#also reading examples of 'successful' personal statements like. some of these are actually ass or feel sooo insincere

[000png]

writing personal statements for grad apps is killing me... i should be allowed to just post screenshots of my top 5 tumblr text posts and call it a day

[ringtownrangerlark]

Hey man, I didn't ask you to write an essay. You could've just said "it provides checks and balances" and left it at that. I respect how much you apparently like to talk though. Who doesn't love an overexplainer? Also, let's forget about the rest of that for a second. I want to circle in on "Just teams of different ranger cliques fighting one another." Because that's the funniest damn thing I've read all night. What the hell kind of rangers have you met? Have you maybe mistaken team aqua and team magma for ranger bases? Rangers, mostly, are by their very nature community minded. We naturally keep an eye out for each other, because that is the type of person who becomes a ranger. Hell, even the Violet City base, aka The Worst Place I've Ever Worked, has the potential to be good with just a touch of mentorship from other Johto bases. And our system of oversight needs to be scaled way, way back to reflect and support that. We're a bunch of nature loving hippie-jocks, not corporate stooges. But nooooo, Almia needs to have their fingers up everyone's ass.

If you believed "it provides checks and balances" as a statement we wouldn't be having this discussion in the first place.

So rangers are all team players and don't need oversight, but there are jackass bosses and power hungry dipshits? I'm not trying to be snarky. I'm genuinely becoming unsure what your actual stance is on how to handle bad applins. If paperwork exists to protect people and document evidence, and you think your team is perfect, I could see why you'd think you don't need it. But I think that's a little bit like saying "This person doesn't need a seat belt because they're such a good driver". Even if they're the best, protections are for everyone. That's actually why I disagree with the union policy of letting top rangers move pokemon between environments. Rank-up changes are responsibilities, not rewards, and there is no level of skill where someone is above the rules.

The thing is I genuinely agree that the vast majority of rangers are community minded. If someone just wants power, they would have much more success being a corporate CEO than a ranger. But unfortunately I do still think some people become rangers for bad reasons (e.g. because it can help them get away with poaching, or because it gives them authority to arrest or boss around others) or with dangerous beliefs. Heck, sometimes two people who are both well-intentioned and care about pokemon and the environment can come to radically different conclusions for how to act on that. The current system doesn't completely stop these people from existing or entering, but there are some safeguards in place to catch them or keep them in check. What is your proposed alternative? Trusting just the leader's personal call on kicking someone out or monitoring them just means the bad applin moves on somewhere else (the jenny's have this problem- moving officers with a lot of negative reports to another city or region).

Let's say you got your wish and the oversight was scaled back- how far? To a region? Every base an island to it's own management? That would cut out a lot of the inefficient clutter but it would also get rid of a lot of helpful tools. To use your own example, how would Violet City base get the mentoring it needs? Heck, my own contract here- a ranger from Fiore of all places ending up in Paldea to help because local rangers were injured/out of commission- wouldn't happen without massive cross-region networking and communication, and a system that big will have inefficiencies.

Why am I entrusted with the task of ensuring my team fills out their reports? Absolute nonsense. Rox asked me once why she had to (such is her MO, bless her heart) and the best answer I could give her was "you'll get in trouble if you don't."

Which is a shite reason.

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 09 |  Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…”  Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat.  You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him.  “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later… Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”  

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. “...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp  near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound.  “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders.  “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

[sun-to-my-luna]

The Gold Book To “Success”

So, we know that Camila for centuries has never written in uppercase letters but when she released “CAMILA” her signature wording changed. The thing is: the all caps letters aren’t JUST what make that change in her wording signature noticeable.  To put it simple everyone has a wording signature and types differently. Being that Camila stopped using social media as much due to her negative stans and the hostility towards her it would be obvious that she’s not using her own social platforms all the time. However, many people still think it’s always her.

We’ll go from least to most noticeable.

The first thing that distinguishes her posts away from her are obviously uppercase letters lol but besides that let’s take a look at other patterns.

1.

Random sentences that end with a period.

(Note: anything with a hyperlink that redirects to an album/ song release or an event is never Camila. You’ll see another example in #4.)

2. Using just one explanation point at the end of a sentence or exactly on the last sentences. 

Sentences that have periods like this are possibly 65% Camila as long as there are no grammatically correct capital letters at the beginning of a sentence. An example of a tweet that genuinely belongs to Camila:

3.

Roger on his regular social media uses A LOT of (...) especially after saying happy— (insert certain day/ holiday). Ps. After reading this post you’ll notice this paragraph includes 4 of the mentioned.

4.

Roger’s favorite way to express his excitement, happiness or express he’s surprised is by using the iconic: (!!!)

AND LAST but not least the most entirely noticeable.

4.

The other most relentlessly favorite thing he uses is the random (–) to separate statements. “Morning – so proud of my !”  {side edit: inserted more screenshots last minute.}  

She would also never say “Latins” that’s so white lol

These are some grammar cues to keep in mind that whoever is talking isn’t Camila but instead her manager. Camila herself talks more so in rambling text and not so much Up or down with extensive grammar. So if you read his posts in her voice just remember that if she uses any of the above or simply sounds like a boring ass lawyer then you know the drill.

If you’ve read this far that’s right: I said I was adding in information and that’s correct I’m adding something else onto his long list for you to remember.  I’ve exposed his gross circle of colleagues, I’ve exposed how the label he created treated certain artists like crap, and I’ve exposed him for being a shitty artist manager with Jaquie. Now I finally want you to bare in mind that this is a 52 year old male law graduate /attorney– {now} artist manager trying to impersonate a woman in her 20’s.

Here’s the  probable answer to your questions. If you were ever wondering why she can’t get rid of him it’s most likely because he went to law school and the clauses in her personal manager contract are shitty. He more than anyone would know how to secretly fuck someone over that has no idea what they’re signing. How long she’s going to be with him? I couldn’t quite tell you because of this. He’s a business man and will never be nothing more than that.

Of course, what other way of proving that then by the profits he has made off of her. And let me add that they are some big ass profits.

How do I put this lightly?

Oh, I know, how about I just show you.

In NOVEMBER OF 2020, 2 months before 2021 as of today,  he bought a residential house IN CASH for the value of $3,075,000 dollars and sold his last house last month in April 2021 for another $1,950,000. You could say her PR isn’t benefiting her, and I would believe you, because it’s the truth  but you can’t tell me that her PR relationship with Shawn isn’t benefiting someone else we know very very very well. Actually, him and other people that is. This is the proof man. They’ve been cash grabbing the life out of her for years now.

The saddest part? This man claims to be a hero to his friends and he calls himself a fan aka a “Camilizer,”and makes it seem like he’s her family but his fake ass mask doesn’t deceive me.

[arr-jim-lad]

so, why /is/ Joshu good actually and doesn't deserve all the hate he gets?

Because the hate comes mostly from the people who are incapable of empathizing with what’s honestly a really pitiable person. They only see the negatives and don’t question why he acts like he does. Also, he’s brave AF.

And don’t get me wrong: there ARE negatives. Joshu is by no means a completely misunderstood good person, he’s kind of a scumbag, but so are most JoJo characters. And yet, people apparently just love to hate Joshu specifically.

When I started reading Jojolion, I initially couldn’t help but just feel bad for the guy, because I realized what he struggles with, and how it affects him as a person who’s honestly just trying his best most of the time.

Here’s the big thing that I think puts a LOT in perspective:

Joshu is essentially the prime example of the neglected middle child. He has an older brother who is his father’s pride and joy, an older sister who is a successful model, and a younger, blind sister who everyone coddles. Norisuke is very loving and playful with his daughters and very chummy with his older son, but Joshu never really gets the same loving treatment.

Instead, Joshu is seen treated sternly and unfairly by his brother and father, who both just seem annoyed by his presence. It’s very, painfully clear to me that this is something that makes Joshu extremely insecure, as it can be easily observed from his facial expressions. For example, here’s him when Josuke is given his usual space on family photographs;

He’s shown shivering when Norisuke yells at him, and standing next to his father clearly means a lot to him, but his feelings are not taken into account at all.

This clearly causes him a lot of stress, as he is already insecure about his position in the family, and it makes PERFECT SENSE for him to feel threatened by Josuke, who immediately gained his father’s love, respect, and support. 

This kind of behavior towards Joshu is seen again during the beetle battle arc with Jobin, who belittles him several times in a short amount of time, and orders him to cheer for Josuke (threatening him with violence if he won’t), despite Joshu clearly not liking Josuke for reasons that I really can’t judge him for.

And Joshu always obliges.

Mind you - this is not the behavior they have towards Joshu ALL the time, but Joshu is the only Higashikata kid we see getting this kind of treatment.

Joshu, to me, comes across as someone who is absolutely starved for validation from his brother and father, but he never gets it. Instead, he’s constantly pushed around and belittled by them, and treated as an annoyance. A stranger in their home is being given more care and respect than the son.

It just felt really really hard to me to watch what I feel was sadly a fairly realistic depiction of how some children in larger families just don’t get the same amount of love and support as others.

Okay, now I’ll tackle some of the biggest things that people point at when they try to claim that Joshu is a terrible character;

He's a “nice guy” and is possessive over Yasuho who's not interested

He tried to r*pe Yasuho (I’ll say it right here and now: This is a COMPLETE AND UTTER misrepresentation of the events that transpired)

He assaulted Kaato

When we start Jojolion, Joshu has a mistaken impression that him and Yasuho are a couple. That assumption is not completely groundless on his part, because both him and Yasuho confirm that they DID kiss, so you really can’t blame him for having a certain idea of a relationship.

When first seeing Josuke and Yasuho, Joshu gets the wrong idea and believes that Josuke was at the very least being extremely inappropriate to Yasuho, with him being naked and all. He immediately tries to save her by attacking him.

Joshu is indeed very possessive of Yasuho and while that’s not something that can be excused, we CAN track down to the reason why he acts that way, and that reason once again goes back to him being neglected by his family.

It looks to me like Yasuho remained his friend because she pitied him, as she off-handedly acknowledges how poorly socialized he is;

If his father and brother cared to give him a better example and lead him, he would probably be less of a creep. Instead, all he had was his confused feelings, the entitlement that come from being raised in a rich family, and no one to teach him how to properly behave - mind you that he also grew up without a mother.

The reason he clings to Yasuho as much as he does is very likely because she gave him the empathy that he feels like he lacks at home. She’s essentially his comfort person.

I think it’s also important to point out that Joshu is not possessive of Yasuho in an objectifying manner - he genuinely cares for her and wants to protect her. That doesn’t excuse some of his actions of course, but I think it’s still fair to acknowledge it.

Next, the r*pe accusation, and context is EVERYTHING here.

Here’s what happened to lead up to the so-called r*pe attempt, and this includes spoilers for the Paper Moon King arc (Vol.6, Chapers 23-25)

Yasuho was attacked by a stand that made everyone look the same to her, and was unable to tell one person from the other. She called Josuke for help, but while waiting for him, she ran into Joshu.

What followed was a whole slew of statements that Joshu TERRIBLY misinterpreted, as his thirsty unsocialized ass tends to do.

One thing leads to another and Joshu takes off his pants - at which point Yasuho realized that he’s not Josuke, at which point she screams Josuke’s name, and Joshu practically freezes in place, the gears in his head probably starting to turn a bit. And then Yasuho knocks him out and that’s where that ends.

I’d say that Joshu was definitely over-eager to get into Yasuho’s pants, but he only did what he thought she wanted, and I believe that if he wasn’t knocked out when he was, he would probably back off once the mistake was acknowledged. Joshu did not want to r*pe Yasuho. That was NEVER his intent.

Joshu is someone who’s entitled, but he’s not evil.

Last thing I see people point to when shit talking Joshu is his harassment of Kaato, and honestly, I am shocked that people are even remotely able to misinterpret that scene, which does nothing but show how protective Joshu is of his family, and how quick he is to defend them.

The following is a spoiler of Vol.14, Chapter 58.

We see the mother of the Higashikata family return after being imprisoned for 15 years for killing a child. She is a murderer and enters the house uninvited, possibly while everyone else was still sleeping.

This is how Norisuke, the father, reacts:

To reiterate:

The father is so startled by the presence of this woman, that he screams and falls on the ground with shock. He then proceeds to yell at her, demanding for her to get out. She doesn’t.

The convicted murderer then proceeds to walk towards Daiya, the youngest daughter, and that’s when Joshu immediately takes action.

He trips Kaato with a chair and then proceeds to speak to her with a very clear intent to try to make her leave.

Is what he said inappropriate? Abso-fucking-lutely. But that was the INTENT.

I genuinely don’t understand why people think this is something that proves that Joshu is a terrible person when what he’s doing is honestly really damn brave.

Think back to how Norisuke reacted to Kaato. For what Joshu knew, she could’ve had an extremely dangerous ability, but he jumped in to stop her from reaching his little sister anyway.

One last thing, and this is a spoiler for some of the most recent chapters of Jojolion; the Endless Calamity arc (Vol.24, chapter 95)

I want to point out one more extremely brave thing Joshu has done; He saved Yasuho’s life while once again possibly putting his own life in danger.

Here’s the scene: Joshu and his sisters just watched his older brother possibly murder their father during a heated confrontation and a clash of ideals.

During this, Yasuho is currently dying. Her stand is trapped in a cellphone, and not close enough to an electrical socket to escape. Jobin had FULL INTENT to kill her. But then this scene happens;

The phone is suddenly by the socket, and Paisley Park got to escape. We never see it being moved, but there is a panel specifically directing our attention to Joshu’s foot.

Someone moved the phone to let Paisley Park escape, and all signs point to that being Joshu.

Again - Joshu, who just watched his brother possibly murder his father, and who had fully attempted murdering his friend. From what Joshu was concerned, nothing would stop Jobin from killing him as well.

Joshu has flaws. He’s entitled, he’s annoying and he’s creepy. He’s also very stupid and very naive at times.

But there are also reasons for why he turned out this way, and those reasons are just.. plainly sad. I can’t help but to pity this character and just hope the best for him, because he deserves to feel loved by someone because he’s not a bad person.

Personally, I think Joshu is a really interesting character and I thoroughly enjoyed every most moments featuring him, especially interacting with his family, because their relationships come across very realistic and lovable (minus the times Joshu is unfairly belittled).

He’s also a really funny character whose ideas, thoughts, and opinions and just a delight to read every time he gets to just act casually.

PS - his hairstyle is great and y’all are just mean

[thetypedwriter]

The Music of What Happens Book Review

The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg Book Review 

I don’t think I like this book. 

I know that’s a strong statement right off the bat, but it’s mostly true. However, there was also something about it that I didn’t quite hate and, as usual, I will try my very best to put forth both the positives and the negatives of this read into some sort of subjective semblance of rationality. 

Now, firstly I’d like to thank @chapterhappy98​ for the recommendation. I love getting book recommendations (just not when people actually buy me books-see previous reviews) and this one seemed totally up my alley. 

For a novel I’d never heard of before it had a lot of components that excited me. An LGBTQ+ romance? I’m here for it. One of the main characters being half-Mexican and half-white? Love the representation. A cute plot centered around summer and food trucks? Yes, please. 

All the ingredients were there for a good book, but the way the book was written, the perspective of the characters, and the characters themselves made this a slog for me. On paper, this should have been lauded as a cute fluffy novel with some very deep feels, but instead I found it tedious, aggravating, and thankful that it was at least short. 

The positives are everything I mentioned above. The plot itself is cute. Food truck summer romance is not a plot I’ve read before, but it's original enough to be intriguing and cute enough to be endearing. High quality fanfiction fodder right here. 

Although the representation could have been better, it was sufficient. I enjoyed the fact that Max’s mother was Mexican while his father was a whiter-than-toast comedian from Indiana. Both Max and Jordan have friends who are white and friends who are not and I enjoyed that Konigsberg portrayed the distinct friend groups as such and that moments of race do come up. 

For example, like when Jordan suggests they steal prickly pears from people’s yards and Max shuts it down before the idea can even coalesce because a white boy stealing pears from yards is a hooligan move, a Mexican kid stealing pears from yards is a crime. 

Small introspective moments like this were very interesting and added a layer of reality to the novel that I appreciated. On this same route, both Max and Jordan, our two main characters with revolving perspectives, are going through some deep trauma and while it wasn’t amazingly handled, I did appreciate moments towards the end where Konigsberg actually has the characters face what they are going through and take appropriate routes to fix them or start the healing process (acceptance, counseling, etc). 

By no means did I think the book handled sensitive topics such as rape, addiction, bullying, and self-esteem issues well, but at the very least, most of the issues were adequately addressed and on the right path towards healing and rehabilitation which is more than I can say for some other novels. 

Now, for the negatives. Buckle up, people. 

First off, the writing. 

I found it abhorrent. I don't know if this is just Konigsberg’s style of writing, but it did not vibe with me at all. I found his writing and dialogue superfluous, cheesy, and gag-inducing. 

To me, this is not how real people talk, think, or interact, but instead a grown ass man’s idea of how teenagers think, talk, and interact. It made me truly wonder if Konigsberg has actually ever met a teenager in his life. 

As a high school teacher, I interact with teenagers on a daily basis. I know how they talk and interact, and through their journals and papers, I can generally grasp at least a preview into how they think. 

It’s like Konigsberg took every adolescent stereotype that exists and stuffed it onto his pages with mediocre words and subpar humor. The Music of What Happens is a pantomime of the teenage experience and I found it extremely irritating. 

Secondly, the perspectives of both Jordan and Max are maddening and irksome, although Jordan more so I have to admit. Both of these characters suffer from what I call “Woe is Me” syndrome. This is the idea that making a character have a sad or tragic backstory or circumstances also makes them deep and complex. 

This is so far from the truth it hurts. 

Trauma and tragedies are not simply fodder to build a cheap and easy way for a character or a plot to build depth. It should be handled with care, with consequences, and with other characteristics built in that are reasonable and befitting of the whole character. Both Max and Jordan were almost laughably tragic. 

Max’s parents split up, and while his mom Rosa is the MVP of the book, his dad is nothing more than a useless caricature of the absentee father, so much so that when Max admits to his sexual assault his dad does nothing, but makes a joke and talks about a stand-up routine he has coming up. 

Jordan is much, much worse. This boy is the most self-deprecating, pitying thing I have ever read.

 (Spoilers ahead for the novel and Jordan’s circumstances). 

His friends who he calls his “wives” (cue eye roll) bully him, his mother is a gambling addict with bipolar disorder, he believes he killed his father by giving him a heart attack on his sick bed, and he’s about to be homeless unless he can make money from his dad’s old food truck and save his mortgage. 

It’s absolutely ridiculous. 

I’m not trying to make light of these issues, but the way Konigsberg handled these characters went like this: “Hmmmm how can I make interesting teenagers? I know! Let’s make everything in their life miserable. Yes, that will make readers care!”

In case you were wondering, no, it didn’t work. 

Just because Jordan and Max are tragic characters did not mean I cared for them or even liked them. If the idea was to build complexity and sympathy that absolutely failed. If anything, I felt frustrated by the circumstances, vexed by the way both boys handled their issues, and galled at how the surrounding world allowed it to happen. 

In addition, going back to the idea that Konigsberg has never met a single teenager in his life, both Max and Jordan fell into such archetypal teenage tropes that I felt my teeth rotting. 

They fell in love after hanging out twice, their reasons for liking each other were abysmal and perfunctory, and if anything, the only reason I actually saw these two working in any way was simply because they were both the only other gay person they knew, which is not even an adequate component. 

The romance felt strained and uncomfortable and the “dates” they went on made me laugh with absurdity. Picking up stuffed animals at midnight to put them at the front of the zoo? Who does that? I didn’t find it charming, I didn’t find it unique, and I didn’t find it cute. 

I found it odd and unrealistic. 

Which, at the end of the day, is what irked me about this book the most: it was unrealistic. 

You might say: “Typedwriter! That’s unfair! You read about vampires and fairies and all sorts of fantasy creatures and worlds!”

You’re right, I do. But fantasy and unrealism are not synonyms. Fantasy I love. Even within fantasy worlds there needs to be rules and order. There are still expectations and realistic behaviors and laws that govern fictional creatures and lands. 

For a novel that is supposed to depict real life and real teenagers The Music of What Happens edges on the side of surreal for me. Surreal is also fine if that is the targeted result. 

In Konigsberg’s case, however, I don’t believe that was the intention. I got the feeling that Konigsberg wanted this to be a real and deep portrayal of love and adolescence and instead I found it ludicrous and nonsensical. 

Everything about this book bordered on nonsensical. Two boys running a food truck without any knowledge or prior experience and ending up making thousands of dollars? Okayyyyy, sure. Jordan’s mother’s behavior, gambling addiction, and speech? Preposterous. The way Max and Jordan talked to each other and their friends? Almost like a robot’s depiction of how they think humans communicate. 

At the end of the day, this book’s unrealistic look at life, love, relationships, trauma, and consequences ruined it for me. It’s certainly not the worst thing I’ve ever read, but most of this book was just a mindless jumble of words that didn’t form a proper connection to me as a reader. 

As listed above, not everything was horrible and I’m not trying to make it out like it was, but for the most part, I didn’t enjoy this book as I stated from the beginning. 

As always, this is just my opinion. I still love that it was recommended and I mean no harm to anyone who does love this book. Perhaps if I was a young teenager I would have connected more with the self-deprecating monologues and pity parties. Perhaps if I wasn't so skeptical I could actually believe two sixteen-year olds could pull off a food truck success, but alas I’m not and I couldn’t. 

If this book brought out tender feelings and emotions for you, however, I am glad because isn’t that why we read? 

Unfortunately, this was not the case for me for The Music of What Happens. 

Recommendation: Unrealistic everything made this book toiling drudgery for me. Take the idea of a cute summer romance on a food truck, apply it to your favorite fandom and OTP for a Valentine's Day prompt, and then happily move on with your life without having the need to pick up The Music of What Happens. 

Score: 3/10

[spiralesbian]

ALRIGHT

here’s my full Stranger Avatar Sasha Archivist timeline:

(also, thanks to @artbyblastweave for being so interested in my lil au!)

SEASON ONE

sasha james is hired as the head archivist of the magnus institute!

her assistants are jon, tim, and martin

tim takes the thematic role of martin (aka getting tormented by my worm wife jane, and stays in the archives)

sasha reads thru statements and is a skeptic! she really does not believe it’s real until jane comes along.

“tim……………………..did you die here?”

“no, but every time i come to work i die a little more inside.”

cute timsha moment in the supply closet tho.

until martin kool-aid-mans through the door and gets them out of there

jon used to work in artefact storage so he hides in there. he’ll be fine

i actually can’t remember how they all get out but they do it KKJSDGFJHD

sasha takes everyone’s statements. tim is fucked up, martin is also fucked up, jon is actually fine though he seems pretty normal about this whole situation most definitely.

sasha realizes this is a bit more than a regular archivist job.

SEASON TWO

sasha gets paranoid of course. she learns more about gertrude because she never got the chance to meet her

she takes a statement from a guy named michael shelley. weird dude. then helen shows up :)

jon is most definitely himself he is just a normal regular grumpy jon i swear :)

sasha starts to manifest her powers a little bit. she doesn’t know it, but she is an avatar of the stranger, and a prisoner of the eye.

she starts to notice more things about jon? similar to this comic but with jon

eventually she + tim + martin help get jon out of the grip of the NotJon. this is my au and i get to choose who dies (it’s no one because i miss the s1 archival assistants too much).

jon is pretty fucked up from this though and at like a season-3-tim mindset already.

fucking goddamn leitner avatar of the fucking whore shows up to trap the NotJon in one of his shitty fucking novels. fuck this guy tho

he’s like Sasha We Must Talk and shes like okay but stay 8 ft away from me at all times you bitch

she leaves the room for 10 minutes and pipe murder occurs. good riddance

wait are the cops in the season i genuinely can’t remember. if they are, their roles don’t change very much. melanie and sasha feud, battle of the bi queens

SEASON THREE:

uh oh! girlie’s be framed for murder! she crashes at her ex gf georgie’s flat. also the admiral is there don’t think i would EVER cut him out of this story

(also jon is georgie’s ex too because i think that would be fun JDHBFHS)

sasha learns abt an upcoming web ritual (mirroring the unknowing), all that shit. gets kidnapped a ton of times, as usual.

helen is like “i am going to kill you because i hate gertrude <3 i was that dumb bitch’s assistant for too long” but michael busts out of the door like Hi Guys and traps her in the hallway.

sasha also gives her statement about a leitner she found as a child that marked her. its a stranger book and we learn her edgy orphan origin story how her parents were both murked by the stranger. fucked up if true!

back at the archives jon is like so fucking tired of this shit honestly and now martin is also pretty paranoid. also jm romance subplot is still very present!

tim is just trying to protect sasha at all times and he’s pissed she keeps leaving the country and getting fucking kidnapped

(remember when jon persuades the traffic cop?) sasha starts to fill her archivist role in a different way. she can shapeshift into the subject of a statement and uses her affiliation with the eye to coerce statements or info out of people. (example: if she needed a live statement from the guy in #90 Body Builder, she could temporarily make herself look like jared hopworth to the guy and ask “what happened to me?” or “what did i do?” and the guy would be like well he built some fucken bodies i guess let me tell you all about it) while reading the statements in america that refuel her, she fully shapeshifts into the statement giver while reading out loud.

once again i truly can’t remember daisy + basira’s roles until the end of the season. also melanie get shot by the ghost at some point

anyways sasha gets kidnapped by trevor and julia and they gerry lays out all the shit for her and she’s like ah! i’m fucked

tim offhand mentions the web ritual to martin and he loses his shit cause he’s marked by the web blah blah this isn’t a web!martin thing i swear i just need someone to fill tim’s role in the ritual and a lonely ritual would be fucking boring as hell as we learned from ass man peter lukas. i hate that man

so they make the plan to stop the web ritual (which is fucking hard when the offense knows your every move) so sasha, basira, daisy, jon, and martin go.

tim stays back at the institute to burn shit and distract elias. elias does some fucked up shit as usual and it makes me sad

the ritual starts! they have a plan to blow it up and run but like. u know how it goes

instead of the unknowing-stranger-dream-sequence, we get everyone kinda mixed up in a huge spider’s web on the big stage and its still quite confusing because this ritual not only manipulates the prey, but also the prey’s perceived reality. the web is also in current control of the buried coffin cause they think that shit is kinda fun. they yeet daisy into it.

hard to describe what happens, but basira keeps her cool, jon is a bit lost in his own mind, sasha tries to use her powers to escape but fails. she manages to get through to martin through the strings and mounds of spiders and she tosses him the detonator.

[squishing spider noises]

SEASON FOUR:

martin doesn't die, i told you i can't kill the og archival assistants! he does lose most of one leg though, he took the blunt of the explosion.

sasha in da hospital in da coma. tim is mad he can’t wake her up and then my man ollie says “ur fucked up mate” and she wakes up

(and because coma jon has such wild hair controversy, i’m establishing that her head was shaved when she was in the coma. it grows back thru s4. it she keeps one side shaved cause she’s cool)

meanwhile tim is recruited by that dumbass man you know who i don’t even wanna say his stupid fucking name

sasha gets daisy out of the buried. they become avatar pals!

(there is the biggest blank in my memory where all of season four should be. at this point i should just relisten to the entire fucking show but i would literally just forget it all again)

melanie says hm. fuck this! and blinds herself. she goes to live with georgie (and that’s the moment jon and sasha realize they are both georgie’s exes FHFHDJD)

tim continues to fight the lonely pull. he thinks that since p*ter l*kas is tied to the institute, he can blind himself out cause melanie was successful. he is wrong. he is also interrupted by elias midway, and only blinds one eye, and loses most of his sight in the other. elias’s hold on him is weak, but this just drives him way farther into the lonely.

gotta be honest i remember the end of season four but like i couldn’t visualize what was happening at the end so i like don’t understand what happened JGDKFJGD but sasha intervenes (???) and peter yeets tim into the lonely (???) and sasha jumps in (??????) after him. elias is just there i guess?

instead of “look at me martin,” sasha finds tim and at this point her form is warped and hard to recognize because of stranger powers, and tim is almost 100% blind, so she says “don’t look at me, see me. see me tim, it’s me.” and finally creates a clear image of herself. “it’s...it’s you. you’re my sasha.”

they break free and go to scotland i guess KHSDDKDSF

idk what happens with jon and martin im losing continuity at this point. fuck it, they smooch <3

“ah these are the statements.”

“yes. basira said last week she’d send some up as soon as the archives weren’t a crime scene. and she wasn’t sure which ones you’ve read already, so she, she just said she’d send a bunch.”

“.........Hello Sasha.”

(alternate ending: personally i think sasha would read through each statement before speaking them aloud cause that’s what i would fucking do, so she would get this statement and be like “lmao tim come look at this elias trying to prank me dumb bitch think i’ll start the apocalypse for him. fucking little puny bitch boy. anyways what do you want for dinner?”)

SEASON FIVE:

“just. listen.”

“...i’m dead. and you have been chosen to be my replacement as head archivist. hopefully, this means you, jon, but if someone else is hearing this, and elias has made a different choice for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you.”

sasha in full stranger avatar mode and is like 8ft tall and her faces shift a lot as they go through the realms. except the stranger is the second to last one (the panopticon is last obviously).

helen and michael actually talk shit out in the spiral hallway and now they are mlm wlw solidarity and both like tim and sasha are such bi and trans icons <3 this is so fun don’t you love the fearpocalypse <3

oh daisy n basira trapped in the hunt, and jon and martin are trapped in the stranger. wtgfs + the admiral are like in space or some shit idk but they are ok :)

not much to report other than she is my monster wife <3

i really don’t have many theories to how everything in s5 is gonna pan out, and i would like to closely mirror the actual show, so maybe as we get closer to the end i’ll build more on to this! thanks a lot for all the notes on my first sarchivist post!! also if u wanna make art this specific au DEF tag me in it i’d love to see!!

[artsybanchou]

I’m a big fan of 80s/90s anime and Ranma 1/2 played a big role in my childhood. The premise has sooooo much food for thought when it comes to looking at gender and specifically the performance of gender. I’m about to get INTO it, so, here’s your warning-- read more is a ramble. (LONG ramble)

Oh ho ho ho! WELCOME TO MY HELL!

Aight, so let me set the stage for you-->

Two people, who should not be parents, have a kid. The father, Genma, a fairly successful martial artist, takes their just-born son on a training journey without consulting the mother. By training journey, I mean that they travel all over the world with little to no money, either stealing from or scamming people in order to make sure they can eat, under the guise of training the son, Ranma, to become the greatest martial artist of the “Anything Goes” school of martial arts. One of the most frequent scams the father pulls is promising his son’s hand in marriage to various families in exchange for a dowry before running off with both his son and the dowry, never to be seen again. This-- inevitably-- comes back to bite them in the ass. But more on that later.

We don’t get to see a lot of Ranma’s childhood on the training journey, just the occasional incredibly horrific flashback to something that would become a national incident were it to happen in the real world. For example, at one point in time, his father finds a Chinese pamphlet of an ~ancient lost Chinese art~ that is INCREDIBLY POWERFUL!!!!! wow! It’s called Neko-ken. So he decides to teach his six-year-old this technique, although he can’t actually read Chinese so he does it based off the diagrams-- which detail a process of collecting a good number of cats, starving them for a few days straight, and then tossing his son, covered in fish sausages (possibly tied up, can’t remember), into the pit to fend for himself (and not be eaten alive) for hours on end. Surprise, surprise, Ranma comes out incredibly traumatized and with an intense fear of cats (something his father would’ve seen coming if he was able to read Chinese as the pamphlet says that someone would have to be crazy to try to teach someone this technique and that it causes severe psychological damage-- also could’ve been avoided if his father had any common sense or fatherly instincts, but hey that’s just asking too much of Genma). This is not the result his father wanted, so he tries to “fix” it by doing the exact same thing multiple times, just with different cat foods wrapped around his son because... I genuinely don’t know what his thought process was but yeah. So that’s just a tiny snapshot of what his childhood was like as well as how much of a massive idiot his father was. And since Ranma never interacted with his mother, guess who had the greatest influence in his development (yay........). (save him) (also this is based off my memory from watching the anime YEARS ago, so some small details might be wrong but the big, overarching “his dad is a terrible person” thing is still very much true even if some of these smaller details aren’t)

When Ranma is a teenager, his father brings him to a Chinese training ground full of cursed springs. The tour guide repeatedly tries to explain what exactly this place they’re visiting is, but the father and son pair are two hard-headed idiots and get right to sparring. Ranma knocks his father into a spring pretty quick only to be caught off guard when his father reemerges from said spring as a panda and grand slams our protagonist into another one of the cursed springs. Our manly man martial artist protagonist emerges from this spring as a dainty, busty teenage girl. /The horror./ The panic from both Ranma and his father’s deeply shaken fragile masculinities gives the tour guide enough time to reveal that they had fallen into the cursed springs of the drowned panda and the drowned girl (one guess who fell into which one) and that anyone who falls into a cursed spring will take on the form of the life form that drowned in it. They can return to their original bodies by being splashed with hot water but, from now on, every time they’re hit with cold (or even apparently lukewarm) water, they’ll change into these new cursed forms.

Now, I’m sure you all saw this coming from the type of man that Ranma’s father is based on everything I’ve said so far, but Genma is the worst(TM). So Genma is all, “no SON of MINE can be a GIRL! >:((((((” and Ranma, who has been raised for his entire conscious life by this man, and only this man, is also very much not Okay(TM) with this because he’s a man, a manly fighting man who was raised to be the manliest of fighting men who fight. He can’t be a GIRL. 

Except he totally can. Because these two start taking advantage of Ranma’s feminine body pretty much immediately in order to continue running scams so that they can eat and whatnot while traveling. Of course, Genma constantly shames Ranma by saying things like, “I can’t believe my son is such a failure of a martial artist, being a girl! I’m so ashamed!” and whatnot at every opportunity but especially when they are in an argument and Ranma is winning or if he needs Ranma to do something for him. He frequently manipulates his son by using this kind of guilt-tripping language as though it’s Ranma’s fault that his body is like this. Nevermind that they both frequently profit off of Ranma’s female body for scams, Genma still puts Ranma down for having it and Ranma internalizes that because he’s 15 and his father is the only person he’s ever known.

And I’m sure we all hate Genma now, as we should, because fuck Genma. What kind of woman would ever marry Genma? (And we assume a woman is married to Genma because how could a man this bigoted do anything other than marry a woman all traditional and whatnot). If only Ranma wasn’t taken from his mother so young. Maybe he would’ve turned out a better person~ Well, uh, bad news, lads :/  So, by the time we meet Ranma’s mom in the series, we’ve known most of these characters for a chunk of time. It’s already quite well established how terrible of a human being Genma is. Ranma may or may not have started the episode out admitting he doesn’t know much about his mom after being asked about her. A standard set-up. I don’t quite remember all the details of the episode, only the important things-- here’s the important thing: Genma’s wife, Nodoka, made Genma swear something to her before he took their toddler on a training journey all around the world. He had to raise Ranma to become “a Man among Men” (and we’ll talk about how she defines manliness) and, if he failed, then both he and Ranma must commit seppuku. 

Yeah, that's right. 

If her son isn’t enough of a man by her standards then he has to commit ritual suicide.

Her son who now transforms into a girl every time he is touched with at least a ladle’s worth water that isn’t steaming.

(hey have i mentioned save Ranma yet? save him seriously)

Her definition of manliness? All the shit the misandrists of tumblr swear is the inherent evils to all men. She thinks her son needs to be unapologetically forceful in /all/ he does. Especially in his romantic forays :///// (yeah this is going where you think it is)

When she does decide he isn’t manly enough (because Ranma was being sexually harassed by an old man who forcibly put him in a sailor outfit, no im not kidding, happosai, said old man, is a whole other element of the show that like holy shit) and tries to get him to commit seppuku, the solution the cast comes up with is to have Ranma “peek” at (his friend? girlfriend? fiance? frenemy? roommate? it’s weird-- technically they’re the two romantic leads but their chemistry is like -5 because she constantly physically hits him for things that really aren’t his fault and just ://) Akane while she is bathing and that will prove his manliness to his mother so that he doesn’t have to literally die. Will having Ranma be a fucking voyeur prove his manliness to his mother, you ask? Yep. This is Manly(TM) and so Ranma gets to live another day. Yay. Once again, molestation saves the day. (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa) All of this is played off as a joke, for the record. No character is really acknowledged as being “a bad person” for any of this behavior-- not molester Happosai, not trying-to-kill-her-own-child Nodoka, etc. 

So these are the people who made Ranma. Who shaped this kid with the ability to spontaneously switch between male and female bodies (presuming he has water on hand). Also, obviously, Genma had more influence seeing as Ranma never saw his mother between the ages of two and (I think) 16(?), but. regardless, these are the people who shaped his understanding of gender. For all intents and purposes, our lad should be such a pressure cooker of toxic and fragile masculinity that he just about commits seppuku himself every time he ends up in his female body. 

But he doesn’t. In fact, Ranma is largely comfortable in his female body as long as his father isn’t trying to hold said body against him (wait did that come out wrong?). Ranma has no hesitations taking on his female form for something as little as a discount on ice cream. He makes the statement, “when it comes to eating out, being a girl is the only way to go”-- because he’s able to get an extra scoop for being “cute”

There’s a scene very early on in the series about exactly that which has always stuck with me. It opens with Ranma in his female body at a cafe with Akane and they both order fancy ice cream parfaits. Ranma is extremely excited and exclaims, “I’ve always wanted to try one of these!” 

Akane replies with, “don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream before.”

And Ranma proceeds to explain that he’s never had ice cream like /this/ because it would be too embarrassing for a guy. When Akane asks if he isn’t embarrassed now, happily shoving huge spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth, he responds with, “hey, I’m a girl now. It don’t count.” Akanes shoots back with a “REAL girls don’t eat like that” (because our lad is eating with such gusto-- he’s living, he’s thriving, he is demolishing that parfait and there is ice cream all over his face) 

He goes, “I’ll eat it however I want.” And then finishes the whole thing off and proclaims that he wants to order the chocolate one next.

Moments like that were the ones where I loved the show the most. We can see Ranma’s insecurities about his masculinity (thank you /soo/ much for that genma) in that he isn’t willing to perform an ‘unmanly’ action in public in his male body. He can’t be *seen* eating girly ice cream. But when he is admonished for not living up to feminine standards in his female body (eat more daintily), he just goes, ‘i’ll do what i want’. Young me really resonated with that, being born with a female assigned at birth body and growing up in Texas. 

It feels like there’s a trans narrative buried in the steaming hot mess that is this work by Takahashi Rumiko-- and it is abundantly clear that was never her intention so I wouldn’t exactly recommend trying to give her an award or anything. She said that she wanted to write a work with a male main character but was so worried about how many male readers she had, she made the decision to make (as she described) a half-male half-female main character (essentially so she could have her cake and eat it too if you will-- all the self aggrandizing fantasies of a male protagonist her male readers could imagine themselves as along with a copious amount of fan service-- the great majority of which was at Ranma’s unwilling expense in his female body which like ://////// (remember that old man I mentioned before??)--  with the female protagonist body). And, like, I’m not saying Takahashi Rumiko is a terrible person or anything-- I don’t know what her beliefs are, I only know her works which are quite old at this point. Takahashi Rumiko is a big deal in the mangaka world because she was one of the first big shonen mangakas who was openly a woman. Normally, men wrote shounen (which literally translates to boys) manga and women wrote shoujo (which literally translates to girls) manga-- the genres were literally divided along gender lines in terms of their intended audiences but also, to a certain extent, their creators. If a woman wanted to write/draw shounen, usually she had to use a pen name that sounded fairly masculine in order to not impact the perception of her work. Takahashi Rumiko was working in that environment so I would understand why she’d want to be careful but, at the same time, I still kind of hate a lot of the things that she normalizes in her works. Especially assault. Both physical and sexual assault she constantly used as a punchline. Not as much anymore. Her most recent work I’ve read was Rinne and the punchline with that one was that the male lead is super poor, literally penniless, and is constantly starving so hahahahha humor amirite? Pain being funny seems to be her through line now that assault is off the table. At least he isn’t constantly getting whole ass tables thrown at him by his love interest as though that’s supposed to be a cute relationship dynamic (Akaneeeeeeeee). I digress. Takahashi Rumiko’s works played a big fucking role in my childhood from Ranma to Inuyasha to Lum (which I encountered well into my teens and therefore didn’t jive with at all because I’d finally learned sexual assault =/= funny and this was one of her more dated works) and so on and just--  I don’t know if I can watch her older stuff the same way I used to. I’m scared to try, honestly. Because some of the ideas behind her works are so interesting-- like Ranma 1/2-- but then you have to sit through episode after episode of a teenage boy in a girl’s body being sexually assaulted by a remorseless old man only to try to fight back at which point he is physically assaulted but also he still has to grovel to and respect said old man because he’s his father’s master and therefore he has to learn martial arts from him but the old man is constantly wagering Ranma having to pose for him in incredibly skimpy outfits if Ranma wants to learn literally anything and alsso RANMA IS FUCKING FIFTEEN/SIXTEEN JESUS CHRIST IS THERE NO FUNCTIONING ADULT ANYWHERE IN THE VVICINITY SAVE HIM!

I NEED TO DIGRESS

It feels like there’s an unintentional trans narrative buried in this anime. It’s not a fun one (but most trans narratives aren’t either so). This is a boy who knows he’s a boy-- even when his body disagrees. He frequently asserts that “he’s a boy” even when in his female body because he is. He’s a boy. He’ll reference being a girl “in appearance” like with the ice cream parfait scene earlier, but when it comes to identity statements, he’s always a boy. This narrative is about him navigating gender presentation and societal assumptions in order to live however he wants. He’s constantly contending with his own forms of gender dysphoria, whether that be his own gripes about doing anything unmanly (eating ice cream) or the very real threat of his mother fucking killing him if he does anything unmanly (aaaaaaaaaaaa), and he navigates tons of threats by choosing how he presents himself.

There are characters that are in love with the male “version” of Ranma and want to kill the female “version” of Ranma (who, for the record, goes by the name Ranko) and vice versa. The Kuno siblings are a great example. Kodachi is in love with Ranma (and is not above literally fucking using date rape drugs on him to get to him) and wants to fucking kill Ranko whereas Tatewaki Kuno, her brother, is in love with Ranko (the lovely pigtailed girl, he calls her) and has literally sent assassins after Ranma. Ranma essentially has to choose between being sexually assaulted or physically assaulted every time he runs into either of them in terms of what body he is presenting. 

I feel like I should let you know, ye who have actually read this far, that Ranma is able to protect himself pretty well from the assault. Like, our boy ain’t dead. Later on he literally fucking kills a god because he’s really passionate about martial arts so he puts all of himself into it and god damnit does his effort show but, honestly, his ability to protect himself shouldn’t mean that it is okay to assault him. Assault is assault. And just because he can fight back doesn’t mean he always does. Akane, his main love interest, regularly sends him through roofs and across town with the force of her Up + B (aka magically appearing hammer), usually for things that aren’t his fault in any way. Akane actually came to the conclusion that Ranma was a pervert when she (fully dressed) walked in on him (naked because he was in the bath) even though the bathroom was obviously occupied. She constantly gets mad at him for things that are beyond his control and then takes her frustrations out on him by literally beating him up and he never fights back-- which is admirable of him but also made me never want to root for their relationship because that isn’t a red flag, my dude, that’s a red planet. the whole of mars is out here trying to warn everyone that this relationship is the most toxic thing since RoundUp.) 

Usually, when watching a show, you get really invested in the character’s aspirations. You want them to ‘get the girl’, ‘get the promotion’, ‘become the pokemon master’ and whatnot. All I ever wanted for Ranma was for him to fake his own death and run far, far away from everyone who ever knew him as “Ranma”. He’d have to fake his own death, obviously, because otherwise his father and Happosai would track him down because, for his father, Ranma is a walking meal ticket and, for Happosai, Ranma is a teenage girl he can sexually assault at any time. Those two would chase Ranma to the ends of the earth if they thought he was trying to get away from them so--

Ranma. Help him.

There’s so much more to dissect with this show. It’s kind of accidentally a great way to look at gender presentation, especially all the terrible negatives that come with constrained gender roles. I use He/Him pronouns when talking about Ranma because it is abundantly clear that he sees himself as a man and I respect that. Sometimes nonbinary-me is like, but think what a gender-fluid icon our boy would be-- literally switching perceived genders via fluids-- and I think that version of Ranma would be a lot happier than the canon one but, I think the canon Ranma is an important reflection of what a lot of people go through, cisgender, transgender, and beyond, when trying to parse what it means to present a gender and the roles you’re supposed to play. 

Maybe Ranma can go on a journey of self-discovery with his own gender after faking his death and escaping Nermina. 

I was all over the place writing this but this isn’t an essay and I’m not being graded so ha fuck you (excpet no not really fuck you because you either a) read this whole thing or b)scrolled down to the bottom to see if i’d get to the fucking point already-- which for the record, I don’t really-- and either way it means you were a little curious what I had to say so thanks I guess). None of this is exceptionally well-thought-out. I wouldn’t exactly stamp this with any kind of official gender discourse seal. It’s all just food for thought. 

[arlingtonpark]

#worthit

You know, we’re lucky Zeke is a moron. At long last he has access to the ultimate power in the world, and instead of using it then and there, he tries to show Eren the error of his ways like this is A Christmas Story or something.

Zeke thought he was Chris Marley and Eren was Ebenezer Scrooge. Turns out, he’s a QANON believer and Grisha is the owner of Comet Ping Pong.

It’s just stunning how unself-aware Zeke is. He’s like one of those hyper-partisan, extremely-online people who shout about how Obama is a tool for the rich, but freeze up when asked for details. This is a man so immersed in his own worldview, his head so far up his ass, that all he accomplished is making the most spectacular own-goal of the entire series.

I mean, he takes Eren on this wild ride, is basically making this all up as he goes along, certain that the next memory will be the one that proves Grisha’s EVIL-ness, and they spend God knows how long watching a dude filing paperwork.

This exercise was meant to turn Eren to his side, but all it’s done is create an opening for Eren to turn Zeke. And that may happen, honestly. Zeke’s beliefs have been pretty shaken now, so he may be receptive to some reasoned persuasion.

But up next is Grisha stealing the Founding Titan, so Zeke definitely won’t be want for validating material.

The only bigger jackass this chapter is Eren.

Eren really, honest and for truly, fucked up. He shat on his friends, he shat on his country, he shat on little kids, and he did it so he could trick Zeke into unlocking the Founding Titan powers for him.

Except now all that’s out the window because actually Zeke is in charge.

Oops.  

Eren presumably did all this because he couldn’t bear to see Historia’s life shortened, but now it seems he has no choice but to do it anyway, meaning he did all this shit for nothing! Amazing! Dreams really don’t come true in this story!

I love how the chapter foreshadows Eren dropping the ball by showing him literally dropping a ball.

At least now it means Historia is going to be relevant again soon. I don’t think I’ve ever said it before, but I lean towards the pregnancy being fake.

Yeah, Historia having a kid means Zeke’s dream can be easily undone, but Zeke probably realizes this and plans to overwrite King Fritz’s deal with the Founding Titan with one of his own: all future royal bearers of the Founding Titan will be infected with Zeke’s ideology instead.

After that, all he’d have to do is feed Eren to Historia. Zeke’s ideology takes over, and everything is set.

Eren needs Historia to eat Zeke, and Zeke would need Historia to eat Eren. And all the while Historia just wants to eat out Ymir.

Would Zeke really do that to his little brother?

…Yeah, he would. Zeke himself said Eren was just a key this whole time. He wants to save Eren from Grisha’s brainwashing, but remember that means convincing him life isn’t worth living. Because of that, Zeke probably wouldn’t even see it as a betrayal. From his perspective, it’d be him freeing Eren from the hell of life.

The reason why I think the pregnancy is fake is because I figure Zeke somehow coerced Historia into it, but then Eren told her about his true intentions and told her get pretend-pregnant. Then, once Zeke was disposed of, Historia could drop the act and live happily ever after.

(And then die with no heirs, thus leading to a succession crisis.)

And if the pregnancy actually is real?

Well, that would be a travesty and I’d rather not think about that.

This chapter has the most explicit endorsement of nationalism so far. Which is bad because no matter how much gold the series puts on it, nationalism is still a garbage heap of an ideology.  

Talking about nationalism and this series is a bit complicated because really there are two levels to this. There’s the depiction of nationalism in itself and then there’s that depiction as it relates to the social context of the story.

Just looking at the story, taking back the Founding Titan and actually having a ruler who cares for his subjects is very reasonable. King Fritz is a lunatic who believes Eldians deserve to die for the sins of their former Empire. And it’s understandable that people like Grisha would be pushed to support extreme beliefs like that the Empire must be restored.

Issues start to arise when you look at the social context of this story. King Fritz is pretty obviously a caricature of progressives who emphasize the need for society to own up to past sins. You see this in the United States with recent debates about Confederate monuments, for example.

Other debates about how the founding of the country is glorified and morally questionable actions like the three-fifths compromise are swept under the rug have been ongoing for literally centuries.

There are progressives who think these facts are not reflected upon enough, and then there are conservatives who think the progressives want Americans to hate being American.

Japan has a similar debate going on. The Japanese Empire of course did many awful things throughout its history, especially during World War II, when it tried to conquer East Asia. Japanese progressives argue this history is not given its due. (It isn’t)

King Fritz is obviously a caricature of these people and not a very flattering one. The strongest evidence that this series leans conservative is the echoing of the popular Japanese conservative talking point that the official history is a “masochistic” one designed to shame Japanese people.

Like, I don’t actually have to explain how the obvious parallel is obvious, do I?

Everything about King Fritz reads like a satire of liberals written by a Fox News pundit. Deranged king so obsessed with past sins he’s cool with his people dying for it? Did Sean Hannity write that?

Said King is a chump because he’s…a pacifist, which makes him weak, I guess. (How can a series be anti-war if #pacifismisforlosers?)

SNK’s brand of anti-pacifism seems reasonable on the surface, but when you consider the real world analogs the story’s set up, things start to fall apart.

The story’s message seems to be that the Eldians should be allowed to live as themselves with no outside interference and they should be allowed to use the wall titans to defend themselves if needed. That seems reasonable, but then you realize the Wall Titans are basically nukes, so the series is basically endorsing nuclear weapons and nuclear proliferation.

Nuclear weapons are not military weapons, as their in-story equivalents are set to be cast as. They’re used to wipe out women and children and unarmed people, and not for military uses. And their use leads to massive environmental damage.

It’s disturbing that the series treats the morality of their use as a given. Isayama doesn’t seem interested in grappling with this exceedingly difficult question at all. There is no debate between the characters on this, literally everyone wants to use them, even Armin who previously made a point of not wanting to.

It’s simply stunning that this series would set up such a weighty situation and just not grapple with the moral implications of it. Does Isayama even realize the metaphor he himself has written?

This isn’t to defend Fritz’s actions. Just up and leaving like he did was lazy and irresponsible, but that just ties back into the hyperbole of the caricature. The details aren’t important in the sense that what’s important is the overall statement being made. It may seem weird, defending the idea this character supposedly stands for, but not defending his literal actions in the story, but that’s because you’re not approaching the story from the perspective of satire.

Isayama’s laughable statements aside, Attack on Titan is clearly satirical. It is making its point through hyperbolic caricature. Though with King Fritz the series arguably veers into straw-manning.

It may be hyperbole, but no reasonable pacifist actually believes we should roll over and let other people kill us, and I honestly can’t believe we are apparently supposed to take this seriously.

The point is that pacifism is bad.

King Fritz swears a vow to renounce war, which the series has lambasted at every possible opportunity. This vow is directly analogous to the vow to renounce war contained in Japan’s constitution, which also binds future generations no matter their personal beliefs since, ya know, it’s the law.

Fritz does this because he believes it will lead to an everlasting peace, which also echoes Japan’s constitution, which renounces war specifically in the name of peace.

Article 9 in Japan is broadly popular with the public, but is criticized by a small usually conservative minority.

All of this is to say that the series echoes conservative talking points and generally seems to be written from that perspective.

Now we come to this chapter. Zeke explicitly refers to Grisha’s ideology as a nationalism and is then made to look like a dumbass for thinking Grisha is an evildoer.

#nationalistshavefeelingstoo.

Yeah, Grisha loves his family, but who cares? The series is clearly going frame Grisha forsaking his mission to be with his family as a mistake, because that’s what this series does! In the world of SNK, people who chase their dreams either fail in some way or are otherwise evil, unless that dream is to fight for the survival of your race, in which case you’re a hero.

Nationalism is bad because it’s an ideology centered on loving your race. It is an inherently exclusionary belief system. The series may not be afraid to criticize specific methods, but the idea of fighting for your race is itself not presented as a bad thing.

Even though in the real world, you would be hard pressed to find a similarly sympathetic example of a nationalist movement.

Nationalism is an inherently emotional ideology, it is fueled by grievance. The series acknowledges that certain expressions of nationalism can be fueled primarily by emotion, but we are also apparently supposed to think that a “rational” nationalism is possible.

In fact, rational nationalism is an oxymoron.

The idea of fighting for your race can never be rational because the notion is inherently irrational. The only people who would care enough about their race to emphasize fighting for it are the desperately insecure.

Whether it’s because they’re desperate for anything about themselves to love, like with Floch, or outraged over the targeting of their race specifically, like with Grisha, nationalism is never born out of some coldly rational thought process.

So now the Yeager Bros. finally succeed and Eren finally gets to betray Zeke. But wouldn’t you know it! It’s the royal who has control of the Founding Titan!

I was leaning against this idea, but for a while now I’ve had the inkling that the Founding Titan is supposed to be a metaphor for the concept of sovereignty, and now it seems that instinct was right.

Sovereignty refers to the absolute authority that governments have. In republics like the United States, sovereignty resides in the government, but it is exercised on behalf of the people.

In monarchies, sovereignty resides in the reigning monarch, who rules by God’s grace.

The key word here is “resides.” The king/president is merely a vessel for the sovereign authority of the government.

For many centuries, kings, and, later, officeholders in general, were thought of as having two bodies.

Their body natural, that is, their physical, human bodies.

And the body politic, that is, the power that comes with the office.

When the king dies, only their body natural dies, but the body politic is eternal and passes on to the next body natural that occupies the position of king.

The Founding Titan is apparently modeled after this idea. Each successive Eldian king is a vessel for the Founding Titan, which grants absolute authority over all Eldians, but only to those who are of royal blood, ie those with the right to rule.

Of course, only people with a legitimate claim to the throne may properly exercise sovereign authority, just as only Zeke may command the Founding Titan. As I said in an earlier post, as a commoner, Eren’s use of the Founding Titan is illegitimate by default.

Needing a royal sympathetic to his cause creates an opening for Historia to become relevant again and that just highlights how everything would’ve been better if Eren had just used her in the first place.

I get that Eren cares about his friends (really hoping he and Historia are just friends), but if you think that makes Eren sympathetic, then let me tell you a little secret: it doesn’t.

Prioritizing someone’s literal life over another’s simply because you know them is awful. It reduces the choice of what you should do to the randomness of who you just so happen to have gotten to know better.

If this was just about who Eren was going to spend a Saturday night with, then choosing based on rapport would be fine, but the stakes here are significantly higher. People are dead.

The excuse that Eren is doing this for his friend’s sake is no excuse at all.

At this point we’re half way through the fourth volume of this arc. The next chapter will probably wrap up this A Christmas Story riff and the chapter after that will most likely end with the Wall Titans finally being awakened.

Afterwards, I’m betting it’s just one more volume to close out the story proper and then maybe we’ll get a volume for that epilogue Isayama mentioned once in an interview.

[pharaohsparklefists]

It’s part 2 of Episode 115, and you can catch up with the zany antics of part 1 right here if you missed it!

(If you enjoy these recaps and want to see them continue, please think about helping me navigate my currently highly unstable life by becoming a patron. I am having a bit of a Time right now in my real life and it would mean the world to me!)

So iiiiiit’s Kaiba vs Noah in the Irritating Boy Prodigy World Championship and Kaiba is tired of Noah’s posturing and “pretentious” statements. He claims that such talk...

Which is really quite lovely and poetic, although also perhaps a touch unclear as an example of card game trash talk, no? And of course, I wouldn’t go so far myself as to suggest it is also bordering on, ahem, pretentious. I will leave that to the judgement of my honoured reader.

I do think it’s cool that Seto sees a version of himself on steroids if he’d stayed as a good Kaiba son, and recognises all his disdain for humanity as an excuse to avoid emotions. I mean, it’s nice he can recognise it, although it would be EVEN NICER if Seto didn’t also reasonably frequently disguise his normal human emotions with disdain but HEY baby steps.

Anyway he confronts Noah’s story of Gozaburo’s intentions and fatherly love with a direct challenge; if Gozaburo really intended for AI!Noah to take over KaibaCorp instead of Seto, then...

This triggers a loooong flashback from Noah, during which, I have to imagine, Seto et al just stood around in awkward and slightly huffy silence, presuming Noah was just buffering.

Lil Noah (same size, probably, but younger) wakes up after a “bad dream” in which he was killed in a traffic accident. He discovers he’s locked in his bedroom with NO MAIDS which is very unusual for him. One wall turns semi-transparent which is also pretty unusual, I assume, and Gozaburo appears.

It’s translated as “Father” which is usually 父 (chichi) or more formally お父さん (otosan) in Japanese, but I thiiiink he’s calling him 父上 (chichiue) and sort of mushing the sounds together cause it sounds like he’s saying something like “chiiue”. I dunno if that’s more or less formal but it literally means “father-up” or “father-above” soooo... check out the notes and see if someone who understands Japanese better than I do added any information!

From Gozaburo’s perspective, he now has less of a son and more of a big chibi tamagotchi on a screen in his creepy sci-fi basement

“Can you, uh ... step back. You’re freaking me out. Creepy-ass ghost boy.”

Gozaburo is actually really really Nice and Kind about the whole thing which I personally think is bullshit because Gozaburo is an abusive monster and yeah you get real life abusive monsters who are nice to their own (dead?) kids but “poor Gozabuwo he’s so saaad he bought his dead kid a puppy” is not the hard-hitting addition to the Kaiba brothers’ backstory that I asked for.

Here’s the fuckin puppy:

It is not, Mr Gozaburo, it is creepy. It looks like a sad puppy-kitten hybrid. You pushed the KAWAII slider too far.

Anyway for a while everything is totally fine and great in Dead Kid Digital Paradise. Noah gets a trip to space AND a cake for his birthday whereas usually children only get ONE of those two things and they don’t even get to choose which (get in the fucking rocket, Timmy). Noah sometimes forgets he’s not real.

“Ha yes, when I uploaded render=>seas[d=HD,colour=#2B94FC] I definitely saw exactly what you saw...”

But Noah has become disillusioned with the NPCs in his digital world, even “Sunny” the miserable hybrid. Gozaburo asks after Sunny and Noah assures him Sunny is TOTALLY FINE

“That’s what I most wanted to add to my living arrangements. A rabid animal auditioning for Mad Max 5: Also The Pets Went Feral.

So then, making light birthday conversation, Noah’s like “hey dad you know what’s cool, if we tried hard and believed in ourselves...”

Gozaburo is like “huh. how many people would survive?” and Noah’s like, “eh probably 3%” and I was a lil worried they were going to have Gozaburo go all ~genocide is wrong, what have I done to raise this monster~ but instead he was like, “hmm seems a little low? anyway interesting idea but now I’m bored byeeeee”

Apparently that brush-off was Noah’s first indication that Gozaburo was not quite as into his digital son as he was into his physical-reality son

Shortly thereafter, Seto and Mokuba showed up, but apparently Noah was never mentioned to them and they never noticed Gozaburo’s time in his creepy child-tamagotchi-dungeon and I DON’T KNOW guys I just don’t like the implications of this post-hoc rejiggery of a very strong backstory. You know what Seto’s backstory did not need? The removal of all little!Seto’s agency, in order to reframe Gozaburo’s abuse as arising from grief. 

Anyway, Kaiba’s like,

And I’m like, you’re tragically lost to some undergraduate philosophy discussion group, my sweet darling pretentious teenager. Can you IMAGINE how insufferable 16-year-old private-jet-owning history-refusing god-killing Seto motherfucking Kaiba would be in your undergrad philosophy class? Some incisive but retiring young woman is, in another universe, as we speak type read, raising both eyebrows at something he just declaimed in response to the long-suffering TA and adding it to her wildly successful That Crazy Rich Kid In My Phil Class twitter.

Despite his ridiculousness, Kaiba does make an excellent point:

Noah has shunned his humanity, cocooning himself in contextless (and GEOLOGICALLY INACCURATE) knowledge and smug disdain. On the other hand, people could definitely turn out WORSE after like 10? years in near-total isolation with godlike powers over a virtual reality but no ability to affect the outside world.

Noah doesn’t like Kaiba pointing out his flaws so he tries to get the conversation back on track by making a VERY UNDERWHELMING “prediction”

He’s holding up his fingers like that because he ~~predicts~~ that this ~~mysterious event~~ will take place on the third turn. It’s currently the second turn. AND HE IS IN CONTROL OF LIKE THEIR ENTIRE SENSORY EXPERIENCE. It’s not a ~~~~prediction~~~~ it’s just a fucking THREAT and you just know, you just KNOW, when he follows through on his THREAT, next fuCKING TURN, he’s gonna be all like ohoho I’m sooooo SMART I ~~~~~~predicted~~~~~~ this very outcome ohohohoho. 

Fuck you Noah.

In any case, no one is particularly phased by his prediction THREAT because after all, 

“Shock is not one of his core emotions. They are contemptuous disdain, glee, attention-seeking, Mokuba!, DUEL, and I must kill god and I will. 

[weregonnaneedmorewhiskey]

Social Media:Guilty in the court of public opinion. The problem with cancel culture and its toxic nature and why I have a major problem with it

DISCLAIMER: If you read parts of this and not the whole thing and type a “rebuttal”. Just save your time and don’t do it because you don’t the smoke

Ok before I start, I would like to say this. 1. If you are an ignorant person who cannot accept the opinions and thought of others then don’t read this. 2. If you don’t take the time to look at facts, then don’t read this. I don't have time for you and 3. If you are to crucify people then you can just go. I just gave you some warnings already so why is your ass still here?! Ok I have a love/hate relationship with social media. I think social media can be great in terms of communicating with others and making friends online and of course sharing memes and funny videos because those are fantastic. Social media can be great for displaying people’s interests and talents. I myself have a photography blog alongside this one and some people have made a career from social media. However like all good things, it has its ugly side. In the last year or so, a trend has appeared on social media and that's cancel culture. I myself have never taken part in cancel culture myself as I thought it was toxic, immature and petty in most circumstances. I'm definite that cancel culture will come to an end (hopefully this year) but for now, we have to deal with it on our timelines. Anything that is either taken out of context, blow out of proportion or is a simple mistake will face the court of public opinion. The social justice warriors of the internet, the holier than thou folks will decide your fate.

First and for most, we all need to remember that we are all human. We make mistakes and we learn from it. I am not better than the next person as I have made my fuck ups at the end of the day but we all grow and evolve. I have several problems with cancel culture. If a person makes a mistake or has made a mistake in the past, that does not give you the right to ruin them. By doing so you are no better than the person who’s made a mistake and you are ruining a person’s life. Prime example, Kevin Hart and the Oscars. Kevin Hart was forced to step down as the host for this year's Oscars ceremony due to some homophobic tweets from 2009. Whilst I believe that homophobia is wrong, Kevin has moved on from a tweet that he made almost a decade ago in which that comments probably wouldn’t have taken as seriously. Kevin has grown and evolved but the court of public opinion has forced him to step down from the role due to the mass controversy. If you are searching through old tweets from 2009, you clearly have an agenda to ruin a person’s life because you are blinded by your hatred and do not want to see someone have success. This role was an amazing opportunity for Kevin but because of this toxic era of being overly PC, it was taken away because people wanted to hold his past against him and not acknowledge his evolution. 

Now let’s get to how cancel culture is effecting the legal system. We’ve all heard the term “innocent until proven guilty”. In terms of the legal system, this is still true but for social media, this isn't the cause. Cancel culture has pronounced people to be guilty into proven innocent. People are no longer reading the facts, they are immediate to jump to conclusion, therefor inspiring this title “guilty in the court of public opinion” This is extremely dangerous. Social media should have no influence in the judicial system WHATSOEVER unless the person has committed the crime on Instagram Live (a man who raped someone on Instagram Live was recently found not guilty, just letting you know. What a fucked up world we’re living in huh?). When it comes to a case, people need to look at the evidence that has been presented and not from outside influences especially if it turns out shock horror that the person is actually innocent and then they’ve been sentenced to 25 to life. 

This leads perfectly leads into my next point. So if you've been on Twitter in the last 24 hours then you would have seen that Chris Brown was detained in Paris for several hours on a rape complaint. Now before I go into this and break this down, if you are expecting me to drag Chris and call him a piece of shit and xyz, you can stop reading this now because I’m happy to let you know that I am a fan of Chris and have been since his debut. Now when this report broke out, I immediately went and read the whole report because we look at facts in this household. As soon as I saw that the “accuser” had done an interview with Closer Magazine France and went to The Shade Room, I immediately raised an eyebrow because why would you go to a tabloid before going to the police? This rang some serious bells and red flags and reminded of another incident involving Chris.

 Back in 2016, a woman went to TMZ to say that Chris had held her at gunpoint. Again if you were held at gunpoint, then why are you going to a tabloid? Eventually LAPD found out that this was a false allegation and Chris was released from jail and the charges were dropped. Another thought that popped across my mind is that “I don’t think Chris is that stupid to do something like with the amount of negative press he's had in career over the last decade and I can’t see him doing something like especially since he has a daughter who is his life and who has helped him grow up significantly” . Bear in mind Chris has not made a public appearance since October when he attended Diddy’s Halloween party and his public appearance are few and far between now within the last few years with Royalty in his life. He mainly stay at home or is on the road. Paris fashion week is the first public appearance from him in months. 

The accuser then went on to Instagram to say that she was not raped by Chris and he was not even present at the club that it was claimed that they met. Several eyewitnesses also went to social media to confirm that the allegations were false and that Chris never had an encounter with this woman and that he has never been alone at one point during this Paris trip. (PSA can we you know go to the fucking police to give statements to prove someone is innocent or guilty instead of going to social media because you are screwing with someone’s livelihood here!). Of course the court of public opinion came and gave their two cents on the situation and they pretty much proclaimed that Chris was guilty without looking at the facts. 

Now if you are about to say “well look at 2009?” Yes Chris made a mistake which I don't agree with but we also need to remind/enlighten ourselves that the Rihanna incident was A FIGHT and both parties were wrong. She should have not hit him and he shouldn’t have retaliated. (side note: can we hold women accountable of when they are abusive towards men because there is a serious gender bias when it comes to abuse in relationships and we need to remind ourselves both genders can be abusive). He has also evolved from that and showed genuine remorse for the situation. The majority of social media were on Chris’ side in regards to this situation and he was eventually released from police custody when the French police found out the accusations was false and issued an apology to Chris and told him that he was free to leave the country. Chris’ lawyer has said that he intends to sue for defamation of character rightly so and Chris has also gone to social media to deny the allegation. Chris’ situation sparks several different issues. The first being in regards to social media. It is extremely dangerous and toxic to contribute to a false narrative without looking at the fact especially with a charge as serious as rape and even more the silence upon it being revealed that accusations were false just shows how DISGUSTING people can be since many people wanted this accusations to be true. 

This shows the type of world we live in that people WANT a woman to be raped all the expense of not liking someone. I cannot associate myself with people who think like this when they are actual rapists such as R Kelly who is yet to be charged for his NUMEROUS crimes against underage black girls despite concrete evidence and a tape but yet we can arrest Chris on a false accusation and several eyewitness and hotel footage to show that he didn't commit this crime? Kevin Spacey and Matt Lauer are also rapists who careers have ended but have yet to be charged for the crime despite once again having concrete evidence and eyewitnesses. The president of the United States is also guilty of sexual assault and is on a recording bragging about his crimes like its a badge of honour. Brett Kavanaugh is walking a free man despite also having concrete evidence and eyewitness confirming his crime. Asia Argento, a victim of Harvey Weinstein was discovered to be guilty of sexual abuse after a young man came forward about how he was abused by Asia as a teenager. Harvey Weinstein is awaiting trial for his numerous crimes. Why can't the court of public opinion keep the same energy they had for a man who was innocent for those who are guilty. Secondly in light of the Me too movement, to accuse someone of a crime as serious as rape is extremely dangerous to their career and their character, a person’s life can be destroy at the expense of an opportunist. Additionally to lie about rape is DISGUSTING! This is what stops ACTUAL rape victims from coming forward because we have people who lie about it and the true victims aren't taken as seriously as a result. I would also think in light of the Me Too movement and Surviving R Kelly, people would pay more attention to the facts now before we “cancel” people.  Personally I think that if you lie about a offence as serious as rape, you should go to jail and get sued because you are evil and karma will come to you. What if this your brother or your son or uncle or dad etc who was being accused of this crime? How would you feel if everyone thought they were guilty because of a mistake they made a teenager that has nothing to do with what they were currently accused of? Just think about that for a moment. 

To end this I think Chris deserves an apology, one of them being from Eve after her comments on The Talk and that he should not only sue the women who lied but should sue media outlets such as TMZ and The Shade Room for defamation of character and let's remember this: innocent until proven guilty and look at the facts (in this day and age we really need to do this)

Update: Malibu Dollface made a video pretty much explaining everything I feel about cancel culture. Please watch and support him because he’s amazing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah4ZfxTqT5s

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Ten Things I Learned from the Watchmen Movie

by Dan H

Thursday, 12 March 2009

Dan resists the urge to use a variant of “Who Watches the Watchmen” for his title.~

This was going to be a longer article, but I actually don't want to devote any more time to this ass-boring piece of shit.

Here's ten things I learned from watching the Watchmen (damn, I actually can't avoid using that sentence) movie.

1. I never want to see another Zack Snyder movie again. Seriously.

2. The seats in the Odeon are actually not fit for purpose.

3. When you decide not to see a movie because

one of the screenwriters is a smug twat

you should just not see it.

4. When adapting a comic book to the screen you should change the fucking dialogue. Things that look good written down just sound fucking stupid when somebody is trying to say them.

5. TV shows advertise in cinemas, how weird is that?

6. When you are adapting a comic book to the screen you should let the actors fucking move. Movies dudes – the clue is in the name.

7. When you are adapting a comic book to the screen you do not have to leave space in the shot for the speech bubbles.

8. If you get the urge to leave a cinema thirty minutes into the film, you should just leave. Particularly if you know exactly what every fucking scene will be because it does not deviate from the source material in any way.

9. Alan Moore dates really, really badly.

10. The plot of Watchmen doesn't actually make sense.

That's it. That's all the time and energy I can bring myself to expend on this.Themes:

TV & Movies

,

Watchmen

~

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Arthur B

at 09:54 on 2009-03-12On 2: Yes, definitely, they're terrible. There's no leg room, which I suppose is a vice which cinemas will always indulge in, but the lack of fucking

cup holders

is baffling. Do they

enjoy

cleaning up spillages?

On 9: Somewhat agreed. I think the film would have been more timely a few years ago, when people doing terrible things out of the fear of WMDs and Republican Presidents being cacklingly evil would have hit a bit more of a raw nerve. Even then, it would be a victim of the comic's success; pretty much everyone who writes superhero stories since

Watchmen

came out is responding to it, if only in the sense that just about everyone who writes superhero stories has read it and has an opinion (pro- or anti-, mainly pro-) on it. It changed the genre it studied, and therefore immediately became outdated.

I still think

From Hell

is the only Moore book which has a claim to timelessness. Maybe it's the fact that it's ruminating on crimes that were a century old when the book was written in the first place.

10: I think people make more of a big deal out of the plot than it really merits. (Seriously, who cares whether it's a fake alien squid or a fake blue dick that blows the cities up?) It's just a framing device which, IMO, is deliberately over-the-top and stupid because

Watchmen

is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

This does not change the fact that people are crying hot buttery tears about the squid not being in the film.

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Wardog

at 10:11 on 2009-03-12Watchmen is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

Really? I thought it was about comics?

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Arthur B

at 10:31 on 2009-03-12

Really? I thought it was about comics?

I am mildly confused as to what you mean here but I'll try to answer it.

When

Watchmen

was written the superhero genre consisted of a) comics and b) adaptations from the comics. You didn't have (to my knowledge) anything like

The Incredibles

or

Soon I Will Be Invincible

or

Wild Cards

, where you have original sources for superhero stories which aren't comics.

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Rami

at 10:36 on 2009-03-12What's faintly depressing is that lots of the vaguely interesting and meta things coming out of Watchmen have already been done on film (

even in CG

), and people are still going on about how Revolutionary it is.

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Arthur B

at 10:45 on 2009-03-12

The Incredibles

can't be revolutionary because nobody has their arms cut off with a circular saw.

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Rami

at 10:46 on 2009-03-12Oh yes that's right, it's too family-friendly to be Gritty and Edgy and Totally Making You Look Differently At Life...

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Dan H

at 11:28 on 2009-03-12

It's just a framing device which, IMO, is deliberately over-the-top and stupid because Watchmen is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

I dunno, I always thought that the whole "blow up the world to save the world" thing was supposed to be srs bzns. Fake Squid or Fake Blue Guy doesn't really make any difference, but I absolutely don't think it's supposed to be deliberately stupid.

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Arthur B

at 11:39 on 2009-03-12There's a man saying "What do you think I am? Some sort of supervillain?" as he wears a costume straight out of

Flash Gordon

in the middle of his Egyptian-themed fortress in the Antarctic as his genetically engineered lynx pads about, as the climax of an exchange in which he explains precisely how his scientifically ludicrous doomsday weapon fits into his epic scheme to change the world, and you think it's not intentionally silly?

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Dan H

at 11:50 on 2009-03-12I think it's intentionally *bathetic*.

You're missing two really important points, the first one being that the "what do you think I am, some sort of Supervillain" line is *followed* by the revelation that Ozymandias' scheme has actually worked. It's a bait-and-switch, he does the classic Villain speech in full on Villain attire in his Secret Arctic Base, but at the last second it is revealed that he has beaten the genre convention by putting his plan into action before the heroes were ready.

The second point is that Ozymandias' plan actually *works*. He genuinely does bring about world peace, and prevent the annihilation of humanity.

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Arthur B

at 12:02 on 2009-03-12But I think the point of the sequence is not to have a trite "guy who does supervillainous stuff but actually brings about a good thing" ending so much as it is meant to make a statement about the interaction of superheroes and supervillains (and to do that it needs to make sure the heroes are acting like heroes and the "villain" is acting like a wildly over-the-top villain).

The whole deal with the end of Watchmen is that it turns out Adrian was the only person acting proactively all along and everyone else was just reacting to him, just as in superhero comics in general the heroes are eternally reactive and only villains are proactive; it's the villains who are actually hoping to achieve something, and all the heroes ever try to do is get in the way of that.

But at the same time, I think in terms of the actual importance of

Watchmen

as a work the armageddon plot is one of the less significant parts. It's punchy when you read it the first time and it makes an interesting point, but it loses a lot of its impact when you know it's coming and the point it makes is kind of obvious. I liked it the first time I read the comic, but it's not the thing I

re

read the comic for - I reread it because of the character studies.

Put it this way: to my mind, you could swap out the entire armageddon story for some other MacGuffin, and

Watchmen

would still be a great book. But you couldn't lose the character studies without losing the spirit of the work. (It was originally conceived, after all, as a way for Moore to reimagine the various Charlton Comics characters that DC had acquired and introduce them to a modern audience).

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Arthur B

at 14:41 on 2009-03-12Having given the film more thought, I've decided that I'm actually really angry about the soundtrack: whoever picked the songs was the laziest motherfucker in the world, unfailingly picking the most obvious possible choice at any point. "The Times They Are A Changin-'" during an alternate history montage is an example, but I was particularly annoyed by the use of Cohen's "Hallelujah" during a love scene - it's a great song, but hasn't the poor thing been overexposed enough as it is? Let it rest.

The most bizarre aspect of it is that in the scene in question in the comic there's a Billie Holiday track playing in the background they could have happily used, and they'd get to stroke themselves and mutter about how loyal and true they were being to the source material. In fact, there's all sorts of song suggestions in the text which are pretty much ignored, so as well as being obvious, unoriginal, and inappropriate for the period the story is set in, the soundtrack is also incongruous for being the one aspect of the film which isn't striving towards loyalty. It's a small thing but it's really aggravating when you notice it - like if you realise the violinists in a symphony orchestra aren't bothering to play along with everyone else.

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http://fintinobrien.livejournal.com/

at 04:53 on 2009-03-13Point 3: Oh my god, Solid Snake is angry at me!

I like that Hayter talks about the "Snake fans" in the same sentence where he praises "smart" stories. Heehee, Metal Gear Solid is smart now. I must have missed the memo.

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Dan H

at 13:18 on 2009-03-13He's actually talking about Solid Snake from the metal gear series?

To be honest, I couldn't say who *else* he'd be talking about (unless it's the dude from the Simpsons).

To be honest, it was the reference to Rorshach fans that lost me - isn't the whole point of Rorshach that he actually *isn't* cool?

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Arthur B

at 13:23 on 2009-03-13David Hayter is the

English voice for Solid Snake.

Oh look, he's really excited by the idea of making a

Metal Gear Solid

movie! And he wants it made in CGI so he can voice Snake! Suddenly the motives behind his letter become clear...

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Wardog

at 14:52 on 2009-03-13Just when you thought things couldn't get any *worse.*

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Gina Dhawa

at 17:24 on 2009-03-13@10 - I love the thing to bitty pieces and the first time I got to the ending I said "....

wha?

". I think it's a faintly ludicrous plot, but I agree with Arthur that the plot is in fact is deliberately so. Veidt is closer to the superhero mould than anyone else (except Dr Manhattan), he's already "over the top". Not only is he smart enough to be a great traditional supervillain, even his physical feats are set as outstanding in the

Watchmen

universe - that whole thing about actually catching the bullet. This is why I like that they cast Matthew Goode, who looks far too young (not to mention fairly fragile) to be the comic's Adrian, because it brings to life how much larger than life Veidt really is.

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Arthur B

at 18:15 on 2009-03-13Yeah, while Dr Manhattan is the Watchman with the most actual superpowers I think there's a case to be made that Adrian is the closest out of all of them to the superheroes of the Silver Age; he's irritatingly perfect, never really worries about where he's going to get his resources from, pulls cool powers and gadgets out of his arse at a moment's notice and he never, ever, ever doubts himself for a second.

You could almost imagine him having Stan Lee's voice in his head breathlessly narrating all of his actions. DON'T MISS THE NEXT RIP-ROARING INSTALLMENT OF OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS, AS OUR HERCULEAN HIEROPHANT BATTLES THE MUCK-RAKING MILKSOPS AT THE NEW FRONTIERSMAN!

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http://fintinobrien.livejournal.com/

at 04:00 on 2009-03-14

To be honest, it was the reference to Rorshach fans that lost me - isn't the whole point of Rorshach that he actually *isn't* cool?

Considering Hayter's draft for the script had Dreiberg killing Adrian because "it's what Rorschach would have done" I think Hayter missed that point. Actually, the idea that Rorschach is meant to be held up as an inspiration disturbs more than I'd like to go into.

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Wardog

at 10:51 on 2009-03-14God yes - you're absolutely right.

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Arthur B

at 13:10 on 2009-03-14Alan Moore has actually read Hayter's draft of the script - he said it was pretty close to the comic, but he still objected on the grounds that he thinks direct adaptations of comic books are a bad idea on principle. He's also mentioned being worried that Snyder would treat Rorschach as a heroic figure, considering his treatment of

300

; I don't know whether that worry came from reading Hayter's script, but I certainly don't think it would have been alleviated by it.

Still, the actor who plays Rorschach in the film does a good job of coming across as a psychopath, so at least

he

understands.

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Arthur B

at 11:14 on 2009-03-18So, David Hayter wanted everyone to go see

Watchmen

on the second weekend to make sure the film's earnings didn't collapse.

Well, an

approximately 70% drop

is

not really what he was hoping for

. Snake won't be pleased.

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Dan H

at 15:17 on 2009-03-18♪♪ It's ... Schaaaa-denfreude. Making the world a better place to beee.... ♪♪

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Arthur B

at 11:11 on 2009-03-25More schadenfreude:

Watchmen

performed

absolutely miserably

in its third weekend, and there's a growing consensus that, whatever its merits, it's a financial dud.

Of course, this means that Zack Snyder won't be able to find work in Hollywood ever ag

WAIT WHAT THE-

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Arthur B

at 16:13 on 2009-04-27Another dose of schadenfreude:

Watchmen

's

performance in the box office

seems to have been mildly worse than

Batman and Robin

's.

The consensus seems to be it's going to end up making some money on DVD sales, which is a consolation for the studio, but it's not delivered the dizzying return on investment that would have made sinking $100 million into it worthwhile.

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http://orionsnebula.blogspot.com/

at 08:34 on 2009-12-19Charitably? I'm inclined to think whoever picked the soundtrack was trying to call attention to the very soundtrackness of it, to pull the readers out of the scene a little bit. The comic book had the Tales form the Black Freighter overlaying the action providing a similar distance/ironic commentary, and also reminded you you were in a comic by doing tricks with the layout in Manhattan's chapters and elsewhere.

I'm not defending it, I think the soundtrack mostly backfires horribly and comes across and cutesy fourth-wall breaking, but that's my guess as to the intending effect.

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Show / Hide Comments -- More in March 2009

[justmysicklypride]

P-P-P-Play that shit: ptv analysis - Part 2

 Hi what’s up everyone and welcome to this week’s pew news. This is a continuation of my last post where I pretty much summed up Pierce The Veil’s career from the beginning to present and gave an overview of their rise and downfall. You can check it out here, but if you already know about everything or have read it already then feel free to ignore it. In any case, I was originally gonna make these two posts as one but ran out of room bc who the hell would read that much text in a blog post (me) so here you go - part two of this fucking conspiracy theory because I didn’t even get to share any of my thoughts in the last one. (I also forgot to put headers with each new topic smh apologies to the English language)

Edit: it’s been fucking eons since I wrote the last one/started writing this one like legit I even changed my user. The reason why this has been put off for so long will be explained later but yh smh

Gigantic obligatory disclaimer: Everything that I will discuss whether it be in this post or my last, or any future posts that relate to this subject IS NOT going to touch on the subject of the “sexual relations with a minor” incident in itself. I will not go into detail about my own views on this specific matter as there is literally no way to win because whatever I say could be taken out of context by literally anyone. That being said, I do not condone pedophilia, I do not condone sexual harassment or rape, and I do not undermine the importance of consent. I respect the laws of different states, as I know they vary with time and place, and I understand that everyone has their own opinions and I do not wish to impose my own onto others.

In regards to this, however, I do have to acknowledge that I, first and foremost, do not think that Mike Fuentes is innocent, and I strongly believe that how the band handled this situation was just plain terrible, but I do also have to acknowledge the fact that this situation is to stay between the accuser and the victim, as well as their respective legal teams and that I should not go nosedive headfirst into anything like this when it does not directly affect or require my judgement as a necessity, lest I face any legalities or blacklash as a result. Furthermore, everything that I will be talking about are conspiracies only and I do not in any way assume or imply that any of this is true.

In other words, I don’t mean to offend anyone but if you end up getting offended then that’s on you, not me. Let’s begin.

Introduction 

The points that I am trying to highlight in this essay post is, in simple words, that Pierce The Veil’s... well, everything, comes off as kind of a conspiracy, almost, to me. I have had these thoughts for a long-ish time, and so this post is basically me finally making a post that covers all things that I have been thinking of in the past. Unlike my previous post, this one is a lot less fact-based and a lot more opinionated, so if you’re not into that, then that’s fair. Otherwise, I will be discussing the following things (in this order): the topic of kellic, Misadventures, and the accusation + response.

When Life Gives You Lemons, You Ship Them Together And Call It Lemonade

I refer to my last post and assume that everyone understands how “kellic” came to be and what it means. To summarise to the bare minimum best of my abilities, it’s the ship name of Vic Fuentes and Kellin Quinn, aka what people call it when someone wants or is keen on the idea of these two frontmen having an affair with each other in a (typically) fictional setting. It happens all the time, especially in this day and age where you can easily just find someone with the same obsession as you with a click of a button. That’s why King For A Day, and inadvertently Collide With The Sky, became such a huge success. It appealed to the right demographic of teenagers and tweens who were ecstatic at the prospect of shipping, and went on to achieve even more impressive feats following that. How you ask? Well, by going on a tour around the world of course. Together. Playing shows every night that ends with one of them literally carrying the other off the stage. Gotta give the people what they want, hey?

I have a strong belief that the key to success is through beating the system at its own game. In this case, the game is simple - get fans, get money. Unfortunately, as we all know, getting fame isn’t as easy as simply earning it through grit and determination. To achieve fame, one must find a way to do something at the right time in the right way so that people will notice. If one person does, and your fire doesn’t die out right away, then you’ve got yourself a forest fire. Then later on, all you gotta do is keep this forrest fire going, but assuming that there isn’t someone standing on the other side with the whole fire department’s resources in tow, then the only thing stopping this fire is itself, because with all things in life, fire dies out, and fame stops accumulating after a while if nothing is done about it. Humans need entertainment. If something starts to fail to pique their interests, then they move on. That’s why YouTubers are required to change up their content every now and again in order to try and relight that spark they once had, and even then there’s a good chance that they won’t. 

I was originally going to write another blog essay about this whole YouTube analogy thing but quickly realised that for one, I don’t have time bc I’m getting my ass fucked by university on a daily basis; and that for another, there’s most likely a billion other videos or essays about this topic as is, so I’ll just link one or two of them here. I haven’t watched them all yet or I don’t remember much of them, but all they do is pretty much summarise up stuff like how YouTubers become successful and their downfalls and all that, and even though they kinda focus on a specific person or group of people, I feel like it could be generalised.

Even without the YouTube metaphor, we know shipping works. It is evident in multiple works across various media that giving the fans what they want is often what gives these people their continued success, such as Dan Howell and Phil Lester, who have all but stopped trying to create their own individual branding (save for their separate merch stores that are probably there just to get more people to buy their overpriced clothing), and who at this point have become such an overused example that I actually hesitated writing that. Why do you think movies and shows and cartoons mostly have a romantic subplot? Romance is an essential trope in literature and easily one of the most popular genre out there for various reasons. According to a Bustle article written in 2016, romance often gives the readers a sense of hope or gives them a way to live out their fantasies in the easiest way possible, and while this may not apply to everyone, (personally I’m not a romance fan much at all but I can appreciate good literature), it’s hard to deny the phrase “sex sells”.

Given that, you’d think that any company with half a brain would learn to exploit it, but for some reason this wasn’t the case in Pierce The Veil’s management, and no matter how I look at it, I can’t really see the reason why. It’s not like the band members are uncomfortable with the ship - Jaime Preciado has been seen kissing Vic Fuentes on stage (not on the lips guys chill) (I had forgotten how fucking difficult it takes to find this one specific clip so here’s a couple different fuenciado pictures instead to make up for it smfh), and Vic Fuentes has mentioned kellic in a live stream once jokingly - and Kellin Quinn is notoriously known for being completely okay with it (so long as he doesn’t have to look at it), so just what is the reason?

This Ain’t A Hiatus, It’s A Goddamned Arms Race

I’d be lying if I didn’t miss all the memes that all stemmed from the Pierce The Veil boys not being able to release an album when they’d promised, before postponing said album yet again and disappearing off of the face of the earth digitally for another year or two, giving them a total of four years as their unofficial, unannounced hiatus. For this, I have several questions.

We all know Vic Fuentes loves taking his sweet ass time releasing music - he’s admitted to remaking his first album a second time before releasing it, as stated an interview a couple years back - but you can’t honestly tell me their management just let them get away with it. Sure, through this time they’ve been pushing out new merch to no end, but something tells me that this giant gap they’ve wedged between the new album and Collide With The Sky isn’t gonna be good publicity, despite all the memes that’ve sprouted from it. There’s been fans who stopped taking interest in this band because of it, as well as fans who have just gotten fed up with having to wait so long. They scrapped a whole completed album in the process of creating Misadventures too, and while it’s not uncommon for bands to throw away near-completed ideas at whim, it’s also not unlikely for there to be some external factors or reasoning behind why they did it. Could it be that the album they threw away stayed too close to their roots and management or some other person told the band to start again, so that they can create something more appealing to this day and age? Or could it be something else that is hard to see at face-value?

You’ll Never Get Ahold Of Me Now

Finally, I’m gonna address the overdue elephant in the room. If you want to read the full thing, here it is because I’m tired of having to reiterate what happened. Mike Fuentes received a sexual allegation by some girl(s) and the band released a shitty statement that has since gotten deleted - that’s the general gist of it. 

Like I said, it’s been literal months (or weeks idk my perception of time is severely fucked) since I actually started making this post so literally no one cares anymore, but regardless of what past me has promised or written down, I’m not going to be discussing the allegation in itself, but rather what and/or how the band and their subsequent management has handled it, in that they handled it so bad that I honestly can’t believe they did it like that. 

Edit: I wasn’t gonna bother finding another copy of the statement bc no one’s gonna give a shit but then I’d be doing some baseless shit and I honestly can’t stand people who half ass these things, despite my growing urge to do the same thing, so here’s the statement. 

For starters, who the hell waits one whole month before releasing a statement? From what I can remember, their excuse was allegedly that pretty much management forbade them to talk or make a statement about it earlier for... reasons? (Just realised I don’t actually have the source for this so idk take it with a grain of salt I guess because I was sure I had read this somewhere but I can’t back it up.) 

That’s not even the worst part, either. The statement itself gave zero closure to literally everything. Yes, they acknowledged the allegation, but that’s just about as far as they went. The whole point of a statement is to clear things up, whether the accuser was right or wrong, and what steps will be taken from there, whether an apology is to be issued or not. No shit you know about the incident, who in the fandom wouldn’t? Instead pointing out the straight up obvious, what they should’ve done was 1) not waited an entire fucking month before talking about it, most likely hoping the whole thing to blow over by then and 2) actually talked about the incident in their statement instead of tiptoeing around the subject like some sort of time bomb ready to go off. There is no right or wrong answer, because literally all they had to do was tell the truth - as in write down a statement from Mike (not the whole fucking band mind you) about his take on the whole thing or get him to say what had happened from his point of view. Then resolve it privately with your legal team and whatnot if they really feel the need. Hell, all he needed to do was apologise. Whether something like that classifies as assault or rape or whatever is up to you but the fact of the matter is that she’s underaged at that point in time. Even if she was fully aware of the risks and whatnot and gave legitimate consent, under the eyes of the law and pretty much 80% of the people reacting to this incident, it will be deemed illegal and inappropriate behaviour. All these people had to do was literally just be open and honest about it regardless of whatever the hell happened, because this is all happening on a public platform where everyone can see/read it to their hearts’ content. Viewers can’t judge or make a decision to support or not support you if you don’t tell them your side of the story, so for the love of god, why the hell didn’t they?

The statement was filled with bullshit about how they love the fans and all that shit, and honestly my thoughts can be accurately summed up in this video right here. So much backlash could have potentially been avoided had they just told it as it is, because now all we have is a vague ass response that gives no closure and tell us nothing as to whether Mike actually did it or not, because in the statement he manage to spout some bullshit about how he’s “never intentionally manipulated or abused anyone in [his] life” and that he’s just a ball of empathy which at first glance could suggest he at least thinks he’s innocent, but then they go on to say how Mike’s taking a temporary leave from the band for, you guessed it, absolutely no reason. At least, no reason that they’ve given us (what else is new) (I’m becoming more petty as the night drags on it’s literally 1am). Honestly, .@piercetheveil, please tell me why the honest to god fuck did you have him leave just after suggesting that he might be innocent? I know the world isn’t black and white but when you’re making a stance and defending yourself or admitting to something, it really is - black and white that is. Either you’re innocent or believe that you’re innocent and stand your ground by not leaving the band, or you admit that you are guilty, in which case your leaving of the band would actually feel justified, because now it’s like you’re gonna come back as well, so what does that even mean? Mike isn’t gone indefinitely, he hasn’t pleaded guilty or innocent, and now the band is telling us they love us? Fuck out of here with that bullshit.

Yes, I support the band’s decision to pull out of the All Time Low tour and to not have Mike out there in case fans feel threatened or unsafe or whatnot, but if you’re pleading innocent, then honestly the whole band should’ve just said “hey we’re gonna go on hiatus for a while until our legal team’s finished with taking care of everything”, and not just said hey guys we’re gonna kick him out because he may or may not have done something that we’re not gonna tell you because we’re shady fuckers like that. I know they are on hiatus right now, but at the “start”, they only said that Mike would be withdrawing temporarily or whatever so it’s kind of like, okay? Sure? It’s a right mess I assure you. Honestly, throughout this whole incident, it was this statement part that made me really fed up with this band. My interest in them had died down significantly from since I hit fifteen all those three years ago, and right now when I dug up an old iPod shuffle to bring with me to university to save my phone battery throughout the day, I can honestly say that I won’t be adding any Pierce The Veil songs onto it anytime soon unless I get peer pressured to. Personally, I feel like that’s kind of the mentality of a lot of had-been Pierce The Veil fans, too.

That’s Great And All But What’s Your Point?

Pierce The Veil’s management sucks ass.

There’s no easy, lawsuit-prone way for me to say it but, and this is just a conspiracy theory I swear to god if I get the fucking ASIS kicking down my door in the middle of the night you better read the fucking disclaimer, there’s obviously some shady shit going on in there no matter what way you slice it. Either they’re sabotaging Pierce The Veil’s success or whether it’s all some big confusion or misunderstanding, or if they’re just plain dumb, we can all agree that this whole thing - the kellic fan service, album making, allegations and subsequent statements - should’ve and could’ve been handled a hell of a lot more gracefully and professionally. Believe it or not, waiting until things blow over is frankly just childish and solves literally nothing, so either they can pull their act together quickly with this next “special secret” album to redeem what little quality/dignity they have left, or they can just fade away into irrelevancy and become a band that no one cares about anymore. 

History repeats itself. This band is quickly becoming just another Leafyishere, and as ominous as that sounds, it’s honestly not unlikely at this point. I am intrigued as to where they go from here, because if they manage to breakthrough again, then I would be very surprised given their current situation. I want to know how they choose to handle this - whether it’ll be the same or not, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Thank you so much if you read through this honestly like I am beyond happy that this is fucking over because I have a bunch of non-band related post essays I’ve been meaning to post but this one’s been nagging at the back of my mind for the past few months or however long it’s been. I’ve clocked in at around past 3k words for this one, and none of this is edited because I’m honestly so done with this you don’t understand. Like I said before, this took ages because I was gonna make another post talking about other shit that relates to this before realising that there’s way too many people that’ve addressed the whole YouTube thing so me doing it would literally be pointless, and even though no one really reads this shit, as big of a nerd as I am, I do enjoy writing bullshit because maybe then I’ll stop ranting to my friends and family about topics they don’t care about.

Regardless, that’s it for this two parter thing, and until next time or whatever.

Catch’ya x

[seenashwrite]

I feel inept (or worse) with everything I have ever created. How can writers get to the point of confidence and certainty with their works? Is it worth trying to please the masses when we can't please ourselves? Am I poking the bear? It just seems you are a voice of discernment and I am trying to ask the write questions.

This is a tricky kebab to de-skewer, it’s stacked. But not impossible to stomach. It is not, after all, an alt-world crispy lizard.

Cool your jets, Sammy.

Hopefully it’ll be of relief to know that I’m not going to tell you to write because it makes you happy, and write for you, and then the readers will come. Not because it’s not true, but (a) because you know that, and (b) because it’s a bit of a pat answer. Touching on the second part of your question briefly - the whole chumming the water scenario - hypothetically, were you to do this, I waffle in my speculations as to what degree it would be successful due to the doldrums.

Whether it’s cookbook fic or the quality stuff you’re aiming for, people will be able to tell if you’re going through the motions. Well, some won’t, because they aren’t, um, discerning, to borrow your word, and others are just reading for some time-killing fun, and there’s a subset of those folks with wicked senses of humor, so the worse the fic, the better. Having said that, I’m a big proponent of assuming all readers are witty and intelligent, and via the writing, I’m going to treat them as such, and so they’ll know if I’m not feeling it. 

So. Back to that ineptitude feeling part. Spoiler alert: I can’t fix this…

Double spoiler alert: …but you totes can…

Triple spoiler alert: …and there’s some concrete steps you can take to do it vs. trying to Tinkerbell it away with thinking happy thoughts. Because, blerrrgh. Fairies. Nah. #Dean approved

Oh, and also? Since I picked this scab off-and-on over the course of 36 hours when things I wanted to say popped to mind, it mutated. We shall split this into two posts.

Part One: So Do I Just Blow At This Fanfic Stuff?

PS: Dunno if you “know” me, but FYI this should hopefully be an easy read with lotsa snark and gifs interspersed and, oh yeah, potty mouth.

C/P for convenience: 

“I feel inept (or worse) with everything I have ever created. How can writers get to the point of confidence and certainty with their works?”

I’m gonna ask a rhetorical question that’s yours to answer, because no one else can:

Why is that?

I mean in an objective sense, not in a blanket sense of “Well, Nash, you dumb bitch, my self-confidence blows”; what I’m driving at are the non-emotional factors. If we go emotion, you’re gonna start subconsciously lumping things in with the writing part (i/e - putting blame on yourself for other areas of life where you perceive yourself as not being “good enough”), so we should go the other route. Make this as fact-based as possible.

What facts are you basing this on? Do you publish stuff, and not get a lot of hearts/notes/reblogs/followers/etc.? What’re your metrics? Put plainly: Is this you being hard on yourself, or is there something concrete to back it up?

(A person who can’t act, for instance, should probably find something else to do after 20 years of auditioning with no parts. An artist who hasn’t been featured in a show or sold one painting. A chef who can’t make it past the line to sous. You get what I’m saying. There’s undeniable evidence there, because after a lengthy period of time, the chances that no casting director, no curator, and no head chef have picked up on the prowess of these special snowflakes is virtually nil. They blow. Their confidence has morphed into delusion. They need to accept they should stop trying to make fetch happen.)

Now, based upon this—

“Is it worth trying to please the masses when we can’t please ourselves?”

—I’m assuming that’s the case, that part about you having something concrete driving at least part of your self-assessment. My interpretation of your statement (and correct me if I’m not tracking with you) is that you think your style isn’t appealing to majority of the readership ‘round here, ergo it’s feeding this feeling of ineptitude. I can’t offer advice on fixing what other life aspects could be acting as the base of that feeling, but the pile-on feeling from the writing aspect of it, that we can work with.

I’d have to have more information to make a detailed, precise call on whether this is a skill-based scenario, namely - assuming you trust my tastes to a degree - reading your stuff. Which isn’t likely to happen unless you’ve got a sneaky way of recommending it to me via a friend or something a good bit of time from now when this isn’t fresh on my mind*, because I can’t know who you are or connect it to this conversation, or we’re automatically injecting bias.

(*It would have to be a really, really, really long time from now; I have a pretty sharp memory; it’d need to be too far out to be helpful for you in the near future.)

What I can tell about you without reading any of your stories is that you are above average in intelligence and are well-educated, whether formally or self-taught, based upon the words you used and how they are used - and if you thesaurus'ed it, you’re smart enough not to pick glaringly extravagant words - and you were succinct and expressed the issue well, with sincere concern that didn’t go all sad-sack Eeyore.

You can write.

But can you tell a story? Can you capture the essence of known characters and present this with accuracy? Do you have original ideas, which you can distill into interesting plots? Etc.? Again, I can’t know for sure. Now, a way that you could get a taste of what I’d call you on were I acting as your editor?

There is a *plethora* of objective criteria over at The Nail’s HQ, and I’ve recently re-done the pages so they are mobile-friendly (bless octomoosey and his brilliant designs). Like, seriously - they look okay on my laptop and huge-ass desktop monitor, but baby do they shine on phones. #bless octomoosey part deux  The foundation of all of it comes from advice from pros, and whether I/we personally like their stuff or not, they’ve all been highly successful and managed to appeal to the masses while keeping a high bar. They don’t cater to the lowest common denominator. And even though I personally may not love all the fics I put on The Nail in a given edition (‘ships, too shmoopy, too angsty, whatever), they’re solidly hitting, at minimum, at least three of those “guiding standards”.  

Great, so, there’s Nash’s Edit Yourself At Home! kit… which brings me to a disclaimer.

I don’t have mass appeal.

What I do have is a solid, loyal reader base who gives me phenomenal feedback (a handful of them giving me fantastic constructive critique when needed) on the reg, and I couldn’t ask for more. And because I am human and I like knowing people dig what I make and because, as a grown-ass adult, I am capable of assigning value to and caring about two or more things at the same time, I would also totes ask for more - not of them, I mean I’d like more people to join in. I would love to have that lil’ bottom left hand corner sporting a number in the hundreds within the day of publish. That’s motivating. That’s telling me people are into what I make. That’s telling me I am super good at—–

Wait.

That last bit…  Does it? Mean that I’m super-good at it? Does that metric alone paint a good picture of my talent? Hmmmm. Well. How to put.

Oh, but fuck no.

And if that “oh, but fuck no” didn’t serve as a tonal lead-in, let me be clear that this is the part where Nash Shoves Logic Into The Closet And Locks The Door For A Minute, And Vents Her Frustrations, With Which You And Others Reading This Could Perhaps Empathize And Are Giving Me Virtual High Fives And Yasss Gurrrrl-s Through The Screen At Completion Of Rant.

[clears throat]

Have you seen some of the absolute garbage that screams through the Tumblrsphere like a cat with a bell on its tail? Holy moses, is it shit. Same shit, different title. One example of the problems: I don’t recognize Sam or Dean more than half the time. Then I see a bazillionty notes on it, a bunch of feedback on folks’ reblogs, ask-kissing©℗™ talking about how the writer captured the guys so perfectly, and they seemed just like they are in the show and… and… and… and… and I’m all:

ARE WE WATCHING THE SAME SHOW?!?!  The men in many of these stories are mannequins/Real Dolls with the faces of JA and JP slapped atop. They are what the writers want them to be, not what the characters are, and it’s lazy because we have 13-odd years of scripts and visuals to glean from, and it takes consideration and practice to pull it off. 

Same goes for working a reader insert, making that person juuuuust vague enough so that readers can actually, um, picture themselves in the role. But what do we get instead? Most of the time there is zero depth to ol’ Y/N. Zip. Nada. She’s so tough, she’s nigh on invulnerable (until she’s not, so she can be saved, and the Mannequin can pine in the meantime), or she’s so fragile and mousy and immature I wanna cunt punt her, or she’s the perfect pussy with next to no flaws, and regardless she’s getting moved into the bunker with an engagement ring and/or Winchester fetus,and ermahgerd, total window-closers.

But they’re clearly doing something right, and they took the time to give us a story free of charge, and….and…. and yet….

(I am aware I am abusing those gifs of late, I’ll get through it, but today is not that day)

Okay, okay, okay, what does this have to do with you - the answer is that you can actually use these atomic farts as a handbook, as well (which ties into Pt.2 of the question, and we’ll get there. Eventually.), assuming you decide you don’t want to chum the waters, and want to do your thing.

(1) The Nail pages are gonna give you some objective things to work with and aim for; 

(2) those truly inept, supposedly based-upon-SPN stories are gonna give you some objective things to avoid like the plague;

And that combo will hopefully….

(3) get a draft out of you that has you sitting back and going, “I’m not 100% that this is gold, but I’ve sure got something shiny, here.”

It’s a feeling of trepidation, it’s not your ultimate goal of “confidence and certainty with [my] works”, but we’ve stepped out of the feeling of ineptitude, and that’s the point. You didn’t arrive at feeling inept overnight, that kebab’s got about four or five veg before it gets to the meat (and several are onions, always with the onions, MORE RED PEPPERS, UNCLE HANK!), so you’re not gonna get to that nice thick sirloin in one sitting, either.

Say, are you a vegetarian? This non-tofu kebab metaphor may be falling flat if so. But transparency and all, I confess I’d rather have alt-world lizard kebab than tofu. Dean, what say you?

He feels me.

One way you’re going to start feeling certain in your works—-

and listen, you know this, but I’ll say it anyway: nobody’s ever 100% certain

—-is when people zero in on specific things you did right, and if they stood out to a reader, they likely stood out to you, so it’s gonna be all “YES!” in your head. When this starts happening, make two documents:

(1) Fic_Feedback_Yes- sort the (positive, praising, specific-things-noted) comments by story - copy them verbatim- read whenever ineptitude feels start creeping back whilst writing/editing story

(2) Fic_Feedback_No- sort the (constructive critique, helpful, specific-things-noted) comments by story - copy them verbatim- read whenever ineptitude feels start creeping back whilst writing/editing story

“Nash, that’s the same fucking thing,” you say.

Yeah, I know.  We ain’t here for ego-feeding, we’re here for confidence, and we don’t get confidence without being aware of not just what we’re nailing, but also of our Achilles’ heels. I joke about “filling the ol’ ego tank”, but it’s legit not an ego thing. Ego things we’re going to touch on in Pt. 2, how it can blind us, and then we’re cranking out stuff that, when cut into, is a dried husk like that turkey in Christmas Vacation.

(WHY do I keep talking about meat)

So, here we are, back to the numbers. Assuming we get you to mild trepidation stage - normal for writers getting into their groove - how do we get you to the point where your stuff is yielding commentary for your docs, for your growth? 

Well, that won’t happen right away, people have to get a feel of you beyond your stories (we’ll talk about that in Pt. 2, as well), so initially it’s going to manifest as hitting the heart, maybe some generic “This is awesome!”-s, maybe some reblogs without commentary, and that’s typical, and we’ll take it, it still goes into your “Mass Appeal” metrics, lets you know you’re getting closer to a broader readership, that you’ve done something/several somethings right….

….which is a nice place to stop Part One. 😉

PART TWO

[jhope-seok]

I have a lot of things to say about Tinder.

This is a personal rant about idiot boys on tinder. So if you’d like to read my CRAZY FUCKING ESCAPADES IN THE DATING WORLD. PLEASE. GO AHEAD. CLICK READ MORE. IT’LL BE INTERESTING. And fun. To watch me implode then explode.

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexting, lots of cursing, men being disgusting--potentially triggering, and one angry ass woman.

Warning part 2: this is A LOOOONG ASS POST, probably with a lot of grammatical errors. It’s 2am. (just so we’re all aware, it’s about 2.3k worth of ranting plus pictorial evidence)

So here’s the thing about me and tinder. I’ve been on the thing since I was in college, probably around junior year when I really came into the realization of my sexuality/being a pansexual person. Keep in mind this was like.....5 or 6 years ago now. I was interested in exploring my options, exhausted from going to countless frat parties and having random makeout sessions with boys who never asked for my number, and/or went on to makeout with the next girl they found at the party. Over the years I have collected an INFLUX of over 1,000 matches. I am not saying this number to brag, I am saying this number to give you an idea of how much of a credible fucking source I am when I present my case. And my case is as such.

ALL MEN ON TINDER ARE THE FUCKING. ABSOLUTE. WORST.

For perspective I have also dabbled in the following dating apps:

OKCupid (absolutely horrid. don’t do it. the shit i went through on this app....just. don’t get me started. I could make a whole other post about the atrocities of this site)

HER (really sad option for lesbian/bi/pan/women looking for other women)

Bumble (pretty successful but forcing the woman to speak first is annoying as hell and then giving a STRAIGHT MALE ONLY 24 HOURS TO RESPOND. Utter hell.)

Hinge (just...downright annoying)

CrossPaths (for christians. Honestly a good idea. Poorly executed. Poorly advertised).

Badoo (honestly...what the fuck)

Coffee Meets Bagel (good idea; too complicated)

Skout (nope)

The Game by Hot or Not (i don’t remember using this but my phone says it’s in my cloud)

And probably some others I can’t remember

What you should take away from this list is that

I’m a needy bitch

I was VERY DESPERATE at times

And i’ve tried a LOT OF OPTIONS.

therefore: don’t comment on this saying: well this worked, well that worked, try this, try that. No. Tinder is still one of the only options that actually works consistently and will continue to work because it is one of the least complicated among the dating apps.

Now. To my point that all men on tinder are the absolute fucking worst.

Time for some examples.

I will not be using these people’s real names, because that’s just mean. So I will present them to you in cases.

Case #1:

Me and this man matched about a year and a half ago, end of 2016. We were unable to meet up because I had a bunch of plans going on--at the time I worked in a law firm and my commute was hell so i only had time to go on dates on the weekends. And being that it was december I was busy every...single...weekend. Which he was fine with! (Awww what a kind gentlemen). No.

He had made it pretty clear from the beginning that he was really only in it for the sex. which for me at the time was fine. I let him know that I didn’t just fuck around on the first date. I lived--and still do live--with my mother and so he couldn’t just come over whenever and i couldn’t just leave whenever i wanted to spend the night at his place in D.C. He said that was fine. However, apparently he was not fine with that.

We talked for a month, lots of sexting, lots of naked snaps, whatever, whatever, we were basically waiting to jump each others bones. But I had also told him that I did not fuck on the first date. I had a rule. I would not break that rule. Again, he said he was fine with that.

On our first date--in a CROWDED RESTAURANT--for brunch, he kept whispering to me about how he wanted to push all of our plates off the table and fuck me in front of all those people. I politely told him to shut up because there were people sitting less than two feet away from us and that was inappropriate for sunday brunch to be talking like that (how proper of me....). Anyways, I let him walk me to my car in a garage, and as we approached it he came up behind me and forcefully turned me around to kiss him. I was like “ooh how hot. I like this.” Anyways, I drove him to his car, we made out a little, then we went on our separate ways. We had a second date not much longer after that, where we had agreed to go out to dinner BUT that first we were gonna fuck in his car. So we met up in a garage and we waited for the cars around us to leave and then we made out, and i sucked his dick. I did N O T let him have sex with me because I was annoyed that he was trying to push me to it--he had a daddy kink--and kept saying “ooh how hard do you want daddy to fuck you”. I said “You can only fuck me when I say you can, and I say no.” thank god he respected my boundaries. So I sucked him dry, then he “MAGICALLY” got a call from his work calling him in. I barely heard from him after that. Because he told me I should come over and spend the night so we could fuck. I said no. He ghosted me.

Case #2--Who knows:

Soooo many fucking men. Have ghosted me. For no reason. Like we’ll have a good few opening lines. And then....nothing. Forever. Where in the FUCK DID YOU GO?! Did you find someone better? Did you grow uninterested with our conversation?! Did you forget how to speak the English language? Did you decide you regretted swiping on me? The worst is when they don’t unmatch you and then it’s just left there....hanging.

Case #whatever:

The fucking men who ask if it’s okay to text. And then don’t text.

I don’t even remember this dude’s NAME in the first place to omit it, but we got into an argument because he supports the store brand cheese puff that is America’s president, and I matched him only so I could yell at him (yeah I know...whatever...I like to prove my dominance and tell boys why they’re wrong. Also because half of the time I use dating apps just to have conversations with people because I’m bored). Anyways. we got in this heated debate and he was like “I like your fire, you should text me here’s my number ____” blah. So I texted him cause i was interested enough in our debate to continue it. THE BITCH NEVER ANSWERED ME. LITERALLY....FOR MONTHS. PROBABLY OVER A YEAR. And then out of fucking nOWHERE he responds like “hey who is this again?” Dude...... NO.

Case #The Never Ending Message Senders:

These men are the worst. So I should explain myself first. I don’t really ever unmatch someone unless it’s for a good reason. Like they’re being disgusting, racist, homophobic, gross, call me fat, ugly, whatever. For the most part I don’t unmatch with someone because in the old days of tinder, unmatching would just PUT THE PERSON BACK IN YOUR CIRCUIT (good job tinder). I’m assuming they did this in case you deleted your tinder, or your app crashed and you had to restart, or you accidentally unmatched someone, whatever. So I don’t unmatch for the sole reason that I don’t want these jerks, who never took the time to respond to my hello or witty opening statement, back in my playing field. I don’t revisit my old matches, I don’t try to restart conversations with them.

If only men could learn the same fucking thing. I have so many men who CONSTANTLY message me. I’m talking like once in every blue moon. It’s like they let the conversation lie for a while, and then BAM another message. The ones I do actually unmatch are the ones that don’t wait a while. They just constantly message, hour after hour after hour until I either respond or unmatch. I don’t know a woman who WOULD respond after having gotten 10 messages of the same “Hello? You there?” “Member me?” (yes one dude has actually said “member me” to me. Not “remember me”...”member me”) etc. etc. in the course of a few hours. Take the hint dude. Please. I don’t enjoy being ghosted, but I know when to take a hint.

A perfect example of such case is the following!

(Context: I just updated the pictures in my tinder account today! So through tinder’s cool new facebook timeline! you can see when your matches update their profiles. to scroll through and judge them even further to see if they’ve gotten cuter or uglier through time).

Please take note of the dates attached to the message. For clarification, “today” is August 27th, 2018!

I have since unmatched him. Buddy. Please. Take the hint. (Also, how fucking creepy of him to say that I’ve gotten closer since a while back....like are you tracking my distance every time you message me? Please dear lord, no).

Case #THE IDIOTS WHO WAIT YEARS TO RESPOND.

This. THIS. THIIIIIS RIGHT HERE. IS WHAT HAS GOT MY BLOOD BOILED SO MUCH I NEEDED TO MAKE THIS POST. THE FUCKING IDIOTS WHO MATCH WITH ME. AND THEN CLAIM THAT THEY DELETED THEIR TINDER. OR THAT THEY LOST THEIR PHONE. JUST REDOWNLOADED. DIDN’T SEE MY MESSAGE. FOR FUCKING. YEARS.

OOOOOOOH BOY. You’ve gotta have some damn nerve to pull that shit. If you lost the app, deleted it, got a new phone, WHATEVER. Your profile would not continue to show up on the matching feed. People would not be able to swipe on your face to find that they matched with you. You would not exist in the eyes of tinder. You would be GONE from the system.

So don’t pull that shit with me. So many dudes have had the audacity to pull this shit with me, and when I call them out on it, most of the time I get either one of three responses: they say “oof yeah I’m sorry, I’m a dick can we move on?”, “Hahaha sorry” and then they continue to ghost me, or people who pull the shit I listed above.

These next photos are from THE SAME DAY AS THE PREVIOUS PHOTOS. Please take note of the date of the first message. (“today” in this sense is technically August 28, 2018 because it’s past midnight.)

Although I deleted his name, I gotta say. My insult was pretty on point. Anyways.

Like how the fuck can you live with yourself with that fucking lie?! Own up to that shit. Be like “yep oops sorry, didn’t think you were cute the first time but this snapchat filter making u look damn good” like don’t be a DOUCHE DUDE. Men are just honestly so fucking frustrating. And yes you better fucking believe I sent that reason for unmatching to tinder. You best fucking BELIEVEEEEEEE I did that. I’m so fucking mad at men. Like how in the hell.

I’ve HONESTLY had better luck matching with MARRIED COUPLES on tinder than I have had with straight men. Married couples at least know how to respect people. God damn.

YOUR MOTHERS DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE LIKE THIS, MEN. LEARN HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS. JESUS CHRIST.

All in all, if you’ve ever toyed with the idea of downloading tinder: Don’t. Stay out of the fucking awful shit that is Tinder and dating apps for as long as you can. I have my settings set up to men in their 30s, and honestly older men do not mean more mature men. Just absolutely frustrating.

Also, as an addendum: 

Case #Don’t put my height in my bio/or do and say “Cause I guess it’s important/matters”

To all males on the planet earth: PUT. YOUR. FUCKING. HEIGHT. IN. YOUR. BIO. It fucking matters. As a tall as woman, it is so fucking annoying to match with a cute dude and then have them say “Hey I’m 5′2″ is that okay?” um....no. I’m sorry buddy. That is not okay. I have strict height limits for this ride and 5′2″ does not pass the riding restrictions.

We’re gonna call in a CELEBRITY SHOT for this story, I matched with this dude on bumble who didn’t have his height in his profile. (Context: my bumble profile says “5′10″ cause it doesn’t matter” <--a nice jab at all the straight dudes out there) and we go about having this great conversation, we’re clicking, he knows one of my friends from college, we bond, we go on a date. THE FIRST THING OUT OF THIS ASSHOLE’S MOUTH ON OUR DATE WAS “WOW. You’re taller than I expected.” BITCH HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CAN U READ. IT’S THE FIRST THING IN MY BIO.

Sub case: I once had a guy match with me, tell me he was shorter than me, then asked me if I would be okay owning him as my slave. I understand and respect everyone’s fetishes, considering I have a slight dominance fetish as well, but a hello would have been nice first.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[theheavymetalmama]

Batman V Superman topic: About the Martha scene, the point of that scene is that its causes Batman to stop thinking Superman as an evil alien. It also gives Batman a second chance to be a proper hero by saving lives instead of killing them. The askbox is too small to talk about everything in detail, so I recommend you watch the CinemaWins video "Everything GREAT About Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice!" for more info.

Anon, I do understand what they were going for with “Save Martha.” That’s why I hate it. Not because it’s a stupid moment, though that certainly doesn’t help, but because it’s supposed to be this big reveal to tug right at the heartstrings…and everybody was laughing at it.

Why is that? Because intent ends where execution begins. On paper, it was a good idea. Batman was at the end of his rope and had lost his way so much that he was willing to hunt down and butcher a man because he might be a threat. Then, just as he’s about to deliver the killing blow, Superman says something that hits Batman like a freight train that makes him realize that not only is the man he fabricated to be his enemy not his enemy at all, but he’s crushed by the grim, brutal realization that not only did he break the promise he made to himself that nobody would ever experience what he went through as a child but the salt in the wound is now he’s the one holding the gun that cut down his parents.

On paper, that idea is gangbusters. But as I said, intent doesn’t override execution. Because the movie chose to focus on the odd coincidence that Clark and Bruce both have mothers named Martha, instead of being the powerful moment it was intended to be audiences were going “Huh, never realized that before” or “Really? THAT’S what makes them make-up?” or simply asking “What grown-ass man calls their mother by their first name?” Sorry, but “Save Martha” earned its’ meme status.

But here’s the thing. Even if the scene played out as the writers, producers, director, and so on had intended, it wouldn’t have saved the movie (not by a long shot) and it wouldn’t have fixed the fatal flaw with the movie, and it’s this. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is not a Batman and Superman movie. It’s a Batman movie with Superman in it.

No, I’m not talking about how in the theatrical cut Superman has less screen-presence than Lex Luthor and infamously has less speaking lines of dialogue than Spider-Man did in Civil War despite his name being in the title (though that certainly didn’t help.) Yes, I have seen the ultimate edition, no, it didn’t help and in fact I hated it even more.

What I mean by “It’s a Batman movie with Superman in it” is that all the time, attention, and agency goes to Batman while Superman is…there. The only time Superman shows any agency is when he ignores Perry White (who for some baffling reason wants to waste an investigative reporter on a story about college football) to investigate in Gotham. Other than that, everything he does is dictated not by motivation, but by plot.

For example, the capital hearing. Does Superman give a rousing and inspirational speech? No, it just blows up. Also, how can Superman hear Lois lane falling from half a world away and drowning from several blocks away amidst the Doomsday fight but he can’t hear a bomb about to go off just over ten feet away from him? How about when the capital actually blows up? Does he help with the rescue effort and make a statement to the media vowing to catch the one responsible? No, he’s shown saving one person and then fucks off from the movie until the title fight.

I could go on and on. Superman is shown ascending a snowy mountain, does he build the Fortress of Solitude? No, he listens to his Ghost Dad tell some stupid story about how he shouldn’t be a hero because he tried it once and then some horses drowned. Does Clark investigate the crime scene and find out that parts that made up the bomb came from Wayne Enterprises and then he does some research and connects the dots? No, that bit goes to Lois solving a mystery everybody already knows the answer to.

It’s also obvious which character the people making this movie preferred over the other. Jimmy Olsen (arguably the second or third most important character to the entire Superman lore and mythos) gets shot in the head seconds after being introduced, Perry White and everyone at the Daily Planet are basically those assholes from TMZ, all of Superman’s heroic feats are summed up in a brief 30-second montage while pundits complain about how everyone either hates or fears him in the background, Lex Luthor is a terminally obnoxious dated-on-arrival tech sector caricature, Clark and Bruce’s first encounter ends with Bruce’s smug dismissal of “Don’t believe everything you read, son,” their second encounter ends with Bruce standing tall and asking “Do you bleed?” and finally their third encounter in the big title fight ends with Superman on his back crying for his mommy after he landed a total of three hits between getting his ass completely handed to him.

And it gets worse still. Superman dies, and instead of being treated as this big tragic event that affects those closest to him and the world as a whole…it’s used as a plot device to spring Batman and Wonder Woman into action to create the Justice League in case something like Doomsday ever happens again. Superman died not to advance his story or character, but to advance Batman’s. Zack Snyder, David S. Goyer, and Chris Terrio put Superman in the refrigerator.

And that STILL isn’t the worst part.

If an adaptation of ‘The Death and Return of Superman’ was ever going to work in live-action, it was only going to work one time, and Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice threw it away forever. Even if the DCEU manages to Flashpoint their way out of this raging garbage fire of nonsense and does it properly, it won’t matter because now everybody who’s never read a comic knows how it plays out and it won’t have the impact that the comic book had decades ago. Bear in mind that killing off messianic parental figures is so effective a tool in fiction that generations of children are still traumatized to this day from when it happened to a lion…

A dinosaur…

And a talking truck.

And the DCEU shit the bed with Superman. They stabbed Superman through the heart and showed us his funeral…and nobody cared. How could anybody care? Marvel didn’t even think about making Civil War until after Phase One proved to be a success, and even then they didn’t get going earnestly until they had two Avengers movies and almost a dozen solo films. DC did The Death of Superman in two movies, and he had the share the second one.

My point is that yes, I get what ‘Save Martha’ meant and I understand where they were coming from. But even if they managed to make the moment not stupid, it wouldn’t have saved the movie and the movie itself would still be a giant middle-finger toward Superman, everything he’s supposed to represent, and the people who love him.