#I’m the most pathetic unnecessary sad adult

[caliboron]

oof. I just relapsed pretty badly

[lovelykhaleesiii]

little rant about this ongoing community label drama…

I would like to think that we’re all adults here but apparently not… majority of the fics posted by these incredible writers have been labelled tediously with WARNINGS + MINORS DNI. if something was missed, notify the writer, we will not shun you off, mistakes happen and people miss things, this is normal human behaviour. you are not above anyone else, so calm the fuck down.

I’m going to hopefully assume you can read, so read the fucking labels / warnings attached and decide for yourself like a grown fucking adult, if this is something for you or not. we are not shoving these fics down your throats. nor may they be of your favourite character, I do not give a shit. but some of you obviously want to be hand held, and be a fucking nuisance. the time and effort writers/artists put into their work ontop of life, work itself is strenuous enough, we don’t need this on top.

and tbh it’s kind of sad and pathetic that you feel the need hide and act almighty, when you’re just a pussy. grow the fuck up, these are fictional works about fictional characters. I don’t need to elaborate, it’s just fucking common sense, asshole.

if you don’t like my content nor enjoy it, block me I really don’t give a crap. I don’t want nor need your validation or judgement. I write because I enjoy it as a form of escape from reality, your opinion means nothing.

you’re just being a fucking irritating rat, with this bitchy behaviour.

stop the unnecessary labelling and READ motherfucker, are you that fucking incompetent?

IN FACT PUT YOURSELF TO SOME FUCKING USE AND REPORT THESE PORN BOTS INSTEAD IF YOU’RE THAT ENTITLED.

SIDE NOTE - most of my fics labelled are for chubby!aegon, you fatphobic bastard. you should be ashamed of yourself, fucking rat.

[yellowocaballero]

Jon's Trapped in Temporal Time-Out: A TMA Time Travelling Tale

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

I kept on bitching about how much I dislike the beginning scenes of TMA time travelling AUs so my friend @lazuliquetzal​ (who wrote the best TMA time travelling fic in the fandom) told me to put my money where my mouth is. It’s nowhere near her level, but in my defense it’s probably even stupider than Reflection. 10K of stupid under the cut. 

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

****

There was, indeed, a corpse in the Archives.

More specifically, in the stacks. The worst place to die, or least be dumped. Sasha had to admit the logic of it: it was the darkest depths of the library that Martin had informed her was ‘somewhat creepy’ and ‘kind of ominous’ so ‘please stop sleeping there you’re going to give me a heart attack’. After Martin flipped on a few lights that were never flipped on (apparently Elias was a cheapskate, which explained the breakroom) they could all gawk at the corpse to their heart’s content. 

Very kindly and thoughtfully, Tim asked Martin if he wanted to stay out of the library and maybe to ‘tell someone’ or something. Both Sasha and Tim had mutually and silently agreed that Martin seemed the type to have a delicate constitution. Granted, he hadn’t seemed the type to win Magnus Anarchist every month by breaking into abandoned buildings with absolutely no shame, so maybe he was the kind that surprised you. 

But Martin had just looked a little unimpressed. “Do you seriously think this is my first corpse? I went to university.”

That somewhat intimidated Sasha, who abruptly worried that she had missed out on an essential university experience again. “Is that a typical university experience?”

Martin paused a beat. 

“Uh,” he said, “yeah, sure, of course. Hazing, you know.”

“Is that what hazing…?”

“Fraternities.”

Tim, from where he had been standing at the entrance to the stacks snapping on the sterile gloves he had liberated from the cleaning supply closet, looked delighted. “You were in a frat too, Martin? What kind of hardcore frat had corpse hazings? Was it the Sigma Gammas? My frat always thought they were way too crazy, but we were a business one -”

“You know what,” Martin said, “let’s just worry about the corpse.”

After Sasha tied her hair in a ponytail and Martin snapped on his own gloves, they awkwardly approached the aisle where Tim had been trying to find a reference book for Jon. Sasha was worried that they would have to hunt for it a little, or that there would be a bad jump scare, but when they found it she saw that it wasn’t subtle at all.

It was sprawled on the ground, face mashed into the cheap and somewhat gross carpet. Sasha approached it with absolutely no hesitation, which Tim and Martin gladly let her do, and squatted down to get a better look at the figure. 

She definitely needed to make a coroner’s report. She was the objective expert in coroner’s reports. 

 “Tim, can you run back and get one of Jon’s silly little tape recorders for my coroner’s report?”

“Did you just see that on the telly?” Tim asked skeptically. “Because if you did -”

“Oh, here one is. That’s really convenient!” Martin grabbed one off the shelf and pressed play, letting the tape roll. “Good idea, Sasha. We need proof to Jon that we were researching.”

Probably...not what Jon meant for them to be researching, but Sasha liked to believe that it was the intent that mattered. She pulled a pencil out of her pencil skirt pocket, poking the figure thoughtfully. “Report by Sasha James, Archival Assistant.” There, now it was work. “At 1:30pm today, Tim Stoker discovered a corpse in the Archives, thereby referred to as John Doe -”

“Do we have to call it John Doe?” Tim complained, standing next ot her and crossing his arms. “Then we have too many Johns, it’ll get confusing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sasha said dismissively. “Ours is Jon, this guy’s John. Completely different.”

“Sasha, I’m not sure that’s how words work.”

“What are you, an English major?”

“Yes! I was an editor for a living!”

“Sorry if I don’t listen to guys who were fired from book editing school -”

“Uh,” Martin said, “have we checked to see if he’s actually dead?”

Sasha and Tim fell silent. Sasha looked at Tim. Tim shook his head. 

“Seriously, mate?” Sasha asked, unimpressed. 

“I didn’t want to touch the corpse!” Tim cried. “So sue me! It’s not as if he’s moving!”

Pussy. Sasha gently reached out and pushed aside a little of the corpse’s very long and pretty curly hair. What was that, 3C? Jesus, that had to be work. Sasha was 3A and the amount of hair care products she owned was insane.

She waved her hand at the boys for silence and put her thumb against his pulse, concentrating hard. Martin quietly walked over and crouched down too, eyeing his chest. 

“I don’t feel a pulse,” Sasha said finally. 

“Also, uh, I’m not a doctor,” Martin said, “but he’s definitely not breathing.”

“I told you,” Tim said defensively. “You just look at the thing, and you go - yep, that’s a corpse!”

“Corpse appears to be an ethnically ambiguous adult man with very nice hair,” Sasha said loudly. Martin helpfully held out the recorder to catch her voice better. “Maybe 190cm. Incredibly skinny - potential cause of death. He’s dressed in...some very ratty clothing. Potentially homeless.”

“It definitely smells,” Tim said, pinching his nose. Sasha didn’t blame him - the clothing was an overlarge green hoodie, ratty and threadbare, and his jeans weren’t any better. His boots were worn and soft leather. “Maybe he’s a homeless guy who snuck in and died?”

“That’s so sad,” Martin said softly. “Also a little gross.”

“Have some respect for the dead, guys,” Sasha said, as she poked the dead guy with a pencil. “Tim, go flip him over.”

Tim held his hands up, stepping away. “I couldn’t possibly. Martin loves flipping people over.”

“This again?” Martin asked, frustrated. “This is just like when you made me handle the Rawlings case because you’re scared of the suburbs!”

“They have too many eyes, Martin!”

“I am surrounded by cowards,” Sasha noted for the recorder. Nothing for it, then. Sasha carefully straightened, wobbling on her heels, before solidly wiggling her hands underneath the corpse’s chest. He was cold - dead a while. 

It was surprisingly difficult to flip over a limp adult man. Sasha was strong, but the corpse’s flesh was weak, and he was all floppy. Eventually Tim got over himself long enough to help her, making a very disgusted face the entire time, and they were able to finally get a good look at the man’s face.

Abruptly, upon seeing it, they all quieted. 

There was something about seeing a man splayed out on the ground that was a little funny, if you worked for the Magnus Institute and had probably encountered a Leitener two years ago and lost all empathy. No more impediments in the search for science. But there was something very different about looking at a person, who had a nose and lips and a very ratty hoodie, and knowing that it was no longer a person. Just a lot of cloth and meat and blood and organs and nice hair that once was a person, back when things were easier and the world was a little less harsh.

But maybe Sasha was caught by sentimentality: after all, the corpse looked a little like Jon.

Judging from the stunned faces of her compatriots as they all bent around the figure, they all thought the same thing. Tim’s jaw was open, and Martin’s hand was covering his mouth in shock. 

“Man,” Tim said. “This sucks. And it’s really creepy.”

“He must have been really gorgeous,” Martin said. “That’s so sad.” 

Actually, Sasha tilted her head and took another look. He had sharp and severe features, elegant and striking. A large and thin, sharp nose, and equally sharp lips. His face was just as sharp and gaunt, as emancipated as the rest of him. He had strange scars trailing up his neck and curving around his jaw, but it just kind of accentuated the intense atmosphere. 

It was probably a pretty stupid thing to focus on, but in her defense it wasn’t really the face of a homeless guy. Well, maybe. Hot homeless people existed.

Sasha frowned. She’s only met one other person this hot. 

“Hey,” she said, “doesn’t he look like Jon?”

Both the men titled their heads. 

Finally, Tim said, “Nah, he’s hotter.”

“Agreed,” Sasha said. “I think the scars really do it.” 

“Uh, guys,” Martin said. 

Sasha grabbed her tape recorder out of Martin’s hands, resuming her coroner’s report. “Subject appears to be in his thirties. Weirdly attractive, but that’s probably not as important as we feel it is.” She looked down at his hands, carefully using her pencil to push up the sleeve. “What looks like an aged and badly healed burn scar on his right hand. Supports homeless guy evidence.”

“Knife scar over his throat,” Tim quietly observed. “Someone tried to kill this guy.”

“Guys,” Martin said. 

“Well, I guess this is the point where we worry about body disposal,” Sasha said, straightening. “I think Elias could handle this discreetly and professionally, but that might involve letting Jon know. And I don’t think any of us want that kind of stress in our lives.”

“So, are we not even pretending to want to call the cops, or…?”

“Listen to me!”

Both Tim and Sasha shut up, somewhat guiltily. Martin had straightened too, fists balled, looking firm and determined and resolute - everything that Martin wasn’t, really. Martin lived unsure of himself, never expressing his own feelings or ending every opinion with an “I don’t know, maybe, that’s just my thoughts, what do you think?”. 

So Tim and Sasha paid attention, and when Sasha nodded encouragingly at him he seemed to find further courage. Solemnly, with the air of a wise man by the side of the road, Martin said, “This guy isn’t hotter than Jon.”

Christ. Sasha takes it all back.

 Tim propped a hand on his hip supportively as Sasha rolled her eyes. “Look, mate,” Tim said, “I know that you think Jon’s the hottest person in existence, and maybe objectively he’s fine as hell, but once you know him for longer than three months he loses all attractiveness. It would be like being into the DMV clerk. The really pretentious cousin at all of your family reunions who tries to explain your own job to you. The dude in your English class who thinks he invented feminism.”

“That was you,” Sasha said. 

“I am the objective expert in Jon,” Martin said firmly, shutting down the dissent. “He’s, like, my muse, okay? And can I say, as I have spent so many long hours memorizing the curve of his jaw - that’s the same jaw.”

If Sasha had a retort to that, or if Tim wanted to judge Martin for his taste in men further, neither of them had a chance. There wasn't an opportunity to say anything more, because the corpse opened its eyes. 

Sasha’s first thought was this: wow, what green eyes. 

Sasha’s second thought was: the fuck?

His eyes didn’t focus on her, or snap anywhere. They drifted a little lazily, fixed on the right, but the man was undoubtedly aware. His fingers twitched, he tilted his head from left to right, and his left hand - doubtlessly the hand that still felt texture - clenched the thin and cheap rug. The man’s jaw slackened a little, as if in surprise. 

For their part, the Assistants frantically looked at each other, all conveying the exact same thought - you said he was dead!

Sasha froze to her spot, petrified. She could handle corpses, or coroner’s reports, or mysteries. Sasha was intelligent, unkind, firm, socially incompetent, and a Libra. She could handle the dead, but the living? Sasha had no idea what to do with alive people.

But Tim did. He hesitated two moments, reeling back in shock, before he abruptly composed himself. He crouched down to the guy, and modulated his voice to sound calming and firm. “Hey, don’t strain yourself. Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”

The man turned his head in Tim's direction, hiding his expression from Sasha, but she saw Tim’s eyes widen. Martin, standing closer to his feet, wrung his hands - clearly torn on what to do, uncertain how to help. Martin always hated being uncertain how to help the most. Which was pretty unfortunate, because Martin always wanted to help, and Martin was always uncertain. 

“Can you speak?” Tim asked gently. “If you can’t speak, go ahead and knock on the floor for me, okay?”

“If we pack him into your car, we can say that we found him on the street,” Sasha piped up. As much as she distrusted NHS, and as much as the NHS refused to touch anybody who had ever stepped foot inside the Institute, they could hardly refuse somebody if they just lied their ass off about it. “They’ll have to treat him then, right?”

“We could make it so much worse if we move him,” Martin said quickly, just as strangely firm. “We need to take our chances with 999.”

“We don’t even know if he’s injured,” Sasha pointed out, somewhat optimistically. “Maybe this whole thing can just, like, not be a problem.”

Yeah, Sasha definitely preferred corpses. 

The man was opening and closing his mouth, before he coughed wetly. Sasha clinically noted that it was the first time she had seen his chest move. As Tim reached forward, murmuring gently, and helped the man sit up, she saw that his chest didn’t move at all.

“Alright, let’s try to get you up.” Tim helped the man shift so he was leaning against the bookcase - uncomfortable, but a better position if he started coughing up blood. “We should fetch you some water - Martin, I don’t think he has any injury like that, he just seems out of it. His eyes aren’t focusing on me at all.”

Strangely, the man scoffed at that. The sound made him cough again, but the derision was unmistakable.

The derision was extremely familiar. 

When Sasha looked at Martin his eyes were wide behind his glasses, and she knew that he had heard the same thing that she did. 

Finally, with a raspy and hoarse voice, the man said, “Well, isn’t this fucking fun.”

Everybody stared at him. His voice...different, definitely, with a less posh accent and strained vocal cords scratching his tones. But when Sasha glanced at Tim, she just knew that he was remembering when Jon had insisted on coming into work with a terrible cold and Martin had to bully him home. He had sounded eerily like…

“Is this your idea of a joke?” the man said. 

Tim, from where he was crouched next to the guy, turned his attention back to him. “I’m a funny guy, but last time I checked head injuries aren’t a joke.” He tracked his finger across the man’s eyes, frowning when they didn’t follow. “You definitely have a concussion, mate. If you can walk, we need to -”

“Lord, alright, I get it.” The man raised his burned hand and clumsily rubbed his eyes. “You’re mad at me, I’m sleeping on the couch, whatever. Is all of this really necessary?”

“Uh,” Tim said intelligently. “Mate, I’m not your boyfriend.”

The man waved his other hand in Tim’s direction as he pressed his fingers into his eyes in exhaustion. “I’m hardly speaking to you.” Tim’s jaw dropped in shock as the man angled his face upwards, the crown of his head jamming uncomfortably against the metal shelving. “In my defense, I was doing the best I could with the resources you gave me. It’s water under the bridge. I’ve forgotten about it already! So let’s just get back to our eldritch hellscape.”

Everybody stared at each other. 

“We should move this into the break room,” Martin said. “There’s tea there.”

“Oh, don’t be rude,” Jon said, “making Martin into a caricature of himself. You like Martin, you told me so.”

“Counterpoint,” Sasha said weakly, “the bullpen has Jon. And I really don’t want to explain this to Jon.”

“I don’t even know who this one is,” the man said. “What? Not going to tell me?”

“Okay, like, fucking rude, but whatever.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to,” Tim said firmly, reaching out and putting a firm hand on the man’s arm. The man didn’t recoil or jerk away, just looking down in vague surprise. “But they aren’t here right now. You’re in the basement of the Magnus Institute, alright? I’m Tim Stoker, at your service, and these are my coworkers. I think you have a brain injury. If you can walk, we need to get you -”

“I can’t eat here,” the man said, but he made no effort to remove Tim’s arm. He moved his other hand, pressing it against Tim’s own, as if they were friends. “Cutting me off from my Knowledge -” it was capitalized, Sasha could hear it “ - chaining me to my desk, for - what? You’re not even answering me? Come on!” The man’s voice raised, and for the first time Sasha could hear something ragged in it. “Don’t give me the silent treatment!”

“Jon.”

It was Martin, standing at a distance from the man - from all of them. He was wringing his hands again, shoulders hunched and tense, but his expression was caught in that same mysterious firmness. 

The man didn't react. Not in surprise, not in shock, not in unrecognition. He just scowled a little, ignoring all of them. 

“Jon,” Martin said, louder. “This isn’t solving anything. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not the one being stubborn, Martin,” Jon - Jon?! - muttered, folding his arms. Like an infant. Like, hypothetically, something Jon would do. “I just don’t think omniscient fear gods should be petty.”

Everybody looked at each other. 

“This needs tea,” Martin proclaimed finally, and everybody nodded in silent agreement.

Every nodded in agreement - even, strangely enough, Jonathan Sims himself. 

****

This plan had a few complexities. 

The first complexity was dealing with Jon - their Boss - himself. In an act of cunning psychological warfare, Martin had gone ahead of them and used his endless and infinite subtle acts of manipulation to guarantee that Jon wouldn’t interrupt them. This situation was already Quite A Bit, nobody wanted to babysit their boss. 

Who Sasha frequently felt as if she babysat a bit. Having the youngest person in the office be the very rigid and authoritarian boss was objectively a little funny. But you know what’s not funny? Transphobia. 

Eventually Martin came back and waved them forward, and Tim gently yet firmly dragged the man upwards and put a hand on his back. 

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Tim asked. He sounded resigned about it - barely expecting Jon to respond. “Let me know how you want me to guide you.”

“Oh, it’s whatever. If you’re going to play it this way.” Jon easily looped his arm through Tim’s, who didn’t bother to mask his shock. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Sasha went ahead of them, watching Tim walk Jon down the aisle - hah! - with his arm looped through his elbow and a hand on his back. It was exactly the kind of care and meticulousness that Sasha always saw in him when it came to others. He literally walked grannies across the street. It was horrendous. She got second-hand embarrassed whenever she saw it.

Tim was loudly, extremely, messily kind. He was a person who adopted lost causes, like young men too grumpy to make real friends and women who only knew academia and never people. Sasha told him that once he got his teeth into something he never let go. It would get him into trouble one day. Maybe it already had. 

Sure enough, when Sasha opened the library door for them and peeked her head into the hallway, she saw that Jon’s office door was very firmly shut and locked. Even more incriminatingly, she heard his cute little theater drama monologues starting. Tim had found Jon’s theater aspirations very adorable and he had tried recording them to put on his Snapchat and maybe get him discovered by an agent, but unfortunately the videos made Tim’s phone bleed. They had given Martin ten pounds to taste the blood. Man would do anything for ten pounds, but seeing as they all worked this job that probably applied to all them. 

A workplace made out of people who always picked ‘dare’ in truth or dare. It was kind of a miracle they were still alive. Sasha was a little uncertain how she had survived to thirty five, actually. 

Once Sasha gave the all clear, Tim was able to bring Jon (Neo-Jon? Nega-Jon? Dark Jon? Mean Jon? No, that was just Jon) into the bullpen. Softly narrating what he was doing, he pulled out a chair and lowered Jon into it. 

Homeless Jon hasn’t been blind for very long, Sasha noted clinically. Long enough that he seemed more mildly irritated by it than anything else, but instead of orienting himself or testing out where he was he just kind of slumped in his chair. 

“Jon - uh, the Boss is taken care of?” Tim asked Martin, who was rapidly bustling into the bullpen with four cups of tea that he seemed to be under the impression would help. Tim had sat Homeless Jon in Martin’s chair, which seemed to fluster Martin a bit. 

“Uh, yeah. Gave him a normal statement to get his guard down, then five of the - you know, weird - statements and said that he has to go through all of them today. He’ll be in there for an hour at least.” 

Sasha frowned. “After two he gets a headache and gets bitchy.”

“Three o’clock exactly,” Tim said solemnly.

“Oh, leave off,” Homeless Jon said, “it wasn’t that bad.”

Everybody double taked and looked at each other significantly - which was quickly becoming their predominant mode of communication in a ruthless act of ableism. But Martin just held out a cup of tea, faltering as he clearly stopped to wonder the easiest way to give it to him. 

“Can you hold out your hands, Jon? I have some tea for you. It’s hot, so be careful, okay?”

“If the tea’s spiders I’m going to take it out on Annabelle,” Weird Jon said, but he held out his hands anyway and let Martin put the mug in them. He sniffed it cautiously, checking for spiders, before taking a cautious sip. 

To Sasha and Tim, Martin said, “I know, he’s going to fall asleep after two. I mean, it might be because I drugged his tea a little -”

Weird Jon spat out his tea back into the mug. 

“ - so we shouldn’t be interrupted,” Martin said brightly, clapping his hands. “Now! I think it’s time for explanations, don’t you?” He turned his mighty gaze upon Thankfully Blind Jon, who was occupied carefully holding the tea away from himself. “Drink your tea, Jon.”

Jon drank his tea. His expression twisted. “It tastes just like his.”

Everybody looked at each other. Tim mouthed the word ‘time traveller’ very clearly. Both Sasha and Martin nodded. It was the obvious explanation. 

“An explanation now, please,” Martin said pleasantly. “If you’re a time traveller, you can tell us. This is a safe space.”

Jon-from-the-future’s expression harshened in creases. He hadn’t once relaxed, expression permanently tightened in annoyance and disgruntlement. It was ridiculously Jon. 

Definitely a time traveller. You didn’t work at the Magnus Institute without secretly spending your life deeply hoping you run into a time traveller. Every researcher upstairs secretly prayed to discover the majesty. Everyone in Artifact Storage eagerly gathered around mysterious clocks and dared each other to touch them. Sasha, Queen of Truth-or-Dare, was the undisputed expert in making other people touch weird clocks and recording their reactions.

“Fine,” Super Time Traveller Jon said. “I know this is what you want. Statement of a stupid punishment by the pettiest little color in the evil crayon box. Recorded by the Archivist, in situ. Statement begins.”

Wow, Jon still had his job in the future? That’s a surprise. 

Martin was mouthing the word ‘evil crayon box’ to himself, looking increasingly concerned. The forgotten tape recorder, clenched in Sasha’s fist without her even realizing it, clicked and whirred. 

Then the Archivist began to speak. 

***

In the hazy amber of a memory, there exists an office.

You can see it clearly in your mind’s Eye, even now. You could likely navigate all of it blindfolded - which you now see that your god has the intention to test. Every corner of it is known to you, in the most subtle and mundane of ways. There’s a dust bunny in that corner, never tidied. A mysterious stain on the far right ceiling. The faint smell of blood, just under the vents. The hot waft of tea; your hands wrapped around a mug. 

Through these lonely offices, ghosts roam. They cling to desks and chairs; lingering in favorite mugs or in forgotten hair ties. A metal file cabinet holding neat rows of clothing, blood-stained jackets abandoned. A whiteboard with stubborn flakes of dried marker, forgotten handwriting clinging to life. These imprints no longer evoke terror or grief or pain. They are as familiar as the bloodstains and tea. Even death, eventually, is familiar. After long enough in a nightmare, it becomes indistinguishable from reality. 

There is nothing unfamiliar in the Magnus Institute.

Nothing save these voices, emerging from nothing. Every one of your six million senses have been cut off - your hundred eyes reduced to none. You are cognizant only of two familiar voices, and one unfamiliar one. A firm hand, with calloused fingers from leafing through aged paper. A creaky desk chair - Martin’s, undoubtedly, always squeaking as he fidgeted in distraction. The air tastes the same as it used to back then, before the AC broke and no repairman would step inside to repair it. Daisy did, eventually. Three familiar voices, rendered unfamiliar by the harsh tides of wind and cruel plastic hands. 

You are afraid of very little, these days. In this world that you’ve built, there is nothing that can harm you. The twisted little puppet strung up in his tower has been long since been disposed of, and the awful and terrifying future has settled into a gentle present. The apocalypse grows tedious after a while, and the buffet of fears start tasting a little samey.

But if anything could frighten you, this would. If anything would petrify you, it would be Tim’s kind smile, which died a year before Tim did. If anything could freeze you to your chair, it would be the sight of Sasha with red-rimmed eyes asking why you never even noticed that she was gone. 

The sanctuary of memory corrupted. A mental place of safety infiltrated. A mind turned inside out, exposing its vulnerable flesh to the world. 

There is nothing else this could be but your own personal hell. 

Your loyal servant crouches on bended knee, giving this final prayer to you. He asks, humbly and with great reverence, one simple question:

Why couldn’t this have waited until after I got my milk?

***

The spell ruptured.

It was almost tangible, like a change in air pressure making your ears pop. Sasha blinked harshly, rubbing at her ears and trying to soothe strange ringing. Tim exhaled heavily and Martin screwed his eyes open and shut harshly, as if he was seeing spots. 

The only person unaffected was Weirdly Christian Jon, who was slumped in Martin’s chair with his arms folded over his chest. He was still looking at the ceiling - speaking to whoever he had been addressing this entire time. 

“Just one day,” Jon was saying. “Just one day! It was going to be a nice day! We had decided to take a day trip to the Flesh garden and have a picnic! My darling and beautiful husband was going to make us a cake! ‘Walk down to the Hell corner store’, my husband says. ‘Pick us up some Eldritch milk’, he says. ‘Why do I have to do it’, I says, ‘I’m in the middle of something’. ‘We need cake for bridge night with the girls and I’ll divorce you if you don’t do it’, he says. I didn’t even change out of my nightmare pyjamas! What did I ever do to you? How are you still upset about the eye thing?”

Sasha and the Assistants, still digesting the extremely disturbing monologue, let him talk. Sasha was caught up in how it felt exactly like Jon’s little drama monologues. Granted, he had obviously gotten a lot more practice - guy could go to Broadway - but the weird lilting and falling sing-songyness was just the same. And he only ever did that for the very weird ones. The ones that they were pretty certain were actually true. 

So that probably meant at one point in the future, if Jon was speaking about the Archives as if they had worked there for years. Probably during the apocalypse. Which was happening. Which Jon had...built? Like, as a personal thing, or in a metaphor for capitalism and the human race? Definitely the capitalism thing - Jon was prone to flights of filing-induced passion that sometimes accidentally resulted in a stapler flying and punching a hole through the wall, but she couldn’t even imagine him even purposefully punching someone, much less being the Antichrist. Unless it was one of those things that just happened to you, like a rare genetic defect. 

“Seriously. What was the alternative here? Endless horrorterrors, everybody screaming all the time? It was boring. You eat one Statement about somebody standing in line at a slaughterhouse conveyor belt and you’ve eaten them all. I didn’t do it because I didn’t like you, although for the record I don’t. But you have to admit that having Eldritch Lidls are much more practical than just having a bunch of people lying around screaming all the time. It’s not as if I don’t have other eyes, I hardly miss them. There’s no chocolate cakes in the swirling vortex of mankind’s worst nightmares!”

Okay. They had to find a way to engage with this guy. He was completely ignoring them, probably because he thought that they were mean ghosts. Sasha was only one of those things, and it was hurting her feelings. Judging from the expression on Tim’s face he was thinking the same thing. 

Or - wait, Sasha knew that eyebrow. That was the ‘please please please tell the apocalypse has zombies’ eyebrow. Great. 

But Martin was just looking thoughtful again. Sasha was pretty proud of him - it was probably very difficult for the poor man to remain coherent in the face of the crazy time-traveller who was definitely hotter than their already objectively unfairly hot boss. 

“Jon,” Martin said, cutting Jon’s tired rant about how eggs benedict were much better these days, “Uh, I have an idea? Maybe you can’t get out of the - nightmare by bargaining with it. Do you know how to normally escape these things?”

Jon angled his head down and frowned in Martin’s direction. So far Martin seemed to be the only person who could shut Jon up, which was a hilarious turnaround from normal life. Sasha hadn’t heard anything about Martin being a sad little ghost, but it was hard to believe that Martin was a survivor in the zombie apocalypse. 

“You go through the statement and you walk through it,” Jon said, in a very ‘duh’ kind of way. “Give the statement, highfive corpses, whatever.”

“Right, right.” Martin wrung his hands, biting at his lip. “So maybe it’s like that. Maybe instead of asking to be let out - you just have to walk through it. Like - like it’s a maze. Does that make sense? I’m not sure, it’s just an idea.”

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Right as always, Martin.” Everybody’s jaw dropped, and Martin squeaked. “Fine, fine. Let’s...interact with the evil ghosts.” Jon gestured out with his arms, in a very ‘come at me bro’ gesture. “Go ahead and shoot. Hit me with how much you hate me and how disappointed you are that I never amounted to anything and started the apocalypse.”

Finally! Interrogation time! 

But before Sasha could finally find out if global warming had killed the world, Tim jumped in. “Are there zombies in the apocalypse?!” Tim cried, way too excited. “Is it like the Walking Dead? Or is it more Last of Us?”

Jon squinted in Tim’s direction. “Define zombie.”

“...hunger for human flesh, shambling, gross looking?” Tim rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t seen any zombie movies.”

“I’m omniscient, I’ve seen every zombie movie,” Jon lied blatantly. “I just think that you’re - you know, stereotyping. Sometimes people are the undead and eat humans and they’re - they’re very normal people.”

“Yeah, Tim, be sensitive,” Sasha said gleefully. She put the tape recorder on Martin’s desk, deciding that she would definitely need a transcript of this interview later. Also maybe ask more questions about that omniscient thing, but she was sure Jon was just exaggerating. If you asked Jon today if he was the smartest person on Earth he’d probably say yes. Jon wasn’t even the smartest person in the room.

For good measure, she drew out her little notebook from her pencil skirt pocket, flipping through it looking for a clean page. “The Archives have never gotten a time traveller before. This is unprecedented in its history.” Well, she really didn’t know what Gertrude had gotten up to, but she dearly hoped it wasn’t this. “Do you have any warnings? Desperate messages from a ruined world, that kind of thing?”

“I’m not a time traveller,” Jon said flatly, “so no.”

Everybody stared at him in abject pity.

“Mate,” Tim said sympathetically, “it’s 2015. You’re a time traveller.”

“No, I’m in a pocket hell dimension in a period beyond time and space,” Jon corrected arrogantly. “Time travel doesn’t exist.”

“The apocalypse exists but time travel doesn’t exist?” Martin cried. “That’s so unfair! Like, give us something, you know?”

“Your life is very hard,” the extratemporal reject said. 

Typical Jon. A classic case of time travel and here he was denying it. Sasha crossed her arms, upset that they were wasting time debating temporal physics when they could be talking about zombies. She was a historian and had priorities. “Your denial ain’t cute, mate. You’re just wasting all of our time.” Jon opened his mouth, but Sasha steamrolled over him. “You want evidence, right? Do you need to, like, touch my face? Make sure that I’m not a sexy ghost?”

“That’s a stereotype that nobody actually does,” Jon said. 

“Insensitive as always, Sasha,” Martin condemned. 

“How else are we going to prove it to him?” Sasha said, somewhat defensively. “It’s not as if we have any evidence that we’re not sexy ghosts.”

With utmost care and incredible gentleness, Tim reached out an open hand and gently smooshed it into Jon’s face.

Jon slumped in his seat, arms folded, unimpressed. 

“No mortal who is not my darling husband has dared to touch me since I became the Antichrist,” Jon said.

“I don’t know,” Tim said, withdrawing his hand and looking at Sasha. “What’s more unbelievable: Jon as the Antichrist or Jon with a husband?”

“Jon’s gay?” Martin cried, face beet red. “Gay Jon? Gay Jon real?”

“So, like, how do you get the Antichrist gig?” Sasha asked as she silently passed Tim a fiver. Her queerdar had never been so wrong. “Is it like an adventurer quest you can do or would you call it more of a rare genetic disorder thing?”

“Definitely rare genetic disorder.”

“Then does that mean that our Jon also has the Antichrist gene?” Tim asked, alarmed. “You’d never think so just looking at him! It’s always the quiet ones.”

“No, this makes sense,” Martin said.

Tim stared at him. “So, is that, like, a negative for you, or a positive…?”

Martin’s silence was incriminating. 

“It’s a positive,” Jon said helpfully, startling everyone. They had conveniently forgotten not to talk about one very horny man’s very horny crush in front of sad grumpy time travelling crush. “He’s into it.”

“Wow, Jon,” Tim said, “what would your husband say?”

In a completely pointless show of sass, Jon rolled his eyes. “My useless husband is likely much more concerned with how I managed to get trapped in a nightmare dimension on my way back from the Hell corner store.” He waved a hand absently. “So, if we can hurry this up? Get started on the whole torturing me thing? Right now you’re just on track to annoying me to death.”

“We annoy you to death now!” Tim exclaimed, as Martin’s eyes boggled. “Isn’t that more proof for the time traveller theory?”

“It wasn’t annoying,” Jon said curtly. “I secretly enjoyed it. I always felt a little bad that I wasn’t included. Or wouldn’t let myself be included.”

That, abruptly, made everyone feel a little bad. Not guilty, seeing as Jon neither wanted nor deserved their affection, but just kind of bad. Future Jon didn’t seem any happier than regular Jon. Sasha liked to imagine that if she was trapped in an indeterminate period in time and space in a post-apoc hellscape, she’d at least be having fun.

Everybody looked at each other, equally a little uncomfortable. Tim was the one who finally took control of the situation, as the self-appointed Jon & Everyone Else mediator. He had taken up the mantle years ago and worse it with pride, and occasional exhaustion. 

“Look,” Tim said, as reasonably as possible. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, this was super cool and awesome time travel. Let’s also say maybe this was completely baller and you’re from a post apoc future where everyone wears leather.”

“That’s just Melanie.”

“Put it down as one person who wears leather in the future!” Tim cried, and Sasha obediently jotted it down.”But let’s just put all of this in a hypothetical situation where you aren’t...uh, in a bad dream? So would there, hypothetically, be a way to stop the apocalypse or something?”

Jesus christ. What a try-hard. 

Sasha crossed her arms, glaring at Tim. From next to her, Martin looked just as peeved. “Seriously, dude? Like we can just up and stop capitalism?”

“I don’t want responsibility for stopping the apocalypse,” Martin protested. “I can barely navigate the bus system. What if the Terminator comes after my mother or something?”

“You’ll be a bit better off, frankly,” Jon said. Martin nodded, conceding the point, before looking faintly disturbed. 

“But he said that he caused it,” Tim protested. “Maybe the power of friendship can fix this? I mean, the apocalypse is cool, but I feel like this is the part where we’re all badasses and we fight evil or something.” Tim’s eyes widened. “That’s what the Magnus Institute is for. To stop the apocalypse!”

“Every day I feel a slight sense of emptiness due to my internalized guilt about your death, but you are usually wrong about things,” Jon said flatly, which seemed to both perk Tim up and depress him slightly. “And no. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no one event that precipitated the apocalypse; no rules of engagement. You are puppets on strings, indulging in the fantasy of free will. Yes, Sasha, the apocalypse is capitalism.”

Everybody stood in slightly depressed silence over this. Sasha, personally, was a little relieved. She really didn’t have to deal with the whole ‘preventing the apocalypse’ thing. She’d rather spend the finals days of the world in hedonism, frankly. 

Really, the unique providence of the millennial was to live your entire life half-way convinced you were in the twilight years of the world. This hedonism and apathy was second nature. Or maybe the apathy was a Leitner - Sasha had lost track of that too. 

“Aw, man,” Martin said, summarizing the abstract and complex feelings deftly and succinctly. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, this blows,” Tim agreed. “So should I buy my muscle car now, or later, or what?”

Then Martin and Tim started arguing over fuel efficiency in the apocalypse, and Jon royally checked out of the conversation. Sasha imagined that he was internally having a bit of a Saving Private Ryan moment where flashbacks of bombshells exploded behind his eyelids or whatever the fuck. The important thing is that everyone was distracted, and Sasha could finally check up on their most important gambit of the day: making sure Jon wasn’t bothering them. 

Sasha listened carefully for the sounds of Jon’s little theater monologues, and caught only faint hints of sound. She slipped past everyone into the hallway and approached Jon’s office door, pressing her ear against the cheap wood. But she didn’t need to worry: he was still reciting away, oblivious to the actual interesting shit that was happening outside his door. Jon was a delicate plant, you couldn’t stress him out too much or he would die. Hopefully Martin’s drugged tea would kick in soon -

But Antichrist Jon’s head jerked towards her, directly behind him, and Sasha saw his unfocused green eyes fixate directly on her. No, not on her - on the door, or something beyond it. For just a second, his eyes flared a sharp and toxic green. 

“There you are,” Creepy Jon hissed. 

Well, sorry for leaving rooms without telling him, but she hadn’t thought that he even noticed, much less got resentful about it. But Weird Jon was standing up with no hesitation, and effortlessly swerved around Martin’s desk and stalked into the hallway. For the first time, his expression looked a little dangerous. It was bizarre and off putting, like seeing a ragged yet murderous two meter kitten. 

He reached out an arm and let it trail across the wall, stopping short when he felt it hit wood instead of plaster. Tim and Martin surged forward to stop him, yelling warnings, but Sasha quickly stepped back. She never impeded the timeless march of science and progress. Sasha had done far worse in Artifact Storage for knowledge. 

Jon brushed his hand down the door until it hit the doorknob and angrily twisted it, heaving the door open with unnecessary force. Tim and Martin spilled into the hallway as Angry Jon stalked inside, and Sasha eagerly hung in the door frame for a front row seat into the drama. 

“This is your fault,” Jon intoned dangerously, directly in the face of a deathly affronted Jon. 

In the spirit of the First Directive, Sasha heroically stretched out an arm and prevented Tim and Martin from spilling into the office. It was the right call. Jon stalked forward into the office, hair whipping in a nonexistent wind, expression obscured but undoubtedly thunderous, advancing on the terrified Archivist, as -

He tripped over a chair left carelessly in the center of the office, rocketing forward to land flatly on his face. 

Beside her, Martin went white as a sheet. “Oh no.”

Simultaneously, in complete and total unison, Jon and the Archivist yelled, “Martin!”

****

Jon and the Archivist sat across from each other, exuding waves of pure mutual hatred.

Tim had quickly helped the Archivist up, moving the chair forward and getting him situated there. The Archivist’s mood was not improved by any of this. Which was difficult enough to handle by itself, if manageable. Sasha knew how to manage grumpy time travelling blind Antichrists who had gotten lost on their way to the corner store.

She even knew how to handle their boss, who was extremely grumpy about being harassed by a random homeless person with nice hair. Jon hated statement givers at the best of times, much less seemingly homeless ex-corpses. Or, well, Sasha didn’t know if he was an ex-corpse, but he was certainly an animate one. 

They were both being so annoying about it Sasha was trying to determine if she should change their nicknames to something more derogatory. Thing 1 and Thing 2? Too long. 

Both of them were very grumpy about the fact that Martin had pushed aside the chair for guests in front of Jon’s desks when he deposited the drugged tea, accidentally moving it close to the center of the office. Jon had known this because he saw it happen. The Archivist had known this because he, apparently, knew Martin very well. 

Today had really been a bonding experience with Sasha, Martin, and Tim. Their skill at silent communication had reached borderline telepathy. They all looked at each other significantly as the Jons were caught in their mutual dyad of hatred, silently commiserating over the fact that their one goal had been spoiled by the greatest wildcard of all. Sasha privately liked to consider herself somewhat of a wildcard, but she was depressingly aware that the entire Archive team was composed of wildcards. Maybe that’s why half of them didn’t survive the apocalypse. 

It was a little unlikely that Jon was a survivor/instigator in the zombie apocalypse, actually. Dude definitely would have bit it if he wasn’t cheating with Antichrist powers. Now, if Sasha had Antichrist powers, this whole game would be looking very different -

“Boss, this is a statement giver,” Tim hinted desperately, hands clenched so hard on the back of the Archivist’s chair that his knuckles were turning white. “Remember what Elias said about statement givers? About how we can’t harass them?”

“I was in the middle of a recording and this man was unnecessarily confrontational,” Jon said crisply. Sasha caught her eye jumping frantically back and forth between the two, trying to reconcile them. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Martin’s horny surety, she wouldn’t have realized that they were the same person at all. The Archivist’s most defining attribute was his big and fluffy hair, and Jon was sadly lacking in the nice hair department. That fade and twists were the shackle around his ankle. So was the sweater vest, baggy tweed jacket, and ill-fitting.“He’s lucky I’m not throwing him out.”

Martin, who looked as if he was having his tenth gay crisis of the morning, didn’t seem to hold the same opinion, but he was king of bad taste anyway. 

“Remember what Elias said about harassing confused, blind statement givers? Remember that? Boss?”

Jon looked confused. “He didn’t specify the community of people with disabilities.”

“It was implied? Jon?”

“The optics would be terrible,” Sasha said, before snickering. Martin stomped on her foot. She stomped on his back, which definitely hurt a lot more. “Look, Jon, sorry about all of this. He was just - uh - really insistent that he talk to you -”

“I think if our visitor hassles Jon then maybe, objectively, you can say that Jon brought it on himself,” Martin said, in a daring show of anti-Jon sentiment.

This act of subtle rebellion was the first thing that broke the Archivist out of his cycle of hatred. He threw out a hand, bowling over Jon’s desktop cup of pens and sending them tumbling over the desk. Sasha saw him specifically orient his hand to do so. “Thank you, Martin! Your understanding of paraphysics is always immaculate.”

“Wow, really?”

“Stop complimenting my assistants,” Jon hissed, frantically diving to save his pens. “And stop - gesticulating over my desk! You did that on purpose!”

“Harassing the blind, Jon!”

“You don’t even need to tearfully blame me for how I ruined your life,” the Archivist said flatly. “You existing in my vicinity is torment enough.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Sasha said, before pausing a beat. “I meant the first part, ha ha ha, obviously -”

“This man is a very normal statement giver who will be leaving any minute now,” Martin jumped in, “so there’s really no reason for us all to fight, when you think about it -”

“If you all don’t get out of my office, you are all fired -”

“You are listening.”

Everybody stopped talking at once, staring at the Archivist. He was still staring intently ahead, straight into his counterpart. Jon was hiding it, quite badly, but he was unsettled. He hadn’t even acknowledged that he and the man looked alike - the thought undoubtedly running through his brain and soundly dismissed - but it was clearly rattling him. But there was something else that was scaring him too - maybe the Archivist’s green eyes, so foreign from his own brown? His intense and furious expression, like cut glass? The particularly strange and heavy feeling in the air, prickling down the back of Sasha’s neck?

He hadn’t even stopped the recorder. 

“You are here,” the Archivist continued calmly. “You were listening in. Why you were listening in on him, and his regurgitated aftertaste of Statements, I do not know. I felt you, and I came to you. We cannot forsake each other. Do not hide yourself from me.”

The effect was immediate. 

The Archivist’s neck snapped forward, so harshly he cracked his head on Jon’s desk. Strangely enough, Jon screamed too, holding a hand to his temple as if he was suddenly pierced by a blinding headache. Tim immediately bent down to check on Archivist, making sure that he hadn’t hurt himself, as Martin bustled around the desk to check on Jon. Jon batted his hands away, scowling, so he was just fine. But the Archivist didn’t groan, or stir, or moan. He just lay there, still and limp, and when Tim shook him he didn’t even tense. 

The air was heavy, a tang of metal in her mouth like the crackle before a storm, and Sasha couldn’t fight a shiver. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Jon, either: the way he stared at the Archivist, hand on his forehead, eyes wide and growing wider. 

“Dad…?”

When the Archivist stirred, the spell was broken, and Jon’s mouth snapped shut so quickly it was as if he had never spoken at all. He turned his head and moaned, eyes opening uselessly. They were back to their usual toxic green, no flaring or flashing. 

“Mar’in? Where…”

“I’m here,” Martin said quickly, and ducked around the desk to grab the Archivist’s hand and squeeze. For just a second, Jon looked a little jealous. Sasha had the sense that Jon had never been mothered than anyone other than Martin and Tim, and the prospect confused and frightened him so much he reacted aggressively to it. “Everything alright? You hit your head.”

“How many eyes?” the Archivist asked weakly. 

“...physically, or functionally?”

But the Archivist just ran his burned hand over his smooth hand, kneading it and feeling the skin. “Still gone. Damn it.” He straightened, grimacing and spitting out a stray tendril of hair out of his mouth. “So it’s true…”

“So what’s true?” Tim asked urgently. “Do you finally believe us about the time travel thing? Because man, I have so many questions -”

He didn’t get the opportunity to say anything. The Archivist reached out a hand, fingers brushing against his shirt, and the Archivist’s hand abruptly clenched on the fabric. Tightly, roughly, the Archivist pulled him down and extended his other arm, and caught Tim in an awkward and lopsided hug. 

Tim carefully straightened him and returned the hug, gracing the Archivist with the patented Perfect Stoker Hug, and the Archivist buried his face in Tim’s shoulder. His chest didn’t heave, and his breath didn’t catch, but the element of desperation was pungent and unmistakable. 

“You were right,” Jon whispered. “We messed it all up.”

“Sure, yeah, totally!” Tim said, clapping the Archivist on the back in a masculine, yet sensitive way. “So, does this mean the zombie apocalypse is totally a-go, or…”

“Sasha,” the Archivist said, and Sasha chose to ignore her own personal distaste for hugs and being touched so she could step forward and hug him too. 

He clutched onto her just as tightly as he had Tim, which surprised her a little. Jon and Tim had probably been best friends in the future, and Sasha couldn’t imagine her and Jon ever truly being close. He respected her as a colleague, but that was probably because Sasha purposefully left her manuscripts around the office and aggressively used as many big words in front of him as possible. Jon had always been an obstacle to her - innocently stupid at best, malicious at worst. To think that he would grip her so tightly…

With meticulous care, the Archivist separated from her. His expression was crumpled, and for the first time Sasha saw something over than aggravation or impatience in Jon’s face. Relaxed and soft, he looked like a different man. No - he was a different man, it was just apparent. The change softened his sharp lines into something a little friendlier; his striking exterior melting into something pretty instead of imposing. 

Slowly, he raised his hand a little to tangle it in her hair. He frowned a little, gently tugging at it and feeling it spring back into place. “So it was curly…like mine…”

A lot of little hints snowballed into one strange and foreign realization. “Do you not remember me?”

“Dolls stole your identity,” the Archivist said apologetically. 

“Like credit card fraud, or -”

“Metaphysically.” He paused guiltily. “I mourned you as an abstract concept?”

“Like I’m every woman in Hollywood?” Sasha screeched, outraged. This was not trans rights. “Alright, royally fuck that. Feel my hair, mister. Full permission to touch it. Feel that? You call that abstract?” The Archivist shook his head, eyes wide, and Sasha gently moved his hand to rest on the top of her head. “Taller than you in eight cm heels, remember? You asked me how I walked in them, and I said -”

“ - Barbie’s Princess Charm School,” the Archivist said automatically, eyes widening. “I do remember.”

Martin clearly waited around to be tenderly embraced, and was disappointed. 

The Archivist stepped away from Sasha, expression creased in furious thought. “So it’s real. So far as anything’s real, I suppose. But I don’t understand how -” the Archivist’s eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers in realization. “The manhole!”

Everybody stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said pleasantly, “what is going on -”

“I was walking down the street, and I remember hearing city work!” the Archivist said brightly. “They were doing their monthly ‘clearing the gators out of the sewer pipes’ maintenance! And the Beholding told me that there was an open manhole, and I said oh it’ll be fine, I’m a demigod on Earth, I don’t fall down manholes - and then -”

The door to Jon’s office dramatically crashed open, and everybody jumped straight in the air. Jon, whose office had seen two more incredibly theatrical entrances than usual today, immediately bristled and opened his mouth to earn them all another harassment complaint, before he abruptly shut his mouth. 

It was Elias, their miniature and unspeakably boring boss extraordinaire. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the doorframe, suit jacket askew and chest heaving. Had he ran down here?

“Is someone here?” the Archivist asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said, stepping forward cautiously. “It’s our boss, Mr. Bouchard. Elias, we’re taking a statement, can we help - ?”

“How did that get here?” Elias asked, voice strangely tense and coiled. “How did you - not even I could -”

“That makes sense!” Martin cried, thumping a fist on his open palm. “Elias wants to time travel just as much as everyone else in the Institute!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, pathetically behind, “time travel -”

“Did the time traveller sensor alarms in the basement go off?” Sasha asked, surprised. “I thought only Artifact Storage had those.”

“Uh, Mr. Statement Giver, are you okay?” Tim asked, but it was already too late.

The Archivist had turned to face Elias, expression unreadable. Sasha felt that crackle again, weighing down the air, and she saw the Archivist’s hair puff and frizz slightly with a green crackle. His neon green pupils shone again and spun, like an infernal wheel. 

“What’s wrong, Elias?” the Archivist mocked, as energy coursed through him. “Upset that Mama has a new favorite?”

And Sasha saw in that moment that the Archivist, who possessed the most inhuman green eyes she had ever seen, had eyes the same shade as Elias. 

“Oh, man,” Sasha said, “is Elias a time traveller too?”

“Only in the most mundane way. Can’t even get a little bit of special attention, Elias? Sad!” It was second-hand thrilling to watch someone mock their boss, living the dreams of everyone in the room. Even if it was a little weird how much Jon seemed to hate this guy - nobody hated Elias, just like nobody liked him, and nobody had any strong feelings at all besides unpromoted women.

 At the door, Elias’ expression was slack in - amazement? Was amazement the right word? He was staring at Jon as if...words didn’t even describe it. At least in any way that Sasha wanted to think about. 

“Mr. Bouchard, I swear I can explain,” Sasha, who could not explain, said hurriedly. “We found this corpse and we were going to tell you, but -”

But the Archivist cut her off, as if nothing was less important than explaining himself to Elias. “Did you want to know how to stop the apocalypse, Sasha?”

Sasha froze. Martin and Tim did too. Jon, who nobody had actually bothered to brief since he was kind of the fifth most important person in the room, dropped his pen. “Uh,” Sasha said, sweating. For the first time she understood the possible upsides of not knowing something. “I mean, if I have to, but you said that it was inevitable -”

“Oh, yes. But, just once every one or two centuries, a man comes along who fancies himself fate.” The Archivist raised a hand, eyes spinning and spinning, as Elias stood frozen in the doorframe. “I’ll be honest, Jonah. This isn’t to save the world. That’s so last year. I just really fucking hate you.” Something cracked in the air. “Ceaseless watcher, smite this -”

The door slammed shut. Sasha heard Elias lock it behind him. They all stood around as footsteps quickly echoed through the Archives, and another door slammed. Which was probably being locked too. 

They stood in silence, the Archivist having clearly heard the slams. He let his hand fall, but the energy didn’t cease crackling around him. He didn’t look resentful or disappointed - just thoughtful. 

“Everything in due time, I suppose. I guess it is pretty unfair to get to smite that man twice,” the Archivist said thoughtfully. “I’ll give someone else a turn.” His mouth twitched wryly. “You know, Sasha, there’s one other way to prevent the apocalypse.”

“Is it work?” Sasha asked tiredly. 

“You may kill the man who arranged the dominos,” the Archivist intoned, before hanging his head towards a petrified Jon. “Or you may kill the man who toppled them over.”

Sasha stared at Jon. Jon stared back, frozen like a deer in headlights.

Martin silently passed Sasha a penknife from Jon’s desk. 

“I’m very qualified for this job,” Jon protested weakly.

“Queen of feminism, I very much support you,” Tim said quickly, putting himself in between Sasha and Jon in a heroic display of stupidity, “but, maybe, killing your boss to take his job, is perhaps, maybe not that much of a great idea, just a thought?”

“The job’s being the Antichrist,” the Archivist pointed out, crossing his arms. 

“The direct action against sexism, xenophobia, and transphobia is very admirable,” Tim said, eyes held up as if he was placating a tiger, “but think of it this way - if you kill the Antichrist, then you become the Antichrist, like in - uh -”

“Pokemon,” Martin volunteered. 

Tim snapped his fingers. “Pokemon! So you shouldn’t -” He halted, turning back to Martin. “Pokemon? Seriously? That’s becoming champion -”

“A - alright, alright! Everybody stop!” Jon shakily stood up, brushing aside the empty tea mug right next to him. “That’s enough of all of this! I may not know what’s going on, or who this man is, or why he looks like me -”

“Hm,” Martin said, eyeing the empty tea mug. 

“ - why he looks like a homeless person, why he barged into my office and insulted me, why you are all defending this atrocious behavior, why you are calling it the work of time travel, which does not exist and you have no proof for it anyway -”

“Jon,” Martin said, watching Jon’s arm tremble, “maybe you should -”

“Shut up, Martin!”

“Don’t be rude to him!” the Archivist snapped. 

“You’ve been rude to him twice today!”

“I’m allowed to be rude to him! He’s even ruder to me! I’m the nice one!”

“ - and you were glowing in my office, which is just frankly rude,” Jon continued viciously, steamrolling over the Archivist. “You gave me a terrible headache, you hugged my assistants very inappropriately for the workplace, you made my boss walk in before trying to smite him, you encourage violence against my own person in revenge for a job that I definitely deserve -”

Both of Jon’s arms were shaking, and Tim’s eyebrows were slowly raising. “Boss, you should sit down, I think -”

“ - I want an explanation!” Jon yelled, slamming the desk. “And I’m not going to stop until you tell me what’s going on!”

Then Jon passed out. 

Everybody watched it happen. Everybody, save perhaps the Archivist, had noticed that it was about to happen: at first a tremor, then a shake, and then a final collapse. Like a marionette with his strings cut, Jon slumped over and crumpled solidly on the floor. 

Everybody stood in disaffected silence. Martin carefully stepped over and prodded Jon with his foot. “Out cold.” He shot a considering gaze at the empty tea mug. “Sorry, guys. Looks like I accidentally used the delayed action sedative.”

"It’s alright,” Tim said magnanimously. “At least that problem is solved now. Maybe we can convince him this was a bad dream when he wakes up.”

“If he insists it was real, we’ll just ask him for evidence and refuse to believe him without it,” Sasha suggested. 

“Isn’t that kinda gaslighting?” Martin asked. “Isn’t that, you know, a little morally dubious -”

“You did drug him,” Tim pointed out.

“I mean, hardly the first time?”

“Maybe Martin should be the Antichrist,” Sasha said thoughtfully.

The Archivist’s face was doing something extremely interesting, yet inscrutable.

“I really don’t want to be Antichrist, though,” Martin said apologetically. “Does it even pay?”

“Jon did say it was a job…” Sasha said, already considering herself in the role. “Do you guys think I’d be sexier as the Antichrist? Be honest.”

“Yes and completely,” Tim said immediately, before realizing that he said that too quickly. “I mean. I’d never objectify you. I respect women. But -”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Martin said, throwing up his hands. “When you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot it’s normal and M/F of you. But when I do it, then it’s ‘gross’ and ‘get that away from me’. Great double standards, guys.”

“It’s not the fact that it’s a guy,” Tim protested, “it’s the fact that it’s Jon -”

“Oh, when you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot then it’s normal and cis of you,” Sasha said heatedly, “but when Tim respects trans women, then it’s ‘gross’ and -”

“I respect all women,” Tim said, equally heatedly, “but I do want to acknowledge the systematic marginalization of trans women within the community, especially trans women of color like yourself -”

A hoarse wheeze echoed through the office.

Everyone froze, terrified by the haunted sound, but after a second Sasha realized it was the Archivist - Jon - who was laughing. 

They had never heard him laugh before. He was practically wheezing with it, bent over with his hands on his knees, with a strained cackle that fizzed with static around the corners. He was smiling broadly, his grin splitting his cheeks, for the first time that Sasha had ever seen. 

He straightened and threw his head back and laughed too, a greater belly-laugh that was so hysterical and fragile and free that it struck something strange and raw in Sasha’s heart. He rubbed his face with his hand, still laughing, and eventually broke into coughs. 

“I understand now,” Jon said, when he stopped coughing. “I thought that you had deposited me here in revenge. You had sensed that I was happy - that the green skies were beautiful, that your large eye seemed kind that day - and that you found it a waste of emotion. But that wasn’t true, was it? It must have been an accident. I’ve never been happier to hear these idiots arguing, and you’ve lost me like a toy behind a bookshelf. The strange stupidity of it! I’m enchanted.” He sombered a little, expression falling from hysterical glee into a soft and resigned happiness. He held up his hand, feeling the crackle of electricity run across his palms. “But you See me now. The foolish man brought you down upon us, and I intercepted your lightning bolt. His eyes, mundane and paltry, are closed, and you feel my consciousness in replacement of him. I can feel you already - my Eyes opening, the Reality that we built together calling me back. When your infinite grace re-aligns with every one of my atoms, forming the fabric of my world, I’ll snap back.”

Just like that?

Sasha had thought that there would be an...adventure, or quest, or something. At least a research binge. Some kind of heroic group effort. But the Archivist was a stretched rubber band, held tightly and out of position, and after long enough straining against its center it had to snap back. A telly flickering in and out, blaring the song of a dead channel. 

“Do we have time to group hug or something?” Tim offered weakly, undoubtedly thinking the same thing as she was. “Last goodbyes? Anything?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle moment?” Martin asked urgently. “I’ll find you in the future, right? We’re still together there, right?”

“Martin,” Jon said, strangely fond, “we were never apart.”

Martin turned a unique shade of red. 

But it was Sasha who Jon turned to, face angled to the sound of her voice. His expression was still distantly fond, but there was something strange in it too - a wry recognition, a subtle knowledge, a faint recollection of a joke that only he knew. 

“Sasha,” Jon said, “so long as you’re brave, and buy ten fire extinguishers and hide them around the office, things will be just fine. Buy twelve fire extinguishers, just to be safe. And don’t ever go inside Artifact Storage again. Not even for Alicia’s birthday party. If it’s a choice between worms and Artifact Storage then choose worms, the scars add a certain appeal. I cannot stress enough, not even if you lose your jacket in Artifact Storage -”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to say to me?” Martin asked desperately, almost crying. Sasha, personally, wanted to circle back around to the worm thing. “Sad goodbyes? Waving a handkerchief? I thought you said I was alive? Don’t you have anything?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Goodness, Martin, if you insist. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. In fact, I do believe it’s about time.” 

Martin’s mind clearly projected very loudly ‘I’ve been in love with you this entire time’ in blatant wish-fulfillment. Everybody held their breaths. 

Jon drew himself up to his full, imposing height, and sternly looked at all of them. “I’m tired of holding my tongue about this, Martin,” Jon said finally, and Martin qualified. “For the last time, I don’t load the dishwasher wrong. I load the dishwasher correctly. It’s you who’s always insisting that the cups go on the bottom. It’s a freakish way to live your life, and I’ll never forgive you for -”

Static blared in Sasha’s ears and overwrote her mind, and she screamed. The sensation was a pickaxe driven into her ears, an unforgivable rip and tear, and she heard her screams echoed in concert. 

Then the pain abated, and was gone. 

Sasha, Tim, and Martin were left standing in an empty office, accompanied only by the unconscious figure of their boss. There was nothing left of the Archivist, nor any suggestion that he had ever been here - just a drained mug, some scattered pens, and a lingering sense of malaise and confusion. 

Everybody looked at each other, feeling strangely and uniquely connected. It was hardly Sasha’s strangest Magnus Institute experience, but maybe it was the funnest. 

“Well,” Tim said finally, “at least one day this week wasn’t boring.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even have to get drunk today.” Sasha sighed. “We definitely have to gaslight Jon about this.”

Martin was already carefully lugging Jon onto his chair, arranging him so his arms were folded on the desk with his cheek resting on his forearm. “We’ll pretend it was just a weird dream.” He propped his hands on his hips, satisfied. “Hopefully this convinces him he needs more sleep.” Martin gasped in sudden realization. “Maybe he becomes the Antichrist because he needs more sleep! Guys, I have a great twenty step plan for saving the world.”

“Oh, come on, we said that was too much work.” Tim shrugged and opened the office door, holding it open and gesturing for them all to come out. “I think if we just friendship Jon to death, all of our problems will be solved.”

Martin just shrugged, following him out. They really did have paperwork that they needed to get back to. “Both are vital components. But...hey, it’s not weird to put the mugs on the bottom rack, is it? There’s not really that much of a difference, right?”

“Mate, you’re a fucking freak.” Tim looked backwards at Sasha, who was still standing in the office, dazed. “Sash, you coming? Let’s go day-drinking.”

“Yeah,” Sasha said, “in a sec.”

He shrugged and left the door propped open, and Sasha heard their bickering fade slowly as they walked down the hallway. 

But she couldn’t help staring at Jon sleeping at his desk, chest falling in and out, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose. His short, carefully maintained hair and meticulous fade. His baggy tweed and ill-fitting slacks. The subtle and shameful kind of earnestness, the desire mixed with fear mixed with hope mixed with genuine desire for a better future. He just wanted to be happy, to not be afraid anymore. He seemed weirdly human, when compared with his inhuman self. Or maybe it was the other way around. 

The tape recorder on Jon’s desk was still running. Sasha squinted at it, taking a second to listen to the staticy hiss. It was familiar, in the strangest possible way. It felt familiar -

Sasha reached out and grabbed the tape recorder, stuffing it in her pencil skirt pocket. “Just remember,” Sasha whispered, “I’d make a great candidate for Antichrist.”

She ran to go catch up with her coworkers, shutting the door behind them and leaving Jon sleeping contentedly in his office, head pillowed on his arms, dreaming strange and comforting dreams.

[mittensmorgul]

Can’t everyone use tumblr how they want?

YES!

This site is exactly what people make of it for themselves. That was the exact point of that post. The fact that people reacted negatively to it at all proves my point. Seriously.

I have a number of other anons that are clearly from people who don't actually follow me, and are only here in a reactionary fashion having seen it on someone else's reblog, or else heard about it in passing and decided the best reaction to an ultimately harmless and rather bumbling post was to take personal offense and bring anonymous hate to a stranger on the internet. (and at least one not-anonymous "go kill yourself" type comment on the post itself)

THAT was the point of making that post.

For people who might be new to this fandom or new to tumblr in general (or even for people who have been here for years), your experience here is exactly what you make of it. I haven't seen that sort of vitriolic kneejerk reaction to anything I've written or posted in years. That post touched nerves. So it was a bit of an experiment, and I'm sorry to everyone who experienced any of that negativity second-hand. NOBODY should be made to feel like shit when engaging with something that is supposed to be fun. But I've learned over the years that that's exactly what some people consider fun.

There are new people to this fandom since the absolute free for all of the weeks after November 5th. We all reveled in those weeks before the show collapsed in on itself two weeks later. It was like 15 years worth of Hiatus Blogging followed by... well... some of the worst genuine hurt and disillusionment I've ever experienced or witnessed inflicted on a fandom by a piece of media.

There have to be at least a few people who floated into this fandom during that emotional roller coaster who want to make sense of it all, who were at least curious enough about how a show could've brought the characters to that emotional moment in 15.18 before effectively ignoring it all and burning the entire 15 year narrative to nothing just two episodes later.

Some folks stuck around to dig through the ashes of fandom in search of carrion, and that's fine. Some have zero desire to ever engage with the show or the fandom beyond mocking it for ever having existed at all, and that is also fine! But some folks? They might be wondering why anyone ever saw anything in this narrative to begin with, and they might be interested in knowing that there is this vast collection of information available to them (funny that none of my self-righteous anons even mentioned those, outside of one pointing out that my phrasing introducing that section of links was easily interpreted as condescending... which... yeah... again that was the point, and no I will not edit that language. none of us are free from sin).

Tumblr hasn't "changed." It was always this way. This site is not a monolith. Fandom is not a monolith. Even smaller groups within fandom aren't monoliths. Things that are considered "tumblr standard etiquette" do not exist across this entire website. And even within the supernatural fandom, and even within the tumblr-destiel-portion of the fandom there aren't "rules" dictating how you interact with anyone. Well, the one specific rule we should all be able to agree on is that you don't bring hate to real actual human beings, and yet...

There has ALWAYS been the option to engage with fandom here on whatever level an individual chooses. And that hasn't really changed since the finale aired. Anyone who thinks that Tumblr or the fandom has "evolved" or "changed" has likely just fallen in with a different fandom bubble then they'd existed within before. None of the bubbles have actually popped or disappeared. But which one you experience is entirely your own choice. You curate your experience here.

That was the point, illustrated by the vast array of comments I actually got on that post, structured with a little bit of everything including "tumblr mom from 2014." Everything pisses some people off, you know? Even the perception that some stranger on the internet might dare to lay down an arbitrary "rule" that zero people actually have to follow. See what I mean?

Because if any of the people who kneejerked at it actually followed me, or knew me at all, they wouldn't have kneejerked. They would've seen the point.

So your experience is what you make of it here. There are resources for people actually interested in engaging with the narrative or the fandom or the history of it. People mock "tumblr moms" or "fandom moms" all the time, but there wouldn't ~be~ a fandom without the people who actually build those resources. I.e. adults with the time, money, and personal investment in actually sustaining the fandom, instead of running around with torches trying to burn it down at every new whiff of perceived ~drama~ to latch on to.

For example, all of the scripts we've been acquiring and sharing with the entire fandom free of charge. I know that the fandom bubbles who seize on those scripts like hungry vultures to cough back up out of context "gotcha" posts postulating whatever theory of the differences between script and screen will dredge up the most drama or outrage in their fandom bubble... they haven't even considered how those scripts were acquired and made available to them. To them, they are "leaks." They are gifts that fell out of the sky and landed in their laps. There isn't even the barest curiosity about their origins or relevance beyond whatever social nourishment they derive by making up stuff and spouting it out with unearned authority. It's sad. But if that's how they enjoy the fandom, it's nice to remind them that none of the fandom they cannibalize would exist without the rest of us, too.

Yes, even the people you disagree with. Even the people who ship the things you find disgusting or repulsive. Even people who have an entirely different experience to your own. Even the people who are only here for those gotcha posts.

Fandom is not by nature a nihilistic shitshow, or no fandom would survive the amount of drama the 1% try to bring to it. Here have a fanlore article about this phenomenon. Right now, in Supernatural fandom, it feels like more than 1%, but I promise it really is only 1%. They're just really loud. There's actually other avenues to participatory fandom available to anyone who chooses to find them. Parts of this vast fandom that aren't focused on that 1% of reactionary leg-chewing at every turn. None of them are (as the linked article confirms) truly 100% free of unnecessary drama or bad behavior (including ME, I mean I MADE THAT POST!), but on tumblr you can curate your own experience. Fandom actually can be fun without burning down the thing you claim to be a fan of, or attacking other real human people for having the audacity to exist on the internet in a way you might believe is out of touch or pathetic. Seriously, nobody deserves to experience that from anyone over a fucking television show. Like seriously, take a step back and examine your life and your choices at that point.

Tumblr was exactly the same as a fandom community when I joined as it is now. Throughout my entire time here, I've curated my own personal experience to exactly what I derive the most personal satisfaction from. During that time I have had numerous friends and mutuals lament that their personal experience had become so toxic, but they were afraid to trim those blogs from their dash for fear of having no content left to engage with at all. For years there have been follow lists and blog recs and people desperate to find a more "peaceful and fun" fandom experience. People grow exhausted and embittered when their entire experience of fandom is an emotionally draining drama train. It's like pandemic doom scrolling, but for the thing that should be a respite from that sort of mindset, something that's supposed to be entertainment. The show did enough to us all, we don't have to turn around and re-inflict it on each other day in and day out on tumblr dot com.

So if even one person saw my post and thought well shit maybe I actually want to engage with a wider swath of fandom and see what's there, after seven months of post-finale drama, this whole other region of fandom is still here, still being the curators of the archives, the creators of stories and art and meta and gifs and videos and actually caring about it all that will keep this fandom going long after the current round of exhausting drama inevitably plays itself out.

The amount of in-group language in the negative replies I got was unsurprising. It's like folks are living in an alternate universe that doesn't mesh at all with what I experience on this exact same hellsite. Almost like we exist in entirely different bubbles of fandom, with entirely different purposes for existing at all. Everyone on this hellsite gets to pick which bubble (or bubbles) to take up residence in. Some people simply forget that their personal bubble isn't the universal defining experience of this site. Unfortunately, I doubt my little disruption to their bubbles will actually make any of them see that, but you anon... I think you did.

You are highly encouraged to engage with fandom EXACTLY THE WAY YOU CHOOSE. You have the ultimate power in controlling your entire experience here. Tumblr and Supernatural Fandom on tumblr is not Just One Thing that everyone who wants to participate in must conform to one specific code of ethics or behavior to be part of. And that NOBODY has the right to tell anyone else they're doing it wrong (including ME! I am 100% including myself in this!).

It's not MY job to dictate how anyone else experiences this fandom, as much as it was not the job of the people who reblogged my post (which I did not personally shove into their eyeballs with a demand for compliance... how did any of those people even *find* my post?) solely to tell me how *I* need to change how I experience the fandom, you see? Don'tcha love hypocrisy!

But the point was made for those who care, and a lot of people got to update their block lists (I still don't block anyone, as I said I curated my fandom space here and generally don't follow folks that don't personally make me happy and enrich my life by engaging with their content. However other people choose to engage with *my* content (any of it, going back nearly 50k posts over the last decade) is their business entirely. Sometimes I just feel the need to draw out people who are all too eager to expose their own whole asses in public. Mission accomplished.

[palmtreepalmtree]

Hey everyone!  I am pleased to present the first holiday edition of...

The Worst Movie on Netflix Right Now™!

Today we’re going to talk about the first Netflix holiday release, Holidate.

Deep sigh.

OYEZ, OYEZ.  NOW COMES BEFORE THE COURT THE CASE OF PALMTREEPALMTREE V. NETFLIX.

NETFLIX PRESENTS FOR CONSIDERATION IN THE HOLIDAY ROMANCE GENRE THE NETFLIX FILM KNOWN AS HOLIDATE (HENCEFORTH ”THE FILM”).  THE FILM IS CHARGED WITH UNNECESSARY ADULT LANGUAGE, POOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, CRUELTY TO SINGLE PEOPLE, AND NEGLIGENT TREATMENT OF SERIOUS FIREWORK INJURIES.

PALMTREEPALMTREE, PLEASE PRESENT YOUR CASE.

Thank you, your honors and friends and gentlepeople of the jury.  Today we consider a film known as Holidate and whether it’s worthy of our collective viewing.  Let’s cut right to the chase here.  It is not worthy of our time.

Let me break this one down for you:

THE PREMISE

The premise of The Film is pretty much the only thing that’s not bad about it.  A young woman, tired of feeling uncomfortable as the only single person at family get-togethers, makes a pact with a handsome man that she randomly met at the mall to be each others’ so-called holidates.  They basically agree to attend whatever events need attending on the holidays with zero romantic expectations.

As a premise for a rom-com, this is totally sound.  We’ve arranged for our two heroes to spend quality time together that will eventually lead to them falling in love, right?  Right.  

So where does this go wrong?

UNNECESSARY ADULT LANGUAGE

The Film kicks right off with a mature rating.  It really wants you to know it’s mature.  In fact, this is the first line of the movie:

She promptly extinguishes that cigarette on the head of a light-up Santa Claus. You might immediately think, OH HAHA FUNNY.  But no, it’s not.  Take it from an expert.  Cursing for cursing’s sake is not funny.  It’s true that the word ‘fuck’ may have a funny fucking rhythm to it, but the word alone is not a fucking joke.  It’s not inherently funny to say ‘FUCK.’  Also, ‘pussy,’ ‘slut,’ and ‘clitoris.’  Not funny when you’re just working it into a sentence for no purpose.

It’s like this movie wants to be the Bad Santa of holiday rom-coms.  But who the fuck asked for that?  This movie is like the girl who claims she’s ‘not like other girls.’  This movie is the girl who ‘doesn’t know why, but only has guy friends.’   This is the ‘girl who listens to the Joe Rogan podcast’ of rom-coms.  None of these things fucking exist.  But this movie sure is trying.

POOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

Listen, I’m not saying that all women in the world have friends.  But most women in the world (especially pre-long-term partnership) have some sort of friend group.  Even if it’s long distance or online or something.  But the main character here, played by Emma Roberts, appears to have no one.  Just her consistently abusive family members (more on that later).  

The premise of this movie quickly morphs from “I need a date to bring to my family events,” to “I need a date for every holiday on the calendar including ones that don’t involve my family.”  Why does she want to hang out with this rando on St. Patrick’s Day?  Cinco de Mayo?  Halloween?  WHERE ARE HER FUCKING FRIENDS?

There are no friends in sight.  This would be more believable if the script even hinted that she had friends.  Like maybe she’s tired of third-wheeling it with her couple friends while she tries to find dates of her own?  Or maybe she’s super emotionally wrecked from her last guy (even though she only dated him for a few months!?!?!?)  But no.  Instead, she spends the better part of the year of this movie going out with this fucking placeholder instead of trying to meet people or having fun with her actual fucking friends.  

Her personality is just a general sketch of habits: eats junk food, smokes and lies about it, works from home, enjoys pajama pants, etc.  We know nothing about her otherwise.  At least she’s not clumsy.

If it seems weird that I haven’t mentioned the male lead that’s because he’s fucking boring and I don’t really give a shit about him.  He’s oatmeal.  

CRUELTY TO SINGLE PEOPLE

I honestly can’t believe I have to say this, but if you’re going to make a rom-com that people can relate to maybe you should not spend the entire film showing contempt towards single people?  Actual lines from the movie:

[with shock horror] “What do you mean, you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day!?”

“She’s going to die alone in a wheelchair and a diaper.”

“Human beings aren’t meant to be alone on the holidays.”

“She doesn’t need another friend she needs a husband.  A partner.  Someone legally bound to be there during the chemo.”

The main character’s single status is treated by everyone as sad, pathetic, something that needs to change as soon as humanly possible.  They are aggressively cruel to her about her single status.  Her mother says things to her like, “I care about you.”  And characters are always observing that she seems sad.  I can credit the Film with these expressions coming out of a sincere place.  But because it simultaneously always plays those moments for laughs, there’s an element of meanness to it.  

“YOU SEEM SO SAD, HAHAHA!!!!”

Look, I’m not saying the movie doesn’t have a point.  I think human connection is really important.  Caring for other people and having people who care about you is important.  But this movie and all of its characters treat romantic relationships as if they are the only type of relationship worth pursuing.  What if this movie ended with them just being friends?  Would that have been so bad?

Also, nearly all of the other romantic relationships in this movie are a fucking disaster --- and again, they are played for laughs.  The main character’s sister is trapped in a marriage where she and her husband are living separate lives with different priorities and values; her brother has gotten engaged to a woman after three months of dating who HAHA he doesn’t even seem to know very well; and her mom is single and maybe possibly is projecting her own fears and loneliness even though that’s never actually acknowledged in any way?  

I don’t know guys, but I think a rom-com should leave you feeling optimistic about love.  I mean, what the fuck else is the point?

NEGLIGENT TREATMENT OF SERIOUS FIREWORK INJURIES

Look, I don’t want to get into the weeds here, but in the pursuit of cheap laughs, this movie absurdly treats some pretty serious injuries lightly and it’s weird and it doesn’t work and I honestly don’t know why this movie is what it is.  It should be called Holidate: a movie in search of a tone.  

CLOSING ARGUMENTS

A good rom-com requires several things to be truly successful: 1) a fun, engaging premise; 2) believable characters that you care about and want to end up together; and 3) a good feeling at the end that leaves you optimistic and warm and fuzzy.  This movie may succeed in being occasionally funny (I guess, if that’s your sort of thing, it’s not mine, I just thought it was weird and gross, and I don’t fucking know), but it fails on 2/3 of those requirements.  

Not to mention, WHAT A FUCKING WASTE OF KRISTIN CHENOWETH.  

In conclusion, your honor and gentlepeople of the jury:

THIS MOVIE IS A FUCKING MESS AND IT SHOULD LEAVE SINGLE PEOPLE ALONE.  

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #420

lol blaze it (i’m funny i swear)

In your opinion, which fast food place has the best fries? Without a doubt, Bojangle's. Good. Shit. Are there hurricanes where you live? Yeah, they're common here. What do you hate the most about yourself? I'd really rather not get into this right about now. What song are you listening to right now? "Beast of Gévaudan" by Powerwolf. What was your first concert? Alice Cooper. Also my only concert. What’s your favorite Johnny Depp movie? Alice In Wonderland. Who did you last say “I love you” to? My sister. Do you like pumpkin pie? Anything pumpkin-flavored is a hell no from me. Do you know anyone named Austin? Knew, rather. Do you know anyone who is having a baby? My friend recently announced she and her husband are having their second child in December. What was the last thing you cried about? Just PTSD. Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? I like both, but I prefer chocolate. Do you think you are an argumentative person? Definitely not. How many deep dark secrets do you have? Two or so, idk. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings at Buffalo Wild Wings with one of the hottest sauces. Wanted to die. ... Yet I continued to get that one whenever I went for years lmao. Who last called you sexy? I don't know. Would you class yourself as a good role model? In some ways, but in a lot of other ways, no. Are you scared of the dark? No. Do you have a motto? No. Who did you last see on webcam? The doctor that overlooks my TMS progress. Do you need a haircut? I need a trim for sure. How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well, considering 1.) she's way past menopause and especially 2.) she's had a complete hysterectomy, y'know... that's kind of impossible. She also hasn't been with a guy in many years, so she would have to be joking. You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? -___- Would you rather exercise alone or with other people? ALONE. You will NOT see me exercise in front of other people. What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? The most involved is DEFINITELY World of Warcraft, and I guess you could consider it the hardest too, given some of the much more difficult things I've done in it. It itself isn't a hard game whatsoever, but you can pursue some really hard achievements. Ever watch the show Supernatural? If you have, then what’s your favorite episode? I used to love it, but just stopped watching eventually. My fave episode... Man, it's been too long to remember many. Probably one of the funnier ones. I remember I specifically liked the bit where they were in your everyday comedy show, as well as the one where I THINK Dean kept trying to prevent Sam from dying. I just remember the "Eye of the Tiger" bit that is pure gold. Ever heard of flavored honey? If so, what’s you’re favorite flavor? Oh, no, but that sounds good. Do you remember what your favorite show was when you were little? Yeah, Pokemon. Do you put anything besides cheese on grilled cheese sandwiches? Besides butter, which I think is pretty standard, no. When it comes to books, what do you think is the “perfect” amount of pages? Uh, I dunno. It depends on the book. I don't really care about page numbers. Would you ever be interested in going scuba diving? Yeah. Out of all of your friends/relatives, who would you say has the best vocabulary? Girt, probably. Are any of your fingers or toes deformed? What about the nails? I don't think so? When is the last time you cried? I was sobbing earlier today, fun stuff. Would you ever date somebody that has been divorced more than once? Most likely not. ESPECIALLY at my age. What are some stereotypically nerdy things that you like? Oh god. WoW, M:tG, big glasses, anime (does that count? idk really), video games... a lot of stuff, really. Have you ever attended a wedding that ended where the bride and groom didn’t actually get married? What happened? Y I K E S, no. That would be SO uncomf. What scares you the most about becoming a mother (hypothetically, if you don’t want to have children)? Actually raising it properly, physically and emotionally. Would you ever want a job in fashion? What would you enjoy about that type of job? No. Would you ever be a surrogate mother? No. What do you think would be the best and worst parts about being a twin? It'd be cool to have someone you feel an almost supernatural connection towards, but I'd also feel like I wasn't as "original" as I would be if I was born alone. Do you feel that your childhood was more rough compared to others around you? I mean it wasn't awful at all, but sure, in some ways compared to at least someone. How would you react if you found out today that you were actually adopted? Well today I'm a wreck, so don't tell me. I want to know that I wasn't lied to for 25 years. Have either of your parents ever cheated on one another before, that you know of? How would you react if you found out today that one of them cheated? I'm not entirely clear on this, but I'm 90% sure Dad cheated on Mom with his now-wife. Dad also accused Mom of cheating, but I HIGHLY doubt that's true. Do you like cleaning and organizing? Not really. How would you react if you found out you were infertile? If you don’t plan on having kids to begin with, what is a long-term goal you’d be crushed to find out was impossible to achieve? Fuck having kids. I'd be a terrible mother. So to answer the other question, I'll be pretty, pretty sad if I can't get permission to spread Teddy's ashes at Yellowstone. Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? Well, obviously not considering my dream job is a meerkat biologist, and I'm not moving to Africa. Have you ever been robbed? No. Is anyone close to you an alcoholic? Not anymore. Dad was, but he's recovered. Have you ever dumped anyone? Yes. What kind of tea do you drink? I hate tea. Do you know anyone in a gang? No, and I hope I never do. What’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you? Risk his fucking sanity and health to try to hold my fucked up self up. What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? Anything other? Bisexual. I've kinda been questioning pansexual of the late, though. I don't know. Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? Not to my memory. Name three feelings you’re feeling right now: Regret. Hopelessness. Loneliness. And the reasons for these feelings? Take a wild fuckin' guess. How do you feel about your life right now? It's an actual dumpster fire. Is it easy for you to like yourself? Why or why not? Fuck no. Because there's just not very much TO like about me. Even on my good days, I see flaw after flaw in myself. What subjects come naturally to you? English, some aspects of science. What subjects do not? Math, economics, politics, history... Do you read more fiction or more non-fiction books? Definitely fiction. When I read a book, I want an escape from the real world. How has today been for you? BOY HOWDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What did you do? Went to TMS therapy. Sat on the Internet. Cried. :^) Are there any candles lit in the room you’re in? No. Are there any lava lamps near you? No. I want one, though. Do you like cats or dogs better? Cats. Are any of your friends a pothead? Yes. What’s a goal you’re trying to accomplish soon? Start losing weight again. That'd be pretty goddamn grand. Are you a high maintenance person? Definitely not. The last time you yelled as loud as you could, what was the reason? I was having a nightmare. Have you ever been heartbroken? For sure. Who did that to you? First Dad, then Jason. Did you go through an ugly stage as a kid? Boy, did I. The last type of sandwich you made or ate: A pb&j. The last time you spent most of the day in bed: Literally every day. I do just about everything in bed. Pathetic, I know. The last friend or acquaintance you made: Ummmm idk. The last thing you took pictures of: A hydrangea bush. The last time you were scared: Now. The future is terrifying, my friend. The last thing you looked up online: The definition of a word to ensure I was using it correctly. The last thing you disagreed with: So I've been watching John Wolfe's old stream of him playing Alice: Madness Returns, and he went on a total soapbox about smoking being okay essentially because we're all gonna die eventually from something, and I really disagreed with it. Does your house have a separate laundry room? No, just like a closet. Do your parents still help you financially? I'm still entirely dependent on them. Does your car have a backup camera? No. Have either of your parents ever been in trouble with the law? Not to my knowledge. Have you ever had a pet that lived to be really old for its breed/species? REALLY old, no. Teddy was definitely up there, but beagles have lived longer. What was the last strong scent you smelled? Lysol. Have you ever told someone to their face that they were ugly? Christ, no. Is your bed against more than one of your walls? No. Have you ever been attracted to someone’s parent? Don't think so? Have you ever pole danced before? No. Have you ever broken into someone’s house? No. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yes. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? I dunno. Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No. How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? Funny you ask, because as of today I decided to take a break from it for awhile. I've found it's nothing more than a breeding ground for envy and making me feel like a horribly incompetent adult. Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? I had one photography teacher in college that I was NOT a fan of. He was super, super hard on everyone, like to an unnecessary degree. We were students, not pros. Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. Are your parents supportive of you? Somehow.

[wvanderrant]

Shitty People...

A sad reality of being an adult is meeting Shitty People, and if the cosmos decided you are not unfortunate enough yet by seeing them, you will actually get one as a friend. It sucks for someone like me who treasure friendships. I keep my circles small because I avoid unnecessary dramas and the possibility of involving myself with toxic friends. Unfortunately, no matter how much I tried to avoid these kind of people, one or two slips into my life and it’s late for me to find out that they are that shitty friend I’d like to avoid with all my energy. Just like what happened recently... I won’t go into details about how bad she made me feel as I’d prefer to spare myself from discussing such pathetic stuffs. Anyways, I bravely said my thoughts to her. I bravely told her I was disappointed and hurt. Now, It’s up to her to make up for it or just let it and be that “Shitty Friend” she was, as for me I’m moving on. 

This is not really the first I’ve experience this. I’ve had a couple of people who were used to be good friends of mine then, one day we just stopped connecting with each other. I used to think, “oh we grew apart.” or “May He / She was just a phase” or “People come and go”. With all the time we have now, one of the things I’ve thought about is my relationship with my friends. The strength of my connection to them. I reached out to them, ask them how they are, most of them despite of busy schedules and what’s going on, replied and I still felt the warmness of our friendship. Others were... you can feel the distance, But I still appreciated that they still replied. Somehow I took it as a sign that they are still open to be friends and everything will boot up over a nice long catch up. Then, there are these people you’ve hangout frequently and yet they still got the guts to take you for granted. So narcissistic. So selfish. such a user. It’s frustrating! and it makes me even more frustrated cause thoughts of blaming myself are occuring. Why I even blame myself? what the hell!

Times like this I only have myself, I have to remind myself I am a good friend. I don't deserve this. Shit things happen and shitty people exist. They’re shitty. It’s the way they are. DANG!

[konekoryuugamine]

Riffing the Reef: “Good Neighbors”

This was written with the intent to start riffing apart Spongebob episodes since going about it in a general way would lead me to rant on everything under the sun. I will select episodes that need to be riffed, immediately and definitely, and begin riffing them as needed. Also, I will not take requests unless I can have a valid reason to riff them, other than a character being out of character. With that in mind, I am only criticizing the episodes and not the show in general. The show is credited to Stephen Hillenburg. Please enjoy.   

We can't go on and deny it. Spongebob Squarepants used to be one of the greatest and funniest cartoons on Nickelodeon, nay on the air. It took inspiration from 'Ren and Stimpy', another classic Nick cartoon, and the evidence remains to this day. It had pizzazz, humor, and a sort of distinct charm with Spongebob being a likable protagonist while still having moments of advanced stupidity. Sometimes he was in the right, other times he was in the wrong.    He always learned his lessons and kept being the same happy-go-lucky sponge we watched on Friday Night Nicktoons.    Sure, he had some downer moments, but he was always perked and peaked, and soon became a cultural icon.    But then . . . it all turned sour. How you may ask?    Let me answer that question with this small tangent.     The Spongebob Squarepants Movie was planned to be the final Spongebob Squarepants animation, with the creator himself having gone off to start a career in marine biology. Smart move. The film was made out to be Spongebob's biggest adventure, and it was: King Neptune, an adorkable princess, Mr. Krabs getting frozen, Squidward showing brains, Plankton actually winning for once, Dennis, David Hasselhoff successfully being shoehorned in, an epic quest, and a Twisted Sister parody song with awesome guitar riffs.

   The movie. Was awesome.    More importantly, it demonstrated how Spongebob had come of age in his own time and how he was ready to move on. He was even shown in the epilogue images doing the things he always does, but now with the respect and responsibility of being the manager of the Krusty Krab 2.    Given this information, continuing the series after the movie would have killed the movie. The lessons and experiences Spongebob had learned from the movie would not be remembered, the Krusty Krab 2 would be gone and everything would remain unchanged. That being said, since the movie was considered by many to be the true ending for Spongebob and friends, the fourth season was a large slap in the face.    To Nickelodeon, it was a business decision. The movie brought in a record amount of viewers and cash, and was generally well-recieved, aside from some negative criticism about the amount of singing and unnecessary filler in some parts, but that's beside the point. Hillenburg decided to move on from Spongebob and do what he wanted, but Nickelodeon decided to cash in on the movie's popularity, and created new seasons with new writers and artists for Spongebob Squarepants.    And since everyone watched the new episodes with the added expectation of it being like the movie, even the specials of Spongebob from season 4 onward, Nick gained the ratings and money needed to continue producing more seasons. Now the show is going on season nine, and the show has become what most would consider 'adult swim' channel entertainment.    Thus, the series became what is called in the trope community a 'franchise zombie'. This means the show is continuing down the same path as before, the Status Quo is God, and it is constantly brought back from old drenches.    I could go on about how Nick jumped the shark, how their newer writers were also old writers from previous seasons, and how most of the season four to five episodes were shorts cut up into 5-7 minutes each, but that would take all day and I want to tackle things like this one at a time. Not all at once.    Way too much vernacular for my fingers to type out.        Thus, I feel it necessary to state that many, if not all, of the post-movie Spongebob Squarepants episodes are crap.    Many names come to mind in how bad they are: "The Splinter". "Pet Sitter Pat". "Smooth Jazz at Bikini Bottom". "A Pal for Gary". "One Coarse Meal". "Squid Baby". "The Thing". "Driven to Tears". "Rule of Dumb". The list goes on from there.    These episodes and more are given the harshest of critiques for children's programming, and are often scrutinized by longtime fans of the series, if any still exist. The main reasons for these episodes' condemnation?    Their quality and quantity.    These episodes feature characters who are placed into horrible situations for no reason than to either be tortured, placed there just for the sake of plot convenience, or placed with a deus-ex-machina that makes everything completely unnecessary. Sometimes these characters are flanderized beyond belief, others are defined as jerks throughout, and in the case of Mr. Krabs, Spongebob and Patrick most of the time, are made completely unlikable.    These episodes also feature some, if not all, of the following: mean-spirited humor, anti-humor, disgusting shots, clunky dialogue, out of character moments, torture, gross out humor, gore, adult jokes that go over children's heads, severe sterotyping, insulting humor, false outcomes, cliche plot devices, and just plain bad writing in general.    Making episodes and cartoons like this in general is a bad idea. Kids watch this show not only because it's their demographic but because they like watching cartoons about funny things. Constantly writing and creating episodes where a character gets a toenail ripped off, or abuses a pet snail for no reason other than plot, immediately send the wrong messages to kids. They'll either be grossed out or be forbidden from watching a violent show by their own parents.    The creator himself even stated the show has become something that should be aired on 'adult swim'.    I can believe it. I also know my mom has banned my sisters from watching the show.    After re-watching a few episodes, I can see why.    If we take all of the previous statements made before and try to form a given conclusion, we always come to this: Spongebob Squarepants has become one of the worst cartoons in history. It has come to deserve this title wholeheartedly. And considering it has to compete with Family Guy, I'm not surprised at all.    Spongebob episode quality had a drop in many seasons, with seasons 6 and 7 being the most devious with the most infamous episodes. Season 4 had a few hits and misses, while season 5 had less hits and more tries. The once splendid animation to me has now become creepy and despondent, like it was purposely making me want to turn off . . . my . . .TV . . .    That may be their true intent, but I need my TV for anime.        Sorry, writers. No dice.    As to why I'm just now bringing up the episodes when earlier I was praising it is because a good show can have bad episodes. Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends had 'Everyone Knows It's Bendy', and Powerpuff Girls had 'Town and Out' and maybe 'PeePee Gees'. Spongebob Squarepants has had a good run, but the episodes have shrunken in quality and merit, and it reflects that through the writing and characters.    And, considering how everyone keeps talking about the show while I have had almost NO say in the matters, I feel it necessary to take a stance on some of the episodes that either tugged at my heartstrings or yanked out my heart and stomped on it. These episodes have to be taken apart, lest the writers of now never learn what the show did wrong.    That way, these mistakes can never be made again.    Hopefully.    One such episode that left me scratching my head was "Good Neighbors" from season 4.    I consider this to be the first truly 'bad' episode of Spongebob. Not only are some of the animations and screenshots disturbing, but Spongebob and Patrick become incredibly stupid for the sake of the plot while Squidward is placed as the butt of their torture and jokes. Another name for this from other critics is a 'Squidward torture porn'.    Now, before I go on, I have to admit: I hate Squidward. He's an egotistical, spineless and spiteful squid who often reviles at his own employment, longs for the fancy life and enjoys only his pursuits of arts. His artwork is terrible because he sees himself as perfection and sophistication, thus uses himself as a muse. This in turn makes his artworks hard to look at, and like what happened with 'Bold and Brash', get thrown away. He is shown as selfish, self-centered and a stickler in many an episode, and often reviles in Spongebob's happiness and positivity.    Now you see why I hate the guy.    Of course, he gained his moments of sympathy, such as when he is confronted with his high school rival Squilliam Fancyson, who seems to be his antithesis. Squilliam can even be stated as what Squidward wants to be: perfection, a god and even a fancy gentleman. However, something will always hold Squidward back, either by plot device, plot or some sort of personality trait. He does have moments where he impresses Squilliam, such as hosting the Krusty Krab as his own restaurant with Spongebob's help, or rocking out at the Bubble Bowl, also with Spongebob's help.    That being said, it is also wise to note that I feel Squidward placed too much hate onto Spongebob most of the time. The yellow cube was often doing his best to help the cephalopod, and often times his own quirks made the good deeds backfire. Episodes like "Are You Happy Now?" and "Tiki Dream" are two that come to mind with this.    I'd say a word about PATRICK, but THAT is for another time.    So, I've stated Squidward is a prick, can be a major jerk, and Spongebob often helps him see the light. It just takes a while for Squidward to see it. Hmm . . . Spongebob and Squidward are opposites in this case, but not with just being happy and sad. The two are two sides of the same coin; Squidward is mopey and pathetic, fed up with fulfilling his dreams while Spongebob tries his best to become a fulfilled character with goals and dreams.    Aside from that depth, and given that I've gone on this tangent with a purpose in mind, consider this: Squidward has often liked Spongebob, and admits it in certain episodes like "SB-129".    In "Good Neighbors", however, Spongebob is showing his usual brand of stupidity and naivety, while bothering Squidward, who later yells loudly at Patrick and Spongebob for being horrible neighbors. Something once touched on in "Naughty Nautical Neighbors" and "Opposite Day".    Why did that work there and be funny while here it was a bad idea?    A few reasons, actually.    "Good Neighbors" revolves around Squidward wanting to just enjoy a nice, quiet day, like a previous episode of Spongebob called "Squid's Day Off".    The first problem is this episode is borrowing and/or stealing a direct plot line or idea from a previous episode. This is considered rehashing, and this is a major author no-no. You never rehash an old storyline or plotline unless you can expand on it, make it better and more detailed, or solve the problems that were with it before.    Rewriting it into a newer season with a different style and name is still rehashing, and looks like copy-pasting on paper. In other words, THIS IS CHEATING.    Furthermore, "Squid's Day Off" did this well to begin with, because Squidward's conscience kept playing with him. It was actually funny to see him worry his head off about things Spongebob would never do, such as destroy the Krusty Krab. He even admitted he wanted his job back at the end of the episode because he was worried.    Showing morality with the character is the best way to connect with the audience. Much better than some cheap laugh.    But no; Squidward ends up planning out the perfect Sunday, and Spongebob and Patrick come out of nowhere to ruin it.    The second problem with this episode is Spongebob and Patrick in general. They are flanderized to be stupid and naive as possible, when in previous episodes, Spongebob was accepting of limits and wants for others of the sea. He saw his own faults when he shrunk everyone in Bikini Bottom, and stopped himself from doing dangerous things with Patrick in "Life in a Day". He knows limits and accepts them.    In this episode, however, Spongebob is completely ignorant of Squidward's frustration and anger, nor does he seem to be aware of his own morality index. What he was doing is wrong, he should have known it was wrong, but he did it anyway.    Patrick being there is more of a double-marker of him being stupid for stupid's sake. That's another nitpicky rant for another time, but for now, having there just furthers the stupidity.    The two constantly barge in on Squidward as he tries to relax on his only day off, (in a comfy and casual way no less, which actually looks peaceful), and cause trouble for him. The two end up being told to paint polka dots on trees and accidentally paint Squidward to where his eyes are hurt and he looks ill.    They steal his fancy pedicure and Sunday time relaxing, ruin his Sunday paper, and drive him mad, and for what, you may ask?    To let Squidward become the leader of their Secret Royal Order of the Good Neighbor Lodge.    Again, this was touched on before, and done better, in other previous episodes of Spongebob. This episode is a continuity rehashing of over ten separate episodes of the previous seasons, with less humor and more anger filled dialogue. Squidward ended up deserving the hurt he needed in those other episodes as well because he acted like a jerk in "Club Spongebob", "Naughty Nautical Neighbors" and "Squid's Day Off".    Moreso, Spongebob, and Patrick just randomly break into Squidward's house, wearing fezes, and just decide to annoy him right when he wants to relax. This is a case of plot convenience gone wrong and a Squidward Torture Porn in the making.    Furthermore, Squidward only wanted to relax, something we all can relate to. He was only trying to be himself and enjoy a day off from his terrible job with a terrible boss. Mr. Krabs, I'm looking at you! He had no reason to be tormented or tortured by the two of them. This came out of nowhere for him.    You could say it was because he tossed Spongebob out of his window by saying it was Sunday and he didn't have to go to work, but again, it makes Squidward look like he's in the wrong because Spongebob is portrayed as being in the right.    Thus, the third problem here is who the real protagonist and antagonist of this episode really is.    Squidward, Spongebob and Patrick: who is the real jerk?    I say it varies in interpretations, given Squidward is still his pre-movie self, and Spongebob and Patrick are dumber than hell, but either way, it falls the outcome of the episode is still the same.    The only saving grace of the episode is that Squidward manages to pierce their veils of idiocy by yelling at the two of them at the top of his lungs. He lets ALL his anger and frustration out. That is the only time within these newer seasons that ANYONE has managed to break through their idiocy.    Savor the moment, people. SAVOR IT.    The final part of the episode, or what I consider the undoing of the episode, is pretty much the reason I thought it was entertaining as a kid. Now, I find it cruel and unusual. Squidward finds an ad for an advanced security system and purchases it with the intention of keeping the two knuckleheads out of his house for good.    After installation, the two materialize into his house with an apology cake that says "Sorry for Bugging You So Much".    This is another making or breaking of the episode, surprisingly. They realize what they did was wrong, and they accepted it as such. However, Squidward is still reasonably upset by the fact the security system did not get rid of them. They even bring in a cake, but the fact is the end up barging in, but still pose no real threats. Had this been handled well, Squidward would have ACCEPTED their apology and admitted he was in the wrong as well for being so overly upset.    However, Status Quo is God dictates he must get punished and get severely angry at them for coming in, and at the security system for not responding to their annoyance. It goes haywire and the system hurts Squidward in the process.    AND then the cake flies on the machine, it goes haywire and . . . makes Squidward's house come to life and destroy Bikini Bottom . . .    This is COMPLETELY unnecessary, and completely over the top. There are so many questions for this and a lot of writing plot holes here. If the security system was on the inside of his house, how did the house grow arms and legs? Why would the system go haywire when cake hits it when drinks and beverages would do far more significant damage than smear the screen with frosting? Why does Squidward seem in the wrong here? And . . . if Mr. Krabs is so cheap, how the hell did Squidward afford that much of a security system?    The point remains; this is completely unnecessary. It only serves to cause more trouble for Squidward, get him kicked out of his own house, have it destroy Bikini Bottom with Patrick and Spongebob inside, and cause the terrible conclusion of this episode. I'm not going to go over how contrived this is or how forced this is, mostly because I think I've already covered it before.    An angry mob - why is it always an angry mob? - forms outside of his house and is placed at fault for causing the damage. Then he gets a court summons to clean up the town every Sunday for the rest of his life. Spongebob and Patrick get it as well, and they take it as naively as possible. 

   I think Squidward’s look in the final scene summed everything up nicely. He was stuck in purgatory he could never relieve himself from.     Overall, this episode is the basic example of a Squidward Torture Porn, and of modern Spongebob episodes to boot. The lack of consistent writing is jarring, their behavior is off-putting and the whole episode is mean-spirited to Squidward, even if all he wanted to do was relax. There are a few moments that can make or break the episode, but given the overall quality of the episode, it's more weighed down with them than weighed up.

   It’s an indicator of things to come in the world of Spongebob and should have set off alarm bells for us.     Good Neighbors is often called one of the worst episodes of Spongebob now, and I can firmly see why.

   Although, I can see much worse episodes on the horizon from later seasons that could possibly contend with it. 

[p-k-dreamin-blog]

This is the life I’ve settle

1. Emotional Obstacles  🤔

Like I’ve always said in the previous projects, I think the most emotional obstacles I’ve met in my high school years, even more in my entire life until now, is the decision that moves to America and abandoned everything and everyone I had and loved. I won’t say it’s sentimental or tragical to leave the people all around me and the place I’ve lived for fifteen years, because that is how the things going on, leave your hometown, leave your family, encounter new people with new personalities, it’s everyone’s life. We have to get used to it. For me, an immigrant as a Junior student, it is just like have the opportunities to experience the mood swings: from excitement to depression, from joy to sorrow, from inner harmony to inner chaos. Even though I always heard elder people talk about how the old friendships go and new friendships develop, I’ve thought it would always have a way to maintain a relationship and never fade away, “how a friendship that is so stable and seems forever to die in the future? It makes no sense.” But the truth is, when I moved to a new country and went through such much things, I think I become more and more lazy to talk with my friends on phones. Am I only a virtual character to them? It seems like they also have the same feeling as me. How to find the best distance between a relationship? I’m considering. If the distance is so close we would fear more and be a coward when we really need to say goodbye and fuddle ourselves in the pathetic emotions; so how about pushing away the distance? We would possibly become more and more cold-blooded without realizing. I mean, I think the human being is just like other animals in the world, we need to accompany, to avoid the sense of loneliness, but we are more complicated. We have the emotions that most of the animals don’t have, jealous, suspicious, arrogant, the way we express our hate, and the way we express our love. I’m feared to pull the relationships so close to anyone and feared to push the relationships so far to them. All the people I’ve met, whether I like or dislike, they’re a lesson to me in some ways, if I appreciate them they are even the treasures, and I don’t want them either slip away from me or destroyed by time.

2. Past Actions 😏 🛫 🗽

I still remember in last year’ today and before the summer break, how I tried to persuade my parents to buy the air tickets and pre-order ten days and almost two months of vacation rentals in my hometown. I made a promise, then I did it, without any bargaining with my parents and hesitation to put into effect. I remember the feeling when I woke up at 8:00 AM on weekends, lock myself in my study room and spent three hours a day to memorize three hundred SAT vocabularies without rest; faced the mirror to practice my spoken English; and squeeze my time to prepare presents to my old friends. But now when I recall all these memories. Am I doing these hard work for myself, or to others? My uncle taught me when I was a child that never live for others in your lifetime, live for yourself. Yes, I improved my overall English skills in one year, got 1400+ on SAT and a good GPA, successfully earned my air tickets two times as I promised. However, I also remember how I laughed at my favorite shopping mall’ square when I called my mother to tell her I broke up with my Ex, I can’t say I did nothing wrong in the relationship, I just felt so funny, and I understood that there is actually something in the world that you can’t trade with hard work. But what would I become if I don’t try too hard to earn the air tickets？ Wander around for my entire Junior year? Give up the SAT because I noticed that there’s such a test too late? Only social with Chinese friends and avoid unnecessary communication with English speakers? For now, I can’t imagine what I will become if I don’t even try to do all of them. The experience when I went back taught me an unforgettable lesson, and I guess I just get my rewards in a way that leads me to become a more complete and sober person in the future.

3. Current Inactions 😑

I don’t really have something that I regret for my Senior year, just like when I tried to make a wish on my Birthday party when I blew the candles on my cake, I can’t think out anything I want for now. I have the friends that like me, a room that I decorated with a pair of big French windows, a lovely golden retriever, and a pair of AJ1 in my favorite colorway. For my Senior year, I took the classes that are challenging but also good for my future; I lay down burdens and bad memories and have a brighter view for future; I met the coolest teacher. If I really have some inactions to say, I would say I could call my old friends more frequently and let them know how much I miss them; and I could put more efforts on my classes and earned even better grades, but I’m also cool with the grades I have now.

4. Legacy (Best Friend)  👺

Hmm…. It’s really a more difficult question to think than my family members. Webber Yamaura is my best Japanese friend, and also my best of my best friends because we shared a similar taste on food, animes, Japanese TV dramas, he is the closest friend I had in my previous school, and few of the people that I would share both happiness and sadness in my high school years. I like him because of the way he tries to make me laugh when I was depressed or stressed out and how we live together before I move to America for days and after I returned to my hometown. I will use his tone to write a legacy for me.

At the very beginning, I apologize for my hesitation to write this for you. Afterall I don’t want to write it at all, or I’m fear to write it. Because this would be the very last letter I wrote for you and you would never come back to me again. I think you didn’t know me from primary school to Junior high school, but I always knew you, this is because of fate. We are always together, and you just like another half in my heart, you are my first time have met bosom friend really understand me!

You let me understand the world, how the world runs, you let me happy and I treated you back. Recall the memories when I poke fun of you every time, try to embarrass you, I was just trying to make you laugh. Can’t you imagine that lol! But you were always being depressed. ( I was really really afraid that you suffer from depression or something like that.) But saying more carefully, I’m also very glad to have you for my sophomore year. Even you can’t physically be with me anymore. I know how you try to be low key after you move to a new country, and I appreciate you to do so even though it doesn’t look like the old you. You used to want to be memorized of your achievements and grades for many years from primary school to high school and I guess you don’t want it anymore. Because when I reopen your social account and review all of your posts. You’re becoming quieter after you move to America and less out-going and flaunting. However, you are the people who can really care about others in true heart and respect others without judgments. You try to comfort the people around you when they’re depressed but you can’t really find a good way to comfort yourself. You seemed always have directions of what you want to do but sometimes no ready for the next step; seems so casual but self-confident, but you also lost yourselves in the nights. I’ve seemed the real side of you and that’s all the things I want and I’ve learned.

Although the last, we did not meet again.

(Reference some sentences from 2016-2017 Yearbook)

5. Legacy (Family Member)  👴🏻 👵🏻

Elder people in my life always think I’m a good child that has a good grade at school, respect the eldership, have a bright future. But I think my closet family members know that versatility is not the best way to define me as a teenager, a person. Like other teenagers, I’ve rebelled my parents, made them heart-broken by ravings. I’m a lazy child in person, I even gave up studying violin for a year and forgot most of the skills I learned for 7 years.  I had puppy love, which is OK in America but strongly against in my hometown. After all, I’m not as good as some adults think I’m. My parents would probably say:

“Our son is a child with a dream to become an adult, knowing who he is and knowing who he wants to become.”

It seems like a general parents comment to their children, isn’t it? But I think this featureless comment is actually very important to me. Somehow I don’t want to become an adult anymore when I realize how much obstacles and difficulties I need to meet in my future career. I want to pause at my age now and be myself as a high school student, no matter where I’m. My parents know me as a good child also, but they know how I’m not a perfect good child.

6. Epitaph Reflection  🍂 🍂 🍂

Michael Leroy Luther - 2007 - “Game Over”

I don’t want my epitaph seems so sentimental like what I’ve described who I’m for the entire semester. I want it to be brief, and don’t leave regret and sadness to people who loved me and thought highly on me. “Game over” is a good way to express me also because I’m not a nerd who only know how to study in some adults recognition, I like games also. even more, Pretty like. I brought a PS4 at home this year and try to collect all the games I want to play from 2013 to 2018. Even though I don’t have enough time to play it. And on the other side, it’s also good to describe my manner to live in a proper way. I think my life, and anyone’s life is like a gambling. We put ourselves as chips on the table and see what will we win or lose after game round by round. Life for me is just a more realistic name of the game for many years already.

Douglas Glenn Colvin - 1951-2002 - “O.K… I gotta go now.”

This epitaph is both laid-back and practical at the same time. If I recall my description in my previous project and this one I would say I’m somehow easy on everything for now because I gained everything I want as a Senior. But I’m also a practical, kinda old-fashioned teenager who prefer use the vinyl machine than Bose Speaker. Is Vinyl machine practical? Definitely yes, the modern Vinyl machine can play Vinyl and use Bluetooth at the same time, and they are way more beautiful than a hulking black box. If I would die young I will use this way to summarize my life because death is unnecessary to be so sad, I’m not saying I’m not afraid death, but I’ve imagined using the weirdest Indian music in the world as my BGM for my funeral, but that’s what I want. Don’t be so sad, people die. I caught the moments of my life, while I’m young and quick, and I do not regret for both the good and bad decisions.  

  7. Epitaph Creation  😇

“Here Lies a dreamer. Arrogant but low key.”

Before I think about my own epitaph, I thought about who I’m again for the third time for this project. The conclusion I had is that I a, a contradict person. Like Hamlet, I have the directions on what I want to do in the future, but most of the time I don’t have a specific plan on enacting my dreams.

I was arrogant in the past, the most flaunting student in my grade and kinda disdain what my Chinese and English teacher taught but easily earned the very top scores on tests, so I think many teachers liked me and loved me at the same time. I was the class president in my previous school, I led my class to a wrong direction in a tricksy way which teachers probably know now when I move away and would regret their decision to let me be the class president. But I actually improve the overall test scores for my classmates in some ways, which I don’t know how indeed. I poke fun at teacher’s dialect also like other naughty students. I used to advertise myself in public and hope everyone in the school knows me as an elite student, I did successfully somehow. And I thought I would continue when I move to America.

But the truth is, I became much quieter when I move to Arcadia, probably is the environment influence. It’s really a quiet city if compared with my hometown or Los Angeles downtown. But the most important reason is that what I’ve gone through as an immigrant, a friend, a lover, a son, and a student. I think it’s unnecessary to advertise myself anymore so I’ve given up many manners I used to have and warning myself to be a low-key dreamer.

I want to memorize as a dreamer. Because a dream is better than realism when we are children. We become who we are all because of a dream, so even though I would be buried under grass and dirt I hope my dream could somehow influence some of the people I knew, like how I comforted and encouraged friends.

[talesfromacrip]

Tea Time With Yours Truly:

Don’t you love it when you finally realize you’re truly moving on from a toxic situation like the adult you are, when a song you like makes you rethink your visions, feelings, etc. of someone?? or it that me? everything starts to feel entirely new again though regardless. better n’ cooler bc you know you’re not suffering anymore.. just, a fantastic feeling. woo

fucking incredible. I’m F R E E. absolutely free. still hurts though. some things made me realize I should’ve done it sooner and I did. as best I could, i did.I tried all I could and I succeeded for the most part,but damn do they haunt me so badly. I hate it.

Go away, pest. the last 5/6 years have been an emotional roller coaster for me and I want off.somehow I did,the ride still catching me occasionally and pulling me back on, dragging me to the unknown

((some good things happened here n’ there like me meeting some friends I still talk toooo, playing new games and finding new animes))

it’s just good to know though that my mind doesn’t associate them with anything anymore bc they didn’t deserve anything much tbh. just like told me

———

———

I really want to bug my online buds constantly. From when I get up to when I fall asleep. send them memes, all that funky jazz..but I don’t. I can’t. I feel like I’m too clingy.. too needy.

I AM ACTUALLY. I shouldn’t care, but I do. Maybe it’s because I’m too emotional, too sensitive, too much, blah, blah, blah. Something "bad". Shit the grump hated that has just stuck to me like black balloons since. (( NF is the same with his mental issues. I’m glad to know I’m not alone with thinking of depression, anxiety, etc. as black balloons. Their like lifeless weights, but we still feel them weighing us down))

I love constant communication, especially from close friends.. bug me. 24/7. whenever, whatever. I don’t do anything. much that is. I’m overwhelmed when communicating nowadays so help me out pls??or not><

I don’t ask for it much though bc i was put down for asking for it. I was always told to say certain things as well, not think a certain way, send things at certain times. nothing nsfw even though we where adults. no art much bc it was always judged, other dumb shit.. I felt like the ultimate fucking bother bc of that.. person.

So I stayed to myself because of that and that made me worse ove time.

((I drove some people away when I did and I still am I feel,but I’m trying not too.. I couldn’t deal with myself though, I felt absolutely horrible. When I did, I said some nasty shit and I regret it all because a prick made me feel like complete shit and worthless about myself. I didn’t have to take it out on others like that, but wow.. I did. If I told anyone though,he’d come after me and that was what I didn’t want.. so nice huh?))

I felt like a broken down old dog. I still feel like that occasionally not as bad. not a pleasant feeling at all though

Are all of the things that make me like this really that bad or annoying or make me even less though?? fuck no it doesn’t. It makes me wayyyy better and much more cooler honestly, but those feelings still linger bc the manipulation was so bad..

—

Why the hell would you want me to be boring or better yet be with a boring person who doesn’t talk much and puts others down for similar behavior??

Why would I be with someone who doesn’t share any interests with me much or puts mine down bc they’re childish or unnecessary??

Why would I be with someone that doesn’t communicate anything at all and whatnot,like...please tell me??

I’m genuinely fucking interested.

-

They told me I was always being too nice all the time. too soft, too babyish. too honest. too sensitive. blah, blah, blahhh. whenever I said something that was tooo personal or informative it’s like: "That’s too much information don’t ya think??" UMM, N O?? "Don’t say that around me ever or I’ll unfriend you and never speak to you again." Okay.. THEN DO IT, PUSSY.

Fucking asshat, douche canoe looking ass cunt.. ((He didn’t like those words or almost any word tbh it seems. true killjoy, I swear and I thought I was. I couldn’t even say oh my god or anything with lord in it because he’d then start saying "why are you saying that when you’re an atheist?" Umm actually I’m agnostic.. ))

he hated the whole "umm actually" deal too that I would do.. literally drove me up the damn wall every time. who fucking cares if I say that?? I’ve been accustomed to it because of my parents and people in general. come the fuck on now

It’s pretty common to say, twit. Don’t take it seriously, joke or not to piss me off to make you happy..man, he irritated the hell out of me and I’m glad he’s gone. like..look ‘bud’ should I just be angry and a constant liar and hateful and just, overall vile like you then all the time?? Guess so huh!! ohh boy!!

Which was almost that unfortunately.. i’m not good at lying and all like you though, you snake. when I did it wasn’t how I was feeling, it was how you felt.. which disgusted me.

I was always honest to you. maybe a few lies, but those were mostly about certain games that I didn’t really play and what I was laughing at. which was your dumb ass most of the time.

He made me start to hate things that made me very happy by being a total prick about it.. I miss feeling overwhelmed with overflowing joy for the things that bring and brought me peace.

I still have it, but it’s not as strong as it was before because some dumb fuck stepped on it too much telling me I’m weak in the process.

I couldn’t like anything anymore much without hearing him yelling at me occasionally and others as well that I never noticed till everything happened. just,yelling at me loudly and telling me how awful i am and other annoying, idiotic shit.. maybe that was your plan all along , to ruin me. ruin my confidence, my strength and my will to move up and thrive in life..

you tried dragging me down your well for being myself when you couldn’t.. pathetic. I bet you’re happy bc you feel like you ‘succeeded’ with this,but you didn’t win the war.

You never will

———

———

they always manipulated me to dislike the things in life that made me happy. This irritated me a lot.. ((my interests in obscure and ‘buttrock’ bands/music in general, anime, weird games, my love for peculiar art, my badass friends..))

said absolute dumb shit if I got closer to some more than them. ((making me waste sooo much god damn time. say you’re busy all the time even though you live a "boring fucking same day to day lifestyle." tell them how you can’t message all the time when in fact you can and that you’re constantly on the only device that gets you connected to the world outside. tell them.)) makin me lie and be distant about how I felt with some of my amazing friends..

It was never about how I truly felt, but how they felt for me. (("Ohh they made you feel like that?? Well, it made me feel like this and you should too because //insert dumb explanation here//.", "You shouldn’t feel like that towards them, they don’t deserve it.", "Maybe I deserve to be treated like that instead, screw them.", "Don’t feel like that towards them or //issue//, thats absolutely appalling, childish, flat out sappy.", "Don’t let them know how you’re really feeling.. just act like you don’t care at all. They don’t care to help you anyway or else you’d be living a better life.", "They’ll just spread it around so just stay quiet instead until spoken too about it."))

E N D ME !!!  

Pls, I beg of you.. not really but the thoughts though, please

———

———

he would tell me to not bug him when hes on a game, but he could to me. even on social media, which is how we stayed connected and not by messenger pigeons like it’s the 1500’s.

"Don’t bug me on FB when I’m not on." Okay, but I wanna share this with you...?? also, how the hell am I gonna know when you’re on when I’m drawing and trying to occupy my on edge brain??

proceeds to spam me shit in process irritating me. "Don’t bug me, don’t bug me" I hear like a whiny little baby.

"Why do you bug me all the time??" UMM, MAYBE BECAUSE I CARE AND I WANT TO UHHH, IDK SHARE THIS NEAT SHIT WITH YOU??? PENDEJO PUTA DE MIERDA!!

"I’ll message you and send invites when I feel like it." - Shithead towards the end. Circa 1818. ((Yeah, weeks or a month later like nothing happened. "I’ll see you later or tonight when I see you on, get back on, when I’m done eating" just, excuse after excuse..))

((IM ALWAYS FUCKIN ONLINE 24 GAT DAMN 7.  YOU KNOW THIS, SHITHEAD. I ALWAYS WANT TO TALK TO YOU OR SOMEONE IN THE DAMN GROUP. DNT FUCK WIT ME, MY TIME, OR PATIENCE LIKE THAT ANYMORE. ENOUGH. S T O P. And it did.. thank g o d))

———

———

would literally make me wait around and feel like a complete and utter fool when instead he could’ve messaged and been like maybe tomorrow or something, but no.. nothing. made me believe in all sorts of dumb shit. ((Sad I did, but I was pretty gullible. still am. some stuff was just, a big nope though and obvious. I wouldn’t let him get to me that much, but he did in some ways.. disgusting ..))

I was made to feel like I was cared for when in fact I never was to begin with. explains a lot tbh. I felt like a disgusting half empty shell of a person with barely any fragments of a heart and soul left inside. that’s very dark, I know, but that’s how it feels in a way

"It’s not real, this depression you’re feeling, it’s just a phase. it’ll pass/ just suck it up and move on / don’t worry about it you’re fine, you’re just overreacting or overthinking about it / think positive more and be happy nothing bad has really happened to you yet/ I remember when you didn’t act like this."

HOW AND WHAT?!? EXCUSE ME, PEASANT!? SAY THAT AGAIN.. TO MY ACTUAL FACE. I DARE YOU N’ YEAH, I DO TO CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.

———

———

I love how people ((friends and some mutuals)) thought I actually wanted to be, be with him, romantically and all that, that is but I just couldn’t..it was never there. I felt it for others though or someone to be exact, during those times which is how I knew I was in a toxic situation and it wasn’t real love or love in general I felt for them. just a facade

I just couldn’t let people know how badly he was treating me so I was sucked into a woven web of lies that got out of hand and ruined some pretty good moments for me completely it seemed

I never once wanted to fuck him or anything of the sort.

at first, we were kinda flirty and sweet with one another. talkin about cuddlin n’ goin on silly dates when we meet ya know. cute and fluffy things. things I got shit for down the road keep in mind. we’d give each other cute lil compliments to one another. It was just, cute and fun stuff ya know. especially since we were young as well.

there was never anything sexual between us either or too sexual, just crushy feels. ((I’m really fucking glad because mm, mmm. hard fucking pass))

he’d never and i mean never get my moist meter high, EVER. drier than this damn valley I live with scattered tumbleweeds, I tell you. not even a lil tingle. no bells ringing.fireworks flinging. I thought about it too and I’d just get disgusted tbh. thats how I knew

I felt like he’d be the worst in the end anyway and he was in general. he wasn’t even comfortable with himself or his sexuality and others things.. sooo, noooo, NOPE. thank u, next!!

I’m completely comfortable with mine.. thanks to my friends and some a bit more. I’m a bit scared to admit though that I’m demi bc of manipulation, but it is.

Happens unfortunately and I know I’m not alone on this journey of self acceptance. I wouldn’t have mind talking about it though, in a calm civil manner like adults do instead of giggling and making weird noises like an idiotic child.

Having it being brought up randomly amongst mutuals and all that got extremely awkward too as well, I hated it. "You wanna fuck him?", "You ever thought about it you two since y’all so close?" crickets and a few mumbled noises.. HA.mmm, I cared about him or what was left of him, not like that. honey flower ain’t or never will be feelin it for him.. EVER. HE EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATED ME AND I DIDNT EVEN KNOW SEX THAT MUCH OR MYSELF LIKE THAT SO FUCK HIM. uwu

She’s kinda quiet and scared tbh because he’s such a total killjoy asshole. she senses fear. she knows who really gets her bud blooming. just, the thought of him though like that made me wanna scream and kick him in this stupid ass face.

Ruined a lot of things for me, I swear but I’m moving on as best as I can.

—

He had this switch flip type of mood. I don’t even remember how or why it happened, but it just got worse during and after his breakup it seems.

Which was like 3-4 years ago. started happening out of the blue and over time it just started to bug the living fuck out of me. daily. I was starting to hate it and hate it I did. made my skin crawl.. ((all the Linkin Park jokes))

It made me hate myself which I never did much tbh and I didn’t like that at all.. I wanted out, but I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know who to talk to bc he’d come after me if I did especially if they knew him..

they didn’t though and were on my side, but yeah. I’m glad it stopped

A L L OF IT. I don’t need that kind ‘love’ in my life. that,awful presence. I don’t need any of that at all.. MMM, MMM BYE, BYE!! Disgusting.

———

———

I wanted to help em try to be happy so fuckin bad after what happened ya know as friends do, when it should’ve been myself making me happy instead.. it was,but everything just got to me.

All the sighs. How lovely huh. We were ‘best friends’ ya know. I can’t even really call anyone that much bc it unnerves me. you’re supposed to make each other happy and all that as best friends, not a sad sack of low shit.

I can’t believe I wanted to be with him and or be around him that is... eughh. I was confused and in a dangerous situation towards the end.. feels like it was my fault, but it wasn’t.

Couldn’t talk to anyone about it. It was extremely fucking stupid on my part

Long time or not, why? just, holding onto old times I guess

That’s where I messed up. I didn’t even really bother trying to be with him tbh as I’ve said. in the beginning maybe yeah when we were younger, but he made me feel less and less over time as we grew older. I was embarrassed about a lot of shit and slowly I just finally realized how much of an asshole he really and truly is and how bad I wanted him out my life.

I couldn’t get away and when I did, he’d still be there someway.. haunting me with his negative nagging.it was dumb I know. I just don’t know exactly how I got lost in it so damn badly, but man, am I really dumb for doing it..

I wholeheartedly despise those feelings I had then and I fucking despise them now. ALL OF THEM. THEY HAVE RUINED MY LIFE AND IDK WHAT TO DO ANYMORE

((Great character development though, Cynth. Growing up and moving on. Something he could never do))

I don’t want to bring these problems into anyone else’s life and I did and I regret it.. I would like to disconnect from the server please bc of it, thank you

———

———

I was made to feel like my disability was cureable around him and that I can do shit when I get my operations done when in fact, I can’t at all and won’t ever get ‘cured’ or anything like that of the sort.typical ableist /lamdwalker activity. despite how many times I told him,he’d forget. Mhmm, sure.. you only heard what you wanted. It’s fine

"We’ll be able to do this when you get said //part// fixed.." what? can I not do that now or something?? I know I can’t, but I can at least try right?? am I really not that good enough to be around and do shit with?? guess so, cool. Okay, I see. I really tolerated some extreme ableism and I still do, but it’s not as bad as that was..

I wish I could cure my RA though like that and have said money to do it. Snap my fingers and it’s done right? ummm, no. not as easy you think dumb ass. I have fused joints, osteo, it’s everywhere like how the hell am I gonna fix that so easily?? tell me, doc

You trippin more than younger me did. I think that’s why he just flat out ditched me in the end and got a gf while he was at it that had an almost exact personality as me in the process. he would point it out too and made me feel fucking creeped out even more.. like, I get it. can’t be youre, abled dream

Why do you care if we’re alike in some ways though?? ((Look where it got him though. He’s still struggling with it, the breakup, bringing it up once n’ awhile like it didn’t happen. It was hilarious to me bc he really was a basket case. I know he was trying to get rid of it, but he was more obsessive about it than a mf))

thankful I don’t deal with it anymore

———

———

"You live the same day to day lifestyle. Ever since you and I graduated. The same fucking thing. The only new things you do are go to your stupid concerts or teach those weird kids. I see it or you end up telling me anyway." ((I know captain obvious yet again.. at least I’m having fun when I’m doing that. concerts for my favorite bands make me happy, teaching my kids do too ya asshole))

"Nothing is gonna change anyway if you get those procedures done. It’ll be worse for you and we all know that. Just deal with it and try to move on." ((I hate hearing your voice in my head. I want to ban it, mute it from all existence.. I’ve been replacing it with others and I’m glad it’s working))

———

———

I keep hearing his voice sometimes when I post something on social media. not his actual voice, but something similar, especially in tone. moody and monotone. art,status, any of those with hashtags, rt‘s, anything.. I heard it

"Why did you post that?? Looking for attention or something?", "Not many people liked it because it’s //insert stuff I love here//", "Don’t like shit like that. I don’t want to scroll around awkwardly when I’m out.", "I saw what you put. Idk how to approach it, but I’ll like it to show you I care/to look at later to process."

Tf does that mean and huh?? Why do you care what I put anyway?? I don’t care what you put so why should you care what I put?? Why make me feel like shit for putting this up or talking about something I have some balls too. I want people to know. I’m close to some of these people

I haven’t been posting much because of that. It’s very noticeable and my some of my friends can vouch for it from the viewing couch. renders I do of friends stuff, my original work, OC stuff, fan arts. A L L gets judged by the mighty grump. who it is, colors, the style, shading.. nothing was good enough I guess. even though you said it was and so did my brain at one point. It does, but she’s just not that confident much anymore

He’d get on fan art which was the most irritating thing. "Try and draw like that or do something like that for once.", "They didn’t get me right.. did you give them the references? Even though you still haven’t made a proper one?", "Why did they draw me like that?", "That’s cool. Why my character though?" PEOPLE DRAW IN THEIR OWN WAYS IN MANY STYLES AND CAN CREATIVELY DO WHATEVER THEYD LIKE YA FUCKIN DUMBASS. IN THE END, ITS MY CHARACTER ANYWAY. YOU DIDNT DRAW HIM. I DID N’ WHO CARES. MAYBE THEY LIKE YOUR CHARACTER OR IDK I REQUESTED IT TO MAKE YOUR SAD ASS HAPPY.

"Ohh yeah, I used to draw back in the day." The shit he sent me was traced, had his signature on it covering the original artists, no consistent style. Straight up thief and ugly liar. He can’t even draw a straight line, let alone paint a piece. Please, boy. I KNEW IT AND HED MANIPULATE ME INTO THINKING IT WAS AND I KNEW. AINT FOOLING ME THERE. I maybe or might’ve been extremely gullible as a teen, but ooohhh honeyyyy, I knew, I knew.

Artist my ass. Yeah con artist :))

———

———

I hated the awkward silence moments between us when we spoke. I literally wanted to fucking scream at you like you did to me sometimes when you were having a "bad day".

I wanted to yell at you about everything you’ve ever done to me the last time we talked and I just broke down instead because I am an "emotional bitch" as you say. HOLY SHIT though, are you boring. I thought I was, but I just get dissociative and I space out because I didn’t know what to say and when I did,I got judged for it. for everything else as wel which made me feel worse. fuucking fantastic you are

You made me feel like I was was swirling in this dead and extremely lonely silence that was ever so slowly drowning me and dragging me down.. ((Like BMTH says, don’t let me drown and you did to an extent)) i couldn’t breathe right for the longest time with you there.. felt like an enormous weight on my chest

when I was in there, it was awful and made me feel worse. I didn’t want to leave and when I did,you’d think I’d be having a fit or something.so, I would stay until you left and when you did it was absolute freedom.

I swear I hated being around you. I got judged for making any sort of weird noise, hiccup, burp, humming, my singing, jokes. such a fun person you are, hmph

[burningthegallows]

Why are all the adults so bad at adulting?

Harry comes to school, small and malnourished, and no one thinks something might be wrong? I get that one of the hallmarks of kids adventure books is absentee parents, but it’s strange that jkr doesn’t address how Harry has fallen through the cracks. Instead we’re left to assume that no teacher, fellow-student, or friend (muggle or magical) has ever tried to intervene?

The emotional abuse, ill-fitting clothing, and presence of a bully/sibling (they were in primary together) would have stood out long before 11; but even if Harry managed to slide through those cracks, in the third book, Cornelius Fudge directly tells Harry that his aunt and uncle refuse to have him home over the holidays, and he doesn’t think that’s strange?

[when I was a kid, this shit didn’t bother me that much, but as a teacher now, it fucking irks. We are trained to notice shit like that. And we are trained to address it as well. And don’t even get me started on how much I hate canon snape. Terrible, awful teacher. Another reason to add to the “Dumbledore isn’t actually that great” list.]

Then there’s molly weasley. Don’t get me wrong, I think molly is awesome. But I also think molly has seven children, and she doesn’t see the warning signs? Even if Dumbledore did explain the bs about Lily’s protection (yes, it is bullshit. The fidelius charm exists. Its not like Lily’s protection is full proof, right? It didn’t protect him from legilimancy. Harry would have been better protected with training and wards), it seems out of character for molly not to follow up. All her “poor dear”s only serve to emphasize how pathetic he is, and how simpering she is.

Harry’s home situation is 100% why I think book 5 did us such a disservice. It’s also why Dumbledore becomes such a grey character.

We spent the first three books marveling at how absurdly terrible Harry’s home life is. Then, Sirius Black steps in as guardian — he signs the Hogsmeade permission slip and offers for Harry to come live with him. Finally! A chance to see more magic and for Harry to have a guardian. With the end of the fourth book, it felt like a certainty. Voldemort could touch Harry! That must mean that Lily’s protection has been broken, and Harry will be able to leave the Dursley’s.

I remember when the fifth book came out. It was the second Harry Potter book I waited in line at midnight for (my parents were pretty cool about it, despite the fact that one of them had to accompany me and listen to my high velocity squeaking about how excited i was). But I also remember the period between books 4 and 5. There were so many fan sites and fan theories and unauthorized guides and, well, fan fiction. Jkr did not appreciate that. In fact, she became antagonistic with some of her most dedicated fans.

Instead, the fifth book began with Jkr essentially deciding that Harry had to HIT PUBERTY. He was angry and grieving,and all that anger and grief? It just led to sirius’s death. The least satisfying death I’ve ever read. This was her attempt to “age up” the books. It felt just as forced and unnecessary as it was.

And think of the story we missed out on... Sirius is barely thirty. He spent the last 13 years in Azkaban, and now he gets to raise a kid? A sad, angry, reckless, Gryffindor mini-him... Gosh that would have been fascinating. Dumbledore should have died instead of Sirius. That would have been way more interesting. Plus, Professor McGonagall would have made a banging head mistress. ............ Anyway, clearly I’m still mad about book 5. It didn’t need to be that long and whiny (but Umbridge did make an excellent baddie). Where the fuck was jk’s editor?

Rereading the HP canon for the first time since I closed book 7 on the day it was released.

I have thoughts.

[ventisquear]

Knight Maiden

Cassandra/Cullen story, written as a Secret Santa for Suilven at the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age.

The sun was low over the horizon; soon it would start to set and the never-ending buzz of voices, clinking of armor, hurried steps, and doors being open and shut would finally start to die out. But not just yet. Right now, the world was bathed in a soft, golden light that filled everything with a dreamy beauty.

It always disappointed her that most people were blind to it. Or to any other beauty, really. They took it for granted, or worse, dismissed it as something unnecessary. Something for the weak, for women and kids, or for elderly people musing about such trivialities while they waited for death. To Cassandra, beautiful moments like this were when she felt most content. They filled her with hope. As if the Maker was sending her a message, you did a good job today, go and rest now, everything will be fine.

She did not think it made her weak, but she also did not feel like justifying herself to anyone again. Especially not today. They had spent the whole day searching for lost farm animals, first a druffalo, then a supposedly special ram that the foolish owners had named Lord… Weasley or Woolly or some such nonsense.

No, the only thing she wanted to do now was to retreat to her favorite place in the fortress with a tray of peanut butter cookies, a big cup of chamomile tea and that new book she had discovered yesterday. It had been a spark of light throughout the whole day and the sole reason she hadn’t turned Lord Wisely into lamb chops. With mint sauce.

Balancing the tray on her left arm, she opened the door to the library and walked in, trying to look casual and confident. She knew what people said behind her back, how they laughed about her reading habits and even more about the books she chose. If she had to read, she should at least choose something worthy of her age, origin and status, not cheap adventure stories and especially not romances. She kept telling herself that as long as they didn’t try to stop her, she could – and should – ignore them, but deep inside, she always felt apprehensive and anxious whenever she entered the library.

There was no need for that today, though, as the library was empty except for two servants who were unpacking a crate of new books and sorting them on the shelves. They did not so much as glance at her, clearly determined to finish the task as quickly as they could. With a sigh of relief, she headed to her little hideout. It was not truly secret, of course. It was merely a window seat in the far corner of the library, hidden from view by a conveniently placed shelf. When the thick velvet curtains were drawn, it was easy to believe she was alone in the world. Cassandra had always suspected Leliana had a lot to do with it; it would not surprise her to learn her friend had the shelf and the curtains arranged to give her a private place.

She pulled back the curtain, ready to settle herself onto the soft cushions, wrap the blanket around her legs and start reading – but the seat was already occupied.

Everyone was staring at him. They knew. The lie about the bad bout of flu didn’t fool anyone. They knew and stared with poorly veiled indignation and disdain. Commander of the Inquisition forces, what a joke. He couldn’t control himself and his lyrium habit, how could he hope to control the army? Pathetic. Others looked at him with pity. It was not his fault. Don’t you know what happened to him, how he was tortured? That would break anyone. So sad, really.

He hated them all. Whenever he had to politely thank them for asking and assure them he was fine now, he felt a surge of irritation welling up in him. If he had to do it one more time, he would flip out and behead them on the spot. And that would be too troublesome, what with all the paperwork afterward.

He’d hoped to find some peace in the chapel, but it turned out to be the worst possible place. Too many Chantry sisters and former Templars. They acted as if they didn’t see him sitting there, but it was useless. Their mere presence reminded him of how much he had failed. After a few minutes, he shuffled away. He considered returning to his room, but that wasn’t good either. It was where he used to hole up when he needed to get stoned. And where he’d spent the last two weeks under the close supervision of healers, trying to survive without it. It had only been three days since his body had gotten well enough to get up. His mind was a bigger mess than ever.

Was there no quiet place in this damned fortress? All he wanted was a moment without annoying busybodies! Was that so much to ask? Fuck it all!

A maid walking down the hall winced, looking at him with wide eyes, and he realized he’d said it aloud. “Sorry,” he muttered and hurried away. Library, he thought. Libraries were supposed to be quiet places.

At first, it looked like another disappointment. Prowling through the aisles made it a bit easier to escape from curious glances, but he was still painfully aware of all the people. Then he noticed one shelf was slightly pushed aside and the curtains behind it pulled back. There was a window seat there, with cushions and blankets. It was as if it was waiting just for him, and he gratefully complied. He sat down, drew the curtains, closed his eyes, and for the next fifteen minutes, enjoyed the bliss of peace and quiet.

Then someone opened the curtain.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Cullen jumped to his feet, scattering the cushions and blankets onto the floor, as they both tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“I shall leave you alone-”

“No, please, it is all right-”

They laughed awkwardly.

“Look at us, acting like two children,” Cassandra said. “Please, sit down. Would you like some tea and cookies?”

Cullen’s lip curled into a tiny hint of a smile, almost against his will. “If you truly don’t mind.”

“Don’t be silly.” She laid the tray on the windowsill. “I would not expect you here. You do not come to the library often, do you?” She did not ask if he were fine. It was obvious he wasn’t.

Cullen fussed clumsily with the cushions and blankets, trying to rearrange them, but ended up creating an even bigger mess. “I was inspecting the… cushions. To see if they are sufficient in number and quality,” he said with a rueful smile. He sat next to her, racking his mind for a topic they could converse about without making him look like a pathetic fool whose brain had been eaten away by lyrium. There was none.

“Have some tea,” she said, offering him the cup. There was no trace of pity in her voice. Just politeness. Manners. Unexpectedly refreshing.

“It’s still warm,” he noted as he took the cup.

“Yes. One of the mages put a spell or glyph on it to keep the tea warm. I must say, I greatly disapproved recruiting mages as allies, but there are moments when they can be useful.”

“Yes,” he muttered, looking away. Mages were one topic he didn’t want to discuss.

Cassandra cursed inwardly, realizing her mistake. He was hardly the first Templar she had seen go through withdrawals. She knew what it included. Serving the Maker as a Templar was not easy. It required sacrifices. Difficult decisions. Many lived with regrets and doubts, questioning what would have happened if they had chosen differently. It took a strong will to push that away and move forward. Hunger for lyrium ruined that will. It brought back their worst fears, scariest doubts, most paralyzing memories. Many were driven to madness. Cullen’s memories and regrets were bad even for a Templar.

“I came to read,” she blurted, clutching the first topic that came to her mind. “It is an adventure story.”

“What is it about?” It wasn’t really a topic he cared about, but better than the mages. He could play along for a moment.

“It is a story about the thieves guild in Kirkwall. A story of spies and adventures. Not romance. I know everyone thinks I read naughty romances but it is not so. I like to read stories about men who struggle to overcome the obstacles in their way as well as their inner demons. It is not realistic, but sometimes you need to believe in unrealistic things, no?”

“Sounds promising.” Books! Why didn’t he think of that? He had to laugh at himself - he’d thought of hiding in the library, but it never occurred to him to really read the books. But maybe they could distract him. Make him forget the cravings for a moment.

She looked at him but quickly turned away, feeling hotness creeping into her cheeks. Hadn’t she been determined not to justify herself to anyone just a moment ago? Why was she doing it now? “I am sorry. I did not mean to bore you with all this…”

“Why don’t you read it for me?”

Surprised, she looked back at him. He was smiling, but it was not a sarcastic grin or derisive sneer. It almost looked as if he meant it. “There is an element of romance,” she admitted uneasily, “and an occasional naughty scene, too, but it is not the main point, I swear.”

“Cassandra. As unbelievable as it may seem right now, I am an adult man. I don’t mind naughty scenes.” She had no reason to be this embarrassed… although it did make her look cute.

“All right.” It was awkward. Wrong. Weird. But, if she was honest with herself, also exciting and sort of flattering. She opened the book and started to read. Her voice trembled slightly, and she occasionally lifted her eyes to gauge his reaction. To see if he was laughing at her. He never was. He listened, fully focused, as if she was reading an important military report, making the right comments at just the right moments. As she finished the first chapter and turned the page, she realized she… no. Both of them were having fun.

They read half the book that night. Finished it the next night. And chose another one. Sometimes they took turns. Sometimes they acted out the voices. They laughed at the completely inaccurate fight scenes, giggled like kids at the naughty ones, pretended their eyes weren’t wet when the characters died or were hurt. The hour before sundown became the best hour of the whole day.

“I think it is safe to say the mission was successful,” Leliana said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “They’ve been meeting and reading for a month now.”

“But they are still only reading.” Josephine sighed. “I have never seen two more oblivious adults than them.”

“That is why we are here, no?” Leliana pointed out. “To help them realize the truth. We need to help them move their relationship to the next level.”

“Easier said than done,” Dorian muttered. “How in the Void do you want to achieve that?”

“We need to add a bit of romance to it… An unplanned dinner that would turn out to be the most romantic ever…”

“In a library?” Dorian asked incredulously. “The cookies and the tea are way too much already!”

“You need to get your priorities straight, they’re all wrong,” Josephine accused.

“You want to organize a romantic dinner with wine, candles and all in a library and my priorities are wrong?” he asked incredulously.

“I never said anything about wine and candles! But… now that you mention it… that’s not a bad idea.”

“But not in the library!”

Leliana clapped her hands. “Let’s not argue,” she said when they both glared at her. “We are here to help our friends, no? Let the brainstorming begin.”

[lostboysoflondon]

Storm Chaser AU

It’s nearing two in the afternoon and Harry’s waiting in the radar room for the telltale sign of another NOAA suicide mission. It’s inevitable-any time the sky darkens to a grey gloom, the NOAA team plus Niall come barreling through the back door of Studio 99. It’s inevitable that whenever the clouds begin drifting in peculiar ways and the radar indicates full scale thunderstorms ahead, Harry will play the waiting game.

With his focus completely shot, he sits in his own personalized black spinning chair. His initials H.S embezzle the back of the leather padding, a bit gaudy for workplace furniture, but Perrie insisted he use it when she bought it for his fifth anniversary as anchor meteorologist at Studio 99. Now, Harry’s sure she regrets it.

“Styles, you’re going to dig yourself a hole at the rate you’re spinning.”

Her blue acrylic nails clack on her computer keyboard as she finalizes her weather report for the four o’clock news.

Harry hasn’t checked his radar in over ten minutes. The bright red and green squiggly lines would surely make him nauseous now that his stomach’s been catapulting in his body for this long. He hasn’t always been like this before a storm; unproductive, and anxious, and crazy.. He’s just…distracted.

It’s only a matter of minutes before Niall appears with his camera equipment, all smiles and endless excitement. Seconds later, the NOAA team will follow, one man jumpy and cautious with trembling fingers and an expression almost as pained as a constipated toddler. The other man, his polar opposite, all buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline rushing quicker than the whirring speed of an F5 tornado. Completely reckless, completely mad, and the one true source of Harry’s spiral towards insanity.

Louis Tomlinson, one of the many NOAA researchers leading the suicide crusade across the Great Plains in search of one fundamental truth: why do Tornadoes form? Harry doesn’t care much about answering impossible questions, and he doesn’t think Louis does either. For Louis, it’s about the thrill, the chase, the endless possibilities to see the world in its most vicious natural state. For Harry, it’s a death wish and he wants no part in it.

So when Niall, Liam, and Louis burst into Studio 99 with the gracelessness of a beginner ballet squad, Harry finally stops spinning.

“We need keys for the Twirly Whirly! Stat,” Niall hollers without a single glance towards Harry or Perrie, or anyone in the studio, for that matter.

“Jesus, stop calling it that,” Liam says, embarrassment clouding his already pale features as he rushes after Niall, referring to the renowned Studio 99 Storm Chaser van, so dented and worn from the constant abuse of harsh winds and hail that it resembles a round of Swiss cheese

Harry grants himself a brief moment of peace when he realizes Louis isn’t anywhere in sight, but the illusion shatters when bronzed arms reach over his shoulders from behind and a warm breath melts into his neck.

“Hey sunshine,” Louis says, “talk weather patterns to me.” It’s a perfect display of the relentless teasing Harry’s dealt with from the moment Louis arrived at Studio 99 three weeks ago. Harry’s simultaneously grateful for the attention and nervous about what it means. But then again, Harry isn’t interested in pondering impossible questions, like the reasons behind Louis’ endearments. He’s not interested in unraveling the impossibility of Louis.

“Um, according to the ensemble forecasting from NOAA we should be due for severe thunderstorms as early as four with high winds developing into the evening,” Harry rambles, feeling out of breath from the way Louis’ body feels wrapped around his.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, but what about supercells?” Somehow Louis manages to lean in closer, peering at Harry’s computer screen with intense scrutiny and focus. “What are the chances we’ll see mesocyclone formation?”

“Hopefully, none.”

“Harry.” Louis pulls away and slaps him hard on the shoulder, “where’s your sense of adventure? Where’s your unconditional support for my ongoing research?”

“Locked in the first aid kit that you’re going to take with you when you leave on your suicide mission,” Harry replies, rubbing his shoulder to relieve the brief sting of pain from Louis’ unnecessary assault. Despite his reservations about humouring Louis, Harry turns to face him and instantly regrets it. See, Louis’ inability to settle down, along with the constant longing he harbors for his blood to rush through his veins like kryptonite, aren’t the only reasons for his impossible nature. His beauty is unfathomable and Harry is tired.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t insult my career choices, thanks.”

And Harry is most definitely, one hundred percent tired of the way Louis’ lips curl into a satisfied smirk any time Harry plays along with his game. He’s even more exhausted by the way Louis looks so effortless at two in the afternoon, when Harry’s curls have already gathered a hint of frizz.

“Tommo! Stop flirtin’ and get over here!” Niall beckons from the entrance to the home of the Twirly Whirly, also known as The Den, that’s located on the far side of the radar room. It’s actually just…a garage, but Liam wanted it to be called The Bat Cave, so Louis was forced to compromise to avoid “professional mockery”, and now there’s a regular argument about who actually named it The Den in the first place.

Harry thinks it might’ve been Niall’s idea.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Louis yells back, earning a few shushes from Harry’s coworkers in the radar room.

“See ya later, Sunshine.” Louis reaches out to pull a strand of hair from Harry’s face, pat his cheek lightly with his fingertips, and saunter off to where Niall’s making gagging noises like the true best friend he is.

Once Louis is gone it’s quiet again, but only for a moment before the shouting ensues.

“Goddammit Niall, how could you forget your camera charger?” Louis yells, his voice echoing from The Den in a way that makes Harry wish he hadn’t forgotten to pack his earplugs when he left his house this morning. Although, a tiny, annoying part of Harry’s brain is satisfied when Louis spirals into panic mode. It’s kind of hot and Harry doesn’t feel bad for enjoying Louis in every possible way.

Liam’s voice pops up next, most likely trying to calm Louis’ inner fury, but what he says never fails to put Harry even farther on edge than he was before, if that’s even possible.

“Are we good on fuel?” Liam’s voice exerts a professional tone, probably the most professional of anyone in Studio 99. And he doesn’t even officially work here.

“Yes, Liam,” Louis says blankly, and Harry knows this is Louis’ least favorite part of storm chasing: the dreaded checklist.

“Laptop?”

“Check,” Louis replies.

“Radios?”

“Obviously.”

Harry chuckles, earning him a stare from Murphy, the camera guy. Murphy doesn’t like Harry much, if his snide comments about shooting Harry’s Sweaterman segments are anything to go by. But then again, Murphy doesn’t really like anyone, and he definitely doesn’t like Louis.

“Never stops talkin’ that one. Can never get any peace ‘round ‘ere,” Murphy whines beneath his unruly mustache. Harry doesn’t ever recall seeing the man’s lips, with the way his mustache resembles a drooping pair of drapes.

“Harry, did you hear something?” Perrie asks, eyes still glued to her computer screen, once again reminding Harry that he’s getting paid to work, not to sit here, wondering what kind of snacks Louis packed today. He’s definitely not getting paid to think about mustaches.

“Hmm, no. I didn’t,” Harry replies, and Murphy’s eyes contort into small black beads that look a lot like dust mites, which could probably be found in drapes.

Harry decides enough is enough, it’s time to get something done. He can’t worry about Louis, he’s an adult, he can take care of himself, right?

He looks at the information gathering second by second on his computer, doppler radars and NOAA reports, and the Studio 99 twitter feed where Harry’s most devoted Sweaterman fans upload pictures of the sky in hopes that Harry will include them on his evening segment.

Harry’s eyes roam over the screen aimlessly, not seeing anything now except for those Ritz peanut butter crackers that he always makes sure to stock in the break room because Louis mentioned liking them one day in passing.

He sees them because Louis just updated Liam on his snack choices for the day and he just said peanut butter crackers, and Harry can’t pretend his heart hasn’t just burst through the fucking clouds.

It’s only when he hears Liam ask “First Aid Kit?” obnoxiously loudly that Harry drops down from the clouds into full blown panic mode again.

“I dunno, Liam, do we really need the first aid kit?”

Yes, you do, dammit. Harry’s brain keeps telling him to move, to grab the first aid kit from the bottom drawer of his desk. He’s trying so so hard to not give in. He doesn’t need to do this, Louis is a big boy. He can decide if bandages deserve to join him on his suicide mission.

“Louis, are you absolutely sure we don’t need those tiny disinfectant wipes?” Niall asks, after a suspiciously long pause. Harry suspects it’s because he forgot his Imax charger, and even though he doesn’t care much about what people think of him, he cares what Louis thinks, and Louis thinks he’s an idiot for forgetting anything essential to surviving a death trap

“Absolutely,” Louis replies, even louder than before. .

Except, Harry doesn’t have the heart to care if Niall’s feeling sad right now, considering he’s playing the victim for Louis’ cheap thrills and Niall’s helping him.

Harry gets up from his spinning chair. He doesn’t even have to open his bottom desk drawer because Perrie’s already doing it, with a small smirk and a shake of her head, because Harry’s so unbelievably predictable that he feels even more pathetic than Murphy right now.

Harry walks, head bowed, with the tightest of grips on the stupid first aid kit, an unmistakable force compelling him to head to The Den, despite the warning sounds blaring in his head about losing his pride again, for the third week in a row.

When he enters the dimly lit room, he’s met with three glorious smiles, one of them more striking than the others, and all Harry knows is that Louis looks beautiful when he smiles, all white teeth and crinkly skin and eyes brighter than the sun at midday. It’s a bit overwhelming when Harry places the first aid kit into Louis’ outstretched hands and their fingers brush, and Harry realizes he doesn’t mind the teasing or Murphy’s gross comments, or the gagging sounds Niall always makes whenever Harry so much as looks at Louis, Harry would gladly give Louis the first aid kit for the rest of his life if he asked him to.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis says, throwing the first aid kit into the back of the Twirly Whirly before heading to the passenger door.

“No problem,” Harry replies dumbly, like always, because he can’t help how he reacts to Louis.

“Dress nice tonight, babe. You know I love you in those suits,” Louis adds before winking and disappearing into the Twirly Whirly, ready for whatever mother nature throws at him.

With a final pat on the back from Niall and a short wave from Liam, the Studio 99 storm chaser van starts up, careening through the open garage door like a fire truck rushing towards a collapsing building. The only difference between firemen and Louis is the fact that firemen don’t go looking for fires, but Louis goes looking for storms.

With the van disappearing into the distance, Harry finally looks towards the sky. It’s a lot darker than it was when Harry woke up this morning. It’s ten times darker than the picture @weatherGary sent him on twitter. It’s not as dark as the pit in Harry stomach but he guesses it’ll get there soon enough.

Harry leaves The Den with empty hands and a beating heart, but when he settles back into his chair, it’s only a matter of seconds before he starts spinning again.

It’s business as usual. Harry won’t be sleeping tonight.

[luccie-eclair]

Dear Fellow KPop Fans,

I'm going to go ahead and put this disclaimer here: if what I'm saying doesn't apply to you, then don't worry about it. However, if you know that you've been an absolute ass to other fans and even the idols themselves, then sit on down and let me tell you what you're not about to do to these wonderful, hardworking people or their fanbase.

Therefore, I don't want to hear crap about "Well, not EVERYONE from [x] fandom is like that". Guess what? I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to the bad apples that ruin the name of your fandom when you're just trying to have a good time.

WARNING: I'm about to be hella salty. Don't mind me 🤗

1) These fan wars need to stop. It's pathetic. What are you? 12? No, wait. There are 12 year olds more mature than this. Not only is it unnecessary, but some of things you say to each other is just hurtful. I know we have a freedom of speech, but some of y'all really abuse that. What's sad is that the people doing it will never, and I mean NEVER, have the balls to say it to anyone's face. Do you honestly think that you're cool or funny hiding behind a fake name and fake age? You're not. You're telling everyone who has access to the internet "Hey, guys! I'm an ass who doesn't deserve friends because I treat people like shit! Make sure you block me!" You, yes you, have created a bad name for your fandom. So if you're ever wondering why someone says "Oh, ONCE's are so immature and rude" (that was an example, so chill because I'm a ONCE myself), it's probably because they've had to deal with jerks like you. Congrats. You played yourself. Oh! And chances are, the group whose fans you're being rude to is probably friends with your bias group. If they can be cordial and polite with drama, so can you. Grow up.

2) This whole "[x group] can't sing" argument has got to go. It's a weak argument and no one is falling for it anymore. Just to let you know, and anyone who was previously a trainee can confirm or deny this, you have to have some kind of talent in singing to even BECOME a trainee!??! Meaning! They have to stand out above the crowd. There is something about their voice that sets them apart for that company to even consider taking them under their wings. Even then, you probably have still have to go through another 2 auditions to be a trainee. If it's that hard to be a trainee, then think about how hard it is to get into a debuting group. Just think. Got an idea? Okay, now take that "can't sing" argument and throw in the trash. "Oh, but they lip sync", you mean like most musicians?!?!? In case you haven't noticed, not EVERYONE is built to be able to sing perfectly and still master dancing and being out of breathe. Sorry, honey, but even Queen Beyonce (while doing very well) doesn't get every single note correct while dancing under hot ass lights and running low on breathe. Doesn't mean she's less of a performer.

3) These rating members lists, "[x] idol is too fat despite being at a considerably healthy", "[x] idol (normally male) looks like a child", and "[x] idol (female with short hair) is too manly" also needs to go. Actually, insulting these idols as if they aren't people, as if they don't have emotions, as if they're supposed to just brush it off despite it being hurtful. NEEDS. TO. STOP. These people work their asses off all the time, sometimes having to stay up for over 48 hours to finish their long schedule with few breaks. You can rent a movie theatre and take several seats. You sit there and call yourself a fan and yet bash them???? Excuse me???? Don't even get me started on the ones that PAY MONEY to go to their fansignings and yet treat them like dirt, demand shit, hit them, and throw things at them. That is a new form of low.

4) PERSONAL SPACE!!!! Why does anyone even need to say that?!?!?! It's one thing if you calmly walk up to an idol (Bow first, please. They are Korean, Japanese, Chinese, etc. Respect is a big thing) "Hello, my name is [x]. I like your work. Can I trouble you for a photo or autograph?" If they say they're busy, bow and say thanks for letting you meet them. If they consent, finish up, bow, say thanks, and leave. DO NOT: crowd them to the point where they can't breathe or move, grab or touch them (believe it or not, you're a stranger to them), start flashing pictures and recording them, or screaming in their ears. AND: if they ask for you to leave them alone and let them be on their way, step off! You can argue "Well, they're celebrities. What do they expect?" THEY expect to be treated like people??????? Not animals???????? I'm confused with the logic. Because someone is famous, they no longer have basic human rights anymore? Is that what you're saying? That they're objects meant only for entertainment? Because I see a person. But maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the crazy one.

5) If you don't like a group, that's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone is entitled to an opinion whether someone else agrees or not, but it's how you express it. Don't know what I'm talking about? Let's draw a picture (these are purely examples, so chill). Bob doesn't like BTS (again, example), he calmly and politely states that and gives good, legitimate reasons "Their concept doesn't suit them, lacks passion, the choreography isn't great, etc". Okay, Bob, while I don't agree with you, I see what you're saying and thanks for being respectful. Meanwhile, Jane doesn't like BTS and decides to go in the BTS tags on Tumblr to bash them and their fans, posts nasty comments on their videos, and even goes as far posting rude stuff on their V-Lives. This is obsession and this is not okay. There's disagreeing and there's being a jerk. Bottom line: Don't be Jane.

6) Who an idol dates is none of our business. They're their own person. They are consenting adults. Leave them alone. I'm sorry to crush your dreams, but they don't know you. Realistically, your chances of scoring a date with your idol is very low. I'm sorry, but that's life. You will find someone else. I promise. I'll even help you, but leave these people alone.

7) Example: Umji from Gfriend decides to do a stream with just her and Sowon. Please don't come on their stream and proceed state that you'd rather see SinB or Eunha. That is so rude and I can only imagine how they feel. It's called being empathetic i.e putting yourself in someone else's position and understanding their plight. We should all try it sometime.

8) This isn't a don't per se... eh, whatever. It's kind of irking when groups are compared to one another. Like, they may have similar concepts, but the size is different, the members are different so everyone has a different voice, the overall sound is different. I just don't find it... fair to compare them, but that's life, so I won't worry about it too much. Disregard!

I know that I probably missed a few more, but the bottom line is be a decent fucking person. It really isn't hard. You know phrase "do unto others"? Try it. It will get you far. Trust me, I know posting about this is pointless given that every fandom on this website is pure cancer because of a few bad eggs. But there comes a time when you just need to speak up against it. I'm kind of new to the Kpop scene and I'm already sick of a lot of these people. Also, if you see someone from your fandom being an ass, please say something because this behavior is not okay.

[secondsofhappiness]

Thank you for that post you made about this storyline. It put into words most of what I was feeling but couldn't articulate. I think the worst part of all this is how little I feel for any of them (though like you, I feel most for Liv. She's just a kid and she's being punished for the choices of others. NOT COOL). I've actually stopped watching for now because it bothers me how apathetic I feel. I do hope that there is a plan for this, though. Maybe working through some of their biggest issues.

You’re welcome, I’m glad it helped in some way ❤️I just needed to respond en mass to lots of concerned and upset people in my ask box. So many valid points and questions so I just wanted to give my 2p worth - wasn’t expecting people to agree TBH!

Sorry to hear you��re not watching for the mean time but I get it entirely, it’s not easy viewing and not if you watch for a little bit of brightness every evening. I hope you can watch again soon, hopefully not too long.

Apathy is NOT what the show runners want and it’s what they risk with stories like this. It happened back with Jackson’s storyline which was a good 8 months (???) of misery and it was desperately difficult to actually stay invested because it was utterly draining and some of done so badly. So I entirely understand how you could be apathetic because part of me is too and in such short a space of time which is not normal for me! (Maybe having a rough week is not helping!)

Liv is my prime concern right now and that definitely shocked me but as soon as the drugs thing kicked in I immediately went into protective mode. She’s fictional but she represents so many young people out there who have to deal with shit caused by adults and their addictions and it is ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY and should be stopped immediately.

My personal worry is that I’ll lose my deep and long lasting affection for Aaron because of my own personal issues! That is something I desperately do. Not. Want. Drug/Alcohol stories are very tough for me to digest and I have very little patience or sympathy/empathy for the way addicts or those under the influence treat others… that’s completely my own issue though and for others it’d be completely different but, for me, it makes no difference why the person begins their use of substances, if their use impacts others negatively I have no room for emotion! So fingers crossed they don’t go too far with Aaron’s behaviour especially where Liv is concerned.

I am desperately sad for them all in different ways but Aaron is there because he is being punished for actions he took and Rob is a grown man who has coping mechanisms and life experience… Liv is a kid and one who has had to deal with too much already. That said, I can’t cope with the Aaron stuff and it made me so uncomfortable that I can’t form an opinion on what I feel about his situation other than NO. With Rob, currently he’s just adorably pathetic in his pining and it’s BRILLIANT to see Rob’s having actual emotions and being able to express them and all the interactions he’s having with Padders and Vic and Liv and Adam… so that’s the one thing I’m really actually enjoying, which is why I’m mega irritated they’re throwing in the cheap ass drama next week. What they’re doing with him now and the decline he’s on is more than enough and it’s interesting itself!

Anyway, ranting again but thanks for a lovely message, anon. Sending cuddles

[hangjie]

anonymous asked: ayyy hello!! I’m here for ur matchup event, can I req for aot and bsd pls? I prefer men (+ hanji, since they’re nb) ! I use all pronouns and I’m bisexual. if this counts […]

I SHIP YOU WITH … EREN YEAGER

CANON-VERSE

at first, eren didn’t think of you as someone else besides his friend or as one of his colleagues from the survey corps. he wasn’t too fond of you at first since you reminded him of jean with a mix of annie. he wasn’t as close with you as mikasa and armin but he still considered you as a friend.

when it was found out that eren was a titan, you were utterly shocked yet you weren’t scared of him unlike the others. you didn’t blame him or looked at him differently, he was still the enthusiastic and determinded boy who was admantly focused on getting rid of the titans from this forsaken world. you felt sorry and sad for him.

you were walking around the survey corps headquarters and you saw that he was being victimized by the insults and blame of the other soldiers. mikasa and armin were trying to back him up but you didn’t hesitate to jump in and defend him. the trio was surprised as you screamed at the older soldiers in front of you. they told you that you should back away from eren because “we’ll never know when he’ll turn into a titan and kill everyone” but you didn’t back down. it was unnecessary and pathetic. these petty grown-up soldiers were tagretting a scared boy who wanted to help and keep his loved ones safe since they couldn’t save their own asses and had nothing better to do.

eventually, the adults huffed and walked away, leaving you with mikasa, armin, and eren. the three of them only looked at you with gaping mouths and wide eyes but you smiled at them and reassured eren that you were on his side before walking away to do your own business. since that day, you became part of their small group.

immediately, you were like eren’s other half (much to mikasa’s dismay). you both were very energetic and did things together which resulted to a lot of memories filled with jokes, pranks, and adventures.

since you were close to eren, you knew a lot of information and were aware of the two sides of the coin which resulted to you akways arguing with someone (especially levi) in order to protect eren. you knew that he was very capable of of himself yet you did much to fight for him since he is the prime target of everyone and you believe that he is indeed the hope for eldia. eren is smart and he always has tricks up his sleeves, so you back him up in his plans but sometimes, you would also fight and argue with his ideology (especially during the yeagerists and the alliance) but both of you do not take these arguments to heart.

when eren began the yeagerist movement, he didn’t force you to choose a side yet deep inside, he just hoped that no matter what side you choose, you would understand his motives at the end. he distanced himself from you since he didn’t want to physically hurt you and he didn’t want to see your reaction, knowing that it would mentally affect him and his emotions. during that time, his mind was clouded of the thoughts of protecting his family and friends and most especially, you.

MODERN AU

eren absolutely adores your dyed hair and how your natural brown hair fades into pink. he would help you maintain your hair, buy the haircare products that you need, help you dye it when you want it to be a different color, and so on. eren would also be down to dye his hair, may it be just the end, some highlights, or his entire head, just so he could match yours.

eren was hesitant to home cats at first but now, he’s the father of your two cats. he would be the person that does not want pets but will be the one to care for them the most at the end. your cats are adopted and rescued and both of you love them so much and one would mostly prefer you and the other with eren. one time, you caught eren enthusiastically playing with one of your cats and he was talking to her in a baby voice but when you brought it up, he completely denied it.

when you’re trying to cheer your friends up, eren’s the one to make sure that whatever you do isn’t too risky and if it is, he’s the one to rescue you. because of this, he would often say that he’s your “knight in shining armor” (to which you scoff at).

it may not look like it but eren is very physically affectionate. in the morning, he would cover your face with kisses. when you’re meeting up somewhere else, he would greet you with a kiss on the cheek and when you need to leave, he gives you a hug. when someone else is talking to you, he will hug you from behind. when he’s standing behind you, he will place his chin on top of your head. when you’re sitting across from him, he will put his hand on top of yours and when you’re sitting beside him, he will lean against your shoulder. eren just loves you too much and wants to protect you from all the harm that this world might give. plus, he loves to rub it on jean’s face that he managed to get with you and make him jealous.

I SHIP YOU WITH … CHUUYA NAKAHARA

when you joined the port mafia, chuuya was completely enamored by your presence. he would always stare at you in admiration, talk about how pretty you look that day or how good you’re fighting to others, and he would always try to accompany you during missions. when the others started to notice, chuuya denied having feelings for you at first since he didn’t believe in love. he claimed that it was pointless since both of you were too busy. even if he denies everything, everyone from the port mafia would notice the blush in his cheeks and his stammering when he talks about you.

it was only after a dangerous mission that he admitted his feelings towards you. you were badly injured and chuuya feared for your life. when you were finally better, he ran to your side and told you what he felt and after that, the rest was history. the port mafia was happy for the both of you but at the same time, they regretted trying to put you both together since chaos occurred at every moment you two are together.

your dates are very adrenaline-pumping despite having to face danger during your missions. though, when the two of you decide to have a “low-key” date, you go shopping, eat in restaurants, have a picnic, drink alcohol, and so on.

chuuya alway brags that he’s the best boyfriend in the world yet with one touch or one look from you, he goes stuttering and blushing like mad. he’s all talk but no bite. he only shows you affection in public when dazai is around, just to show you off to him.

speaking of dazai, he doesn’t understand why you decided to be with chuuya (which results in chuuya screaming and insulting him) and often questions what you see in the little and short-tempered man. he also flirts with you, telling you to be with him instead yet you only shake your head and give chuuya a kiss on his cheek.

although chuuya isn’t fond of pda (or is too shy to display them), he’s a man who’s very good with his words. he is very loud and has a big mouth, so he uses it to express his love verbally. chuuya never fails to praise you when you’ve done a good job during missions, to compliment your looks, to tell you how glad he is to have you in his life, how proud he is of your growth, and to tell you he loves you every day. he never gets tired of saying how much he loves you and he is very willing to go to the mountain tops to scream how much he loves you.

author’s note: wRITER’S BLOCK SUCKS, i’m so sorry anon HUHUHUHU

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© hangjie 2021