr x reader

-You couldn’t have hated this more if you tried.

Every ticking second, every running, jogging, sprinting step was another towards the end of extra time. Another towards the shootout.

༄ sam blurb sam kerr x reader

-sam kerr fic where her and reader both play for Aus and win the wc

༄ you look like an angel sam kerr x reader

༄ i just wanted to see you sam kerr x reader

-Ever since the day you left you missed her. You missed her laugh, her smile, and the little notes she would leave for you when she would go run errands or go out with the girls.

༄ worst fears sam kerr x williamson!reader

-Part 2

༄ ring in the pocket sam kerr x reader | fluff

-mamma mia and a proposal

༄ chelsea matches and jerks sam kerr x reader | fluff

-you go to support your girlfriend at the FA Women's cup. some guy sitting next to you doesn't get the hint to back off. Sam takes things into her own hands.

༄ big sister's sam kerr x arnold!reader | angst, swearing

-what happens when your overprotective big sister finds out you're dating and not just that, you're dating the team captain. well shit.

༄ surprise superstar sam kerr x fem!reader

-after not seeing sam for a month, you fly out to watch the matilda's bronze medal match

༄ y/n l/n and sam kerr are in love: a thread sam kerr x fem!reader

-a series of tweets about the mutual pining that occurs between superstar sam kerr and y/n l/n

༄ close quarters sam kerr x reader | swearing

-Never has sharing a bed been so difficult

༄ easy peasy sam kerr x reader

-"Sammy, babe, I love you, but if you pace there any harder, you're gonna put a hole in the carpet. I don't think the hotel loves you enough for that."

༄ big ol' storm vs the amazing sam. sam kerr x reader

-As much as you loved that Sam was enjoying her time out, you hated the fact you were now stuck alone in your shared apartment at ten o'clock at night and forecast says a thunderstorm is looming on the horizon.

༄ hi sam sam kerr x reader | fluff

-sam and y/n throughout the years

༄ star player teenager!sam kerr x teenager!reader | minor character injury, fluff

-flowers, star players and soccer

༄ jumpers, apologies and proposals sam kerr x reader | angst, fighting, illusions to smut

-the aftermath of losing to england

༄ body slam sam kerr x reader | angst? dickhead, fluff

-a guy runs on the field mid-game and does the one thing that set's sam off. he touches you.

༄ invisible strings sam kerr x reader | underage drinking, gay pining, not proof read so u can call me out on grammar and i wont get my feelings hurt.

༄ buzzfeed; the 10 times sam kerr and y/n arnold nade us believe in love sam kerr x reader

༄ sam kerr and y/n arnold take a friendship test to see who's the better friend sam kerr x reader

༄ thirty laps around the sun sam kerr x fem!reader

-you celebrate sam's thirtieth birthday

༄ benched sam kerr x reader | pregnancy? slight injury to reader

༄ only slightly sam kerr x reader

-where Sam is only slightly mad that Y/N got hurt

༄ positive mum!sam kerr x fem!reader

-after so many negatives, you and sam finally get your two lines

༄ a raging heat mum!sam kerr x fem!reader

-your first month of pregnancy and you're having the worst time ever, but sam is trying her best to balance work and her pregnant wife

༄ back home mum!sam kerr x fem!reader

-the posts and stories from your flight and your first few days back home in perth

༄ accidents happen mum!sam kerr x fem!reader | (nora, age 3)

-sam takes nora to practice for the day, but she has an accident when left alone

༄ cockblocked sam kerr x reader | smut, minors dni 18+ (strap ons, vibrators, cunnilingus), light arsenal women x reader, just teasing fluff n fucking

༄ cheers to 20, have a tattoo sam kerr x reader | fluff, illusions to smut

-you got your first tattoo

༄ mayflower i sam kerr x fem!reader | ivf, pregnancy mentions, slight angst

༄ jump then fall sam kerr x fem!reader | puke, injury (broken wrist), hurt/comfort, fluff, sam being pookie caring girlfriend

-reader is unwell, she's a good actor though and can cover it up and hide it. But, playing a game while sick isn't always the best idea.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #auswnt #auswnt x reader #chelsea #chelsea women #sam kerr #sam kerr x reader #fic recs

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gilbirda · 9 months ago

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what are your thoughts on watcher’s new announcement?

So.

I've been watching the Boys since they started back in 2016 (i think around that era), and honestly I'm very conflicted about the decision. I've read so much stuff in favor and against the announcement and I don't know if my answer will satisfy you.

I have managed a community and I have the blessing and curse of being somewhat of a Name, experiencing the ordeal of being Known, and I can tell you that 1)you can never please everyone 2)people will always rush to crush you the second you do something they don't agree with 3)people will always twist everything you do with the worst faith in mind and 4)fandom forget very quickly that at the end of the day you are just human.

I think they made a calculated risk based on a purely economical viewpoint. I think they considered their loyal fanbase and how willing people have been so far with spending extra cash to support them — The live shows, the exclusive streams (like the Valentine's Too Many Spirits) and Patreon. How much of their fanbase was the "broke students" tumblr claim they are and how much was people with spending money willing to pay extra for them.

I also think that the decision seem stupid if you look at it from the perspective of "why the hell would I pay $6 to watch such little variety of content?" and that's a Correct Assumption, but Observe — they have been very slowly pulling everyone that made Buzzfeed famous and enrolling them in. Very recently they gathered the Worth It boys, the second show that kind of carried Buzzfeed back in the day (apart from the Try Guys). I think they can't talk about it right now, but the goal is to relaunch Buzzfeed but without ads and without making it the soulless content machine it became. I think their dream and goal has always been making what Buzzfeed could have been with better management, kind of like "If I was the Management in this company, things would have been better" dream fulfillment. That's why they made the direct jump to a streaming service instead of the logical steps of Patreon-exclusive content or even jumping to Nebula like other youtubers. It was never meant to stay one single channel, it was supposed to be bigger.

Is the projection of making a "better Buzzfeed" worth risking this step? Time will tell. I don't know. I personally never cared about anyone except Buzzfeed Unsolved. I still watch Unsolved on repeat. Is my comfort show. Maybe they are overestimating how much people care about other shows not hosted by them.

Although they did hint that "we want shows not hosted by us". This tells me that they are settling down, they want to ramp down a little bit, do the hook with Ghost Files aka Unsolved Supernatural Lite for the streaming service, and once people are hooked, launch more shows by the old-school Buzzfeed people. Won't be as big as a show hosted by Shane and Ryan, but it will still make people feel like they are getting their money's worth.

I would forgive all of this if only they didn't use the excuse of "if we want to do Netflix-level productions we need money". I'm sorry but that means nothing to me. We loved them when it was a powerpoint slide show with 2 idiots in a set. We didn't fall in love with the toys or the trips or the high tech. We didn't fall in love with the fancy animations at the beginning of Ghost Files episodes that they are so proud of. That was all their idea.

I've seen this trend of content creators ramping up their creations to an unsustainable point, completely crash and burn and then having to apologize about having to step back. Then making it the moral trap of an argument that they have been doing their best to bring quality content to their audience, and of course making it impossible to argue against. If you speak up and say "well we never asked you to break your back" then you are ungrateful audience. That's exactly what's going on in here with the Watcher announcement — "true fans" criticizing people who point out the fact that they created this money problem on their own. Is not the fanbase responsibility to cater to a company's bad money decisions. Is not our fault that they decide to scale up their operation to a point they "haven't been making a profit for 2 years". It's unfair that the fans are at each other's throats for daring stepping back and saying "I don't want to be part of this".

I don't think Watcher Entertainment is actively wanting to collapse their fandom like this. I don't think this was a calculated move. But I do think that they are a group of adults trying to make a career of something they enjoy doing. I think they made this move with the perspective that fandom is not end all and they can always rebuild it.

— And that they are planning on making a machine that can work without them, and that requires breaking something in the fans, it requires kicking themselves out of the pedestal fans have put them on. They know they won't be allowed to have a normal life until people stop looking at them waiting for them to say their phrase.

In conclusion I think they made a choice that made sense if they are planning on separating Watcher Entertainment from "The Ghoul Boys" fame, and it makes sense if they are aiming at something bigger than what they've been doing now. Money of course is the goal and the reason presented, but there's a lot that they are not saying and we will not know until it happens.

Until then, it does feel like they have just shot their careers in the foot.

Also I'm salty that I can't join the service because I'm outside the US.

#gil answers #miki-meh #watcher entertainment #watcher #you don't have to agree with me this is just my 2 cents #so far they've done everything right and this feels out of nowhere and very dumb #it makes me think there's A LOT they are not saying #they are planning on something bigger and riskier and they need to know how many of their fans would blindly follow #i also think they will step back from hosting in like 1-2 years or so #all the contemporary youtubers are stepping back right now #havent you guys noticed?#always the same 2 excuses #'the stress is taking a toll on my mental health' and 'ive been doing this for 10 years i want to move on'#i think they are preparing for making that step and dont want to say it

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fanficfindereks · 6 months ago

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Percy Jackson Outsider POVs

Only a glimpse into the lives we lead- With all the wars and prophecies finally compete Will decides to take up his mom’s offer to return home for the school year for the first time since he was nine. After everything he’s been through it’s a little strange to go back to the mortal world once again, and people in his town take notice of how different he seems. Or… A series of interconnected one-shots of people from Will’s hometown noticing there’s something different about him throughout the one year he spends going to school in the mortal world.- Archive Of Our Own

A strange string of disappearing children: cult or coincidence?- "So you guys know how Drew and Lacy are big true crime fans?" Piper said, biting her lip to hide the amused smile on her face as she addressed all the demigods who had gathered together in Rachel's cave. Drew and Lacy were currently sitting with their hands over their mouths to hide their own smiles as they waited for Piper to reveal what they had discovered a few days ago, "Well one of their favorite channels did a video about us." Instantly everyone was rushing to crowd around the laptop she was holding to try and see the mentioned video. Piper shushed them quickly, fearing the noise would alert one of the patrol harpies that they were all out of their cabin after hours and with mortal technology no less. Once everyone quieted down, Piper looked at the group with a grin, "Lets watch it. " Or... Buzzfeed unsolved make a video looking into a handful of different demigods and how their disappearances all seem to mysteriously overlap with one another. When the Aphrodite cabin finds the video they gather all the other cabins together to do a watch party and maybe to cause a little chaos once they learn just how interested the country is in their current whereabouts.- Archive our Own

we'll pass around the easy lie of absolutely no regrets- Nell Brackman has been a high school guidance counselor for a long time. She’s seen troublemakers in every variant, dealt with more kids with shitty situations than she likes to think about, and practically has the understanding, comforting, yet firm tone on lock. Her wife thinks the job can be too tough on her, being the one to see Nell deal with the frustration of not being able to do more for kids who just won’t help themselves the way that they need to, but at the end of the day, there is nothing she would rather do more. That’s what she thinks most of the time, at least. The sheer chaos of Percy Jackson’s file might be something that ticks today over into one of the times where she starts feeling differently, though.- Archive of our Own

Introducing: Dock Guy- “I thought we were going to the lake?” Fern turns them around, fidgeting nervously. “Yeah, sorry. Maybe later. Just… you should stay away from the guy on the docks.” That doesn’t sit right with Mel, but they mutter, “Okay.” They’re not really sure what’s gotten into Fern. He befriended Mel, the Crazy of Casper, after all. They're pretty sure that Fern could get along with just about anyone. Mel glances back at the docks. They hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a person sitting at the edge. Dark hair and facing away from them. A pair of shoes are set aside and his feet are dangling in the water. Even from here, he looks deep in thought. They wonder why people, why Fern, is avoiding him. Or, a new camper is told to avoid Percy. They think it's because Percy is the 'weird kid' of camp. They're wrong.- Archive of our Own

Think of the Children- Lauren Bennet has dealt with plenty of overzealous parents before, but this one takes the cake. Maybe they could skip the holiday pageant next year.- Archive of our Own

someone's halls are getting DECKED- “Paul, school let out 3 days ago, and I know damn well you just showed those kids The Muppet Christmas Carol the last few days instead of assigning them any actual work you’d have to grade. Just come over! It’s Christmas, and the last time you saw any of the family was at Thanksgiving 3 years ago. We’re your family, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be together for the holidays. You shouldn’t be spending them alone in your apartment with a cheap fake tree you bought at Lowe’s. Give me one good reason why you can’t come home, no shoddy excuses.” Cynthia said with finality. On the other line, Paul let out a shaky sigh, then went quiet for a minute. “Well?” “Mom, uh… You might want to sit down. I have some… news.” or the blofis family don't know about percy or sally. that is, until paul brings them home for the holidays.- Archive of Our Own

#percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #riordanverse #fanfiction #percabeth #annabeth chase #will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo #paul blofis #sally jackson

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toomanywatchers · 8 months ago

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How Steven Lim Impacted Me Growing Up:

I may have joined the Watcher fandom about a year ago, but I have known Steven since the early days of BuzzFeed. That's right, I have always been a Worth It guy since Season 2 if my memory is correct. I have been a fan of food content as some of the many reality TV shows I would watch with my family growing up were competitive food shows a la Gordon Rasmey shows. The thing that differed me from the rest of my family is that I would indulge in YouTube content more than traditional media.

That is why I believe middle-school-me was inclined to click on my first Worth It video; “$17 Fried Chicken Vs. $500 Fried Chicken”. Though I clicked for the visually satisfying display of fried chicken-based dishes, I stayed for a completely different reason. Steven not only crafted a well-organized show while displaying a fun dynamic with his coworkers, and might I add his close friends- Andrew Ilnyckyj and Adam Bianchi- Steven also made a show beyond food and getting to share those experiences with friends;

He made a show to exhibit a wide range of cultures and traditions among various backgrounds masked by the concept of food/cooking for others. Covering a wide range of foods while also traveling to different countries to experience the culture face-to-face, and sharing these experiences with the world via YouTube. For me, a kid mainly watching people goof off while playing video games with each other, a show with so much substance should have not captured my attention at that age, but it did.

Now that I am an adult (of sorts), my appreciation for what Steven has made with Worth It has just blossomed into something real with meaning, and understanding. That same love and appreciation for Steven has tied over into Watcher when I realized he was one of the 3 CEOs of the company. Where, might I add, I see him coming out of his shell even more with Shane and Ryan and ultimately having the creative freedom to make what he wants to make, and make it how he wants to make it.

With the fact that he can create whatever now, Steven still bases his shows on a deeper meaning in understanding all the sides of various people.

Family. Passion. Love. Appreciation. Learning. -and- Experiencing.

Not only are his shows based on this deeper meaning, but he has also shown his selflessness by helping raise money for many charities and speaking out for the Asian and LGBTQ+ community. Let’s never forget too that he put the burden of dealing with the business side of Watcher and putting aside his creative wishes to make sure the company stays afloat. He has done so much for us, the fans, and the one thing this man deserves is our respect.

Steven Lim is truly an amazing guy from what I can see/what others close to him say on his behalf. Along with the few conversations I've been granted to have with him in the obeaver chat on the Wiscord. Steven cares about Watcher so much, and it shows. He has truly inspired me, along with the rest of team Watcher, to push and create. To push myself outside of my comfort zone to better myself as a creative individual, and all in all inspired me to take the leap and actually pursue my dreams in video production.

I hope Steven knows how much the fans love and appreciate everything he does for us, and I hope that one day I can say all of this and more to him in person.

We love you Steven Lim, and we are excited for what you continue to make for us all! <3

#steven lim #watcher #watcher entertainment #buzzfeed worth it #homemade #dish granted #travel season #we love steven lim #steven lim appreciation week #slaw

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athena-willowthorne · 9 months ago

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ok I know I'm going to be drowned out as one of many and I don't want to be the guy feeding the public frenzy right now but I want to offer my thoughts on the watchertv situation.

I've been a fan of ryan and shane for almost 6 years. I got into them when I was around 12-13, and now, at 18 years old, they've occupied a fairly significant part of the last third of my life. I feel reasonably confident in saying I've watched everything they've ever made, from buzzfeed and watcher, and when they went out to found watcher, I was abundantly happy to welcome steven into my parasocial love for them. I feel like I've grown up with them, and going off to college next year, it was never a question in my mind that they'd follow with me. I mean, I bought their unsolved book the second it was announced, and I even snagged a ghost files shirt and a professor plush when he was rereleased. I took the professor to the lizzie borden house for my 18th birthday overnight, and wow was that an expense, but I've wanted to go ever since middle school when I stumbled across buzzfeed unsolved for the first time. in short, losing them is like losing a constant presence in my life, a cherished presence, no matter how ridiculously parasocial that makes me sound.

when I heard about watchertv, I was crushed. in the past couple days, I've jumped from betrayal to desperation to grief to bitter anger. but I think I've landed now in a place where those make more sense to me. I agree wholeheartedly with so many commenters on every platform right now. they're just like me, feeling let down and disappointed by the people we've idealized, and gotten used to seeing for free. but I also understand exactly how this idea came about, I know what it's like to feel backed into a corner on something, forced to make a hard choice where it feels like only a radical shift will save you. we as fans were there for the three of them, their dynamic. but their dreams don't match up. they want freedom to make what they want, and they feel passionate about growth to tv quality. that's what they're aspiring to, I do genuinely think that.

I won't sit here and go on about the different takes people have made about steven's masterminding or shane's reluctance. the bitter stuff that's been said feels very harsh. but I can't condemn the people saying things out of anger that aren't targeted. it's ok for them to feel upset. sure, maybe it sucks that it has to come out on a public forum like the internet but it's valid nonetheless. but on their end, that's got to hurt. I hope so dearly that watchertv succeeds, even if it has to change a lot to do that. a subscription service isn't what we want, but it's what they believe will let them make the quality content they want to. that's worth pursuing, and I care about them so much that I want them to go for it.

I hate that I can't follow them into this next chapter. and I'm sure a lot of other people are too, and however they choose to feel that is perfectly ok. but their creative satisfaction and happiness does not depend on me, and it shouldn't be limited by what I can or am willing to do.

anyway my heart goes out to them truly. I'll miss them in college, and probably forever, and hopefully our paths cross again. but even if we don't, I'm happy for the memories I was able to make, I hope every other upset fan feels the same way eventually too :))

#btw I will be spending my 6 dollars on palestine. I feel that that's a better use of my money lol #to every fan on both sides of the audience: stop infighting please everyone is feeling different things and we're all processing differentl #I will be a lifelong fan by the way nothing could make me hate them #I love steven lim !!! in case he hasn't been getting enough of that !! I don't care if he proposed the idea or not I love him !!!!!#I hope they're not stressing rn over damage control :((#anyway watch me post this and they address the whole thing tomorrow lol #watcher entertainment #watcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #ryan and shane #steven lim

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defectivevillain · 2 years ago

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the fiction of our love

pairing: gregory x male reader

author’s note: y’all abbott elementary is a masterpiece. i've been watching quinta’s videos since she was at buzzfeed,,, and it’s so amazing to see her flourishing and getting the recognition she deserves!

anyway... i love gregory so. much. so i had to write a lil something. hehehehe.

word count: 2.2k [ao3 version here]

You’re not having the best day. Your car nearly got towed—despite you being parked in the right spot—and you tripped walking up the stairs in the school. Safe to say, it’s just one of those days. The moment you begin to forget the morning’s grievances, however, one of your students is throwing up.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom, Jadah” you say, leading your student by the hand to the women’s bathroom. You pray that no one is in there right now. Jadah walks into the bathroom and you hesitantly follow her, intent on making sure she doesn't throw up again. You’re certainly not expecting to run into another man in the women’s restroom. The two of you stare at each other for a few moments.

“Um, I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here-” You say, staring at the stranger. He doesn’t appear to be threatening in the slightest, but protocol regulates that strangers shouldn’t be on the school premises.

“I don’t think you are, either.” Okay, fair point, you concede. “I’m the male stripper that Principal... Coleman hired.” You freeze and stare at the man in disbelief. He stares back with a blank expression and it takes you several moments to recover from the statement.

“The what?” You choke out. Male stripper? Surely, Ava wouldn’t stoop to such levels. You’re brutally aware of the two young students in the room, but thankfully, they both seem to be preoccupied or distracted to hear the remark.

“I’m just joking,” the man says, an awkward smile on his face. “I’m the new substitute teacher.” Of course, that is the very moment you finally notice the identification badge looped around his neck. You take a second to truly look at him, now that you know he isn’t a random stranger standing in the women’s restroom. The substitute is tall and lanky, with wide eyes that suggest that he’s a bit overwhelmed. You decide to help him out.

“Oh, great,” you smile in relief, putting aside the strange stripper comment. Ava probably said something weird to him. Poor guy. “Can you hold her hand for a moment? I can grab some pants for Jaylen here.” Jadah walks over to the substitute and you walk over to the supply closet to grab a spare pair of uniform pants. Jaylen changes in one of the stalls and you send him back to his class. Next, there’s your student. Ironically, you’re pretty sure that this new substitute actually engaged in conversation with her, which is rather impressive considering the fact that she threw up and that she doesn’t know him. Thankfully, after waiting several minutes, it seems that Jadah is feeling alright. It must’ve been something she ate.

“Alright, you should be good, Jadah; let me know if you feel funny again,” you smile, watching as she leaves to return to your classroom. Now, it’s just the substitute teacher and you standing in the wrong restroom. You stare at him for a second, before realizing that you’re forgetting your manners. “Hey, what’s your name, by the way?” You ask, making sure to introduce yourself before you forget, “I’m one of the teachers here.”

“Gregory,” the man answers. “Nice... to meet you.” He sticks out a hand and then evidently realizes that it’s dirty and abandons the gesture. You smile and wash your hands alongside him. A smile grows on Gregory’s face and you can’t help but think it's rather charming.

“Well, I hope you stick around,” you blurt out, before you can control yourself. Gregory raises an eyebrow at you, evidently confused. You grab some paper towels and dry off your hands, steadily avoiding eye contact. “Not many teachers do... But, hey. We’re doing important work here. The kids deserve the world.” With that, you leave and walk back to your classroom. After all, you left the kids with Mr. Johnson. He might be teaching them about Kanye West again, you sigh.

Admittedly, your interaction with Gregory soon falls to the back of your mind. You don’t see him for the next few days and it seems like he’s only stopping by on a temporary basis. You exchange greetings in the halls, but that’s about it. You try to pretend that you’re not disappointed about that. Nearly all of the new ones leave. You really shouldn’t expect any different.

You’re thinking about the rather high turnover rate as you walk into school one sunny morning. You mechanically make your way to the teacher’s lounge, fully intent on talking with Melissa and Barbara. They’re both fun to talk to and you enjoy getting to know them more. You walk over to their table, ready to take your seat and bemoan the nature of your existence. You quite nearly move to sit down, until there’s a hand on your wrist and a confused Gregory staring at you.

“Sorry, force of habit,” you grimace, lingering awkwardly. You’re about to walk to the other table when he pulls out a chair for you. You thank him and sit down, giving into the urge to ask the question that first came to your mind when you saw him. “Anyway, Gregory! Looks like you’re staying.”

“Yeah,” Gregory answers. He picks at the part of the table where the coating is beginning to come off. “I figured I should stay. You know, for the kids.” For the kids, you nod. You’re unable to keep the happy smile from your face. Chancing a glance at Barbara and Melissa, you find that they’re looking at Gregory and you with knowing gazes. You raise an eyebrow at them. Melissa sends you a wink and Barbara smiles, before expertly turning the conversation to something else.

After that conversation, you see Gregory a little more often. Even so, the two of you are both busy with your classes, so you don’t get much time to talk to him or the other teachers. The opportunity to get to know your coworkers soon presents itself a few weeks later.

The district requires monthly “team meetings,” which are just glorified wastes of time. Ava seems to think the same, as she remarks that she’d rather die than talk to her coworkers more than she needs to. Unfortunately, the lot of you are forced to stay together and do something during the time because of technicalities. Jacob suggests that all of you play Two Truths and a Lie. Ava suggests that he go back to ComicCon “with his nerdy self” and you have to resist the urge to laugh. Even with that insult, though, all of you are playing Two Truths and a Lie before long.

“I’ve been on a mission trip to Africa, my favorite television series is Star Trek Into Darkness, and I have a boyfriend.” Ava mumbles something about not caring about his life story. Barbara guesses that he doesn’t have a boyfriend, and Jacob spends the next ten minutes joyfully describing his boyfriend.

“What about you, kid?” You freeze and turn to look at Melissa. Suddenly, everyone turns to look at you. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Partner? What’dya got?”

“I’ve never dated anyone,” you mutter, before you can think about the consequences of doing so. You’re horrible at lying, though; you’re sure that your coworkers would have noticed if you lied to them.

“That just explains so much...” Barbara of all people remarks. You frown at her and she smiles apologetically, clearly joking.

“Are you Mormon?” Ava asks, squinting at you for a moment. Dread coils in your chest. This is about to be a vicious burn—you can feel it. “’Cause you need more men.” Sure enough, she absolutely decimates you with that one. You take a deep breath and try to manifest a serenity that you’re not quite feeling.

The group—and by the group, you mean mostly Ava—just won’t change topics. You stick it out for a while longer, but after nearly ten minutes of “playful” insults, you have to leave the room. There’s a tightness in your chest and your eyes are burning. You furiously swipe at the tears falling down your face and stride out towards the front landing. Unsurprisingly, the universe seems dead-set on spiting you, because it is absolutely pouring rain. You don't have an umbrella of any sort and you’re about to get drenched when there’s a sudden shadow over your head.

“Hey,” Gregory stands next to you, an umbrella in hand. He holds it over the two of you. There’s a concerned expression on his face as he looks at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back against the door. Gregory moves the umbrella back ever so slightly. For an immeasurable amount of time, the two of you stand quietly. You feel mortified and humiliated, despite the fact that you knew your coworkers were joking.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve dated anyone or not.” Gregory voices, breaking the tense silence. You bite your lip and try to keep yourself from crying more.

“I know,” you answer. “It’s just... funny, I guess,” Gregory raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, “I don’t think anyone realizes that I wasn’t exactly given a choice in the matter.”

“I grew up in the suburbs and it took me a long time to even realize that I didn’t like women that way. I got busy with school, then busy with work... You know, all that stuff. Never had the time or interest in romance, I guess. It started to seem like a pipe dream.

“Plus, I missed out on the whole.. high school dating experience—although, arguably, there was nothing to miss out on. Still, I got so wrapped up in everything and now I’m here and... I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s realistic.”

“Why?” Gregory asks, breaking the silence after your explanation. “Just because it hasn't happened yet... doesn’t mean it won’t. Besides, if people haven’t realized that you’re, you know, an option... That’s everybody else’s loss, not yours.”

“Thanks,” you choke out, feeling strangely emotional at the reassurance from your coworker. Gregory nods, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. You push past the burning feeling in your throat. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s just the truth.” Gregory turns to look at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “If you’re interested in being with someone, I'm sure you'll find them. Whoever they are.”

You pause for a moment at hearing the uncertainty in his voice in that last statement. You chance a glance at Gregory, only to find that he’s already looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Maybe... you’ve even already found him.” Gregory’s remark is so quiet that you have to strain to hear it. It takes you a few seconds to process his statement but, once you do, you look at him. There’s no trace of dishonesty, pity, or anything else in his expression. Suddenly, something unbelievable dawns on you. You stare at Gregory and he looks askance for a moment.

“You?” You murmur quietly. Gregory swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. He looks conflicted. Time stretches on painfully and you can’t get rid of the anxiety prickling along your skin.

“...Me,” Gregory finally responds, just before you can frantically apologize for misinterpreting everything. “I- Sorry. That wasn't why I came out here. I just wanted to say that it doesn’t matter what they say about you. In the end, the only person whose opinion matters is yours.”

“I really didn't mean to say that. Well, I did mean it, I just didn’t mean to say it right now-” You don’t give Gregory the chance to apologize any more, instead leaning in to kiss him. He goes comically silent and for an awful moment, you think that you have once again misinterpreted things. You’re able to dismiss that notion rather quickly, though, because Gregory’s hands rise to cradle your cheeks. A moment later, the two of you break apart and you smile. Just before you can speak, the five-minute bell rings; it looks like lunch is almost over.

“Let’s go inside before lunch ends,” Gregory grimaces, opening the door for you. You wait for him to close his umbrella before the two of you walk down the hall. As you walk side by side, your hands brush up against each other and you can’t quite hide a smile. For a quick moment, Gregory clasps your hand in his and grips it reassuringly. Somehow, the moment isn’t quite quick enough, because Ava rounds the corner and sees the two of you holding hands. For a moment, the three of you just stare at each other. Gregory and you practically tear your hands apart in an attempt to look authentic. Ava doesn’t seem convinced and she shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Thin ice.” Ava shakes her head, motioning to the two of you and dragging her finger across her throat in a threatening gesture. She then walks straight towards the two of you, forcing you to step aside so that you don’t crash into her. Ava walks down the hallway towards the entrance, procures an umbrella out of seemingly nowhere, and then walks out into the rain.

“Where’s she going?” You can’t help but voice aloud. “Pretty sure she still thinks school ends after lunch,” Gregory responds. The two of you look at each other, let out annoyed sighs, and continue walking down the hall. Despite the sudden interrogation by Ava, you’re still happy. Gregory seems to be happy too, if the soft smile on his face is any indication. You clasp his hand one more time before returning to your classroom, the smile refusing to fade from your face.

endnotes

I couldn’t remember the names of any of the kids (I've only watched s1 of the series) so I just made them up, lol. I chose two j names cause it sounded cute.

i love the idea of gregory just standing in the women’s restroom, looking entirely lost, and just saying “I'm the male stripper Principal Coleman hired.” LMFAOO like what a picture

#defectivevillain #abbott elementary #Abbott Elementary x reader #Gregory eddie x reader #Gregory Eddie x male reader #Abbott Elementary x male reader #male reader #masc reader #transmasc reader

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tasty-littl-snack · 4 months ago

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Trying to understand the logic of people saying they’re done with Watcher and Ryan and Shane but will turn around and watch Buzzfeed Unsolved which has *checks notes* Ryan and Shane.

Yeah tbh. I think I can kinda understand it, it's like you're listening to earlier albums of your fave music artist, because they changed the genre with their latest album and you don't vibe with their new songs or watch a tv show's earlier seasons because the later one's totally destroyed the characters you liked. (Happened to me, like some things seriously had only two seasons and I'm ignoring the five next ones and two movies or whatever.)

So in that aspect I can kinda get it. Bfu started 8 years ago, that's a whole almost decade, and sometimes you don't really think of the quality of the content (because I will once again die on the hill that waverly gf ep is much better than waverly bfu I'm still confused how a show this badly made took off in the yt algo back in the day), but what it made you feel like, or where you were in life when you first watched/got into it. There's a kind of nostalgia attached to it and I imagine all of those fans who are like "I hate ghost files but I loooove bfu it's my comfort show", don't really care that it's Ryan and Shane it's the familiarity of watching it over and over for years and it being more memeable and quotable because those lines got repeated and memed to death over the years.

For example I don't really find myself coming back to the earliest eps of bfu if I had to rewatch them. I much prefer Ryan's normal voice to his theory one, and that's because seasons 6 and 7 are when Watcher was a thing, and their interpersonal relationship changed to a more "I like it here, we are friends". In the earlier seasons they aren't that close, Shane is more closed off and assholeish towards Ryan, and well Ryan is younger and thus more kind of playing a cool dude. I feel like he got to be more himself as the years went on and I like that.

That's also the odd thing about being a fan of real people as there is an interesting dichotomy to it. Like on one hand I respect them for what they do their comedy/craft/ability to express their creativity. On the other there's the respect for them as individuals, acknowledging that at the end of the day they are like. Just some guys making stuff. And people grow and change. You're not the same person you were at 25 when you are 34, you are not the same person you were at 30 and 38, but since you got immortalized at 25 and 30 and continue to make content for years people expect you to be always like that. A character that doesn't change, or changes according to a logic of a story. But real life is so much stranger and more interesting than that! There's no logic to your actions, you make mistakes and grow from them. At the time of making a decision you have no idea if it's a good or bad one or how it will go, and if you think you do I don't think you had serious choices to make in your life yet. But I think people expect of them to be those characters who don't change or grow. I assume those people have no respect for Ryan and Shane as real human beings, because they have some imagined version of them how they are presented in those episodes they watched over and over. So to them it doesn't matter that bfu has Ryan and Shane, because those are seen as different characters, not the "evil greedy capitalists who made their own company", but your friends that you know the best because you can quote their lines as you watch them in the background. And additionally there's the nostalgia of watching your beloved show that makes you feel younger because life was simpler back then. You didn't have your worries of adult life because you were in college/high school, and bfu reminds them of that. The fact that it's not giving watcher any money is only better for the haters bc it's like pirating. You still enjoy your favorite part of your blorbos, and don't feed "the big evil watcher" so kinda best of both worlds.

Some people also can't admit that the content didn't change that much, they just lost interest/grew out of it (and it's fine, interests change that's normal), but that's not on them, that's surely on Ryan and Shane for changing and evolving in their craft.

Baffling to me tbh because if I was a fan of them I'd wish them well not for their downfall and contribute to lower views by giving it to a big corporation (which isn't watcher). But that's just me.

Sorry this got deep I just am so tired of people saying bfu is better. It's really not you just miss the person you were when you watched it for the first time. That's the case with every 'comfort' show. It's why it brings you comfort. Real people behind it don't really matter.

#replies #watcher #fuck it we tag it with the main tag I will not be silent any longer

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kenthenugget · 9 months ago

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Dear Watcher....

This is going to be about the youtube channel Watcher and a recent video that they released earlier today, so if you dont watch the channel, or older content produced by Ryan, Shane and Steven at Buzzfeed, this is not going to make sense to you. This only going to be for those who are a fan of Watcher, or are fans of Buzzfeed Unsolved so if you are, that's great!

Earlier today, I got a video notifcation from the channel titled, "goodbye youtube", and it was definitely not something I wanted to see. There is a recent trend this year of youtubers retiring or taking a break this year and I was scared this was that scenario. And it kind of was but way worse. Basically, the guys over at Watcher are going to be posting on their new streaming service called....Watcher. And, no, it is not a late April Fools joke, that's actually what their doing. Initially, I was in a state of shock after I watched through the entire video. I, no joke, went through the 5 stages of grief upon viewing this announcement and was thrown through a loop to where I struggled to focus on sketching one of my comic pages. So much so that I actually made a deviant blog post about it the moment I finished watching the video (most of the content from this post will be copied and pasted from that blog so declaimer I guess). After having some time to absorb this information, I have to say that Im really disappointed with the guys over at Watcher. Like Im not mad to where Im completely done with their content but.......WHY!?

I think at this point in time that a lot of people, myself included, are burnout with the whole streaming boom we've had for the past 5 years in no part thanks to those greedy bastards at Disney....but thats another story. I miss the days when there were only 2 to 3 main streaming services and not 5 billion other services that you need to buy in order to watch a show you like that was on Netflix but it now locked behind a pay wall. Streaming services used by a novelty concept but are now not looked upon in the best light. So for the them to announce a streaming service now is definitely a bad look, especially because the content before was free to access. I feel like creators will always have an uphill battle when it comes to content that was initially free being locked behind a paywall, because you're potentially isolating your audience and bringing up the question of weather your audience if loyal enough to give you money to enjoy your content. Now, like I said, I love and respect the people at Watcher, but I dont know if I'm willing to take money out of my wallet to watch the next season of Ghost Files. Especially in this economy, where in some parts of the country a big mac now costs 20 fucking dollars, and with inflation going out of control.

Now its not like I don't understand why they're doing this. Ever since its founding in 2019, Watcher has always had troubles with money, with most of their shows not being profitable enough to make ends meet (I know that sounds bs because most of their vidoes get millions of views but this is coming from one of the founders Steven, in an update video from a while ago so idk, views probably mean jack shit in the grand scheme of things). And the fact that they started around the pandemic didn't help things either. Unlike Buzzfeed, Watcher is a much smaller company so any loss that happens is felt much more than if it was a larger one. In the video itself, they mentioned that most of their money came through youtube ads and sponsorships, which, while alright if you're an independent creator, may not be enough for a company. And then there's the fact that YouTube can remove or demonetize videos out of nowhere and for the dumbest reasons so its not a very stable sight to base your income off of. So I can understand why they felt moving on from YouTube was a good idea. But..........I think there were better ways of going about it than creating their own fucking streaming service. Like, in one of their update vidoes, they said most of their shows werent making ends meet so maybe cutting back on the production of said shows to make them not as expensive to produce would be a good solution. In their announcement vid, they talked about wanting to maintain their high production value for their shows without going under but (and I dont mean this to slight them) I dont think they understand why they popped off in the first place. For me, Im not watching Ghost Files or Mystery Files for high production value and fancy graphics, Im there for Ryan and Shane. Same reason I loved Buzzfeed Unsolved, which compared to those shows is much more bare bones. I get wanting to step up your production value from what you had at Buzzfeed but if you have budget out in certain places which would entail having a season that doesnt look as good as the previous season, that's completely fine. Im sure me and the rest of fans wouldn't have minded a downgrade because at the end of the day, the fancy sets and graphics are window dressing to why we're truly watching.

I also thinking letting us know ahead of time would've possibly softened the blow. Watcher is in a very interesting situation because there's a much closer relationship between them and their customer base as opposed to traditional companies. So they really could've been like "hey! We're thinking about having future content be on our own streaming service because doing business through YouTube is fucking us over. What do you guys think?". One explanation as to why they waited until now instead of a few months ago when this idea was sparked could've been because they knew they would get backlash and they were going ahead with the streaming service idea regardless of fan input, which might be the reason. But if that's the case, they probably would've had the comments and likes disabled from the start. Right before I started typing this, I checked the video to see if the comments were disabled and they are thankfully still there. Im someone who always wants to see the good in people (which is definitely a character flaw of mine and while defiently lead to me being at the end of an abusive relationship........another abusive relationship but lets not go there), so I think this might be the case of Ryan, Shane and Steven, thinking the streaming service was a good idea and not reading the room properly.

At this point, Im hoping that they dont do things that could make this situation 10 times worse: a) removing the existing content (Mystery Files, Puppet History, etc) off the youtube channel and having it on their streaming service. If you are going to have new seasons of those shows behind a paywall, at least have that content still up for those who want to support but cant purchase the service......b) respond to the critism in a negative way. I think things would be made worse if they lumped genuine fans who are concerned with the new direction with the trolls and haters, and double down on this new direction. Im hoping this situation ends up being a slip up that they can learn from and not being the beginning of the downfall of the Watcher gang. No joke, I think Ryan and Shane are the only youtubers who have avoided any sort of drama up to now. Youtubers I once respected over the years from Tobuscus to Leafyishere to H3H3 to Idubbz to even fucking Dream have all fell from grace in one way or another, and Im hoping the ghoul boys dont join that list....

#watcher #shane and ryan #ghoul boys #buzzfeed unsolved

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