#Tumblr is my place for saying absurd shit. I truly hope this does not come off as disrespectful in any way

[limeadeislife]

Okay no, sorry, I just listened to "Diamonds and Rust" a few times and there's no way around it, I definitely have an anachronistic crush on Joan Baez

I guess I'll just have to start having a celebrity crush on Monica Barbaro. It's slightly more logical than the alternative of having a crush on Joan Baez but specifically from the '60s when she was close to my current age

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down. 

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others. 

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is. 

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist. 

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at. 

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it. 

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back. 

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already? 

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters. 

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear. 

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.  

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor. 

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours. 

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an  empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to  sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself. 

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap. 

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably. 

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be. 

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well. 

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him. 

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall. 

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had. 

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat.  He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside. 

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you. 

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want. 

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt. 

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car. 

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you. 

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be. 

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it. 

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already. 

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence. 

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done. 

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?” 

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly. 

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit. 

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably. 

“You... you got him to drink?” 

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki. 

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating. 

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks. 

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth. 

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother. 

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock. 

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness. 

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away. 

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer. 

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall. 

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing. 

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him. 

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow. 

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you. 

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him. 

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?” 

 “Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face. 

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants. 

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down. 

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet. 

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected? 

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles. 

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly. 

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight. 

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima. 

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.” 

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line. 

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper. 

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit. 

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies. 

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name. 

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels. 

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing. 

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.” 

It’s too much. 

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better. 

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours. 

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you. 

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat. 

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you. 

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him. 

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself. 

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you? 

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond. 

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning. 

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face. 

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar. 

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours. 

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip. 

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided. 

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him. 

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss. 

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium. 

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp? 

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had. 

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom. 

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts. 

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now. 

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips. 

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this. 

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone. 

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in. 

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof. 

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you. 

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down. 

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time. 

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else. 

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.” 

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place. 

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips. 

You allow yourself to have this. 

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

--

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed. 

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom. 

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty. 

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water. 

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile. 

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes. 

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks. 

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely. 

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained. 

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly. 

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question. 

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete. 

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually. 

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother. 

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table. 

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified. 

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely. 

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper. 

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask. 

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window. 

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water. 

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up. 

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn @venomouscreatures @lucyrocks86 @shawtiie @honestlysora​

[panharmonium]

Merlin and Naruto

I did Merlin here, so here’s Naruto! :D

[disclaimer for everyone: I have only watched up through Season 10 of Shippuden (the arc with the Five Kage Summit), and I am trying to avoid spoilers for everything after that point, so please don’t interact with this (including tags, because tumblr shows them to me automatically) unless you are avoiding ALL spoilers.  For me, this includes discussion about whether you like/dislike future seasons, comparisons of various seasons in terms of quality, etc.  Thanks, everyone! <3]

My favorite parent-child relationship: I know they’re not blood-related, but Iruka and Naruto have me crying every time I see them together.  Naruto straight-up says that when he’s with Iruka he feels like he knows what it’s like to have a father, and honestly, Iruka loves Naruto so much at this point that he would insta-adopt him if Naruto asked.  I love how Naruto always cites Iruka as the first person who cared for him even later in the show when Iruka hasn’t had as much screentime, and when I saw Iruka cry because he’s so proud of Naruto at the end of the Pain arc, it was just...too much for my little heart to handle.

My favorite sibling relationship: You know, thinking about it, almost all of the people in Naruto are only children, as far as we know!  But in terms of just that sibling vibe - Sakura and Naruto definitely give me that feel.  I know he has a crush on her, but their relationship has always felt more sibling-like to me, and I especially love how deep their bond has become by the time we get to Shippuden.  They are just so comfortable with each other now - the depth of the love and friendship they feel for each other is palpable.  

My favorite family relationship (other): I adore Naruto’s relationship with Jiraiya.  That scene where Naruto falls asleep against his back almost killed me, and Jiraiya’s later line, “Your smile is my salvation” - that was too much.  It absolutely destroyed me.  The way Jiraiya kind of gave up on everything after his old life went to hell - neverending wars, Orochimaru gone, his original students dead, his student’s students dead, Minato dead - he just ran away after that, and it was meeting Naruto that kind of rekindled that spark of hope in him and helped him reconnect with his community and rediscover a sense of purpose in his life.  Naruto enabled him to finally come home, and I think that’s beautiful.

My favorite friendship between two people: There are so many friendships in Naruto that I love (one of the greatest things about this show for me has been how little focus is given to romantic relationships, at least so far; it’s very much a friendship-oriented show), but right now I’m in a bit of a Kakashi-Yamato hole.  I was super primed to not like Yamato when he first showed up, because him being there meant that my favorite character WASN’T there, and also he ended up replacing Kakashi on the one mission where the team finally found Sasuke, but the guy won me over in the end.  He is one of my favorite characters now - my heart just swells every time I see him - and I think his relationship with Kakashi is super interesting.  I’ve written before about how Kakashi’s only truly intimate friendships are with people who are dead, and I do think that applies when it comes to Yamato, too, even though the two of them are obviously very companionable and close.  There is still a level to that relationship where Kakashi is a bit of a mentor figure, the “superior officer,” which results in a degree of (still friendly and affectionate) distance.  And as with all of his other relationships, Kakashi doesn’t really confide in Yamato about his life or open up to him in the same way that he does when he talks to his dead friends - but at the same time, there is an element to their relationship that doesn’t exist in Kakashi’s other friendships, and it’s the fact that Kakashi trusts Yamato with his kids, implicitly and without reservation.  Kakashi’s entire life right now is very much enmeshed in what happens to his students, and even if he doesn’t necessarily talk about that with Yamato, Yamato is still deeply involved in that work.  Yamato VOLUNTEERED for that work.  And he continues to dedicate himself to it even when his first mission as Kakashi’s stand-in ends up going completely off the rails and turning into WAY more than he signed up for.  He keeps doing his utmost for Kakashi’s kids without it even being his original responsibility, and that is such an unusual thing, for Kakashi, who in every other circumstance is always the one stepping in to help other people, the one who always shoulders his burdens alone.  Nobody ever asks Kakashi if he needs help with these incredibly high-needs children, and neither does Yamato - but the difference is that Yamato jumps in to help regardless, and he stays no matter how complicated things get.  That’s huge, and it’s only going to become more important.  It’s just - it is difficult for Kakashi to have intimate friendships with people who don’t share his history, and this rules out almost everybody else in the world, because all the people who truly share his own history are dead.  But the degree to which Yamato has altruistically and irreversibly entwined himself into the most important parts of Kakashi’s new history - the chapters being written right now, the ones that are going to define the rest of Kakashi’s life - means that Yamato is well on his way to breaking through that wall and becoming the first exception to a universal rule. [There is a lot to be said on Kakashi’s side of this, too, like - every time Kakashi refuses to call Yamato by his code name I lose my mind just a little bit, and I have MANY thoughts about Kakashi basically dragging folks who’ve been victimized or exploited or experimented on out of ANBU and then absorbing them into his own team, where they become a part of a family-type unit that respects them and cares about them and treats them like human beings.  I mean, there’s a huge difference between the Yamato we meet in S2 vs. the Yamato we know in S10 (and the same thing goes for Sai!) - and that’s something I think about a lot.]

My favorite friendship between a group:  I love all of the team dynamics, but Team Gai is a fave XD  The absurd contrast between oh-so-serious Neji vs. Gai/Lee’s incredible goofiness (with Tenten’s exasperation in between) is comedy gold.  I screamed with laughter in S1 when Gai was trying to get Neji to put his hand in the circle and do their “shout a slogan like a sports team” thing - I’ve never seen anything funnier on this show than jonin!Neji trying to put up with Gai’s antics.  

My favorite mentorship: My favorite mentorship is always Kakashi and whichever kid happens be onscreen with him at that moment, but I’ll be honest and say that Kakashi+Sasuke was the first dynamic that got me actually invested in this show (as opposed to me just watching it because it was on and not really caring what happened to any of the characters).  They are still the mentorship dynamic about which I have the most complex feelings, and that is especially true after the last season we watched.  I will probably end up making a separate post about this, because I still have not written down all of my thoughts about the end of Season 10 and I am still trapped in my feelings about this very lost child and the only adult who ever tried to help him the way he deserved to be helped, and I know I have way more to say about them than I can reasonably fit in this bullet point.  But - the short version is that I am super compelled by the way that every tragedy that’s befallen Kakashi is precisely what shapes him into the only adult who can help this particular kid, the way seemingly senseless events ended up putting Kakashi in a position where he’s the only adult who can intervene on this kid’s behalf many, many years later.  The way Sasuke’s plight (and the potential that Kakashi has to help him) suddenly grants meaning to the worst parts of Kakashi’s life - that knocks me on my butt.  

My favorite rivalry: So I probably would not have said this until the episode where Kakashi comes three seconds away from being made Hokage, but I’m gonna say Gai & Kakashi, solely to express my love and appreciation for Gai in that episode.  This is the ep where Gai challenges Kakashi to a race through the entire village (as a sort of “last hurrah before we can’t do this kind of silly shit anymore” thing) and Kakashi is initially kind of reluctant to do it, because he’s stressed out about a lot of things, but he does end up agreeing to it, and then he has SO much fun, and I LOVED this so much; I can’t even tell you.  This moment takes place immediately after Kakashi returns from that horrible, awful confrontation with Sasuke, and everything preceding this scene was very hard for me to see, because everybody is just asking Kakashi to do more and more and more for them without giving him even a hot minute to be like “i almost just killed my own kid.  i almost just had to kill my own kid, who was trying to kill my other kid, who was trying to kill kid #1 first, so i wouldn’t have assume the burden of killing him myself.”  Nobody checks on him, nobody asks, and Kakashi has to just hold onto that horror and also fret over the uncertain yet chilling secrets that Madara Uchiha disclosed and also prepare to shoulder the crushing weight of an office he never asked for - AND THEN.  GAI SHOWS UP.  And even though Gai doesn’t really know what happened, he still checks Kakashi over from top to bottom to make sure he’s in one piece, and then he drags him into this stupid competition, and it makes Kakashi LAUGH.  They go running all out across the craterized scene of devastation that used to be their home, and they have FUN doing it, and Kakashi straight-up tells Gai, “This was just what I needed,” which - god.  It would be great if Kakashi had somebody he could actually talk to, sure, but there’s also a space in our lives for people who just cheer us up, no questions asked.  It’s like when you tell someone you have a problem and they ask, “Do you want to talk about it or do you want to be distracted?”  Sometimes you don’t need to talk about it.  Sometimes you just need people who will take you for a goofy footrace and make you feel like you’re running too fast for any of your troubles to ever touch you again, for a few minutes. 

My favorite hatred/antipathy: The answer to this question used to be Kakashi and Itachi, and while I’m even MORE fascinated by their dynamic now than ever, it’s taken on a whole new dimension, given that I think Itachi is (secretly) thrilled to see someone like Kakashi so committed to taking him down and keeping Sasuke safe.  So, in place of that, I’ll just say that I love how much all of the Akatsuki cannot stand each other XD  Almost none of them get along, and it makes me laugh every time - I can’t believe they ever get anything done, though I guess that’s to be expected when you get that many super-criminals together in a room.  I especially love how they all think Orochimaru is so stupid...cannot get over them laughing at him and his body-snatching immortality schemes.

My favorite potential relationship between characters who never talk in canon: Okay, these are both silly answers, but - I would have KILLED to see Jiraiya interacting with Minato’s team.  Like, I’m certain they spent time together, but honestly, what I wouldn’t give to have witnessed some of it.  All I could think about during that mini-arc where Jiraiya teaches Naruto how to sync up with Gamariki was how little!Kakashi would have taken one look at the dancing frogs and decided he would be using dog!summons for the rest of his life; meanwhile Obito would have already been in the frog’s mouth begging to be launched into the air like a cannonball.  Also - my sister said the other night how it is a CRIME that we never got to see Sasuke forced to interact with Jiraiya and honestly, that is too true.

[allofthefeelings]

Hi. I forgot that sad endings exist, and now, I'm scared stupid after your last BW movie post. She's dead already! I want something close to happy! (Oh god, I hope the fanfics come through 😭😭😭)

(Before I begin, I would also like you to know that, while this is over 4000 words long, I did cut a several-paragraphs-long digression comparing the BW movie to Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas. You’re welcome.)

I know I’m once again outing myself as an optimist here, and I’m sure I’ll also end up getting smug asks in four months when much of my speculation is wrong, but what the hell. If I was on this tumblr to be right I would have made a LOT of different decisions.

So.

I really, truly don’t think we’re going to get a sad ending.

But the question is, how does it achieve a not-sad ending? Or, to completely re-frame and re-structure: for a character like Natasha, what exactly is a happy ending?

Buckle in, because this gets long.

I think we can all agree that, by definition, we’re starting the movie from a point of melancholy at best, just because we know that in 2023 Natasha will be dead. She doesn’t get to ride into the sunset in any way, shape, or form. Every other solo movie- even the ones with tragic endings, like Thor Ragnarok’s destruction of Asgard and a large portion of its people- have given characters a path forward and the odds that even if this won’t give them a happy ending, it gives them a way towards one. It ends with hope. There isn’t room for that here, for obvious reasons. But what there is room for- and this is, ironically, achievable because of one of the major flaws of IW- is the idea that she did achieve growth, and then had six years to live the life she wanted.

Or, not the life she WANTED, which probably would not have been one part on the run/five parts half of society obliterated by Thanos. Let’s say she had the chance to live a terrible life self-actualized.

IW’s complete and utter lack of meaningful characterization for 90% of the cast means that we don’t really have a sense of where Natasha was in that movie. That gives a lot of room to play with, to put Natasha at the end of the BW movie in a place that she wants to be in. In other words, they can retroactively argue that the reason Natasha isn’t given room to grow in IW is that she had achieved her growth in between CW and IW.

Which, look. Doylistically this is beyond bullshit. Doylistically this is actually offensive, and if they’re looking to retroactively placate us about how Natasha’s arc went, it really doesn’t work. I’m not talking about what was intended, or what was achieved; I don’t think this is either of those. I’m talking about what we can choose to read into it.

And, frankly, as a Natasha fan, that’s pretty much all we do anyway. I can argue (and clearly have argued) her arc for ages, but that’s all the work I’ve done, and you (collective, Natasha fans) have done- not the work the text has done.

None of this is remotely answering the question. But I think it’s necessary groundwork to begin to answer the question.

Because what the BW movie can give us is that growth arc that takes place in the negative spaces of canon.

Well, first of all, the BW movie gives us the fact that things happen at all in the negative spaces of canon. I know I’ve discussed this already, but it’s worth mentioning again: the way audiences are supposed to read texts is that everything pertinent happens on screen. Even supplemental texts that are considered canonical (cut scenes, novelizations, official tie-in comics, movie scripts) are deemed inherently less valuable because they aren’t on the screen. This movie affirms that important events are happening off-screen, to everyone- or at least everyone who isn’t front and center.

This is, again, infuriating, and I feel like when I say this I’m inadveretently contributing to justification. That is not my intention. Natasha’s growth should have been on screen and should have been seen as important. I hate that it’s reduced to a single movie after ten years and the character’s death. I don’t think this justifies it. AT THE SAME TIME, I think this opens space for us to look at lots of characters who haven’t gotten the screen time they deserved.

(Like, they may never give Rhodey the movie he deserves, but at least no one can tell us that if he did something worth seeing it would have been on screen. This movie’s existence is a rebuttal of that. This is a digression but one I’m gonna keep making until everyone starts casually referring to awesome shit Rhodey did off-screen because WHY THE FUCK NOT, YOU CAN’T PROVE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN, “IT DIDN’T HAPPEN ON SCREEN” IS NO LONGER PROOF OF ANYTHING EXCEPT THEY HAVEN’T DONE THE SET-IN-THE-PAST MOVIE YET. Y E T.)

But we also get the possibility of growth, and to analyze what growth means for Natasha’s character.

So here is an issue: I can tell you, with a frankly absurd amount of confidence, what I read Natasha’s arc as. I can lay it out from film to film, I can point to key growth moments, I can read a lot into every scrap that made it into the final cut and I can tell you exactly why, and I feel like if you dig into my history you’re going to find a lot of me citing specific scenes to make my point so I’m not going to go too in-depth on an already-long post that is getting exponentially longer. I think that Natasha’s key arc is in figuring out who she is and what she needs, and how to be a person rather than a reflection of what is asked of her. I think that the mirror imagery in the trailer and in the SDCC/D23 BW footage lends credence to this being a key theme of the movie.

But I have absolutely no idea if I’m right, because the MCU has never considered Natasha to be important enough to be the focus, and as a result I read her arc mostly through the ways she mirrors other characters’ stories, usually to show their strengths by comparison. I do my best to make arguments that are textually supported, but at the same time, it’s like describing the sun entirely from the way that its light reflects off the moon.

So I can say that for the BW movie to be satisfying, it needs to offer completion to her arc, which is then capped in IW/Endgame but would have reached its climax in the BW movie. But since I cannot confidently tell you what her arc has been so far, I can’t figure out exactly how that arc could be satisfactorily completed. Which means, after SEEING the movie, I will have to retroactively figure out how they saw her arc, and then figure out if this was a satisfactory way to end it.

But an argument done in hindsight is colored by what I’ve already seen, and that’s a cheat. So let’s start over.

Here is what we know:

Natasha was taken from her family very young (Endgame: didn’t know her father’s name). As a child, she was abused and manipulated by the Red Room (Agent Carter; Age of Ultron). She was trained to be a Black Widow, did terrible shit for them for a while, defected, became a mercenary, did terrible shit for the highest bidder (Avengers). Clint was sent to kill her but made a different call and brought her in to SHIELD (Avengers). Natasha quickly rose in the ranks and became one half of a STRIKE team watched over by Fury’s right-hand man, Coulson (Avengers). Natasha also became very close with Nick Fury, the head of SHIELD (IM2, Cap2). At some point in there she was shot by the Winter Soldier (Cap2). She was one of the people behind putting together the Avengers Initiative, identifying Tony Stark as not qualified (IM2), and recruited into the team herself (Avengers). She did not leave the Avengers teams for the next 11 years; she was on the first iteration (lasting through Age of Ultron), the second (Age of Ultron through Civil War), and then the Secret Avengers (which we can now assume starts post-BW through Infinity War) and Avengers 3.0 (five-year gap team), as well as the Quantum Realm Team-Up Team right up til she got yeeted off Vormir.

We’ll set Secret Avengers and Team 3.0 aside for the moment, as they’re things that will exist post-BW movie canon.

Natasha’s narrative role has often been to be so amazing that when she’s bested, we know the other person is really good. The best way for me to pull this together into a coherent throughline is that Natasha tends to be bested by people with passion and emotional stakes. When Natasha is just doing her job, but Pepper cares about Tony or the Dora Milaje care about T’Challa, she is outmatched. In Cap2, when Natasha cares deeply about SHIELD and who she’s loyal to, she is able to outmatch everyone she faces, but since she’s a secondary character and her act isn’t as highly visible on screen, her heroism isn’t as spotlighted.

(That said, make no mistake, WE WILL BE COMING BACK TO HER HEROIC MOVE IN THIS MOVIE.)

Her role has also been, as I mentioned earlier, to be a mirror to the white male heroes. She mirrors Tony in IM2, Clint in Avengers, Steve in Cap2, and Bruce in Ultron. I can make a strong argument, that I feel is supported by each text, that each of these mirrors is about moderation, and both the white man of choice and Natasha finding that the ideal is somewhere between both points: the space between how and why Tony and Natasha handle secrecy; between how Clint and Natasha handle guilt; between how Steve and Natasha handle trust; between how Bruce and Natasha handle self-hatred. That the writers and directors often disagree with my read of this does not, in any way, dissuade me from believing it, but it does mean that this may not be the arc we’re looking at in the movie.

By the arcs that I’ve traced, though, they have a fair amount of leeway to give a satisfying conclusion no matter what the plot is. By having other characters mirroring Natasha, she is centered in a way she never had been, and simply being the protagonist of her own story is part of Natasha’s journey we haven’t seen. We know that this is going to in some way revisit the Red Room, and that means that we’ll get to see a story where Natasha is passionate about and personally connected to what she’s fighting. We also know that whatever the story is, it will not be Natasha mediating someone else’s approach to the world, but Natasha’s approach to the world with someone else (I’m guessing Yelena?) mediating her worldview, in a way that gives Natasha growth but does not undercut her as someone who had so much to learn from the REAL hero.

All plot to the side, simply because Natasha is the protagonist, there is an element of satisfaction inherent, both textually and metatextually, because Natasha’s role of being sidelined is both within the text and within the media landscape a struggle she’s finally able to overcome. There is also a metatextual satisfaction just in cleaning up the bits and pieces of canon that we’ve gotten that were left hanging. For example, in her heroic climax in Winter Soldier, Natasha- who was so focused on being able to transform into whatever was necessary- released a fuck-ton of national security information on the internet, including her own history, that made her both immutable and knowable. (Do you ever think about how this means that people living within the MCU know more about Natasha’s background than we, the audience, does? Because I do, c o n s t a n t l y.) Natasha went from working undercover and in the shadows to being an Avenger and releasing not just her own and not just SHIELD’s but also the Red Room’s dirty laundry in public, and that has never had narrative consequences; this is a great opportunity to use that, closing a loop that most people probably forgot even existed.

Speaking of closure.

I think this movie HAD to be designed with that specifically in mind. I don’t think they necessarily expected the backlash they got from Natasha’s death (I’m going to be honest here; I didn’t expect it from anyone but Natasha fans), but at least they had to know that people who had been promised Natasha would get her due in canon would be frustrated and want some sign that the complexity of the character that had been talked up for a decade was actually part of the story they put on film. Marvel wants to placate fans, yes, but they wouldn’t waste millions upon millions of dollars on a movie to get us to shut up; their job is to bring in money, and it’s not like they haven’t gotten ten years’ worth from us. They’re also savvy enough to know that for a character who’s no longer alive in canon, they need to do things that make their story relevant even without them having future appearances- and I think we’ll see that in Yelena and Taskmaster- but also to make this story have stakes.

Yeah, we never spend a Marvel movie saying “Oh geez, what if the hero dies?” (well, aside from Civil War, because comics oontext), but right now we’re going in knowing (or, bare minimum, thinking we know) exactly what happens to Natasha. Where she’ll end up just under two years from when the story starts is set in stone (NO PUN INTENDED). So we need another way to give the story stakes. Natasha’s life and her future aren’t up in the air. Her past is, I guess, but they’ve been clear this movie isn’t about her past. And where that leaves us is the emotional journey. I outlined above what I think that is, but it doesn’t have to be that to be satisfying- it just has to be some way to leave Natasha changed in a way that surprises us as audience.

And, sure, that could be loss- that could be betrayal from everyone in this movie, leaving her alone and with no one to turn to but the Avengers- but I don’t think that is. I think that’s looking at Natasha’s story like she’s still a secondary character, rather than the protagonist. The basic structure of a superhero movie (and specifically a Marvel movie) is that the protagonist suffers defeat but ultimately triumphs, internally if not externally, having learned something that takes them farther on their emotional journey. Since (as far as we )know this is the only movie Nat’s getting- she’s not getting a trilogy or a Dis+ show- this needs to take her farther than most single-protagonist movies have.

In terms of another kind of closure: If the movie doesn’t offer at least a hint of a way Nat could come back (and I’m still hoping for that no matter how unlikely it is, and if it doesn’t happen I’m hoping for it in the Dr Strange sequel, and after that I’m sure I’ll find another path), I think there’s an excellent chance the post-credits scene will be a funeral for her. Given that they have SebStan and Mackie and Emily Van Camp shooting together right now, it would be very easy to at the VERY least get us a scene of them mourning her. It’s not the same as Tony’s giant lakehouse memorial, but it’s about half the characters who were close to her when she was alive (the others being Clint, Maria, and Fury, and I’m pretty sure they could have put an hour of time on the FFH set to the latter two having five seconds of looking solemn). I think that, given the backlash to Endgame, they need something like this: we need to see, on screen, conclusive proof that Natasha’s life mattered, not just for the audience, but for the world she lived in.

My dream would be for the entire movie to use a frame story OF her funeral- people talking about her, different memories and different understandings, that combine in different ways to collectively show a whole. Fucking Rashomon that shit. But we all know they’re not going to do that.

I recognize I am still talking satisfying and not happy.

But what exactly is happy? What exactly is the happy ending Natasha might want?

She’s not a character who wants to retire or settle down somewhere. As much as we in the audience talk about wanting her to get a break, we’ve never seen that from her, and we also don’t see a world that could really offer that to her; especially post-Cap2, Natasha does not have the luxury of escaping her past even if she did want to.

We don’t know her goals. We don’t know what she wanted outside of making amends for her past. We’ve gotten that from almost every other character- say what you want about Steve’s Endgame ending (god knows I have), or about Bruce being a public figure that kids love, but at least there was groundwork laid for it.

i think the best argument we have for what makes Natasha happy is in Civil War, when it’s taken away. Natasha is willing to give up things that are important to her (her autonomy) in favor of not losing her team; being together is the priority for her. By the end of Civil War, she’s lost even that; she’s seen to have betrayed her entire team and has no one. By IW we know that she re-finds her group, that she and Steve and Sam and Wanda are a tightly-knit unit, but we have to piece it together ourselves, and we have no way to know that it’s by choice rather than necessity. (The BW trailer is really the first time we get evidence that Natasha has more resources than just the Avengers or SHIELD; even fic has tended to just posit she has empty safehouses, not living people she can go to.) The BW movie could give her that team, and retroactively make her appearance in IW a reward for her- having found the team she wanted- rather than just the natural place for her to end up.

But I can’t see how that would even work without at least some of Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, and Elizabeth Olsen appearing in this movie and showing on screen that Natasha has her people. We haven’t seen evidence they aren’t, but at least I haven’t heard any rumors they are, the way we’ve heard rumors about RDJ.

And there’s something awful, to me, in Natasha constantly being supporting in other people’s movies, which exist to seem self-contained even if they’re not, but then in her movie her emotional fulfillment relying on things that happen elsewhere- the implication that her emotional arc can’t even support a single movie.

In terms of what we’ve seen achieved, Natasha seems happiest when she’s solving a problem, when she’s fighting and winning and being the hero she doesn’t quite believe she is. But that’s not something that can be an end to an arc, of a decade or even of two hours. No matter how great that is, it’s a momentary thing, and it’s fleeting. That’s happiness but not narratively satisfying

This remains not an answer to the original questions.

I think part of the issue is, it’s not necessarily that we need Natasha to be happy, for her to have a happy ending. It’s that we, the audience, wants to be happy- and frankly, I don’t think that’s unreasonable; we’re not going to blockbusters to have our hearts torn out (and I think that after Endgame especially, Natasha fans are not ready or willing to do that again). And so we’re looking less at how Natasha can be happy, but how we can be happy. Selfishly, I’d even add: how we can be happy without doing the work. How we can be happy without conspiracy-theorizing our way to a satisfying narrative, but rather, a narrative that’s already on the screen, that we can just roll around in and enjoy.

I realize how bizarre this is to say after 3000+ words, but: I want the opportunity to be a lazy viewer. I want the chance to take things in without having to take responsibility for making them into something I want to see. I don’t want to have to reverse-engineer her story; I want to dig into the minutiae that is maybe actually intended.

On some level, that’s going to be the happy ending for me. Just having a whole text to dive into is a gift. (I am probably monkey-pawing myself just by saying this, which is the same kind of bullshit I argued for Age of Ultron- but then, I still can rewatch Ultron and find a lot that I like.) And Natasha getting a narrative win- which, as protagonist, she kind of has to- will be a happy ending for me.

But I’m a Natasha fan. This is expected.

What I think is the real question under all of this- what I’ve been struggling to tease out from my own feelings, and maybe now I’m finally getting to it- is a different question entirely: how can Marvel craft a story that sticks with their formula of giving a protagonist a win and something like a happy ending, while telling a story about a character who has been sidelined for ten years until they killed her off? Setting aside those of us who are overly invested in Natasha’s arc, what is the path to telling a story that the majority of the audience- most of whom haven’t traced her history, many of whom are casual fans, some of whom probably didn’t even see Endgame- finds fulfilling and happy?

The hero has to win, obviously. The hero has to triumph. Natasha has to come away having saved the world (stopping a villain from destruction), her world (protecting those close to her), and her internal world (some kind of emotional progress/catharsis). There will be moments intended for the audience to cheer. That’s a formula that you can find in nearly every superhero movie, and with good reason; I can’t think of why it wouldn’t apply here.

So looping back around, the question about the sad ending really is just for those of us who are deeply engaged. It’s not “will Natasha triumph?” because yes, she will- of course she will. We are going to get a movie where the world will be saved by Natasha (which has happened before) and the text will acknowledge that (which it really has not). The real question at hand is “will Natasha’s triumph be enough to mitigate the substantial losses she’s had in the other movies, or will it be bittersweet, her success here just underscoring the way that her biggest narrative win was to kill herself for no recognition?”

Which, of course, on some level, will vary from audience member to audience member. But I think that, with the awareness of how Endgame worked, and the knowledge of exactly when this movie is coming out, they have to at least try to give her- and us- this.

It’s now 5:15 AM and this is over 4000 words long and if you’ve read all this you deserve a medal. I’m happy to clarify or expand on anything in a few hours when I get up; I know that I circled a few points rather than clearly making them, but I’m no longer even completely sure what is common knowledge and what is me projecting. Hopefully this can at least start a conversation?

ETA: And anon, I am sure no matter what happens, fanfic will have our backs.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Love

Chapter 7 of Damned Spot is up on AO3! Find the previous chapters here on Tumblr. 

In which Fenris and Rynne deal with the aftermath of their impromptu night together. Beware le texting and le angst... 😞

*******************

8:52am - hey so 8:52am - you just went to get coffee right? 8:52am - bc you should know i dont like it lol 8:52am - chai for me plz~

10:11am - seriously though are you coming back?

1:08pm - honestly what the fuck 1:08pm - i didn't take YOU for a fuckboy 1:09pm - i mean i’m an idiot but i didn’t think i was that stupid

1:35pm - i take that back 1:35pm - i just realized you might have gotten hit by a car or sth 1:36pm - which i RELLY hope didn’t happen 1:36pm - really*** 1:36pm - just let me know if you need blood bc i’m a universal donor lol

2:46pm - Fenris. please. just talk to me

Rynne tossed her phone on the coffee table and dragged her hands through her hair, then nervously patted it back into place. She picked up the half-eaten piece of toast she’d made this morning and took a bite, then listlessly rose from the couch and carried the cold toast back to the kitchen to throw it out.

She just couldn’t understand it. Fenris was so wonderful last night, sexy and slow and attentive, holding her close until she fell asleep. And the words he’d said, those gorgeous tender words that he’d poured in her ear…

Rynne couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who had left her alone at some unspecified hour of the morning and who was now ghosting her so brutally.

She flicked the kettle on and toyed idly with her earrings as she waited for it to boil. Then, unable to resist the horrible temptation, she went back to the living room and picked up her phone.

She tapped into her messages and stared at the increasingly desperate string of unanswered texts she’d sent to him, then closed the app and slumped onto the couch. She really wished someone else was home right now. Rynne had never been particularly good at sitting alone with her feelings, and the feelings she was having now… Maker’s balls, they were fucking painful. It felt like a cold, heavy rock had been shoved right behind her sternum, and she could really use a friendly distraction.

Maybe he really did just get held up, she thought. Ran into someone he knew in Lowtown, or… or got arrested for being too sexy, or… Shit, she was really grasping at straws here to find an excuse for him. Any complicated excuse would do, because any excuse was better than the simple and likely truth.

It was a one-night stand. He doesn’t really want you.

She tugged at her ear until it started to hurt. Then she heard the click of the kettle turning off. She rose to her feet and went to pour herself some tea, but before she could do more than pick out a teabag, the intercom chimed.

Rynne dropped the teabag and ran to the intercom, then slammed her finger on the button. “Hello?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then his voice grumbled through the speaker. “Hawke? It’s… it’s me.”

“Come on up,” she replied, and she hit the buzzer. “Thank fuck,” she exclaimed out loud to the empty condo, then she ran to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t look as much of a wreck as she felt.

A minute later, the doorbell rang, and Rynne pulled open the door.

Fenris was frowning.

Her stomach instantly plummeted. Fuck, she thought. She laughed nervously as she let him in. “You’re just in time!” she said. “I was making tea. I’m glad you’re not dead, by the way. I was about to call the emergency room at Andraste General and see if the most handsome man in Thedas happened to have been admitted-”

“Hawke,” he said quietly.

She froze for a moment at the gravity of his tone, then breezed into the kitchen. “Do you want tea?” she asked. “Or maybe coffee instead? You take it black with a little sugar, right?”

“That’s - yes, that’s right. But no thank you. Hawke-”

She looked up at him with an empty mug in her hands. “You sure? It’s no trouble. I can make approximately five things in the kitchen and coffee is one of-”

He placed one tattooed palm on the kitchen counter. “Hawke, I… I cannot do this. It should never have happened in the first place. Forgive me.”

She stared at him dumbly, unable to breathe around the foolish hopes that were clogging her lungs and her throat.

Finally she drew a painful breath peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You came back here just to tell me that? That this is over?”

He tucked his hand back into his pocket and took a small step back. “Yes. I’m sorry-”

“Bullshit,” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe you.” She put the mug down and made her way around the kitchen counter to approach him.

He backed away from her with his hands in his pockets, and Rynne tried hard to ignore the fresh lance of hurt that speared her in the chest. She took another deep breath and folded her arms. “Come on, Fenris, what’s really going on here?”

“Nothing is going on,” he said. “I was drunk. We both were. It was a mistake, and it cannot happen again.”

A painful lump appeared in her throat, but she swallowed it down. His words were classic brush-off fuckboy fodder, and if Piper were here, she would have cheerfully told him to fuck off and take his tiny prick with him.

But Pipes wasn’t here. And somehow, for some reason, Rynne didn’t believe that Fenris was just using her for sex. She might be an overly optimistic idiot, but the things he’d said last night were still ringing in her ears.

I didn’t think I needed anyone or wanted anyone. Until now. Fenris didn’t speak idle words, and he wasn’t the kind of man who would say such things lightly. Rynne would never forget it, and she was absolutely certain he hadn’t forgotten it either.

“Alcohol is no excuse,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could. “By the time you had me naked, you weren’t drunk anymore. And I wasn’t either.” She peered at him. “You can talk to me without blowing me off, you know. Listening and fucking aren’t mutually exclusive.”

His expression crumpled with discomfort as she spoke. He scratched the back of his neck and darted a glance at the door, and Rynne held her breath as she waited for him to respond. Maybe she’d come on too strong. Was this going to drive him away for good?

Finally he blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his snowy hair. “Are we alone?” he asked.

She relaxed slightly. That was a good sign. “Yes, it’s just us,” she said. “What’s going on?”

He gripped his hair for a moment longer, then lifted his gaze to her face. “I have not been entirely honest with you,” he said. “I… I have not left the world of Tevinter crime behind.”

A jolt of horror made her widen her eyes. “Y-you mean… you’re still working as a-?”

“No,” Fenris said hastily. “No, it is not that. I…” He sighed and seated himself gingerly on the arm of the couch. “I didn’t come to Kirkwall to start a new life. I came here to bide my time.”

She took a tentative step closer to him. “What does that mean?”

“I was... well-known, shall we say, in the more disreputable circles in Tevinter,” he said slowly. “My departure was not as tidy as I made it sound. Danarius has not stopped hunting me. And I will not be hounded by him any longer.”

His expression was cold and fierce. Rynne took a deep breath. Her chest was jangling with anxiety at what he was implying, but she needed him to spell it out.

She rubbed her chilly arms. “What exactly does that mean?” she whispered.

Fenris continued to gaze steadily at her. “It means that I will kill him,” he said baldly. “When the time is right, I will lure Danarius out of Tevinter, and I will kill him, and any men he brings along with him.”

Rynne gaped at him, speechless and dumb with shock at the starkness of his words. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so shocked; he had told her he’d worked as an enforcer, after all. But somehow, Rynne hadn’t really seen it.

This wasn’t to say she didn’t believe him. She absolutely believed he was capable of incapacitating someone who deserved it. She would never forget the sight of him holding his knife to the throat of that guy who’s attacked her behind the Hanged Man. But somehow, in her naive little mind, she’d managed to separate that cold, brutal fighter from the smart, smirking, sympathetic man who worked with her at the pub.

Multifaceted indeed, she thought numbly. He was intelligent, well-spoken, polite… and a self-proclaimed killer who was planning to kill more people still.

She realized her silence had stretched on too long when Fenris nodded sharply and rose from the couch. “You understand the problem,” he said. “This… liaison can go no further. There is no future for you in all of this.”

He took a purposeful step toward the door. Before she could stop to think, Rynne darted in front of him. “Why don’t you just not kill Danarius?” she blurted.

He stared at her as though she’d said something absurd. “What?”

“Don’t kill him,” Rynne said urgently. “Just go on with your life. You know what they say: the best revenge is a life well lived.”

Fenris scowled. “Spoken like a person who has never been truly wronged,” he said acidly. “I will not wait passively to be found. There always comes a time when you must stop running - when you turn and face the tiger.”

“And there are times when you have to reconsider your plans so you don’t go to jail!” Rynne exclaimed. “What in the Void are you thinking will happen after you kill Danarius?”

Fenris shrugged and glanced at the door. “It doesn’t matter. I will be gone by then.”

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “So after you… after you carry out this plan of yours, you’re just going to leave. That’s it?”

Fenris finally seemed to lose his patience: he glared at her so fiercely that she took an instinctive step away from him. “Yes,” he snapped. “When this is done, I will leave this place and I will be satisfied that I’ve removed at least a scrap of miserable darkness from this world.”

Rynne’s heart was beating an anxious rhythm in her throat. She’d never seen him look so angry. She reached tremulously for his hand. “Fenris-”

He jerked his hand away from her touch. “You don’t understand,” he hissed. “You don’t know what they’ve done to me. The duplicity and the tattoos, the - the lyrium and the fucking lies-”

Rynne took a step forward and boldly grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but she squeezed his hand firmly in both of hers. “Fenris,” she said breathlessly, “I want to understand. Just - help me understa-”

“They set me up, all right?” he shouted. “I attempted to leave when they tried to bring Varania into the business. Danarius said one last job, and I would be free. But they set me up. Beat me to within an inch of my life, killed my mother and my sister, and told me it was a rival gang who did the job. I couldn’t remember what had happened, so I believed them.”

His fingers were cold and clenched, and Rynne’s chest felt just as clenched, tight with an aching and horrified sympathy. “And the tattoos?” she whispered.

He bowed his head and ran his free hand through his hair. “When I healed from my wounds, they… encouraged me to get the tattoos. Show my fealty to Danarius. And I agreed. I thought I had nothing left to live for, with my family dead and gone. And…” He swallowed hard, then lifted his face once more, and Rynne’s throat swelled at the distress in his face.

“I asked for lyrium,” he rasped. “While the tattoos were healing. I requested it. I… I demanded it.”

“Oh, Fenris,” Rynne breathed. She squeezed his forearm, then reached up and cradled his neck. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this-”

He reached up and pulled her hands away. “Are you not listening?” he demanded. “I asked for lyrium. I begged them to rub that filthy salve on my skin while the tattoos were healing. Then the salve became the shots, and…” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I was addicted to it for years, Hawke. That was a curse of my own making.”

Rynne frowned. He’d become an addict via lyrium salve? That didn’t seem right. Rynne wasn’t a doctor by any means, but she knew quite a bit about how lyrium was absorbed, and lyrium salve was the least potent form. It could even be used on children in small doses.

But this didn’t seem the time to point it out. And Fenris wasn’t finished talking. “You are right about one thing,” he said. “This is not entirely my fault. It’s Danarius’s fault: Danarius and his entire snivelling, power-hungry clan of criminals. And I won’t find a moment’s peace until he is dead.”

Rynne forced herself to breathe calmly. All this talk of death, of Fenris killing someone, and the thought of him getting caught and locked away for something that could so easily be avoided… It was almost enough to make her panic.

She forced another careful inhale. “How long has it been since you were in Tevinter?” she asked.

His scowl lessened somewhat. “Two years and nine months, give or take. Why do you ask?”

“And you’ve been running from Danarius ever since?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Why else do you think I only just arrived in Kirkwall?”

Rynne took a deep breath. This next question was crucial. “Did you ever… did you kill any of his people in that time?”

“No,” he said tersely. “I avoided them. I have been trying to keep a low profile, as you well know.”

His response was accusatory, but Rynne didn’t mind; she released a little sigh of relief. “So let’s go to the police,” she said. “The Kirkwall police are very fair. Aveline Vallen, the police captain, she’s a friend - not that that would make her go easy on anyone or anything, she’s so scrupulous it’s nearly annoying, but - and Cullen! Cullen would absolutely be willing to help. We can just-”

“No,” Fenris said loudly. “No police, and no lawyers. I will - this is not your problem.” He edged around her and moved toward the door. “I have already told you far more than you should know. I will deal with this on my own.”

Rynne planted herself firmly in front of the door. “Fenris, you can’t do this,” she said desperately. “It’s too dangerous, and if you get caught-”

He took an angry step closer to her. “And what would you have me do?” he snarled. “Hawke, I have never had the option to simply walk away. They chased me every step of the way. I’ve settled nowhere for longer than five months. Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they’ve done to me?”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” Rynne retorted. She tried hard to keep the tremor from her voice. “I’m just saying you don’t have to kill him! There has to be another way to make them get what they-”

“Stop trying to change my mind!” he shouted suddenly. “You don’t know what it is to live under the weight of such ghosts!”

Rynne snapped her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows. After what she’d told him, what he knew about her life, he was going to tell her she knew nothing about living with ghosts?

Fenris glared at her for a moment, but his expression seemed to melt as he stared at her face. He scraped his hands through his hair. “I do not mean that,” he said quietly. “I… that was thoughtless of me. It was not my intention to minimize-”

“There has to be something else we can do,” Rynne interrupted. Her throat was aching from his verbal onslaught, but that wasn’t important now. Stopping him from committing murder was more important than her hurt feelings. “You talk like you don’t have a choice, but you do. You don’t have to be the guy who - who kills people to solve problems,” she insisted. She reached out and gently squeezed his bicep. “You’re more than just the most handsome enforcer the Tevinter mob ever had,” she said, with a tiny hopeful smile. “You aren’t that person anymore. I know that can’t be what you want.”

He gazed at her in silence, and the softness in his eyes made her heart beat with hope.

Then his words dashed it all away. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “There is nothing I want more than to see Danarius dead.”

His gently spoken words were like a punch to her gut. Rynne stared at him with rising misery, at his savage and beautiful face with those brilliant green eyes of his, and the way they seemed to shine more brightly than usual.

He dropped his gaze and peeled her fingers from his arm, then carefully pushed her away from the door.

“Don’t go,” she blurted. She impatiently wiped a stupid, desperate tear from her cheek. “Please don’t go.”

He opened the door, then turned back to face her once more. “If you decide to go to the police-”

“I’m not going to the fucking police behind your back,” Rynne interrupted. She reached for him again. “Fenris, please…”

He pulled away and put his hands in his pockets. “If you do, I would not blame you. You did not ask to get involved in this. I would ask only that you tell me when you do. Give me a head start, at the very least.”

She shook her head and wiped her face. She could feel her face getting puffy and swollen already. “I’m not going to the police,” she repeated fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? When you come to your fucking senses, I’m going to be right here.”

Fenris stared at her for a moment longer. Then he pulled up his hood and left.

Rynne stepped into the doorway and watched as he strode toward the elevator with his shoulders hunched and his hands hidden in his pockets. He stepped into the elevator without looking back.

Once he was gone, Rynne went back inside. She closed the door quietly behind her, then went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. She stood frozen in the kitchen while the kettle boiled, and when the switch flicked off, she picked up her abandoned teabag and her abandoned mug and poured the water over the tea.

She leaned woodenly against the counter and waited dumbly for the tea to steep. Then she heard the click of the front door lock.

“Hey bitches! Anybody home?” Piper’s chipper voice drifted into the condo, followed a moment later by Piper herself. Her tattooed face was wreathed in a smile, but it disappeared instantly when she stepped into the kitchen.

Piper dropped her phone and her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed Rynne’s arm. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Rynne looked at her. “Do you want to watch The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with me?”

Piper’s face fell even more. “Oh fuck. What did he do?” She glared toward the living room as though Fenris might be hiding there. “Where is he? I’ll shank him. I’ll cut him a new asshole if you want.”

Rynne laughed. The sentiment would have made her laugh no matter what, but the irony of it - the idea of anyone trying to cut Fenris, knowing now what Rynne knew of his past…

She snorted with amusement, and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and burst out another hysterical snicker, and all of a sudden she was crying, crying like a fucking baby, and all she could hope was that her face wouldn’t be all ugly and swollen by the time they had to go to work tonight.

Piper’s wiry little arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and Rynne sobbed grossly into Piper’s wild mass of hair. Within minutes, Piper had her ensconced on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands and a warm throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was playing while Piper cheerfully suggested fast-forwarding to the bit where Lisbeth got her revenge on the vile corrupt caseworker.

Rynne leaned her head on Piper’s shoulder as Piper offered her a bag of popcorn and chattered happily about doing a David Fincher movie marathon tomorrow. I love you, Rynne thought fondly to her friend.

If only love was always so easy.

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta France to Eurovision with king of controversy

T’was a good decision for the French televisions to make Destination Eurovision a thing for yet another year. Sure, I only end up having heard of only 1 name per year beforehand (Nassi from 2018 and Florina from 2019, additionally hearing music from one other act from each year but forgetting their names soon after!), but that doesn’t stop everyone else for me from showcasing their best. Heck, I have listened to quite a lot out of some of my Destination 2018 favourites and I have never had any idea who they were! (They were Masoe and Max Cinnamon, je suis absolutely NOT désolée.)

And honestly I found this year extremely much more better to care about. For the previous edition I ended up not caring for like 5 or more songs, because I spent more of my investment in the finalists. This year I pretty much cared about way many more songs, even those that I didn’t wound up liking THAT much. Seemone for example, AKA “the only best possible choice for France from those that don’t need to have big followship numbers to have fans for the song, unlike Bilal tsk tsk”. I can’t say I was 100% mesmerized with her song, but I do remember her more than June the Girl, which was quite a fan fave but also a disaster from 2018. Oh sorry, I mean, June the Who?

And of course Destination 2019 paved the way for some more exciting plot twists and turns, for example, two of the bigger fan favourites fizzling out in the semis (and I already lowkey discussed them on my other segment, Fanwank Assimilation), and another two lowkey favourites crashing and burning live (one of them sounding like she was drunk and scared, another one being less energetic than her song requires). What did that give out at the end? Why, nothing but a homosexual French-Morrocan social media starlet Bilal Hassani of course. Let’s go ahead and review his entry.

My first impression of this song turned me off a little because of how... poppy bland it sounded. Nothing against Madame Monsieur’s co-crafting (they did make a song I liked for last year’s Eurovision), it’s just that I think that I’m a person that’s looking more into pop songs with expectations full of excitement, but then getting something average at the end. The English lines in this are ‘reasonatable’(?) with though - it’s a self-empowerement against haters, telling to oneself that they’re the “king” (yes Bilal may be wearing wigs a lot but for the last time - HE DOES NOT IDENTIFY AS A SHE) and that they “can see [their] kingdom”.

Though it grew on me overtime, to the very point I couldn’t see anyone taking his way, not even Seemone, not even any other darkhorse of the comp. No. My organism was fully adapted to the fact Bilal will win, so I ended up there lowkey supporting his win, even if I wanted someone else deep inside. (Same for A Dal 2019 but my inner systems refused to bring myself to Joci possibly winning an A Dal again, though they saw it being a likely endgame... just in a different light of events, but more on the Hungarian writeup, buckle up for that one because there’ll be buckets of everything for that one! >:) ) That and Bilal was kind of a runaway choice considering France is huge and the jury in there can’t do shit if the televoting is valuated in stronger numbers than in Melodifestivalen (I mean, look at how many points did he get??? His telescore beat the televote’s runner-up’s one by 87 points!), so if he has that many fans in a big enough country then of course they were gonna flock to him massively, and ain’t no Eurofan can’t object against the French televote numbers like these. Though they might seem too big because last year Madame Monsieur won with 118 as opposed to the artist’s of a song’s they have co-written with him for this DESC 150. And the televote gap between the 1st and the 2nd was much more humble - 29.

Maybe it has had to do it with the fact that it has a pretty damn alright pop melody that doesn’t sound specifically written for an ESC NF (unlike most of stuff that’s been done by Ylva & Linda and the like)? Maybe it has got to do with the golden hands of both Madame Monsieur members (pretty sure it might have just been Jean-Karl) touching upon this track (and some randomer whose name I don’t remember rn and I don’t want to? idk)? Maybe it’s the state of Bilal’s studio voice capabilities that carry this across for me nicely enough? Maybe it’s the persona? Somehow I don’t think I know but I’ll probably choose the first option. This is listenable, yes. Flows through like a normal pop song would. Maybe would have needed some polishing in some places (for that exists an up-and-coming revamp that will only be revealed on rehearsals (youhou Moldova 2014), but actually I only think that it will impact the song in a way that it will now be in F minor rather than F sharp minor?? So that Bilal could avoid being one of those kind of people that did sth like this:

RETWEET IF YOU CAN HEAR THIS PICTURE

Anyways. For all that it is, I savour it, it’s pretty decent, it stands out with its message if you know what it is (a kiss-off of the haters that once doubted this “roi”), I kind of like the way it’s being sung (and that vocal variation at 1:21) and some of the lyrics are not that bad actually, and for the matter of fact, I’d DIE for a possibility to create a song like this at best; I don’t quite know if it can do as well as his fanbase imagines, but I really hope it at least doesn’t do France dirty for choosing its up-and-coming-ish social media icon over the NF acts that I’ll be going off about a little later and brings a savourable result! I cannot remove my like for this song now that the deed is done, period. And I really hope that someday all this outrageousness over Bilal in a bad way will be stopped because poor 19 year old, let him be whatever sexuality he wants to be as of now, let him have his fans, let him wear those wigs, and keep those upcoming TV series about a terrorist man with an intent to blow up Eurovision in Israel (or something like that) at bay. Not to mention, these nasty caricatures. I definitely did not like seeing them. I legit feel like we’re almost talking about Lithuanian situation and what do my country’s citizens think about gay rights and all that (spoiler alert: they’re not friendly towards them). Stop it, get some help.

Oh and I know this is essentially 2,5-ish months late now but can I adress something real quick before finishing off this review and moving down to my chance-o-meters and all? Pretty please?

To all the Nightcore lyric videos of “Roi” that did this and would still do this:

Please consider looking back at the official lyric video for “Roi”, where it says:

and thank me in advance.

Not can’t, can. No wonder he’s a “roi”, ffs. What would be a king who cannot see his kingdom now? I’m sorry but this is just lowkey absurd, ngl.

Anyway:

Approval factor: As of the time I’m finishing this, I sort of approve it for now. The big dilemma though is to where do I rank this big boy - do I think it deserves to go higher than UK or lower? Do I drown it in the bottom 3 just because I had a rather negative first impression for it? God knows. For now though I’ll aprove it and carry on, dreading for the revamp obliterating some of the song’s charm that I had for it, just like maybe for Spain.

Follow-up factor: I think it is quite of a stepdown, considering last year a lot of guys publicly ADORED “Mercy”, and Madame Monsieur didn’t even need to have a huge social media following just to get that far as to win Destination! Bilal, however, did, and most people didn’t even fancy his self-empowerement ‘anthem’. And so did I at first, and eventhough I kind of like it as of now, I still prefer “Mercy” big time. France for the kings of controversial song topics and controversial entrants!

Big 5 factor: at the end of the day, you cannot change the fact that most of the Bilal fans are definitely centered in France (and maybe in some outskirts in Belgium as well) and not around Europe, especially the first time viewers, boo. So Bilal’s memorability levels in there from a Big 5 country will be questionable, unless his massive-ass French fandom decides to mass-emigrate for a week, get some foreign Simcards and start spamming votes for their idol - that’s a guaranteed televote for a guaranteed low jury vote, and if high any-votes are any indicators for where things are heading (like for Poland 2016 for instance), then Bilal will finish decently, but without any high-votes, he’ll be stuck in a low-low, maybe somewhere in the bottom 10. Sorry if you’re reading this, any remaining Bilal fans on Tumblr... you better get ready for your mass emigration for a week then?

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

Destination’s memes are still glorious to look at, even if it feels like it’s been years since them, considering my social media timeline does not have all that many of them remaining, BUT we still got some highlights from them saved and I can’t wait to freshen up the minds of the mutuals that seemed to have forgotten them. As well as some note-worthy NF songs that the others won’t get the chance to see because only one can represent France and Bilal can’t stand in for any other ones but himself, cuz he is he, and you know he’ll always be. Let’s go:

• Silvàn Areg, probably the biggest underdog-turned-overdog-overnight act of them all out there. Back when his song was still “Le petit Nicolas” (it was changed to “Allez leur dire” thanks to copyright turmoil with some book’s publisher - no it wasn’t about Le petit prince, there ARE Le petit Nicolas stories in there), I don’t think anyone really saw THAT much potential in this song to stand out, maybe except a few select others? I mean who’d even DARE to support this upbeat guitar French-like tune that... has cartooney visuals on stage and that way wows the viewing audience??? NO WAY!!! Yeah these visuals made me truly forget this was one of the songs that didn’t come out in full release yet (as of DESC 2019, only 3 songs weren’t released in full yet, along with The Divaz and Doutson (the latter dragged his kid on stage for his performance BTW, maybe that kid liked Silvàn’s stage illustrations despite maybe not seeing them the way they were supposed to be viewed?) and enjoy the king of popup-book visuals taking it away. So much so I ended up rooting for both visuals AND the song during the final as well (and the final had the colouring book painted!). Don’t you love it when your fave has an impeccable staging AND can nail their performance as well? I sure do... Click to find out his performance serve. I stan men who can sometimes rap out of nowhere when necessary and unexpected.

• Looking for typical French chansons/ballads that make you think of how longsome and melancholic (with a hint of happiness) can things be? Look no further than aforementioned Seemone and her alive-father-ballad, “Tous les deux”. If you’re not here for all this French zany, you can sit back and relax with hearing this piano delight with Adele-ish vocals on top and the paternal gratitude intertwined in the lyrics... well duh, if the constant repetition of “PAPAAAAAA” in the bridge doesn’t give it away for you, an unassumer, then idk what does. Noir, compelling, heart-wrenching, stunning, solid and all that it is. For all the ballad lovers out there. Hope her father’s proud of her achievements (for what did she do is to take the Eurofans by storm against this inevitable Bilal-ness with her feelings-over-fireworks and her strenght to carry out this beauty without crying... in the NF final at least, making International juries side with her more than Bilal, for whom we firstly thought it was over until 150 televotes, even getting the Bjorkdaddy on her side in the semis... only to never win the televoting as hoped to (Bilal was in a different semi so another man won over the girl, while in the final Seemone was 3rd and voted just under another experienced artists and Bilal obviously) and just remain the jury darling) and will hold this song up to himself dearly. We love supportive and thankful children <3

• This 25 year old chanteuse/violinist Gabriella Laberge, hailing all the way from Canada but with a passionate love to France probably ever since performing in La voix (je t'aime nuit et jour), I mean, The Voice France 2016, dived head-first into the social interraction game, with being all-round positive with her supporters, retweeting their stuff, liking their posts, being in groupchats... she did all she could. And the international jury still let her flop big time. Probably they were too underwhelmed at how engaging her entry, “On cherche encore (Never Get Enough)”, was on the big stage, with Gabriella out there, rocking her yellow pantsuit and dancing on top of a rectangle with other cello-or-contra-bass player madames inside of it and stairs to get on top of that rectangle besides the rectangle. Oh and playing the piano at the beginning. Were they afraid she was gonna fall off the rectangle with her musical ‘gun’ the next time? Was it the show opening that startled her chances (as people are afraid that the same will happen to Srbuk in Eurovision 2019)? I don’t know, but for one that I know is the fact that the poor woman was robbed to the core for all the friendliness she radiated. And the violin lady realness she delivered. Here’s now hoping her strong friendship ties with Olivier Dion will persuade him to fly to France from Canada next for a Destination Eurovision adventure, then? (tbh he’s pretty decent!)

• UH-OH! GIVE A LITTLE RESPECT for The Divaz! Seen by me as a little bit of those girlies that will definitely be drowned in the results because of their... aura and decision of paying a tribute to the late Aretha Franklin, I was shooketh to the core when I saw them NAIL “La voix d’Aretha”... the passion, the drive, the energy, the sass, the style, the dresses, THEM VOCALS! Needless to say I got incredibly sold and even more so happy I was interested in hearing that song all along beforehand, so much I think I tried skipping our own NF over just to see these gurls S-L-A-Y! Hopefully this ain’t the last of them together, they’re a true cool bunch. Happy to see that the international juries saw something in them!

• Emmanuel Moire... now, his song “La promesse” is even more so boring sounding imo and would do less of an impression if people didn’t know the message of it, but the message (and his status in the French music skies), boy does it shine. He sings about making a promise to stay true to himself and not be afraid to admit that his heart beats... FOR A MAN! And where is the Eurofan community that denounces a ballad unless it’s gay?? Some happen to still denounce gay ballads too, but only if it comes to NFs apparently :F I applaud for this song existing tbh as I find it nice myself. Such a shame the man couldn’t really sell his song THAT strong enough though, as I couldn’t help but crack a smile at hearing his falsettos go terribly off, but still feeling sorry for the guy. His staging (that has two men playing around, further going for his song’s memo) and the fact that he beat Seemone in televoting due to his bigger status than the rest of the most other DESC participants this year (save for Chimène Badi which has a status as big as his?). And this one moment that made me feel like I’m looking at Malena Ernman’s true form:

• So how about these few other bedazzling NF flops in a little bit of blitz summary, seemingly as the paragraphs here are already going out of hand? Sure! Allow me to introduce y’all to the shy French Mélovin named Ugo who was tryna get to the spotlight all by himself with a song about... crushing I think (he’s fantasizing of meeting a gal in some interesting interesting ways), but tanked majorly live due to being nervous and letting the pre-recorded backings overwhelm him majorly. Then comes the other up-and-coming chanteuse Florina which I also talked about in the fanwank flops section (though I published it right after Spain’s NF because I had enough of THAT rattling around my drafts... and same goes for the rest of my 2019 reviews!) but I’ll put up a mention for her because I undercooked my thoughts for her. “In the Shadow” - studio god-tier that sadly reeked of “Chandelier” heavily and another NF underperformance that grew condescencing during the rehearsal-snippets period that maybe made people keep their hopes up during it just like for Rykka’s, Jana Burčeska’s and Sennek’s odd pre-party performances. Who knows if Michela would have followed them suit if she was allowed to attend all the pre-parties despite “rehearsals”! In the end we still got a lackluster performance and a total 0 point score from the international juries. Wow. I hope that didn’t scar her for life. Also worth a mention are Battista Acquaviva, the Basque-singing goddess that had some sort of a potential but heavily crushed it by sounding weak and a bit drunk even (or even similar to this) on her own performance + adding some Roman-esque shirtless hunks for no reason (sweetie if they didn’t work for Anggun then what’s the point saving your live with them? Unless you can mask it up like Demy, just leave), and the other studio fave that tanked that was Tracy de Sá who served a French-Spanish (!! that’s where the title came from, you really thought the song was gonna b called “Par ici” noooo) summer bop with her rapping skills on fleek and her desire for “whiskey cocktails rum rum rum” as a cherry on this delightful cocktail has also got really grinded down by her live performance where she was barely even enthusiastic to live up to her own song and maybe have needed some of those liquors she offered on the song to make it sound better. But hey, at least from Tracy we got 1) studio version leak drama that obviously affected the poor sis so hard she raged about it on Instagram a bit; 2) slapping track about parties n stuff for our own summer 2019; 3) her own little version of that notorious song which wouldn’t probably be remembered so fondly in the memedom if not for some mother’s pasta dish; 4) the light tunnel she emerged from at the beginning of the song during her performance, which in reality is just the NF arena exit tunnel; 5) this meme:

Yeah well, good luck at your hairbuns and your hoop-de-hoop ‘rings trying to save you this time

• I was also gonna add this interesting phenomena of “hot violinist guy” because of course I remember this hype being set up for some dudes (especially for THAT violinist. I remember almost everyone suddenly crushing on him but I couldn’t care enough to buy it because lol!) even without their song coming out to public - yes I’m talking of Lautner who obviously also tanked during their live performance of this song but the international juries loved the shit out of it (same for aforementioned Ugo... and mind you I wrote them down as sure NQs after seeing their carcrash performances live! To think they would have almost MADE it thanks to them and SHATTER my predictions???) and their bromance probably lived on... for another 15 minutes

And the ‘drunken auntie’ of someone’s that sang a rather underrated catchy spring-esque sunflowery song but completely ruined it by her awkward jumping around in red suit on stage, PhilipElise, but that’d require me to brief my thoughts upon like nearly all of the damn roster of the irrelevants, so it’s best if I forget all the rest and move on!

• Not to mention, Bilal himself is a highlight. On an occasion he’s such a mood, as demonstrated on this first biggest ESC 2019 NF season meme down here:

And keep in mind, that wasn’t the final. But for the final this happened, which is still as amusing as the first:

Epic hairspin! Laura Rizzotto wishes she remembered this technique just in time to engage some more audience so that they could at least pull her out of the NQ zone.

• Who cannot forget the occasional thought of Garou, the NF’s host, singing. This year he was one of the final’s interval acts, and his choice to sing was because of honouring a Frenchman who passed away not so long before the DESC broadcast. Truly the dedication <3

• One of those NF cases that had people rallying up against Eurovision being in Tel Aviv and withdrawing the broadcasters from it by their own force because “well fuck you, our feelings and sentiments towards Palestine are more important than this schlager-ridden shitshow musicfest!!” lolno. Some protesters came on stage sometime after Netta’s guest performance during Semifinal 2, and both Garou and the security guards did their best and hardest to chase them away, but some still got on shot because reasons. This is ridiculous (as much as it was when it was found out that some people in Spain were waiting outside RTVE’s headquarters before the OT 2019 ESC Gala just to make THEIR move) and thankfully it didn’t follow on many more NFs to come.

• oh and also the neon cube argh

Feels like a way larger post than I intended to, and this review is waaaaay long overdue, so at least I tried reminding you of the memes, didn’t I? Anyway, I wish Bilal for all the best in Tel Aviv! xx

[keithxhappiness]

Voltron S8 Review (SPOILERS)

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR VOLTRON SEASON 8 PEOPLE!

OK, so I just finished Voltron Season 8. I had to watch it a day late because I went to see Into the Spiderverse (which was REVOLUTIONARY btw, I highly recommend seeing and supporting it!)

One of my biggest fears about watching it late was that something would be spoiled for me by twitter/tumblr/youtube, and although I got through it without any spoilers, I did see some general negativity surrounding the finale, without really knowing why though.

But after finishing it, I took a look at some of the comments to try to decipher what it was that made people think it was so terrible! So, here are my thoughts on the finale itself, and on peoples’ thoughts about the finale:

First, I would just like to say thank you to Voltron.

I have never been one for shipping battles, and I was never concerned with all of the controversy surrounding the political statements that could be made through the show.

My main focus was the story, and my connection to the characters, particularly Keith. No, not just because I think he’s insanely attractive.

Because, he reminds me of myself…I also struggle with trusting other people, and I often think I can do everything myself or that it would be easier if I took control of the situation. I’m not patient enough to give others a chance, which is something I recognize and am working to change.

So, Keith’s development embodies my own objectives. Which is part of the reason why I love him (the other being how HOT he is).

Keith aside, everything in this season was meant to display the core idea of this story: strength through unity. It is something I hope to truly experience one day, and I think it has been demonstrated beautifully throughout the show.

It is obvious to me that a lot of effort, thought, and work has been put into animating and producing this series, something that I am angered to see not appreciated enough.

Even when you don’t enjoy certain aspects of the story, there is NO DOUBT that the creators deserve respect. Respect needs to accompany criticism of the series, or else how can you possibly expect the creators to respect your criticisms?

So, to everyone who worked on Voltron, from the seeds of its creation to its conclusion, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and I wish you the best in all your future endeavours.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with next :)

I guess I shall split this next part of the review into things I didn’t particularly like, and things that I liked.

Starting with the things I personally didn’t enjoy (and some other commentary):

a) Allura and Lance:

Ah yes, the dreaded Allurance. Although I said that I wasn’t heavily involved in shipping in this show, I was unfortunately all too aware of the war waged within the fandom, which frankly, was more chaotic than the war in the show itself :’)

Other than Lotura, I didn’t ship anyone with anyone else, personally. And I understood the resistance to Allura and Lance becoming a couple. I didn’t feel any chemistry between the two of them, and particularly for Allura, I only felt that she saw Lance as her family, just as she saw all the others.

Like, when he confessed to loving her in Episode 1, I felt that her reaction was something akin to “UM, cool, cool. Same here." However, there is no denying that the seeds for this union were planted from the start of the show. It would be foolish to think that this wasn’t their plan all along, really.

But somehow, it just didn’t click. I can’t wrap my head around why, though! For me, I think that I prefer the idea of two characters coming together as friends, and then romantically, if they’ve been helping one another overcome some emotional trauma. You could argue that Lance was doing that for Allura, but it didn’t really happen until this specific season, and so, it didn’t quite establish the strength of their bond in time for their romance to feel like anything but just something that happened.

ALL THAT SAID, their scenes together were still very cute…and the Altean markings she left behind on his face BROKE ME. If only the strength of their union, and their mutual love for eachother, was established a little earlier - season 6, maybe - it may have felt more right.

And when she left him behind, I expected MORE from him, resistance-wise. I didn’t like that he just…let her go, after a few tears and a kiss. I wanted him to pull her back, to offer himself instead, or to see him destroyed when they were returned to their reality.

But, I’ve never experienced this type of loss before. And, maybe, deep-down, he knew that he could do nothing to stop her. I just…wanted to see more from him.

Even when she had absorbed the entity. His role was too, too passive. A few times, he’d go “Allura, um, I don’t think this is safe…maybe we should think about this…” and Allura would respond with “No, shut up I know what im doing”, and Lance would just shut up. I wanted him to pull her and shake her and force her to come to her senses!

b) Allura’s death:

I am really sad to say that I knew this was coming.

I can’t believe the leaks were real. I guess they didn’t technically spoil anything because there was also doubt surrounding their authenticity.

And even knowing that it would happen, I AM NOT OKAY WITH IT.

I am happy that they established very early in this season the lengths to which Allura would go to stop Honerva. It was always clear that she was ready to sacrifice herself. Even when she was saying her goodbyes, she seemed to already have come to terms with the fact that her path was ending.

But, that doesn’t mean I’m happy with it.

You know, it’s interesting, I always say that I hate “happy” endings. I prefer my endings to be bitter sweet - like green tea lemonade. So, for everyone to get what they want — that to me is just too good to be true, and bothers me, because real life does not have a neat little ending like that.

So, I knew the ending had to be enveloped in some amount of loss. But for Allura to lose her life, after all that she’s lost, I had hoped she would get to keep her future.

Even without her past, that she could move forward and forge a new world for her people, and get to see that world with her own eyes. IF ANYONE deserved this, it would be Allura.

And like other people, I was really mad that she never had an opportunity to say goodbye to Coran, who was essentially her father figure, or to her own father’s soul.

So, in short, I didn’t want the “death” of the show to be Allura’s….but we don’t always get what we want…

c) Honerva:

I hated her, and not just because she was the antagonist.

The hilarious thing was that Season 8 had the exact same plot as Into the Spider-verse :’) And I still don’t understand why anyONE, crazy, evil, or otherwise, thinks that it’ll be a good idea to travel between REALITIES to find another version of your lost family.

I guess IT’S TRUE that people would do anything for their family, but it seems ridiculous to me that they wouldn’t consider the possible consequences for themselves as well their own world. It’s like time-travel. You just don’t mess with that shit.

But I also hated her as the antagonist. Her objective to me was just not compelling enough…I didn’t really feel her love for Lotor or for Zarkon. I just felt that she was cray cray.

For example, consider Castlevania: a show that excellently protrays the antagonist (Dracula’s) loss. You see why Dracula loved his family, the kind of (immortal) life he could have had.

But other than a few scenes when they were in her consciousness, I just didn’t really believe in her love.

I didn’t want to see her reunited with anyone. I just wanted her to chill out and leave my babies alone.

I also didn’t like how easy it was for Allura to sway her at the end. She seemed so weak-minded and stupid, despite having all the power that she did.

WHY DID ORIANDE EVEN CONSIDER HER WORTHY?!?!?!?!

d) Some other things:

I wasn’t a huge fan of the amount of action comprising this season. I mean, not that it’s the show’s fault - this is a space opera about giant mechs, so obviously, there are going to be space and mech battles.

But I guess I prefer ground/hand-to-hand combat. It’s hard for me to follow mech fights, and I just like sword fights. This is a matter of personal preference, though.

BUT, I will say that because there were SO MANY Robeast/mech fights, there wasn’t as much time for character-character interaction.

So, that made me sad.

So many opportunities gone - opportunities for James/Acxa and Keith to interact (esp after the Ezor/Zethrid conflict), etc.

This season was really flashy, and while I like flashy, as I said before, I also value the emotional connections between the characters a lot and wish that a greater emphasis could have been placed on them.

Things I liked:

Keith being a fearless leader

Krolia NOT dying - thank goodness for that, that was really worrying me

When Keith made his speech in EP1, and Krolia and Kolivan were smiling proudly :))

Matt (sad to see his ponytail go, but he still cayuuuute)

Lotor, all of the little Lotor scenes (AH, I JUST WANT TO ADOPT HIM AND RAISE HIM WITH LOVE) - saddened not to have seen him returned :((

The pictures at the end - happy to see everyone happy and thriving!

AND EVERYTHING ELSE NOT MENTIONED!  

All in all, I think it is absolutely absurd (in the Snape voice) not to watch the season just because you heard some negative things. Don’t be as easily swayed as the Alteans were. Watch it yourself, think for yourself, and form your own opinion. Regardless of what you didn’t like, you can’t deny that this show has been a wild, beautiful ride. PEACE.

[tysonrunningfox]

Fireballs and Quiet

I had a tough night and now it is Eret time because he is a TWERP and Fuse is ADORABLE and Smitelout is my FAVORITE and this chapter makes me HAPPY.  (And then really sad in a whiplash kind of way but WHATEVER)

Tumblr | AO3

I know I’m truly on the chief’s shit list when most of a dead dragon washes up on shore and he tasks me with cleaning it up before the smell gets to Mom’s stomach.  I don’t see how that’s even possible, given that the entire island smells like fish and death that sends every dragon squawking and avoiding the East beach as much as possible, but something about the way he tells me to ‘handle it’ makes it clear that I’m not getting anything else until I get it done.  

When I get down to the beach, Fuse is already there, reaching into a satchel slung over her shoulder and pulling out handfuls of something that looks like black powder.  

“Are you trying to cover the smell?”  I walk up next to her, trying and failing to hold my breath, “it’s not working.”  

“The chief wants it gone,” she shrugs one shoulder, but her eyes are brighter than normal, her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to smile.  Part of her eyebrow is singed and it makes her look just a little bit more unhinged than she usually does.  “I’d say a Viking funeral is in order.”  

“You’re going to burn it?” I look up at the mass of it, mottled purplish scales breaking in places to reveal gargantuan white ribs.  It’s honestly too far gone to be sad, it’s barely recognizable as a dragon at this point and maybe the last few weeks are making me callus, but I snort to myself when I notice that familiar patchy white on the scales of what I think used to be a foot.  “Looks like it didn’t make it to the island.”  

“They’re coming from further out,” she sighs, tossing an almost respectful handful of powder onto it like confetti and making me feel like a monster.  

“Must be.”  

“The chief told me to handle it.  I think burning is a good solution,” I nudge a broken off, long-dull claw with the toe of my boot, “Viking funeral, like you said.”  

“Alright,” she starts walking around it, throwing handfuls of whatever she has over as much of it as she can.  “How’d you end up on dragon removal duty?”  

I shrug because I don’t know if she knows about my mom.  I’d kind of rather assume she doesn’t, frankly, because I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t even know if it’s my thing to talk about.  No one acts like it is, it’s more like something I’m in the way of by frowning.  

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“It is going to be pretty cool,” she grins, nodding a little too vigorously and lifting her satchel to pour some of the powder in between two visible ribs.  The smell doesn’t seem to bother her at all and that makes it bother me more, somehow, and I pull my shirt up over my nose.  “And respectful, of course, to the death of a dragon.”  

“Did someone coach you to say that?”  

“My dad,” she shakes her head, “he didn’t think the chief would let me do it.”  

“You asked?”  

“I didn’t think he’d be so on top of it,” she shrugs, “with the baby and all.”  

I sigh, “so you do know. I was hoping you didn’t and we could just pretend all of…that doesn’t exist.”  

“That won’t make it exist any less.”  She climbs up onto the dragon hide, brackish rot pooling around her feet and running down and I gag.  

“How are you not throwing up right now?”  

“It’s accumulated so much gas,” she laughs, poking a pocket with her toe, “this is going to be great. It’s going to fireball, if I get it covered well enough.”  She pauses herself and nods, “respectfully.”  

“That’s believable.” I laugh because this is absurd and because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fuse struggling to contain herself. She’s always so steady, if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes I don’t know if I’d believe she gets this excited. She tosses a few more handfuls of black powder across the top of the carcass and jumps down, wiping her boots on the sand but still managing to track some smelly footprints across the beach.

“Why don’t you want to talk about your parents having a baby?”  She digs in her pocket and pulls out a small clay jar.  It’s full of little shards that look like sea glass, but she handles them much more carefully than that, setting two on the decaying hide right in front of us.  

“Because we’re at a giant, morbid dragon funeral and it doesn’t seem like the place?”  

“You said you hoped I didn’t know.”  She pulls her flint out of her pocket and clacks it together, almost fidgeting. Like she’s got too much excited energy to hold together and I resist the urge to comment that she’s human after all.

Or super human, to not be affected by this smell.  

“I’m kind of sick of talking about it. Or not talking about it.”  I shove my hands in my pockets, “I’m sick of everyone else talking about it.”

“Aurelia’s happy about it.”

“She’s the one that told you?”  I ask and Fuse shrugs like she’s not willing to tattle but she’s not going to deny it either.  “It just doesn’t feel real.  The healers hardly believed it, it’s not—I don’t know.  It’s not like everyone is changing diapers, I don’t get why everything has to suddenly be completely different.”  I nod towards the dragon and something about the conversation makes it look more like a dragon, a hurt, sick, old dragon that I should be helping instead of trying to make Berk smell better so that the chief can play build a better heir.  “I’m supposed to be getting rid of the smell so it doesn’t stress my mom out.  I don’t know how I even exist if she’s so fragile.”

“She’s old.”  

“No, she’s not,” I huff, “well…yeah, she’s the same age as the chief, but she’s not old.  I guess I don’t know anyone that old who’s ever had a baby, but I don’t know that many people.  I’m sure it happens, I just…just what are the odds?”  I gesture to myself, “I guess I know the odds didn’t really help my mom out last time but…”  

“Probably about as astronomical as this dragon washing up on a beach on an island of people willing to give it a proper send off.”  She nods at the dragon and I frowns.  

“Were you even listening to me?”  

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it at a morbid dragon funeral.”  

“Just blow it up already,” I try to sound mad but it’s kind of hard when she looks at me like she’s shocked to have permission, like this is some big present she wasn’t expecting to get.  

“I’ve got to let the powder absorb a few more minutes,” she steps between her feet, rubbing her flint together in her hand.  There’s a new bandage on her pinky, the skin around it a little bit pink, and the flint catches on it as she practically jitters around.  

“Are you going to break into song?”  I laugh, “Thor, Fuse, it’s like you do have fun every once in a while.  I’m not sure about the kind of fun—”

“You should try it sometime.”  

“And you’ve got jokes—”

“I’m not joking.”  She steps away slightly, looking at the tide lapping at part of the carcass and frowning.  “You can’t control what your parents do, so there’s no point in being miserable about it.”  

“Normally you entertain my moping a lot longer before getting to the meat of your advice.  Are you trying to get rid of me?”  

“Respectfully…” She pauses for a second before laughing, a wide, toothy grin I hardly ever get to see spreading across her face.  

“Are you saying that you don’t actually mean that respectfully?”  I laugh and try to take the flint in her hand.  She dodges and I trip on a piece of seaweed, stumbling slightly before turning and making another grab.  I catch her wrist and she tries to hold her hand above her head, pulling me close enough that I almost step on her foot.  “Because I’ll light it, I’ll say some words about this majestic creature’s full and adventurous life—”

“Respectfully, you’d blow the island up—” She twists, hip-checking me and pulling my arm across her front, stretching to keep the flint from me in her uncaptured hand.  

“Then you’ll definitely be rid of me,” I try and hold her still with my arm across her stomach, stretching for the flint holding hand.  She’s still laughing and it makes her hard to hold, her shirt sticking to my sleeve and twisting around her as she tries to wiggle away.  

“Well.  This is a gross place to flirt.”  

I drop Fuse.  I didn’t realize I was practically holding her. She catches herself with a hand on my shoulder and practically jumps away, straightening her shirt and dropping her flint on the ground.  We lean down to pick it up at the same time and our heads knock together.  

“Sorry—” I apologize and she plucks the flint I managed to pick up out of my hand with delicate fingertips, like she doesn’t want to touch my palm.  

“Don’t stop on my account.” Smitelout walks past us, wrinkling her nose and looking up at the dragon carcass like she’s sizing it up.  

“We weren’t doing anything,” I don’t know why I feel like I’ve been caught, but I do, and my cheeks feel hot in a way that cooks the smell closest to my face and makes it worse.

“It’s none of my business that you like to get handsy around gross beached dragons,” Smitelout covers her mouth and nose with her shirt, turning back to face us, “am I going to tell everyone and make fun of you?  Yeah, but I don’t care.”  

“What are you doing down here?”  I cross my arms, fixing my sleeve where it’s twisted from Fuse pushing at it.  

“It stinks, I came to get rid of it.”  

“I’m handling it.”  

“Right.”  She rolls her eyes, “you and Thorston cuddling totally gets the reeking dead dragon off the beach.”  

“We weren’t cuddling—”

“We’re blowing it up,” Fuse is red like the smell is finally getting to her, because she’s back to her old determined self as she walks up to the edge of the black powder she spread and shows Smitelout her flints.  

I half expect Smitelout to keep pushing the absurd cuddling issue that doesn’t make any sense because we were clearly fighting over something and just because Fuse was laughing like an explosion crazed maniac, that doesn’t make it cuddling.  

“You’re going to blow up the giant dead dragon?”  Smitelout’s shirt drops from around her face and if she pushes it, I’m going to comment on her eyebrows.  They’re still not grown back together, even a week after the incident with the stream water, and I’m opening my mouth to say something when she smiles.  “Can I watch?”  

“Sure.”  Fuse shrugs, pulling a coil of fuse rope out of her bag and tossing one end on the ground near the dragon.  “As long as you’re respectful about it.”  She glances at me as she says it, a smile creeping into the edge of her expression and growing as she walks backwards, laying out a neat line of rope. “It’s a funeral.”  

“Whatever.”  Smitelout backs away from the dragon along with us until Fuse runs out of rope and sets the end on the ground.  “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a beached sea dragon before.  It’s weird.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s got those scale patches, it was obviously sick and heading to the island.”

“Eret!”  Fuse snaps at me, suddenly serious and I frown.  

“What?”  

“What island?” Smitelout looks between us, “and it’s got sick scale patches?  What does that mean?”  

“Nothing!”  I clap my hand over my mouth.  “It’s just the smell.  The bad smell.  It’s making me say nonsense.”  

“No, that sounded way more legitimate than most of what you say.  What are you talking about?  Why haven’t I heard anything about sick dragons?”  

“Because it’s…like high level, secret stuff—”

“You just said it was nonsense—”

“It is!”  

“Is that why the dragons didn’t come back this year?”  Smitelout looks between Fuse and I like the answer to her question is somehow between us. “Because they’re sick?  And they’re sick at some island?”  She frowns, “isn’t that the crazy you were spouting last fall?  I thought I heard something about you making a massive fool of yourself—”

“This is fun, we should catch up more often.”  I talk over her, a last ditch effort to stop the surprisingly quick way she’s putting this together.  

“You were telling the truth.”  She shakes her head, “it wasn’t just an attention grab, there’s actually an island with sick dragons on it.  And you’re keeping it a secret—”

“How can I be keeping it a secret when I made a fool out of myself with it last fall?”  

“Then why don’t we know about it?”  She scoffs, “you’re telling me that Chief Hiccup Dragonlover the Third would know about an island of sick dragons and not be yammering on about it all the time?”  

“He’s been busy.”  I shrug.  

“So you’re telling me there’s an island of sick dragons that are dying like this poor sack of rotten fish,” she points at the dragon carcass on the beach and Fuse fiddles with her flint, obviously bored of standing here and talking for this long.  

“That’s not respectful.”

“And no one’s doing anything about it?”  Smitelout throws her arms in the air and I sigh.  

“That’s what we’ve told you. Yes.”  

“What else is there?” She huffs, “are you keeping trolls in a cave somewhere?  Is the chief secretly a dragon hunter?  Are you actually Eret’s real child?”  

“Someone’s doing something about it.”  I set my jaw, “I am doing something about it.”

“Oh, yeah?”  

“Yeah,” Fuse sparks her flint and catches the coated rope on the ground in an artful flourish that tells me she’s done that more than a few times, “we’re going to blow up the whole damn island.”  

The spark travels up the fuse, too bright to look at directly, and when it hits the black powder, it multiplies into hundreds of little firebursts.  The whole of the carcass goes up in flames all at once, a powerfully hot gust of air first magnifying the smell and then leaving something charred and only vaguely fishy behind.  The secondary explosives Fuse placed crackle and snap, larger bones crumbling as they’re revealed by black peeling skin that’s crumbling and floating upwards in the red-orange flame.  

It looks more like a dragon, skin and rot removed, its once proud skull upside down on the beach, reflecting in the plane of glass the fire is melting around it.  And I feel bad for it, bad for being here, bad for not doing what I promised for the dragons yet.  

A secondary wave of fire shoots up through the ribcage, blue inside of vibrant red, and the ribs crack apart, splaying open and blackening as they start to crumble.  

“Blowing up an island is going to help the dragons?”  Smitelout picks a piece of ash out of her braid, wrinkling her nose and dropping it on the ground. I don’t see the point, we’re all covered in it, Fuse’s face practically freckled twice over with gray and black flecks.  

“We hope so.”  

“Well, count me in, Twerp.”

“Do we have a choice?” I shake my head.  “Just…don’t tell anyone, alright?”  

“Right, because I’m the blabbermouth here.”  She scoffs at me one more time before punching the back of my arm and waving. “Let me know what you need, dorks.” She walks back towards the village and I look at Fuse, or her profile, at least, because she’s still staring transfixed at the fire as it simmers down to a buttery yellow and the bones crumble further.  

“Is she going to tell everyone?”  

“At this point I think you’ll beat her to it.”  She grins at me and it’s kind of hard to feel the stress when I’m this close to a rare moment of Fuse giddiness.  

“That’s fair.”  

00000

When I get back to the chief’s house, I have to blink a couple of times, because I couldn’t possibly be seeing Mom sitting alone.

“Hey,” she looks up from her sewing and cocks her head, “that was quick.  I heard it was quite a mess down there.”  

“Just a second,” I exaggerate rubbing my eyes with my knuckles, “I think I’m seeing things.”  

“Are you ok?”  

“I don’t know,” I squint in her direction, “I’m seeing you alone, I don’t think it’s possible—”

“Don’t scare me like that,” she chastises, voice gentle, “and Bang is here,” she prods his side with her toe and he grunts, eyes blinking open.  His tail swishes when he sees me but he doesn’t leave her feet, just shifts slightly to face me and pressing back further into her legs.  “He won’t leave me alone to be honest, I wish you’d take him.”  

“Stormfly getting jealous?”

“My feet are asleep,” she sighs.  There’s a pause then and I realize I’m supposed to offer to help her, that things are like that now.  Because for all the time and energy I’ve spent defending her in the last few months, I never thought she was defenseless.  

I take a step towards her and gesture vaguely, “do you want help up or…”  

“Gods no,” she scoffs but she doesn’t stand up herself, she just looks at her lap like there’s something she can’t say but I’m not the person she can’t say it to.  “Getting up would probably be deemed too stressful though, so…”  

“So what?”  I laugh, stiff because it feels wrong the way that Fuse being excited about her job felt wrong, but I’m not really in a position to hold in any laughs I manage to work up.  

She opens her mouth and I almost welcome her yelling at me, even though I’m sure that’s stressful too, but nothing comes out and she sighs.  “You know, I don’t know if you’re wrong.”  

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I lean on the edge of the table, wiggling my fingers at Bang in half an attempt to get him to come and greet me.  He just scoots closer to Mom, looking dangerously smug about not having to help me with my disgusting task this morning.  “I’m ambiguously right about a lot of things.”  

“I don’t think I can keep from doing anything Hiccup considers stressful for me for most of a year,” she doesn’t sound defiant about it and maybe that’s why she feels like she can tell me even though she and the chief have done a great job of acting like the happiest couple to ever exist these past couple of months.  “I don’t think I want to.  That’s what?  A twentieth of the time I have left?  If I’m lucky?”  

“You’re not old,” I frown at her.  

“I’m getting there,” she nods to herself and I get the impression that she’s thinking out loud and I’m just here to bounce things back at her.  I missed this.  It reminds me of when I was little and she’d give me the list of things she had to do that day and I’d repeat them back when she asked.  Looking back, I think she asked a lot more than she needed to, she just wanted to give me an important job to keep me out of her hair.  “It’s not a bad thing, I don’t think.  You’ve got to do a lot of things right to live long enough to be old.”  

“I don’t know, I get the impression the chief got there with sheer luck.”  I shrug, “and a lot faster than you.”  

“Maybe.”  She nods like I said something more important than some common variety insult about the chief’s appearance.  “He and Aurelia went to talk to someone about a bridge on the way to get Stoick at the academy.  Do you know anything about that?”  

“Nope.”  I sigh, “nope, I don’t.  She gets a bridge and I get rotting dragon carcasses, that sounds about right.”  I mutter the last part under my breath, but of course Mom hears anyway.  

“Aren’t you glad they’re finally getting along?”  

“Well, if they were getting along, I would be.”  I cross my arms, “I’m pretty sure they’re both just thinking I’m a heap of dragon dung for their great moods so they’re avoiding me, together.”  

“You aren’t happy about…this,” she gestures at herself.  At the room. At Bang curled protectively on her feet. And it’s not a question, it’s not angry, it’s not disappointed like she was when I first saw her and the chief together and freaked out.  “Not like they are.”  

She doesn’t call it a baby.

It’s not a living, screaming entity that’s taking over everyone’s life.  Yet, I guess.  

“I don’t—It doesn’t seem real to me, I guess.”  I relax into talking to her faster than I would have guessed, thinking about how tense it’s been around here lately.  “I can’t see it, it’s not—nothing has changed, except everything has.  Suddenly everyone’s treating you like you’re fragile. And…and honestly, it sounds like something out of the chief’s dream journal come to life and put onto all of us to deal with and as always, I’m the only one who doesn’t know how to.”  

“You’ve never had a younger sibling,” she comforts me, but it’s hollow, like she’s saying it because she feels like she’s supposed to and I regret telling her anything.  Dealing with me is definitely stressful.  “It’s probably normal to feel weird about it.”

“I have two younger siblings.”  It’s a way I obviously feel but I don’t know if I’ve said it out loud by her reaction, happy and perplexed in equal parts.  “I felt weird about it at first, but I got used to it.  I...” I want to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth and tell her that I’m happy for her.  That I’m happy she got something back even though it feels like we lost so much.  

“To be fair, this is different for me too.”  She looks around the room, “I’ve done this four times and I don’t think any of them involved this much sitting around.”  

“That’s a perk of being royal, I guess.”  I say it like I don’t think it’s a perk at all and she nods like she agrees with me.

“Right,” she points at Bang, “could you please get your dragon off of my feet?  I’m not here to warm his freezing stomach.”  

“Yeah, sure,” I pat my leg and click at him, “he looks too comfortable anyway.  Bang, come on.  Come here.” I raise my voice slightly when he doesn’t immediately jump off of her and of course that’s when the door opens and the chief, Aurelia, and Stoick walk in.  

“Where’s the fire?” The chief laughs, glaring at me above that calm, friendly voice.  The one that makes him sound like he’s talking down an enemy just to kill them when they’re relaxed.  “Why so loud?”  

“Hiccup,” Mom rolls her eyes, “he’s just trying to get Bang—”

“Do you not want Bang in here?”  The chief rushes over, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door in a way that hurts Bang’s feelings enough he stands, slumping my direction until the chief snaps again.  “I’m sorry about that—”

“It was fine until both my entire legs fell asleep,” Mom tries to joke, rolling her eyes in my direction like the chief’s fussing is endearing.  I don’t believe that she believes that from the way her face flickers when he tries to fluff the pillow behind her back.  

“You let Bang lay on Mom?” Aurelia drops Stoick’s hand, watching him just long enough for him to follow Bang outside.  “Come on, use your brain—”

“Aurelia,” Mom chides her.

“Hey, it’s ok,” the chief sits down next to her, grabbing her stiff hand in both of his and squeezing. “Aurelia, Eret, get along. There’s nothing worth getting all worked up over.”  

“I’m not worked up,” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice and when the chief’s smile freezes and cracks into a grimace, I’m not sure I would have wanted to.  “And I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty odin-damned stressful using my happy, inside voice all the time.”  

“Good thing this isn’t about your stress,” Aurelia scoffs, and it doesn’t matter if she’s snarky, right. Because she squealed at the right time, she can say whatever she wants.  

“It’s about the stress in the environment—”  The chief sighs, worrying at Mom’s hand like he can personally force a perfect solution onto everything if he strokes her fingers just right.  She looks annoyed.  Then the chief kisses her cheek and she looks resigned.  Resigned like she did on her wedding day, like she hasn’t in a long time.  

“Ok,” I throw my hands up, “I’ll leave then.”  

“Eret—” Mom and Aurelia say my name at the same time with entirely different intonations but I don’t stop, shoving the front door open and stomping outside.  

[ascendingdevillived456-blog]

Am I pessimistic or just real?

Most of the time I feel like I'm accidentally surviving my own life. Not to sound like I'm bitching, but I don't have any idea why I'm alive. I've been trying to keep my life simple, but found out that is a very complicated and arduous task. I, physically, am 30some years old, and deeply know my spirit or soul or life force or whatever you want to label it as is old as fuck. I'm a little odd, I've been told, but when you realize early in life that nobody anywhere knows what in the bluest bowels of Hell they are doing, you start making decisions that TRULY matter on a high, VERY HIGH, level of deep understanding. Not to sound like a preachy zealous god-freak, but preeeeetty fucking sure we live in and on the garden of eden as mentioned in that book written 2000ish years ago. You know the one, oh... it has that bearded guy in the middle east who was the Christian God's son, but was a Jewish king, a rabbi, a carpenter, and who led a gang of misfit trouble making hooligans that wanted to make life better for everyone and ended up dead and martyred for it and is currently the nearly-nude mascot for countless kitchens and bedrooms in thousands of American homes. Jesus, what is that guy's name.... anyways... that book. I'm not great with names, nor hiding sarcastic remarks or, OR blatant disregard for that which really does not matter.... uh, uh, uh, oh well. Back on topic now. Ready? On this "bestowed paradise" of Ours, there are a few shitty things that I just WILL NOT turn a blind eye to. I got this list, you see, that has the WORST possible inventions on it that the world could have done without. Number 1 is people... People are needy, greedy, dumb, panicky, self-centered, talking alien-ape hybrids that ruin and destroy almost every thing they put their grubby little peter-beaters on. We kill for thrill and pleasure alone or in packs and have this problem understanding what compassion and sharing equally are. I did two years of kindergarten, consecutively I will add, I know you are supposed to share and be nice or something like, oh I don't know, your behavior is checked, and you learn to play with others. And now number 2 (insert low-brow sophomoric butt-mud poop-shit-fart he he he coment here. I did, but think up your own.) my list. Borders. "We look different in skin color or you talk funny, uh oh, I no longer have trust other human being, stay away from my personal comfort zone. We'll be fair though and draw a line in the dirt in case you get the same vibe from me. Ok?" "Ok, good idea. Me and my family will kill you otherwise maybe, yeah, no, yeah. Stay away. Good job." Are you shitting literally me out of your dumb asses? Where is the logic and practicality in that. We let famine happen daily because, what? Noone knows what to do? Help your fucking human brothers and sisters, and the little ones if your heart has room, you apathy ridden bag of severed dicks. This is everyone's home right now, teach people who have no knowledge. There is no such thing as unteachable. Read between the lines here guys and dolls. Break time. Let me tell you that I'm not being a rude loud obnoxious Internet troll here, some of my rants and tangent ramblings have a twisted sense of humor and are meant to make you take a minute and chuckle at its finest absurdities. Oh my, but we can also be multitasking manimals and take some inventory of ourselves and the other manimals in our lives and have conversations with each other like we're meant to. Anyone over 27 will remember a time before everyone had a fucking idiot screen in their face at all times. (Heh, jokes to come.) What separated us from beasts is our ability to develope and utilize language. To any younger folks reading this: we used to sit at the same parties you all do now, and used our minds and speaking abilities to have a blast. I'm talking some wicked-awesome fucking ideas and fun times were had before the wedding of man and technology. Put the phone down, and step away from the screens. Please. Number thwee, sorry had, food in my...nevermind. money is next on my little list of things I see as wrong. If a person has a lot of money, they generally have a lot of stuff to make sure they're happy beyond worry. On the other end of the spectrum you have... anybody? Class! goddamn kids pay a-fucking-tention! You have a person with little to no money. I will spell this out for you and you know who: that person can't be happy beyond worry because, huh? Some people have been going ape shit on their own happy. Hmmm. Opposite of happy? Right, thanks Julien, smart guy you are, UNhappy. I hope I just made a Julien's mind blow apart. Lol. Now, monetary wealth is referred to as worth. If you gots like soooooo much worth like it's bananas and stuff, then your like totally worthwhile or worthy. Julien, let someone else try now, get your tongue out of my ass you brown-noser. If you ever want to be heart broken ask the poor kid at an elementary school how he feels after the first recess after Christmas break. I bet the word worthless crosses both your minds and you purse your lips and them real big empathy tears well up in your eyes. That kid is programed to think money and worth are the same thing, and will do what he or she can to make sure they ALWAYS HAVE money when they grow up otherwise everyone else will know they are worthless. Made myself cry a little bit there. Guns guns guns are 4 on this list which may make you laugh or at best pissed. In case you missed I'd be remissed if I didn't say you need to come up with your own rhymes and eloquence. Guns though are made for one thing; ending lives. Plain and simple, keep reading you left wingers and right wingers both. The eagle that is the U.S. of A needs you both to work together in order to soar. I have really upset myself with saying that, but it's out there now, ain't it? I feel everyone should have gun training and own a minimum of three guns open carry on a daily basis (we've already got them and they've seemed to dug their heels in so we might as well adapt with the fucking things.) A semi-auto rifle for hunting food, a shotgun for food/eminent defenses, and a pistol for protection of family and home. Common knowledge for everyone should be stated from an early age: IF YOU DRAW A FIREARM ON A FELLOW HUMAN BEING, BE SURE THAT YOU CAN MAKE THE CONCESSION THAT YOUR LIFE HOLDS MORE VALUE THAN THEIR'S THEIR POSSIBLE DEPENDENTS. DO NOT SHOOT TO MAIM. IF YOU DRAW, SHOOT, AND SHOOT TO KILL. REMEMBER THAT THEY ARE AWARE OF THIS TOO, AND IF YOU KILL THEM. YOU MUST LIVE WITH THE MEMORY OF YOU NEEDLESSLY TAKING A HUMAN LIFE BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOUR LIFE IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN THEIR'S. guns huh? 5. Prescription drugs. Pharmaceutical companies are not your friends. Especially in the world of psychological medication and pain management. I take aspirin on occasion, in my younger days I was always told I "needed something to help me." Help me do what? From the age of 11 until I was into my mid twenties I've been on damn near everything besides Haledol and Geodon. Thanks for being good dealers...I mean doctors and pharmacists. If you want to ask my diagnosis I will share, but let me say that I haven't taken nor would I recommend any person to give a child DRUGS. They are not safe because they are prescribed. Ritalin is molecularly identical to cocaine. No bullshit. They are training kids to be druggies later in life and parents and insurance companies pay for it. Act now and for $799.00 a month you won't k ow who you are, have bleeding of the teeth, lazy finger syndrome, backward stools, brain bleeding episodes, coma and death, but wait there's more. If that pill doesn't work simply tell us and we will give you some other stuff that will make sure your little boy grows tits like a woman and may have a compulsive gambling and or masturbatory addiction with possible suicidal ideation. At least he'll do better on his homework. Fast forward to early adulthood... "oh mummsy? Daddykins? Whatever do you mean I'm no longer on your insurance plans? I simply must have all these pills to be completely the best I can be." "Gee you can just acquisition the local the scumbags who clandestinely make and distribute the bad version of the same drug you've been on for your whole life, my golden child." And don't forget the ssri's. Google this shit kids: ssri's long-term effects on the mind and body. And finally number 6. Social networking. I've never had a Facebook, MySpace, twitter, or anything else. This site I found accidentally while bored and this is my first time posting anything anywhere. The negatively charged part of social media is shit like; omg I 8 a waffle cone with chokl8 chip cookie dough ice cream scoops. Kill yourself you fat cow. Oh boo hoo sad face.... So long cruelty of this place, I have been wearing my life inappropriately I've been informed. Good bye 14 years. Wrapping up at this point as I've said enough for now. I'll be that eccentric and hilariously unfiltered buddy of you get my styles here. Just need to vent sometimes. Help me with Tumblr if you're interested in that... I guess. Looking forward to seeing responses. It should be noted that I have the utmost respect for any religion but abhor the use of faith as a means to control and not gain a better relationship with divinity. I'm not a doctor or political ass hat. I'm a song writing free-spirited music loving real deal motherfucker. "And I didn't even graduate FROM fucking highschool." I.Q. is up a bit above above average. No, that is not a typo.