#and he’s getting all emo and wallowing in self pity
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saetoru · 2 years ago
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my dad is so sad ab replacing his car 😭😭😭 he literally got a better one today but he’s just attached to the old one sobs
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verysium · 2 years ago
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PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹
😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.
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RIN
brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.
competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.
probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.
has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.
reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.
SAE
zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.
the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.
swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.
has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.
a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.
somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.
KAISER
alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.
has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.
insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.
lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.
"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.
does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.
NAGI
a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.
does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.
rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.
not loyal (need i say more.)
REO
second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.
acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.
"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.
NESS
touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.
probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.
delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.
ISAGI
a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.
solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)
has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.
says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.
BAROU
has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.
he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.
he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.
with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.
BACHIRA
this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.
one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.
has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.
SHIDOU
a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.
"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)
has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.
you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.
where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.
and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.
i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡
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aamy2100982 · 8 months ago
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Something I don't like so much about the latest Venom comics is the sudden victimization of the symbiote regarding their decisions in life.
This thing about Symby never wanting to do anything bad and almost putting all the blame on Eddie for the events in which they were Spiderman's villains
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This whole "If we didn't do it, Eddie was going to die, It was my responsibility" thing. When we know that in the early comics the symbiote didn't give a shit about Eddie.
I believe you that at first Symby didn't necessarily want to kill Peter. But after that, any chance Spider-Man gave the symbiote to come back to him, Symby was willing to abandon Eddie in the middle of the street, naked and likely to die or try to kill himself again.
Until, of course, they realized that Spiderman didn't give a shit about them and decided that they wouldn't fall for his traps anymore and would stay with Eddie "permanently".
We understand it now, and we think it's beautiful that the symbiote felt a responsibility to help Eddie. But that's the current writers changing the story to make the symbiote look like a white dove and not what it is. An effectively bad and toxic person.
That many times is willing to kill and/or manipulate others in order to obtain a perfect symbiosis. Like when they manipulated Eddie into believing that he had cancer or when they tried to kill the priest of that church because he told Eddie that no one can force you to do things you don't want to do.
And this is not just an attitude they had with Spiderman. But also with Eddie himself.
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I understand the whole point of the symbiote's redemption. Realizing that they past actions are wrong and wanting to do better in the future. My problem is how the writers are handling it.
It's not like Eddie's redemption, where he realizes that he as a person is wrong for everything he did. It's more taken from the perspective where Symby almost blames Eddie for his destructive attitudes against Spiderman. When it's evident that the symbiote tends to seriously hurt those who don't follow things the way they wants them to go.
I feel like the way things are put is right... but wrong. I read it and feel like something is off, like it doesn't feel the way it should feel.
Because we get a “I never really wanted to do any of this,” and then we get a “I don’t like fighting Eddie... am I?” Which tells me that the symbiote isn’t really giving up on itself, because it’s doing the same thing it always does. Trying to kill a host and then attaching to it when it gets the chance to come back. What changed then?
What was the point of this whole emo phase where the symbiote sought to end its own life? Did something change, or is Symby just wallowing in self-pity like Eddie did when he was Anti Venom and Venom and any other phase of his life xd
Maybe they are made for each other. I love Symby, but they've been trying to excuse it's past actions for a while now, and I can only watch the symbiote lying in the dirt while waiting for others to tell them "it's not true, you're not bad, you can still change."
And the symbiote pretends to believe it as it goes and repeats its past actions to the letter.
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correctlyopinionated · 2 months ago
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long story
me and my friend were on TikTok live one night (for the first and currently only time, they banned me. I want back on i am livid) and this person kept scrolling on and off with the username gig_chod so i immediately assume he is an incel (i was right,always) but i also assume he was ignoring me because my other friend had joined the live (with her boyfriend, spooky wooky). I kept saying please speak to me because i really wanted to talk to an incel one on one (kinda, i had a person with me but we’re basically conjoined anyway) and he joined and left the chat about 5 times until my other friend left the live. then he joined for the last time and finally spoke to me. i think the first thing he said was “why do you want to speak to me so badly” okay emo boy (to be fair i was quite high and very enthusiastic every time he would join, I’d be confused too). he was on the live for like 10 minutes before it got suspended and the people in the chat kept egging him on to kill himself (after he threatened to do it on his own live). I can obviously see why you want to make fun of an incel, i do it all the time, but a lot of them aren’t on their way to killing a bunch of women (elliot???) they’re just constantly wallowing in self pity and wanting to kill themselves (must add, i promise you can have sex. Idk if I just have great friends, all 3 of them, but women are not vain at all idk where that comes from. You do not have to be tall you do not have to be a 10/10 just have a semi decent personality and even that is negotiable, you can have sex and even a relationship if you so please). so i had previously taken a screenshot when he first joined because i wanted to message him after i had gotten off so after the live had ended and i was (hopefully temporarily, power in your words blah blah blah) banned i looked him up and he had either deleted his account or changed his username, what the fuck gig_chod, come back. He didn’t block me either i looked him up on multiple accounts and he had disappeared. What a whore. I really wanted to talk to him. This dude had me calling myself an incel to get him to talk to me. So if there’s any other incels who read this message me.
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ai-the-broccoli · 3 months ago
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"doctor x patient is just honestly not my thing", I thought, back in 2024; "medical stuff is really not my cup of tea", I thought, back in 2024; "I like Freudian themes and pseudo-incest, but actual parent-child incest is a bit too much as far as my personal taste is concerned", I thought, back in 2024; "it's hard for me to get into anything with an actual permanent transmigration/isekai setting," I thought, back in 2024...
Well, new year, new me!
That Time I Got Transmigrated as the Author's Barely-Disguised Fetish, Ch. 1
Jiang Xi | Jiang Yechen/Xue Meng | Xue Ziming, ft. background hexie & various other relationships Rated T || Comedy/Humour, SVSSS-inspired AU || 13,490 words || Read on Ao3
"Insane book… by a fucking lunatic!" With his dying breath, Jiang Xi shakily spat through his gritted teeth. Pear Blossoms Bloom on Thousands of Trees, by MidnightSun_EndlessSolitude. The very pen name itself stinks of "sappy pretentious cheesy emo Literature major wallowing in romanticized self-pity" (and the book title chosen sure doesn't help his case). Unbearably over-sentimental writing with the oddest random landmines, breaking all suspension of disbelief while being so sickening that it makes you vomit blood. Worst of all is the incomprehensible mess of a supposed "medical setting". -OR- An AU based on SVSSS, where Jiang Xi transmigrates into 'Pear Blossoms Bloom', a romance webnovel that he despises, as Jiang Yechen, a beautiful, cold, wealthy doctor who is also the creepy, antagonistic "love rival" of the male protagonist, Xue Meng.
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frogsare-friends · 2 years ago
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I'm Not Built for Helping Myself
chapter index | chapter 6 (you are here)
- JEREMIAH -
I don't even remember what I said. I just remember being so mad at him. At him thinking he was some victim, him acting like we were holding him back from moving on. Moving on from what? That's the real question. His dead wife that he cheated on? The house he doesn't want? Kids he doesn't care about? But before I can answer the question Conrad is there. I think I might punch him again if he starts acting like his usual self.
"That was intense," is what he goes with. The punching is still undecided. "I've never heard you go off on dad like that."
"You've never heard a lot of things." Jesus Christ, what am I? Some emo kid in a 2000's movie?
"Was that what it was like? When I was at Brown?" He almost looks scared to ask. Maybe he's more scared of the answer.
"No," I answer. I leave off the fact that he wasn't around enough to fight with. Conrad already knows that. He just gets so focused on the fact that I don't fight with dad much, he doesn't care why.
"What was it like?" I get that he's trying. I want him to try. But you have to have been trying, to build up a place where you can ask things like that, before you ask them.
"Why are you down here, Conrad?" He walked all the way down to the beach to ask how it feels to take care of your dying mom and her medical bills? How it feels when your dad doesn't even think about you? When your brother won't actually talk about what happened, just what he wants to happen? When your best friend, not even including that you've been in love with her for half your life, makes you feel exactly how she knows everyone else has made you feel your whole life? When you can't even talk to the two people you thought you'd always have because one is dying and has more important things to worry about and one is too painful to talk to?
"If I had said that, he would've killed me." So, none of the above, then. He's getting dangerously close to the punching decision being made, though.
"If you had said that, he would've cared," I shoot back at him. I wish he'd just let me wallow in pity alone.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's fucked up, isn't it? He should- should care about you. You're pretty fucking awesome man, he's missing out" he tells me.
"I'm not the one doing pre-med at Stanford." Because how could dad care about someone like me with someone like Conrad right there.
"None of that shit matters, man." I can't fucking believe it.
"That's rich, coming from you." Maybe it's mean and bitchy and something I shouldn't say. But it's true.
"Why do you have to be such a dick man? I'm trying to be nice," he sounds mad. I don't think I can deal with the shit he says when he's mad.
"I know man, I know. Just…" I don't even know what to say to him. I need him to know that the shit he says hurts, that I remember it. But I can't tell him that. I really don't wanna fight.
"You always say I'm a dick but have you met you?" I think he's joking. But he says it so quietly that I can't be sure.
"Yeah, I have." I tell him before taking off. Talking to him was nice, it was nice having him there, trying, caring. But it didn't help. Nice isn't always helpful.
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blue-mint-winter · 3 years ago
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Why Disney SW is bad and Kenobi was OOC
Here’s my answer:
The writers have no idea what it means to be a Jedi.
The identity of the Jedi, the Jedi way, the system of philosophy and beliefs that the galaxy is based on is something essential. It’s the thing that made audience of the movies into life-long fans. However, this is the element that is constantly missing in SW stories produced in Disney era.
It’s the core problem and until it is fixed, nothing can be done. If the new stories are based on flawed premise and preconceptions that aren’t in line with established beliefs and values by George Lucas, then those stories won’t magically get better. It will be the same as it’s been so far.
This reason, the lack of understanding of who a Jedi is, is why Kenobi show was also bad. The point of Obi-Wan’s character is that he is a model Jedi. That’s why he was appointed as Anakin’s master, to be an example to him. He adheres to the strict Jedi beliefs away to the point that on Mustafar he struck his old padawan down despite the pain it caused him.
But Obi-Wan in the Kenobi show wasn’t a Jedi at all which is OOC.
In ROTS Obi-Wan already let go of his attachment to Anakin. He was not dwelling on the past and useless regrets, that’s not how he was raised or taught to think. He’s a fully trained Jedi Master for a reason. He accepted that Anakin turned to the Dark Side, that’s why he confronted him on Mustafar and even then he still gave him chances to back out of the fight (”It’s over Anakin, I have a high ground” was literally his last of many warnings). After that fight Obi-Wan was done and moved on with what he had to do in the present. As a Jedi he had a clear mission - to watch over Luke on Tatooine and learn the secrets of the Force from Qui-Gon’s ghost. Obi-Wan’s whole identity is being a Jedi and the thought that he could abandon his duty and wallow in self-pity and misery like in this show is a huge disservice to his character. That’s not what Obi-Wan’s character is about.
In other words, to create drama, the writers changed Obi-Wan’s whole way of being. It was sad to watch. It wasn’t him, it was a fanservice emo man for whump lovers who love to see Obi-Wan cry and be in despair.
True Obi-Wan remembered the Jedi Code
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Those are the words he lived by and this is also the thing that is completely missing in Disney Star Wars.
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akitokihojo · 5 years ago
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Delicate - Chapter 3
Inuyasha was unsuspecting of his own actions as time steadily progressed. Without realizing, he'd begun to scan the school grounds for Kagome, feeling a little less edgy when he'd spot her walking along or standing by, listening to her friend rant about something. Instead of appearing unaware and self-involved in the corridor, if he caught her scent or her voice, he'd glance over at her. She was almost always looking back. The real kicker that knocked the air from him was his unconscious reaction to her greeting. When did he go from brooding grunts to smiling hello's? Where was the shift? How was it suddenly so natural to respond to the upturn of her lips when she traveled over to him with a grin of his own.
He was beginning to panic.
Clearly, she was a dangerous creator of emotional turmoil. The same witchcraft Sango casted on the flirtatiously-smooth Miroku must have been casted on Inuyasha. And she was cruel enough to do that idiotically cute cock of her head when she greeted him after her seance had been completed. The audacity of this woman. There was no evidence of ritualistic activities in her room, though, sans for a scented candle on her nightstand which could potentially pass for something, but with how often his dumbass of a friend went on about that being the only feasible reason to his own problem, it had somehow weaseled its way into Inuyasha’s head that it was a tangible possibility for his, too. What else would explain the half demon suddenly growing mushy and nice after claiming from the get-go that he wasn’t worried about developing any sort of connection with her? So, he made it a point to check for clues when he visited for their study sessions. Nothing. Not a gothic, ceremonial, sacrificial, or satanic thing in sight. She was the epitome of bubbles and flowers - until she was mad. It was bullshit. Because all that meant was he was becoming just as fucked in the head as Miroku.
He'd told himself, just stop reacting. Mind your business. Keep your head down and go back to grunting, and the sensations will eventually go away for good. This isn't anything to worry about. But, then his eyes landed on her right after school one day. Koga stood a little too close for his liking, and she was giving the wolf that same smile that made his brain a little foggy. He didn't like it. It was a stiff awareness that crawled up his esophagus, that heated him unpleasantly, that tensed his jaw and sharpened his sight. He was jealous, and unwillingly so. He was wrong to think opening up even the slightest was harmless with Kagome. It was always the other person he had to push away; it was never - not once - himself that he had to hold back.
Every day since, he had to swallow his growl when he saw the jock joke around with Kagome, give playful touches to Kagome, ask Kagome if she wanted to go somewhere with him. Especially when the stupid wolf grasped for any excuse to talk to her while she was hanging beside Inuyasha. He had to remind himself, and he hated that he actually needed the reminder, that if he didn't want anything from her, he was in no position to give anyone else shit. Nor did he plan on giving anyone any insight on the feelings he was currently attempting to subside. It was irrational. He felt utterly foolish. 
That was as far as he'd allow things to go. 
Hey, gotta cancel tomorrow's study session. I'll let you know the next time I'm available.
Kagome grew increasingly disappointed the longer she stared at the text message. He'd been coming over every week for the past three months, multiple times a week more often than not. It was easy to grow accustomed to, and if anyone asked her, she'd be willing to admit she enjoyed the time they spent together. She'd learned how to bounce off of his attitude with her own, how to get him to admit little things he was reluctant to at first, how to read his sloppy handwriting - which was a feat on its own. She liked his presence most of all, because he wasn't as hostile or grumpy as looks would deem, but she also liked when he came over during the weekend and he wore one of those casual, v-neck shirts that didn't sink too low but showed the edge of his clavicles. She liked the way cotton sweaters hugged him, and how, no matter the weather, he still rolled up the sleeves of the shirt of his school uniform. She liked the way he leaned a little closer when she had questions about a problem, and how she could catch his pleasant and unnerving scent. She only had to deal with the rampant fluttering in her belly during the first two minutes of being with him - yes, she'd timed it - and then things would calm and everything flowed rhythmically from then on.
He was busy, he had a life, she totally got that. She was just bummed that she didn't get to see him this weekend when it had been something she’d been able to look forward to for a while now. Even when she caught the drift of her studies and he didn’t necessarily have to help her with anything, they’d sit and do homework together, and sometimes watch a movie in her room if they finished before he had to get home.
No worries! Have fun doing whatever!
She meant it. She really did. No one had to know she was ready to turn on anything emo by Avril Lavigne to drown out her exaggerated letdown. She wasn’t so selfish that she’d act like he owed her his time or anything. Just dramatic enough to wallow in self-pity with her bedroom door closed while absolutely ignoring every freaking thought that told her he might, might, be out with another girl.
Kagome wasn’t oblivious to the exact moment she’d sunk so low that she couldn’t convince herself into thinking she didn’t care for him passed study buddy material anymore. It happened rapidly; like the Twilight Zone’s Tower of Terror dropping six stories kind of rapid. He’d come over after school for not the first time, he’d greeted her mom and brother for not the first time, he’d carried the waters up for the umpteenth time, but then once the door was shut and the books were out, he brought up a picture on her bookshelf in the far corner of her room. It couldn’t have been the first time he’d seen it, but he acted like it was. He asked who was hugging her, and she told him that it was her dad. She could see the question on his face, how he hesitated to ask, how if she didn’t proceed on her own accord or changed the subject, he probably wouldn’t have fought her on it. Kagome didn’t have a problem talking about it, though. She’d come to terms with what had happened, and she trusted him more than enough to tell him the truth. About how her dad had gone missing when she was seven and found dead a week and a half later. Truthfully, she didn’t know the nitty gritty details of the incident, nor did she want to. She preferred that the last image she had of him in her head was the framed photo there on the shelf. Furthermore, she’d explained that that was why and how she’d learned her mom’s little habits of making sure she was home by checking for her shoes or her keys or little displacements of items in the kitchen or bathroom. And, it served as incentive for her to be a little less discreet about those indicators, while also not being obvious that she knew her mother’s secret, overprotective habits. It helped soothe her worries. This was also why she’d often walk her brother home from practice after school, or why she’d head to wherever necessary if her mom was working late to pick her brother up from his friends. Sota was only eleven, and the boy couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried. To spare her mom the ulcer, she played backup guardian to the twerp with minimal complaint.
When you tell someone a story like that, it’s reasonable to expect a bit of awkwardness to linger. Kagome was fully prepared to wave off the subject and give him the perfect setup to return to normal and call her dumb for not understanding the chemistry assignment she’d been given. It’s perfectly understandable for a person to not know how to respond to the subject, but Inuyasha was different. He was watching her almost the entire time she spoke; his eyes not drifting down or to the side in the air of discomfort. He was tense, but in a sympathetic way. And, when she shrugged and smiled at the end, concluding her explanation, Inuyasha shook his head and stroked her hair, apologizing for bringing it up in the first place.
Of course, she’d dismissed his apology. There was nothing to be sorry for. His hand had landed on her shoulder, his fingers threaded through her hair, and that was it. She remembered feeling hot in that moment, short of breath, lost and found in succession. That was the first time he’d touched her, and it was unbelievably tender.
Did he feel the same way towards her? Yeah, right. Kagome was on a one-way train to Painsville no matter what, and this was just the beginning if she didn’t get a grip. Sango liked to feed her hope, and Kagome would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate it. That didn’t give her any reason to be obvious with her stupid, crippling crush, though. Anytime she wanted to get close to him, maybe graze his hand in a way she could pull off as casual, or even flirt like she had on that very first day, Kagome froze. Having feelings for someone was terrifying. You’re vulnerable and susceptible to unbelievable amounts of humiliation, and while Kagome was bold with her words, she wasn’t quite the same with her actions. At least, not in regards to this field.
Guys were supposed to make the first move, anyway. Not girls. Not her. And until then, until Inuyasha miraculously sprung some feelings for her too, she would be moping face-down on her bed.
Inuyasha only made it to her house once in a two week span. He hated admitting it, but it was hard to stay away. Kagome didn’t ask when he’d be able to again, and a small part of him wished she would. It was this nagging twinge in his heart wanting to know if she’d even cared or wanted him there, but no. He didn’t bring it up and neither did she. Of all the times for her to mind her business, this was when she chose to. So, he caved. He asked if she still sucked and needed help, and it seemed like her face lit up, his nerves grasping at any little cue that could spark needless anticipation. As if he wanted anything more to fuck him over. The original objective was to spend less time with her, and cut the chord he’s disturbingly developed. The former he was succeeding with; the latter was a different story, which became evident to him when she didn’t show up to school one day. 
Kagome never missed class. 
He told himself she’d probably caught a cold, but it didn’t help any. Answers were easily attainable, but seeking them out was too conspicuous; Sango was too clever not to immediately figure out his motive, and he could see her having too much fun taunting him before giving up an answer. Getting Miroku to ask Sango would send Miroku spiraling into a wild panic attack on the floor. Texting Kagome and asking, himself, was just purely out of the fucking question for no good reason other than preserving what was left of his sanity.
Throughout the day, his worry increased. Fuck if he knew why. He figured if Sango was fairing fine without her, he should be too. Right? But, her best friend most likely knew the reason she was out. He didn’t. He didn’t like that he didn’t know, either. Inuyasha liked knowing things. Kagome was fairly open with him. He should have just texted her. Chances were probable that she would have answered without skepticism. If he had just sent the damn message, he wouldn’t have felt so stressed right now. Yet, here he was, tapping his nail against the surface of the desk in his bedroom, knee bobbing erratically, completely frustrated - with his irrational mood more than anything.
“I’m going out real quick. Be back in twenty.” Inuyasha announced, throwing his jacket over his shoulders at the door. His uncle gave him a small acknowledgment from the living room, the words as horse and wheezy-sounding as usual, and the half demon slipped out the door without another word. 
Kagome bounced around the center of her bedroom, light on her toes, swaying to the intro music of her favorite show on TV while she scooped small spoonfuls of ice cream from the pint in her hand. A couple soft knocks had her stop, the taps sounding like they’d come from glass but her common sense saying that wasn’t possible. She waited to see if she’d hear it again, willing to dismiss the noise as a creak in her floor, but when it did happen, she turned toward her window, a chill shooting up her spine as she saw Inuyasha staring through. Her gasp was loud and high-pitched, but the swear she let out was murmured between other swears beneath her breath.
The hanyou gestured for her to open the window, perched on the small roofing available from the first story.
“What are you doing?” Kagome hissed after dropping her pint on her desk, opening the frame for him to come through. 
“I forgot something here. I wanted it back.” Inuyasha stated, keeping his tone casual.
“You forgot something here? Four days ago? And, you decided now is a good time to come get it?” She crossed her arms over her chest, watching as he twirled around the room to look for his object.
“Yup.”
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Yup.”
“What did you even forget?”
“My,” He delayed for a second, thinking. He’d rehearsed this the entire way here, yet he still blanked on his excuse. “Pin. Must have fallen out of my pocket.”
“Really? I haven’t seen any pins.” She mentioned, doubtfully.
“Oh, there it is.” He pointed to the small, golden crown pin stuck in her cork board. “You even made a home for it, liar.”
“That’s because it’s mine.” There was something off about him. Nothing that tipped her concern, but strange was strange nonetheless. She cocked a brow, and her lips inadvertently curved upward in response to it all. Even as he leaned over her mattress and stole the pin right out of the cork board.
“Oh. Well, does it have any sentimental value to you?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll just keep it to replace my own then.” He twiddled it in his fingers, shrugging resolutely.
“You’re being weird.” She pointed, entertained. “What’s wrong?”
“I told you, I forgot something.”
“Except you didn’t.”
“Except I did, and you weren’t at school for me to ask for it back. So, I took it upon myself to come get it.” His tone was slightly rougher than usual, gruff, and not cooperating to conceal his main purpose in the least. Was he worried about her, or just courageous enough to sneak over in the dead of night? “Speaking of which, you don’t look sick.”
“I’m not.” She disputed, a little surprised. “Sota tripped during soccer practice last night and broke his ankle. I stayed home to watch him so mom didn’t have to take off work.”
“Oh, shit.” Inuyasha’s brows pinched together. “Is he alright?”
“Yeah, he’s fine for the most part. Until he learns to crutch his way upstairs, the living room is his new bedroom for the time being.”
“Need any help taking heavy things down for him?”
“Nah, we got the important things down there so he’s comfortable. Besides, mom may not appreciate us making a ton of noise with that right now. But, thank you.” Kagome softly raked her teeth over her bottom lip.
He gave a slow nod, feeling a little stupid, wishing he’d just had the guts to text her. Seeing her, though, was so much more satisfying. His eyes travelled over her, taking in her camisole and flannel pajama bottoms, her bare feet, her messy waves, her makeup-less skin, and the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. How did she still look beautiful? It was time for him to go.
“Alright, gramps, go to sleep. It’s passed your bedtime.” Inuyasha said huskily, brushing her shoulder on his way back to the window.
“Oh, wait.” Kagome went over to her nightstand, pulling the only drawer open and rustling through the miscellaneous belongings until her fingers pinched a small, rubber top. Turning back to him, she took the crown pin from his hand, pushing the sharp end through the top of the chest pocket of his jacket and fastening it there with the rubber. “There. So you won’t lose it again.”
“I’m not keeping it there.” Inuyasha shook his head, unamused. Still, she giggled, perfectly happy with her little stunt, giving it a pat for good measure.
“By the way, I won’t be at school tomorrow, either. Just in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” He lied, slipping through the window frame. 
“Just in case.”
“And, even if I was to begin with, is there any problem with me coming over to find out!?” There was the lick of defensiveness in his tone.
“Not really. Feel free to use the front door next time.” Kagome smiled.
“Yeah, because your mom would be so cool with me showing up this late at night.”
“Window’s fine, too.” She said, bobbing her head back and forth to agree with his point. 
“Lock the hatch. And, get some better dance moves.” He said, though his small grin robbed his joke of all harshness. The half demon was light on his feet, easily scaling a nearby tree to reach the ground silently, walking through her front yard and disappearing passed the neighbor’s house.
It was comforting to know he cared. It was warming to think that he’d worried about her to the extent that he had to come see her. The joyful smile on Kagome’s face cramped her cheeks, her face hot and blustery as she shut the window.
He smelled the wretch before he’d even walked through the front gate, his chest clenching and abdomen going uncomfortably rigid. It was like anxiety instantaneously washed over him, making him angry, his fingers furling into fists, and his upper lip curling in a snarl. He was so fucking tempted to slam the gate shut and turn around to leave right then and there, but the scent of someone else along with their uninvited guest had his curiosity rising. To top it off, after all these years, Inuyasha wanted to know what the fuck this bastard could possibly want.
Upon entry, his stomach was almost in complete shambles. It was like he could physically feel his blood coursing rapidly through his veins, boiling, hot. 
“Inuyasha, that you?” His adoptive uncle called, his elderly voice ringing from the living room. He didn’t answer. It was too fucking difficult to open his mouth without the threat of a fearsome growl coming out instead. “Come in here. I’m sure you’re aware that we have some visitors.”
The hanyou dropped his book bag in the entry hall, taking a deep breath that filled his tight chest as he moved his feet forward. Turning the corner, amber eyes immediately collided with matching amber before the opposing shifted away, utter disinterest marring his straight expression. His hair was nearly matching Inuyasha’s style, long and worn high, silver, straight, and making Inuyasha want to cut his length off entirely. Looking at him sitting there at the small table, the shape of his shoulders, his matured facial features, their numerous similarities, he realized how unforgivingly powerful their father’s genes were. He was glad, among all else, the big differentiation between the two of them were the ugly fucking facial birthmarks Inuyasha was spared. 
“You’ve grown up, little brother.” Sesshomaru claimed in his monotonous voice. It was insane to notice that despite their separation, the asshole still hardly seemed to have changed.
“Yeah, that happens when you haven’t seen a person in eight years.” Came Inuyasha’s venom-laced reply. “What do you want?”
“Now, now, Inuyasha. Civility.” The old man said from the nearest end of the table.
“I come with news. I’ve already told Totosai, but he insisted I stay for dinner and tell you, as well.” Sesshomaru still wasn’t looking at him. It didn’t even seem like he was looking at his uncle. The arrogant bastard was looking through the old man; like they were beneath him.
Before Inuyasha’s relative further explained, small footsteps padded down the opposite end of the hall Inuyasha had just come from, walking toward them, humming softly and attracting one of his ears to twitch in their direction. He turned, seeing a small girl no more than five enter the room, large eyes looking up at him with curiosity and ample amounts of excited wonder. Her hair was messy, wavy, and a deep brown, long but half tied back to keep loose strands out of her face and at bay.
“Rin.” Inuyasha’s brother beckoned, and the little girl didn’t hesitate to follow the call, crossing the room to sit next to him. “I am getting married. This is my fiancé’s daughter, which I treat as my own. Though, I couldn’t care one way or the other, Kagura, my soon-to-be wife, finds it important I indulge you two in our happenings and introduce you to your niece.”
“Isn’t that nice, Inuyasha?” His uncle asked, his tone one that pushed for pleasantries from the hanyou.
“Yeah, sure. It’s nice that you’ve found someone to whip your ass into a family you won’t desert.”
“It’s hardly desertion if I had no responsibility to you.” Sesshomaru coldly replied, now looking through Inuyasha.
The little girl’s smile had faded, obviously picking up on the animosity in the room. He whole-heartedly pitied her for the guardian she’d been bequeathed. Sesshomaru was flaky and more emotionally constipated than Inuyasha could ever be accused of. Children deserved love and attention, and from his own experience, he just couldn’t see the plausibility that his brother could ever be capable of giving that to anyone. Then, as he focused on the innocent more intently, details became a little more clear.
“She’s,” He paused, a heavy disappointment sinking into his stomach. Betrayal began to crawl its way up his spine, through his muscles, into his throat to create weight in his words. His eyes flickered back to Sesshomaru’s. “She’s human?”
“Mostly.” He responded with a single nod, not a shred of guilt in his tone. His hand rose to land on the top of Rin’s head, softly stroking her hair. “Her biological father was such and she did not inherit much of her mother’s demonic traits. But, that is unimportant.”
“Unim- Like hell!” Inuyasha barked.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Inuyasha.”
That was all he had to say? For all the years of shit he’d put him through for the blood coursing through his veins that he had no control over, that was all he fucking had to say? Like, it was no sweat off his back. When he said it was unimportant, what he actually meant was “unimportant” had two different definitions here. In terms to Rin, it didn’t matter that she had human blood. In terms to Inuyasha, he didn’t matter. 
“Go fuck yourself.” Inuyasha growled. Without missing another beat, he left the room, heading out the front door and slamming it shut on the way. Knowing the bastard, he had no intention to stay overnight, so he’d wait him out for as long as it took. Totosai would text him when the coast was clear, so until then, he’d walk it off. He’d get as far away as necessary until he didn’t smell either of the intruders anymore, until his justified anger was calmed, until Sesshomaru was long gone with his happy fucking family.
The sun had set, his feet carrying him to a part of town he often hung out in. One mostly populated with college students that drank coffee late at night for fun while hanging in The Square below strung lights. Hardly anyone was out at the moment. Anyone he knew, at least. He was thankful for that; the last thing he wanted was to socialize. It was unintentional that he’d come this way to begin with, he just needed ample amounts of air that still weren’t helping to quell his surging frustration. He was safe to go home; he’d received the green light already, but the fact that his breathing was still ragged, and his chest still felt heavy, and his nose crinkled with disgust every time he thought back to that brief conversation told him he was better off staying out.
With a dragged inhale, Inuyasha took in a lungful of Kagome’s scent, feeling a minute percentage of his stiffness falter. He thought he’d imagined it, but the further he walked, the more powerful she became. He looked over the surrounding area, trying to pinpoint her when she appeared from an upcoming corner, aggressively locking her phone and shoving it in the front pocket of her pullover hoody. As if she’d sensed someone coming - or heard his footsteps approaching, which was the more feasible option here - she glanced his way, her lips parting slightly as she focused on him.
“Oh, hey.” She smiled softly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
He couldn’t even bring himself to return anything half as welcoming as she’d mustered, his nerves still on edge and his agitation still roaring. “What are you doing out here?”
Kagome sensed his rigidness and noticed the way his ember eyes swept left and right over her head, landing on her momentarily only to do the same sweeping motion. His hands were tucked in his charcoal pant pockets, and he still donned his school uniform telling her that he hadn’t even been home. He seemed upset, but thankfully there wasn’t any visible evidence of fighting to serve as the purpose. For the moment, she brushed it off. She could be wrong, and if she jumped the gun and started prying too soon, she’d only make him mad. “Well, my friend, Ayumi, is going out with this guy for the first time. She wanted me to hang back and spy to make sure everything went smoothly, and if she gave me signals, I’d move in and give some lame excuse to end the date. But, she gave me the wrong address for their meetup spot, which is nowhere near here, so she’s on her own now.”
“This isn’t a safe part of town for girls to be alone. Go home.” Inuyasha ordered. She was sure he didn’t mean for the ice in his tone, but it was there. It was disconcerting.
“I - I was heading home.”
“Good. Head down the block and make a right at the crosswalk, and you’ll be on a straight path to - no, fuck it, I’ll just walk you.” He stepped to the side so their shoulders wouldn’t brush as he passed her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Wait, are you okay?” The question was properly warranted now. It was clear that he wasn’t. Far from it, she presumed. 
“Fine.”
“No, you’re not. Stop for a second.” Kagome sped to catch up to him, walking at his side with bared hands. He did as she said, irritation evident in his eyes as he looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It wasn’t believable in the least. There was no conviction in his voice, the word coming out forced and gruff. “Can we go?”
“No. Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Kagome. I want to fucking get you home.”
She wrapped her fingers around his exposed forearm just as he began to continue walking, halting him mid-stride, his skin heated. If he didn’t want to talk, fine, but she didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of him being alone after dropping her at her doorstep. Most importantly, she could tell by his heightening levels of aggravation that being in the public’s eye wasn’t the best option for him. She knew if she were emotional, on the brink of losing her temper, and under the pressure of onlookers, her anxiety would spike and she’d end up in a preventably-critical state. So, she gave him a tug in the direction of the park.
“What are you -“
“Just come on. Trust me.”
Surprisingly, he hardly resisted. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull his arm from her hold, allowing her to guide him through the trees and along the cemented path, around the empty play area for kids and toward the large pond. Not a person was in sight to disturb their time. As far as she was concerned, Inuyasha was free to let it out. They stopped at the edge of the water’s barrier where she finally released him, the fingers of her right hand dragging down his skin to drop at the hem of his pocket.
“Something’s clearly wrong, so don’t lie to me about that. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but the option’s there. I’ll listen. If you’d prefer, I won’t even say a word while you tell me; I’ll stay completely quiet. But, if you’re not comfortable talking about it, I’ll just stay with you until you feel better.”
“I don’t need you to babysit me.” Inuyasha sneered, rolling his eyes.
“It’s not babysitting. It’s company. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
He knew she wasn’t going to give in. The girl was fucking stubborn and relentless. The trouble was, he didn’t have a good enough excuse to not open up at the moment. Her presence was already helping his tension levels decrease, and his brain was muddled enough not to fight anything more than he already had to.
“Don’t talk.” He grumbled, giving in. Kagome gave a nod of understanding, watching him walk passed her to pick some twigs off the ground, breaking them apart and tossing small pieces into the pond. “My half brother decided to pay me a visit. We’ve got a shit relationship. Always have. We’ve got the same dad, but different moms, and his is demon so that makes him full-blooded and better than me by default. When our dad died, our moms still attempted to help us establish this brotherly bond, but there’s a considerable age gap between the two of us so it was a struggle. Man, I still remember the first fucking time he said he never considered me his brother.” Inuyasha chuckled cynically. “I was, like, seven or something. He calls me ‘half demon’ like it’s disgusting. He looks down on me. I’m pretty sure he blamed my mom and I for dad’s death at one point. And then when he hit eighteen, the fucker was gone. Mom got sick and died when I was thirteen, and the only blood relative I had left was him, but where the fuck was he? I was in the system for half a year before my dad’s old friend showed up and took me in. Haven’t seen my brother in almost a decade, and he just waltzes in today like it’s an ordinary Friday playdate. Tells me he’s getting married to a woman with a daughter whom he considers his own now. And the kicker is, she’s mostly human. The kid’s mostly human!” The laugh that time was laced with his concealed pain, and Kagome’s heart was dropping, sinking, weighted with the grief he tried to swallow. “What’s even better is he hasn’t changed or anything. He didn’t come around to make amends, he doesn’t look at me any differently. Fuck, he doesn’t even look at me! I’m still this low-life half demon to him, and he’s still a piece of shit. The kid - it’s not her fault. I know that. But, for some reason, I can’t help but hate her, too.”
Because she’s getting everything he was robbed of. Inuyasha was an orphan. He’s had it so hard. Where he should have had familial ties and support, he had prejudice and heartbreak and scar tissue. He was left alone only to have it rubbed in his face.
Even if she was allowed to talk right now, what could Kagome possibly say to make him feel better? She didn’t understand the half of what he felt, and pretending like she did could potentially only serve as salt in the wound. He didn’t deserve that. She’d promised she wouldn’t speak, but allowing him to roost in the pain he felt, undisturbed, wasn’t okay with her. She wanted, among all things, to comfort Inuyasha. As he swung his last stick into the pond, Kagome stepped forward, gently grabbing his arm so he’d turn her way.
Years. It had been so many fucking years since anyone had hugged him. Kagome walked into him slowly, almost cautiously, her hands sliding from his waist to his back, holding him so securely as she tucked her face into his chest and pressed her body firmly against him. It was almost like he didn’t know how to respond to the gesture anymore, his muscles stiffening, his arms hanging at his sides. He felt her fingers clutch the back of his shirt, bunching the cloth, her breaths so deep and calming that they inadvertently began to guide his own. Three years since anyone had touched him so affectionately. He’d had his rendezvous, he’d kissed, he’d lost his virginity, but none of it meant anything. It was empty. To him, and even the girls on the other end of it, it was a way to kill time, none of them knowing how to fill the void inside. There was no touching outside of hookups. There was no security. There was no emotion.
Yet, with a single hug, something he hadn’t experienced in so damn long, Kagome had successfully breached every one of his defenses in the most peaceful of manners.
Inuyasha’s shoulders gradually lowered, his chest aching, his fear rising, his arms wrapping around her body - not quite holding but not quite hovering. He suddenly realized how much he trusted her, and he detested it. Trust could be broken. Bonds were indefinite. People leave on a whim. They could get into accidents and leave their families behind, they could be careless and  get themselves murdered, they could get sick and die, or they could just decide they’d had enough of you and disappear. Relationships, in any variation, would always be seen as fragile and pitiful and pending for disaster to him. There was no stability. The farther he kept himself from all of which, the less disappointment the future carried.
He felt a numbness expand over him, dulling all sensations as his decision solidified. Kagome couldn’t matter to him anymore. Sesshomaru’s little visit helped magnify Inuyasha’s reasonings for always keeping people at a distance. He wasn’t going to go through it again. He was stupid for allowing it to have gone as far as it had. 
“You should get home.” He said, gently pushing her away from him. “It’s getting late.”
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lordofthetrashbin · 6 years ago
Note
Can you write about going to a corn maze and pumpkin patch with the Sides? -&
I’ve only been to a corn maze once in my life and have never been to a pumpkin patch but have a bunch of dorks playing in a maze
Anyway, it’s immediate chaos.
You get there and know somethings up, you don’t have three dark bois sharing looks and not immediately know they planned something.
Remus running off before anyone can stop him? Yeah, that’s normal.
Deceit grabbing Roman and dragging him through the stalks? pretty suspicious
Virgil grasping your hand with a smirk before dashing away from a very confused Patton and Logan. Yup, you’ve been kidnapped.
Virgil’s dragging you along, thankfully slow enough that you’re not tripping because lord knows Virgil could outrun anyone if he actually wanted to. He only slows down once you’re both significantly lost, letting you catch you’re breath and ask what the heckity is going on.
Turn’s out Virgil, Deceit and Remus planned a game of capture the flag.
You’re the flag.
“It’s simple,” Virgil explains. ”I guard you while they others try to capture you. If they can get you to the exit of the maze, they win. If I can keep you away from the gate until times up, I win.
“No cutting through the corn unless someone is chasing right behind you/In front of you.” Enforce this rule with Deceit, he will cheat if he thinks he can get away with it; Virgil warns you
Winner gets to some of their favorite candy from the losers Halloween haul and you get a generous donation from everyone playing for being the victim.
Of course, Virgil gives you a way out if you’re not down to play or just don’t want to be dragged around by a bunch of dudes. “Just say the word and I’ll go kidnap Logan.”
But assuming you’re down, it’s game on. Virgil sends a text to Deceit to let him know you're in and Deceit sends the rules to everyone else.
At first, it’s quiet, Virgil keeps you two moving although this time just at a walking pace all while keeping a hold of your hand.
You ask why Deceit took Roman if this isn’t a team game and Virgil explains that Roman could easily keep up with Virgil while he had you slowing him down “No offense” and the prince would immediately give chase once he saw Virgil stealing you away and that wouldn’t be very fair.
of course, this small interaction is enough of a distraction that Virgil doesn’t realize what's happening until you’re lifted right off the ground. “Catch me if you can, fart face!” Remus cackles as he dashes through the stalks with you in his arms, Virgil right on his trail.
by some miracle, the darker twin loses Virgil and comes to a stop on one of the paths. He twirls around for a moment, just to be sure you two are alone before he just beams. “I caught you~!” he absolutely delighted and happily paces down the paths at random. “I can’t wait to flush all Roman’s candy down the toilet- I mean I was going to do that anyway but now he has to willingly give it to me.” Remus rambles.
But speak of the devil, Roman comes charging down the way with Deceit following behind him. “Release them! It’s two against one, you will be winning nothing, fiend!” Deceit stands beside Roman, looks like the two formed a team.
You expect Remus to run again, as is the point of the game but instead you're rather carelessly dropped to the side as the twins decide they’d much rather fight for their victory.
You’re debating on just wondering off to find Virgil again when Deceit slinks his way around the fight and offers you a hand, helping you stand before tugging you away before the twins can notice he’s stolen you away.
So much for Roman’s team; Deceit only laughs if you point out his betrayal.
Deceit keeps a brisk pace and seems to know where he’s going, it takes you a moment or two to realize that he’s following a trail of small yellow stones “It’s not breaking any of the stated rules.”
Unfortunately, stones can be moved as Deceit found out, turning into a dead end that had a certain emo grinning as Deceit very obviously fell into his trap.
It’s a standoff, the lying sides glare meeting the anxious sides smug expression. Deceit weighs his options before releasing your hand. “Fine, you got me.” The snake crosses his arms. “But watch your back.” With that Deceit leaves, obviously huffy about being fooled so easily.
You’d bet Virgil has pretty good odds at winning, now that there was much less time but the emo looks sheepish as he leads you around a few corners. “Hope you weren’t ready to rest just yet.” He warns you as two blurs of blue rush past, one grabbing your sleeve and leading you through the stalks while giggling far too happily.
You can’t help but giggle with them.
one because of course Logan and Patton are working together and two, Virgil could very easily catch up with Patton’s speed but somehow get’s left behind.
Patton slows to a stop, panting slightly and grinning like he’s already won. Logan seems more composed and greets you with a smile before rushing you two along, urging that you all needed to get going before you were found again.
You ask Patton how he got Logan to play and Patton admits to bribing him with crofters since Logan isn’t a huge candy fan. Patton is much more open to talking while you both follow Logan
Until you’re snatched once more into Deceit's arms. “Well, look what I've got-”
“DECEIT”
cue Roman making his appearance “I trusted you! We were a team!” He shouts and you don’t doubt that every one of your ‘hunters’ heard it.
“Roman! I would never! I saw our dear sweet friend being dragged off by that dastardly emo and came to reclaim them for us!”
If you decide to call out Deceit, well, his flustered glare is very well worth the fact he may actually murder you.
Not that you have to worry for long because Patton and Logan yoink you and dash through the stalks with Patton yelling a quick “Sorry Roman!” This time there’s a chase, Roman won’t be beaten so easily even if it means taking down his darling puffball.
You guys can hear Roman right behind you, Patton’s taken the lead through the stalks and you’re pretty sure Roman’s about to get you when Logan grabs your hand and tugs you down to the side. You’re held against his chest as you both hide, Roman takes no notice as he still hears Patton running and chases after him.
It’s a few moments before Logan stands and helps you up, heading the opposite way Patton was running. 
Did Logan betray Patton?
“I... May have.”
Logan did a falsehood!
“I did not! I am still keeping my promise to let Patton claim my reward. He just won’t be the one who won it like I may have lead him to believe.”
Omitter! “That’s not even a word.”
With Patton leading a distraction, Logan has time to find a path of Deceit’s stones and from there just retraces his steps towards the exit all while you tease him for lying and he tries to justify his reasoning. Though it’s mostly just because he wants to beat Roman.
You guys are on the winning stretch, the exit in sight when Logan suddenly takes your hand and dashes forward. Just barely avoiding getting tackled by Remus who makes a quick recovery and immediately charges you both.
It’s far too close, Remus reaches out and grabs your arm just as Logan’s touches the entrance gate while still holding your hand and secures his victory.
Remus almost immediately goes limp on you, his head on your shoulder as he pretty much whines in your ear about how close he was. Logan takes moment to recompose himself, looking way too pleased with himself as he tells you he’s going to get water for everyone since they’ve been running around all night.
Remus falls next to you in the dirt and wallows in self pity.
Virgil shows up and double-checks on you to make sure you didn’t get hurt or anything since he arrived to you alone with Remus
Deceit comes through looking miffed as ever until you brag about Logan lying to win which he enjoys way too much.
Patton and Roman come back together which brightens Remus who now brags how much closer he was to winning than his brother and Patton pouting until Logan assures him that he’ll still have the candy reward.
----
as for the pumpkin patch, all I can imagine is Remus immediately trying to smash everything while Deceit encourages him and Virgil and Roman try to stop him.
Logan actually finds pumpkins while Patton declares you monarch of the Pumpkin patch which is instantly a mistake because Remus hears and tries to put a half smashed pumpkin on your head as a crown and drape the pumpkin’s ‘guts’ over you so that no rebellion starts among the squash folk.
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sinsforjeon · 6 years ago
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Discipline {Six}
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[Hi! My trial exams have finally ended and I have a month and a half before I start my finals uGh I’m tIrED but I missed writing this story so much:”) so here’s another part with soft!yoongi oK on with the reading ily🥺💕]
Your father has had enough and so he goes to greater measures to make sure you leave your bad ways behind.
Ot7Xreader, foul language (god is always watching), future smut, dom!bts, brat!reader, sadhours! softhours! smexyhours!
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
You felt pathetic, tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the hot water that engulfed your being. So many people have it worse than you, why must you wallow in self pity?
Sniffling quietly as soft hiccups left your dry lips, you made your way out of the bathroom and there he sat.
His face was strangely comforting to see, eyes unwavering and intensely staring at your figure as you bit your lip to try and silent your hiccups.
“G-Good ev-ening, Yoongi.” You mumbled, bowing slightly and the man sighed, you could feel the pity rolling off of him which confused you. Wasn’t he supposed to be happy? Get some kind of pleasure of seeing tears roll down your face?
“Oh, Princess...” he trailed off as he stood up, taking you in his arms. This caused your tears from earlier to return, more powerful this time.
Yoongi sat you on his lap while he sat on your bed, gentle hands running through your damp hair as he tried to calm you down.
“Hoseok was mean, wasn’t he?” He asked softly and all you could do was whimper and nod.
“‘m sorry, Princess, he’s doing what’s best for you, you know that right?”
You didn’t answer, only burying your face onto the crook of his neck.
“We can see how much you hate it here,” he continued, “but in order to let you go we have to do our job, yeah?”
You whined softly, knowing he was right but didn’t express it verbally.
Yoongi cooed gently as he hooked a finger under your chin bringing you back to him.
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry, hm?”
He hummed as he wiped the tears off your face before placing a kiss on each cheek.
“You’re being nice.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
You shook your head as he held eye contact, caressing your face gently.
“Thought you guys h-hated me.”
Yoongi laughed at this, his chest vibrating gently against your back.
“Not at all, Princess.”
“Not even Hoseok?”
“Especially Hoseok.”
Your face showed that you didn’t believe him, the man thought you looked pretty with tears running down your face. Fucking sadist.
Yoongi could tell that there was a reason behind your bursts of tantrums because there was no way that the girl that sat on his lap was telling them to eat a bag of dicks not so long ago.
“What’s the matter, Princess?” He asked and you tilted your head up in confusion.
“Why are you hiding?” He continued and your breath got caught in your throat as you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I-what?”
He sighed and smiled softly. The hand that was caressing your cheek back in your hair.
“C’mon, Princess, I’m smarter than that you know.”
“I don’t u-understand-“
You felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest and you wouldn’t be surprised of Yoongi could hear it too.
“Oh but you do, you’re this gentle soul that puts up this wall, a mask almost, what are you hiding from... who are you hiding from?”
You suddenly felt very exposed and not from your lack of clothing. Were you really that easy to read? You swore Namjoon had seen through you and now him too?
“I’m-I’m not hiding” You replied, your voice now void of any emotion as you tried to get up from his lap but he only held you tighter.
“Don’t do that.” He spoke, his voice somewhat angry sounding and your heart immediately skipped a beat.
“Don’t pretend with me.”
“Yoongi, I’m no-“
Your words were cut off by his stern look and you sheepishly looked down at your lap.
“What did I just say, Y/N?”
You didn’t know what to say, you words stuck in your throat as you tried to articulate anything but alas.
“Princess, eyes on me.”
You didn’t hesitate because gone was the sweet Yoongi and now you were sat with the king himself and god forbid you did some stupid shit that would find its way to Hoseok.
“Are you going to answer me? Hm?”
“I’m scared.”
You spoke, finally and from those two words you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders.
His eyes softened as he saw yours fill up with tears but you refused to let them fall.
“I’m scared of the world, so-“ you took a deep breath, blinking away the tears that sat in your eyes.
“So I choose to hurt others before they can hurt me.”
Yoongi only stared in silence and you cleared your throat uncomfortably.
“Who hurt you, Princess?”
He asked and once again you looked at him in shock.
“No-“
“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”
You hated this. It was so much easier when he was a dick to you. Why did he all of a sudden care?
“What- Why? Is- Is this something Hoseok sent you here for? Get information out of me that he can use so he could break me down into nothing but tears?”
Your tone was aggressive but only because you hated the interrogation, because you hated that he was right.
Yoongi’s hold on you started to get painfully tight and that could only signify his anger.
“You know damn well he could’ve gotten that himself, I’m here on my own will and don’t you dare use that tone with me.”
“Or what, Yoongi? Are you going to humiliate in front of your brothers huh? Well fuck you! Because I-“
You were crying, thrashing in his hold that he so strongly refused to let go of.
“You wanna know something?” He asked and you didn’t respond only becoming immobile in his hands.
“Hurt people hurt people.” He murmured and you swallowed thickly, eyes refusing to meet his.
“This isn’t you, this is who you want to show because you’ve been hurt and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself.”
His words were so painfully true, you could feel the sinking feeling on your chest that you hated so much.
“The others know too, you know. They know that the girl they speak to everyday isn’t Y/N because no matter how hard you try to run, you can never run away from yourself.”
They knew? The thought made fear bubble up in your chest. No, they couldn’t know, there was no way they knew.
“The real you will always overpower that mask, Princess. There are cracks in your mask and your true self always shines through just like it is right now.”
“Please stop, I-“
“It’s ok. I won’t hurt you- hey, look at me,” he reprimanded as he held your face in his hands, his eyes more intense than before as they stared into yours, “I will not hurt you, Y/N.”
“That’s what they all said, Yoongi. They- They promised.”
They promised. You were never always like this. You were always cheerful, positive and full of joy but she ripped that away from you. Your mother. She left, leaving you and your father for another man and ever since then thing started going downhill. Everyone coming in your life just to leave you again, it hurt, it hurt that you were so easily replaceable in people’s lives.
“I know, sweetheart, I know but I’m not the same.”
“How? How are you different from any of them?”
Yoongi hesitated at the question, you could see the gears turning in his head as he kept his eyes on you.
“Because I was once like you.”
And that was the last of your conversation. No words came from the both of you, only soft breaths and intense eyes.
He pulled you closer to his chest, continuing his gentle ministrations from earlier.
And for the first time in a really long time you let yourself go and you were Y/N. No one else.
Just Y/N.
Tags: @taeriffococean @snowythellama @slutforjjk @crazy-fangirl-10 @aretha170 @my-bts-babes @joonsbias @itneverends15713 @ashbash9909 @beautyyounggirl @shooklier @optimisticbouquetgentlemensworld @im-emo-motherfuckers @ravennightmares @dionymint @jiminiesthiccthighs @tall-iirose3773 @hopeivx @merxkii @joyful-jimin @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @blackpanther4550 @avalanet @httpjazel @bloominlovely95 @yasbts705 @anothershorthuman @btsxdoll @sweetcrvture @ximaginx @bookoffracturedescapes @daysixdrum @feedthefandoms995 @bartiertae @w0lfqu33n @vanitypoko @beetaeass @slxtfortae @luvu3000times @butter1babe @i-am-supermerwholoked221b
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im-not-a-joke · 5 years ago
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Niche AU Things part 3
i have no idea what i’m doing at this point, but here you go
[ au co-created by @eraseyourbookofstories with help from @strangerthingsiscool ]
Friendship things!
- max and dustin are soft chaos
- they love each other a lot but go on tangents about the weirdest things
- they get really creative and come up with the weirdest ideas
- they send each other random posts that remind them of each other, it’s wholesome
- max and will also get creative
- but instead of talking about random tangent things, they write an entire musical
- they write together a lot
- they rant to each other about characters they come up with for hours
- steve and will are an iconic duo
- steve gives him all the free things from the bakery he works at
- jonathan is totally not salty about this at all
- “babe i want baguettes too” “i have to bribe him to give me his blessing” “no, you really don’t” “i know, we’re tight”
- they go bowling all the time
- “i have to bond with my brother-in-law”- will
- “why didn’t you invite me to the wedding :(” - el
- ive just now decided that jonathan and mike are also an iconic duo
- jonathan is grumpy because his boyf is ignoring him for his little brother and mike is emo because of course he is
- they wallow in self pity together
- sarcasm boys
- “why is he ignoring me” - they both say at the same time and lock eyes from across the room
- jonathan tries to use his time with mike to his advantage
- “sorry babe, i’m hanging out with mike, wait mike, no you can’t go hang out with- no- whatever”
- mike enjoys hanging out with jonathan but will leave as soon as will becomes available to bother
- jonathan and robin are also buds
- robin likes to write nancy a lot of notes and jonathan is volunteered to sneak them into her car
- nancy know but just doesn’t question it
- one time, jonathan tried to get steve to do it but it did not end well
- “steve, it’s 6 in the fucking morning, why are you trying to steal my car” “good morning to you too, nancy”
- jonathan and robin totally go on long car rides together
- jonathan brings out the calm in robin, so they just kinda chill in quiet the whole time
- that or robin will rant and jonathan will half-listen
- he knows she doesnt want advice, just to get things off her chest
I could go on about friendships but
- other things
- mike rants about this one show he’s in a lot
- so the party all plans to come surprise him and see it
- they show up on opening night and when mike sees them after the show, he gets so excited he just straight up kisses will
- max and dustin lose their shit at this
- lucas and el are a mix of relieved and tired
- so thats how they get together
- at some point, mike the grayaromantic grayasexual tells will that “youre the only person i’ve felt so intensely about” and will is shocked
- so now theyre gay on main all the time
- mike is a theater gay (tm) so he’s good at singing
- he will sing to will sometimes and will is in love
- the wheelers move up to maryland where the byers live because ted has work and nancy and mike are excited!
- hop also saves max from neil by just being like “move in with us kid”
- so now there are 4 in maryland and 2 in virginia
- but that wasnt the point
- mike serenades will at 3 am
- jonathan and el find it hilarious
- will is not having it
- will mike and max all love cotn, a broadway musical
- mike sings songs from it all the time
- mike and max sing together and ft el and will because they literally can’t be away from each other for 2 seconds
- will is in love with their singing, el is confused
- el doesn’t know musicals
- so will makes them watch cotn with him
- it makes them even gayer for max
- lucas teases mike constantly for singing cotn songs
- but dustin drops by unannounced one day and hears him singing infinite in the shower
- he records it and sends it to the discord
- he never lives it down
- dustin is also a talented boy
- but none of them know it
- one day lucas hears him singing infinite under his breath
- lucas forgets how to exist he is so gay
- “my favorite boy,,, can sing,,,, and is singing,,, my favorite song,,,, god is real”
- so max, mike, dustin, and will can sing well
- lucas is ok
- el can not sing
- they stick to clarinet
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lefaystrent · 6 years ago
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Everyone's talking about Virgil Angst but meanwhile I'm sitting here thinking about Roman because like?? Presumably he's on Broadway right? And to wake up finding you're a known broadway star has to be a dream come true even if it's jarring that suddenly finding yourself so much older. But like Roman has no memories of the years between hs and now. He wakes up, finds he's performing in a show that very day. bUT NOT ONLY THAT, it's a new show, one he's never heard of so he has no lines 1/?
no lyrics, noblocking memorized. And he's expected to perform. So a thespian's nightmareright there. Maybe for extra Angst points the understudy is out sick. Or hejust forces himself to perform, not wanting to disappoint or miss this"chance" to be on Broadway. Either way it doesn't go well and Romanis left with his spirits crushed and still completely lost as to how he endedup in the future. 2/2
Back to theFuture, part II
Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides
Pairings: platonic LAMP
Word Count: 2620
Masterlist Link
_______________________
Roman wakes up with a pillow beingthrown at his face.
“Chop, chop! Time to go.”
Roman groans, “Is it time forschool already?”
The person laughs.
It’s then that Roman realizes thatit’s neither of his parents, nor one of his friends who would sometimes sleepover.
Roman sits up, shirtless but that’susual. What’s not usual is the man fixing his hair in the mirror of a largevanity table.
“Who are you?” Roman asks,instantly suspicious. He snatches up a hair brush that’s lying on the bedsidetable, wielding it like a sword. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”
The man meets his eyes in themirror, sees something funny, and rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Alright, Mr.Big Shot. Save the acting for the stage. We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurryup and get dressed. And Dot will have both of our asses if we’re late foropening night.”
Opening night?
Stage?
Cute guy?
Oh, this had to be a dream.
Roman was good at dreams.
“Very well then. Wouldn’t want todisappoint all of my adoring fans, would I darling?” Roman boasts, to which theguy snorts and tells him to hurry up again.
Roman slips away and finds thebathroom. He’s debating whether or not to snap his fingers and conjure up amagnificent outfit. That is, until he catches a glimpse of himself in themirror.
He screams like he’s in a horrormovie, which maybe he is.
“What—what’s wrong?” the no-nameguy from earlier yells, banging on the bathroom door but Roman had locked it.
“I’M OLD!!!”
He’s over thirty now, and to a guywho was just seventeen yesterday, that’s pretty old my dude.
Frantic, Roman throws open thebathroom door and demands, “What magic did you cast on me?”
“What?”
“My face! Look at it!” Roman screeches,looking into the mirror once again and rubbing at his face as if the signs ofaging would disappear. “I mean, I’m still gorgeous, BUT I’M OLD!!!”
The guy looks at him like he’scrazy, which maybe he is but wow, no need to judge. “Uhhhh, are you going througha mid-life crisis right now? Because can you do that later? When, ya know, wedon’t have somewhere to be?”
“I was just seventeen yesterday,”Roman tells his reflection mournfully.
“Okay, if this is the kind ofbaggage Roman Prince has, remind me not to sleep with him again.”
Roman chokes at that.
“E-excuse me? We did what?!”
“Just cut the crap already,” theguy grunts and leaves. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he calls before a door slamsclosed.
Roman is left alone with hisreflection.
He snaps his fingers, but nothinghappens.
He gives a grin anyway. “Just gottaget into the swing of things is all.”
*
Roman meets the guy outside. Hedoesn’t bother asking for his name, since it’s not important to the dreamanyway. And really, this isn’t unlike a lot of Roman’s other dreams. Waking upto a cute guy? Check. Performing in a Broadway musical? Check.
Being the headlining actor for saidBroadway musical?
Super big check.
They’re in the theater now, andRoman is smiling and greeting a bunch of people who seem to know him. He goesalong with whatever they’re saying. He runs into the director Dot that theno-name guy mentioned earlier. And somewhat confusingly, he finds his dressingroom. It’s amazing and wonderful and in such detail, and sitting on the chair bythe dressing table is the script they’re performing tonight. Roman picks it upwith a wide grin.
He nearly drops it.
He’s the headlining actor for aplay he’s never even heard of.
Okay. Okay, okay okay.
Roman is in his dressing room—HISDRESSING ROOM ON BROADWAY. This whole place is designed by him to work how hepleases. If he just looks away and looks back again it’ll change—
Nope, that didn’t work. He squintsdown at the font, hoping to place the title.
“A New Lease on Life.”
From a skim through it’s somethingabout a parasitic demon trapped in the body of a magically gifted human?Roman’s character is the parasite.
“I know musicals are weird, butwhat in the name of Julie Andrews,” Roman says to himself.
But this is a dream. It’s okay. Hecan just…get up on stage and have the time of his life!
That’s not how it happens though.They do last minute run throughs. Roman is not magically landing the lines.Hell, he doesn’t even know them! The director yells at him to stop messingaround, and Roman is honestly hurt and disoriented enough to start crying rightthen.
But this is supposed to be hisdream! He can’t cry. He’s a Broadway actor! He’s got this!
*
Remember when he said ‘he’s gotthis’?
Yeeaaah . . .
The evening is upon them, theaudience files in, and Roman is standing on stage with no clue as to what he’sdoing.
He skimmed the script earlier,curious because usually he couldn’t read things in his dreams. He says thelines he remembers, but he misses a cue, and then the actor who’s playing therole of the character he’s possessing hisses under their breath what his lineis. It’s appreciated, but Roman can’t hear it over the thundering roar in hisears. The audience is waiting for something incredible to happen and Roman . ..
Roman’s waiting too.
*
This isn’t one of Roman’s dreams.
This is a nightmare.
Roman is a deer caught in theheadlights. He’s sweating and breathing so loudly that surely the audience musthear it. The lights are too bright and he’s standing on the edge of the stagein the middle of what’s supposed to be this sinister monologue.
This isn’t working. He just needsto take a breath, take a step back, listen more carefully to his costar’s constanthissing, and maybe things will get back on track.
Roman’s leg buckles when he triesto move it. He’s too close to the edge of the stage. He thinks for a momentthat he can catch himself, but his palms are slick with sweat and he slipsright over. He lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he doesn’tremember much after that.
He wakes up, not in his bedroom athome but in his Broadway dressing room. Someone’s there, someone that Romandoesn’t recognize.
“Sloan picked up where you leftoff,” she says. She’s looking at Roman with pity.
“Sloan?” he questions. In thedistance, he can hear the muffled noises of the show going on.
She looks pissed off now. “Youknow, your understudy? Maybe if your head wasn’t shoved up your ass all thetime, you’d remember the names of us little people.”
She storms out of the room.
Roman lets his head thump back downon the bench someone laid him on.
He could wallow in his misery. Hecould let this nightmare beat him down. He could curl up and have himself anice cry. Princes are made for bawls after all.
“Sorry, but this prince has toleave before midnight,” he says.
He hops up to his feet. His headhurts and there’s a painful twinge in his leg and arm from where he must havefallen on them. But he can still move. He has to.
Roman turns his back on Broadway togo search for answers.
As he’s walking down the sidewalk,he ignores the busy city life. He pulls out his phone, immediately searchingfor his emo sidekick’s number.
He doesn’t find it.
What he does find though areseveral missed calls from Patton.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” hequotes. He calls Patton up.
“Roman?!” Patton answers after thefirst ring.
“Hey Padré! I hope you’ve got sometime to chat because you will not believe where I am right now!”
*
Roman was all the way in New York.
That’s a little more than a carride from Florida.
Logan had known that Roman became aBroadway star. He’d even told Roman that he would one day become one, but thatwas back in high school when Roman was an upset seventeen-year-old and Loganwas an eleven-year-old kid who knew too much. The news might have given Romansome form of comfort when he was figuratively down, but he certainly hadn’tbelieved it as Logan foretelling the future.
When Logan woke up as twenty-nineagain—after the initial freaking out period—he decided to contact his friendsto test a hypothesis. He needed to encounter someone who he’d never been affiliatedwith before in his future time, people like Roman, Virgil, and Patton.
Roman was too far off however. Notto mention it’d prove difficult to request a celebrity’s time, one that wasn’tsupposed to know you.
And Logan did doubt that any ofthem knew him. He suspected that he hadn’t been pushed forward through time butreplaced back into his own time, a timeline separate from the past one he’dbeen in. Nothing in his house had changed, no signs of his friends. No texts orcontacts on his phone to match.
So Logan searched for the othertwo. Virgil proved to be all but nonexistent upon his initial online researching.Patton immediately garnered results.
“An advice columnist,” Logan hadsaid to himself, unable to smother down the smile that tugged up his lips.Patton had made quite a name for himself in northern Florida. He’d been hostedseveral times on talk shows and was working on promoting his second self-helpbook that had recently released.
Logan had set off to find Patton,and find him he did.
And Patton . . . Patton had rememberedhim.
And even though Logan felt trulysorry that this disorienting situation caused his friend a great deal ofdistress, he couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief knock into him at the factthat his friend was still his friend. That those memories weren’t worthless ora vivid dream.
And then, once they had workedthrough establishing the existence of time travel, Patton suggests that theothers might be in the same boat.
“What boat? We’re not in a boat.”
“Figure of speech, Lo,” Pattonsmiles a little, despite himself.
If he and Patton are here afterjumping through time, it’s not impossible that Roman and Virgil could be thesame.
“They might not be here,” Logansuggests, swallowing down a sharp feeling of disappointment. “Whatever happenedto us, they may not have been a part of it.”
“Or they might have,” Patton pushesstubbornly. He can see the same hope welling in him, the same selfish desire tonot be alone. “We’re always hanging out together. They might have . . . gottencaught up in it? Whatever it is.”
“. . . and you already tried callingRoman?”
Patton tries all day. Logan wandersthe house a lot, investigating what kind of person Patton grew up to be. It’s .. . interesting to say the least, seeing his friend who had previously been ateenager suddenly as a grown adult, older than himself at that. Logan pondersover whether Patton feels the same amount of puzzlement. Although, Patton doesn’tseem to be interested in much that requires moving from the couch.
Ever since Logan theorized them notbeing friends in this timeline, Patton has become lethargic. Logan is ill-preparedto deal with this kind of Patton.
That night, Logan hears Patton’sphone ring. Logan doesn’t pay it much mind. The phone had been ringing off andon ever since Patton had run away from work that morning. Logan continues to pokearound the kitchen, relishing his normal body and the height that allows him toeasily reach into the tall cabinets.
“Roman?!” Patton screams from theliving room.
Logan immediately abandons any notionof dinner.
“Did he call you?” Logan blurtsout, racing into the room. It’s an unnecessary question, because what elsecould have happened? Patton waves his hand at him to shush him.
“Where are you kiddo? Are you okay?”Patton asks. He clutches the phone to his ear with both hands as if he couldhold Roman there.
Impatient, Logan sits right besidePatton and leans in to eavesdrop.
“Where else would a star like me beother than Broadway?”
Yes, that’s Roman’s proud voicefiltering through.
“Broadway?” Patton repeats, lookingat Logan questioningly.
“He’s in New York,” Logan affirms.
“What is he doing there?” Pattonasks.
“Is someone else there?” Roman interrupts.“You’re talking to someone else when you have me on the phone?”
“Sorry, Ro. I was just talking to—um . . .”
“To?”
“To, um . . . Logan.”
“Oh, well tell that nerd that I’mon Broadway and I’m fabulous, even if I am old now.”
Patton and Logan share a look.
Logan pries the phone out of Patton’shold and puts it on speaker. “You remember who I am?”
“Who? Wait, who’s that?”
“That’s Logey, kiddo.”
“That doesn’t sound like the littletwerp I know. Wait, is he super old now too? Are we all old geezers? Man, thisis a really weird dream.”
“Yes, it’s me. Yes, we’re older,”Logan answers. At least Roman is understanding the situation they’ve beendropped in. “Roman, I need you to answer a couple of questions for me please.”
“If I’m older now, why do I have toput up with more study sessions from you?”
“This isn’t school-related, Roman.”
“Please, Ro. It’s important,”Patton urges.
“Fiiine, if you must.”
“Did you wake up today in anunfamiliar setting with no memory of how you got there?”
“Yeah? Nothing too unusual.”
“How—how is that not unusual foryou?”
“Happens all the time in dreams,duh. Use that big brain of yours, Jimmy Neutron—wait, you’re not a kid geniusanymore. I’m going to have to come up with new nicknames. Not to worry, I’mgreat at improvising!”
Great at ignoring reality as wellit seems.
“Um, Roman?” Patton prompts. “Whatdo you mean by dreams?”
“This isn’t a dream,” Loganpresses.
“What else could it be?” Romanlaughs, and it doesn’t matter that the sound is slightly distorted through thephone. Both Logan and Patton can tell that there’s something off about it.
“Roman, that’s not—” Patton starts,but Logan cuts him off.
“Roman, do you have Virgil’scontact saved perhaps?”
“No, I don’t actually. Weird,right? Oh, I know! He must be hidden away from us in a tall tower in amonster-filled forest. Never fear, we shall rescue our emo in distress!”
Patton bites his lip, staring atLogan. “He doesn’t have his number either? What does it mean, Logan?”
“It could mean that Virgil doesn’thave a phone,” Logan tries, but neither of them buys it.
“Virge . . .” Patton whispers, eyeswelling up.
Logan focuses back on the phone.Roman keeps asking if they’re still there. “Yes, we’re here. And that soundslike an excellent idea, Roman. Why don’t you meet up with us here in Floridaand we’ll brainstorm a plan of action in order to locate Virgil.”
“Can do!”
Later, after Logan has helped Romango over how to book a plane ticket (“No Roman, you can’t just teleport here.Think of this as a . . . side quest, like in the video games you like.”), heends the call and turns to Patton. Patton’s sitting there, arms wrapped aroundhis legs and face buried in his knees.
“We’ll find out what happened tohim,” Logan tells him.
Patton doesn’t respond.
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sevenhorns · 5 years ago
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Thank you, Taylor
I’ve been writing bits of this for the past few months, unsure as to whether I should actually post this. I don’t usually express myself online and, truth be told, I don’t really express myself massively in real life, either.
I do have a very active internal monologue, though, and on this subject, it’s been such a strong one that I’ve felt compelled to write it down - and now, to publish it. So here goes.
* * *
Over the past few years, I felt myself changing. Becoming more reserved. Feeling sad about things. Finding it hard to cope with seemingly insignificant moments. These were all aspects of my personality that were already there, but as I progressed towards the age of 30, were becoming considerably more amplified. I figured it was just a part of getting older - or at least, that’s what I told myself. There’s been so much talk about mental health and the efforts to destigmatise it (especially among men) that I figured I was associating with symptoms of depression because I was more aware of them, not because I actually had them. 
I was kidding myself.
To cut a long story short, I had a breakdown while working at a very public event and realised that something was very wrong with me. Even then, I tried to push it to the back of my mind, thinking that because I knew and accepted there was something wrong with me that it would somehow ‘cure’ me.
Obviously, I was once again kidding myself.
When work asked me to attend a similar event, I had another breakdown and realised I had to take action. I took time off from my job (who were incredibly supportive) while I took steps to combat my anxiety and depression. I went to the doctor, joined a gym, and found a therapist. For the first time in ages, I felt genuinely optimistic.
The feeling was short-lived. The pills my doctor gave me did nothing, the gym couldn’t fit me in for an induction for two weeks, and the therapist I saw was awful. He listened, but he didn’t hear what I was saying.
At the time all this was happening, Taylor Swift released Lover.
* * *
My journey to becoming a Taylor Swift fan was a slow burn. I wasn’t much into chart music in the late 2000s (I was far too busy being some sort of edgy emo/goth/rocker hybrid) and, being a Brit, Taylor’s music took a while to filter over here. But the moment I heard Love Story, I knew it was right up my street. Over the following years, I heard (by chance, rather than because I’d sought them out) YBWM, The Story of Us, and a couple of others. By the time Red came out, I had to accept that maybe I was just a massive Taylor Swift fan, so I bought all her albums - and loved pretty much all of the songs. 
Ever since, she’s been my absolute favourite artist, both because of her talents as an artist, and the fact that she just seems like a genuinely lovely human being. But I digress
* * *
When 1989 and Reputation released, I listened to them the moment I could. I’d pour myself a nice drink, stick on some headphones, and just listen. It was a new ritual, but one that I was nevertheless looking forward to doing with Lover. But I was in such a mental funk that the album sat on the shelf in its cellophane untouched. I just wasn’t in the mood to get excited about anything - even a new album from my favourite artist.
It was an odd time. I was signed off of work for mental health reasons, but none of the steps I was taking to improve things worked. While I was waiting for my gym induction and an appointment with a new therapist to open up, I was just spending days at home on my own with all this free time... and absolutely nothing to do with it. Wake up, have some breakfast, watch daytime TV, wait for my partner to get home from work, have dinner, go to bed. The breakdowns and anxiety attacks I’d had sucked, but the monotony of sitting around and waiting with nothing but my own broken thoughts for hours on end each day was horrendous. Wallowing in self pity had become a dreadful hobby.
One day, I was sitting at the computer, wasting time doing absolutely nothing productive, when I noticed that the early evening sun was really quite pretty. As I felt its warmth on my back and saw the long shadows being cast across the room, I had a brief moment of motivation: this seemed like as good a time as any to listen to Lover.
* * *
Good decision. I Forgot That You Existed was a solid start, and then came the absolute bop that is Cruel Summer. As that fantastic bridge hit, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of how much I was enjoying a song called Cruel Summer when my own summer was being pretty cool to me, too.
By the time I hit Paper Rings and Cornelia Street, I realised I’d had a genuine grin on my face and energy in my body. It was the first genuinely positive emotion I’d felt in weeks that was wasn’t the double-edged sword of relief or security. I was happy for the sake of being happy.
By this point, I’d stopped faffing on the computer and was just sitting, watching the golden sunset out of the window. As Daylight finished up, I wiped the moisture from my eyes and played through the whole thing again - not just in the hope of prolonging my happy feelings, but because Lover is quite simply an incredible piece of work.
* * *
I know that saying ‘music cured my depression’ isn’t exactly an original position to be in - and I’m glad of that. I’m glad that music can be such a powerful tool when it comes to mental health that has helped many people. And I wouldn’t say that Taylor Swift and Lover cured my depression - mental health is an ongoing battle that requires some degree of constant effort to maintain and I’m not sure if it can ever truly be ‘cured’ - but it was absolutely a key moment it helping me to turn things around. 
Whenever I listen to it, I get the same feelings of happiness and joy, and all the great feelings of the love I have for my partner, and of how fortunate I am to have such an unbelievably loving and supportive family.
Most of all though, it takes me back to that sunny afternoon. It reminds me of the moment when I made a tiny bit of effort to improve my mental health - and it actually worked. After weeks of trying to help myself and failing each time, this action actually succeeded. It gave me hope that as long as I did the right things and put in the effort, maybe I could get some way back to being me again. That although I felt weak in my mind, I still had enough strength to fight my way out of the hole I found myself in. I was still in there somewhere
No matter the song, the time, or the place, Lover has managed to form a deeply personal connection to me in a way that no other music has ever come close to doing.
* * *
Nine months on and I’m like a different person. No, wait, that’s not right. I’m a different version of the same person. 
The second therapist has turned out to be an absolute gem. I still have low days, but thanks to her, I know how to help turn things around. I know where my fears and anxieties come from, what’s likely to trigger them, and how to try and manage my depression.
I fell in love with the gym. As a guy who used the same weak excuse for three years at school to get out of doing PE, I never saw myself as someone who’d voluntarily exercise, let along enjoy it. I’ve lost 40 lbs since September and no longer feel ashamed of the person I see in the mirror.
I’m not going to say that it’s all thanks to Taylor, because that would be doing a great disservice to the friends, family, co-workers, and health workers who have all been actively brilliant. Also to myself - forgive me some self-indulgence, but I’m also really proud of myself and the part I’ve had to play in improving as a person, and the truths I’ve had to admit (which, as a notoriously stubborn guy, wasn’t always easy!).
But in creating an album so beautifully crafted that it reminded me what happy emotions were, Taylor has been a significant part of my journey. I know the chances of her (or anyone else on the zero-follower blog I created as an output for these thoughts) seeing this are astronomically tiny. 
But on the off-chance that she somehow stumbles across this, I’d just like to say a wholehearted thank you. 
Thank you so much. 
Not only for inadvertently helping me, but for consistently creating such wonderful, expressive, and intelligent music; for speaking out and standing for important social issues; and for being a role model that so many people of all ages and cultures can look up to.
As a 30-something white bloke from the UK, I feel slightly awkward putting something like this out into the open... but then again, why should I? It’s OK to not be OK. It’s OK to be a man with vulnerabilities and emotions. It’s OK to like whatever you like - if it makes people think differently of you then that’s their problem, not yours. Embrace and share your passions and life becomes all the richer for it.
I really hope I’m able to make one of Taylor’s concerts one day. If you’re at one too, and you see an awkward-looking bloke quietly standing there, struggling to hold back happy tears during Afterglow, that might just be me. Feel free to say hi.
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fmdhyunsooarchive · 5 years ago
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◙ - an audition headcanon (wc: 211)
considering that hyunsoo had never really wanted to audition in the first place, his audition story isn’t the most spectacular. he had only accepted to go just because he thought it would help to make his parents worry about him less if they saw he was doing more than just wallowing in his self pity in his room for the rest of his days (though, he didn’t exactly expect to pass, so that had been the plan from the beginning.) this was back in 2012, when the topic of how much his life had changed from his injury was still very painful to him. 
he auditioned as a singer, just him and his guitar, because there was nothing else he could show off anyway - the idea of him dancing or rapping in front of a panel was a preposterous one. for someone who ended up as a main vocal, he didn’t actually perform a song that showed off the true extent of the notes he could hit. after all, he just wanted to get it over and done with. instead, hyunsoo sang ‘the day before’ by nell (in true emo boy fashion) and somehow that had been a good enough choice for the company to take him in as a trainee.
❂ - voice-related headcanon (wc: 252)
as someone who had never really had an interest in performance and singing before he had been convinced to audition for bc entertainment, hyunsoo had to basically start from the basics when it came to learning the proper techniques to not injure his voice when he sang. he did improve a lot over the two-and-a-bit years that he had to train, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s the most perfect singer out there. there are times where he’s just too exhausted and that affects his voice. however, he’s gotten to a point where he can get away with these slight hiccups without the fans noticing too much, at least. he also is not the most naturally confident about his skills and talents, so sometimes he doesn’t believe that he can pull off such high and powerful notes, which also affects him sometimes too.
that being said, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an impressive voice. hyunsoo’s voice is very similar to DK’s own, and that makes him able to pull off great falsettos and runs that seem to be effortless sometimes. one thing that he takes pride in is the versatility of his voice, as well. no matter whether it’s cute and sweet like adore u or more heavy and dark like poison, he doesn’t really have much issue with fitting his voice to the mood of the song. there’s still always room for improvement, though, so making his voice the best it can be is something he’s still working on.
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spamzineglasgow · 6 years ago
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Bon Iver’s hauntological i,i (William Fleming)
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Image Copyright: Bon Iver / Jagjaguwar 
In this essay, William Fleming takes a detailed look at bon iver’s new album, i,i: through acid communist hauntology to oedipal melancholia and the future’s cybernetic fracture. 
> This week I’ve been reading Mark Fisher and listening to Bon Iver’s new album on repeat so I combined the two.
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> Mark Fisher, in his Ghosts of My Life (2014), laments the dearth of creativity in popular music after the turn of the century, the loss of experimentation and of hearing something New and Radical, and the persistent replication of past methods, sounds and images. Fisher was no Adorno though (I don’t think anyway?). His essays are emotive and developed from a deep desire for a compassionate politics; Ghosts evokes the pathos of his seminal Capitalist Realism (2009). One of the key themes associated with his work on pop culture, is the use of the Derridean term ‘Hauntology’: the haunted ontology of futures that never came to be, the spectral disturbance of time and place as the possibility of political becoming dissipates. As he details in Ghosts, Fisher initially used hauntology as a genre-defining term for music. He identified artists which were 'suffused with an overwhelming melancholy; and they were preoccupied with the way in which technology materialised memory', this results in us being made 'conscious of the playback systems’ and of ‘the difference between analogue and digital’, 'hovering' out of reach behind the media’. Fisher uses this conceptual framework to analyse a raft of musicians and their work but there is a consistent emphasis on the political narratives of class and race which shape these cultural offshoots.
> Despite being one of the biggest records of this summer – and thus perhaps a bit bait for me to discuss? – Bon Iver’s i,i bares all the hallmarks of the hauntological genre: melancholia, the clash of digital and analogue, anachronism, the suggestion of political solidarity, artistic experimentation.
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> First a confession: I first listened to Bon Iver because, in 2011, there was a girl on twitter I fancied who posted a video to Birdy’s Skinny Love. Birdy’s rendition is a wisp of a song, sad and grasping and completely lost on a shallow sixteen-year old and probably rightfully so. Failing to select the next song, I’m guessing Bon Iver’s original version played. For the first time I felt I’d discovered adult Sad Music. None of the ghd straightened, dip-died, angst-ridden emo tunes I’d gotten into a few years prior to impress my first girlfriend; or the one ballad acting as the penultimate track on one of the indie-rock albums from my older brother’s excessive collection. (- Does anyone know how to recycle these properly?). I would wallow in performative sadness playing immediately gratuitous and instantly gratifying XBOX games, quickly repeating the heartbeating guitar of Lump Sum on For Emma, Forever Ago or the wails of Holocene from Bon Iver, Bon Iver as I pined for my yet-to-be second girlfriend.
> I went off Bon Iver for a few years: these days, the quiet acoustic melancholia of these first two albums doesn’t fit with any aspirational sense of masculinity of mine. Being a man and being non-toxically emotional isn’t about listening to acoustic guitars and barely audible snares whilst you lie sulking in your room or on the drizzled walk to the library or job you hate. Instead it’s about communication, solidarity and empathy – ‘I’d be happy as hell, if you stayed for tea’. And so, when 22, A Million came out I was into it. Everyone thought it was a bit shit the first time few times they listened to it but this gave me cover to pretentiously purvey that they just didn’t get it and listen to it over and over. It was still the same anguished voice of Justin Vernon – but it was finally coming to life. Revived through stretched synthesizers, neologisms which made you question the contributors on A-Z Lyrics, and deconstructed bass. The piano riff on 33 “God” interrupted by alien helium-infused voices and the stammering, looping saxophone of 45 are still highlights. Listening now, 22, A Million initiated the hauntology of Bon Iver.
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> At times, i,i feels like Bon Iver’s latest album is a playback of their first album, but one done through a signal sent by an analogue walkie-talkie found on the abandoned spaceship from Alien: Isolation – itself maybe the most harrowing video-game I’ve ever played, one which is played in constant anticipation of being found. Listen to the intermittent signal of Holyfields,: the bleeps and radio fuzz a beacon we sent out into space, only for it to sporadically and hauntingly talk back at us – a cultural SOS signal.  
> i,i is the same guitar riffs from albums one and two but cybernetically fractured through time. The same syncopated kick drum but ripped out from the mid noughties and dumped in a Iain M. Banks novel or an episode in Love, Death + Robots. Fisher, quoting Derrida, quoting Hamlet: ‘the time is out of joint’. In these time fractures, it’s not just the music’s original location which is torn into the future, but also objective fragments of past culture: the sax (Sh’Diah) and violin strings (Faith) torn from eras when politics and music were still intertwined.
> The first track on the album, Yi, is garbage. But it is orbital astro-garbage – a notable anthropocenic feedback loop! – sitting uncomfortably at the stratosphere of an album which explicitly reflects on ecological destruction. Yi’s inaudible conversation and the ‘Are you recording, Trevor?’ set it up as a soundcheck for the album too. Including a soundcheck evokes Vernon’s emphasis on the album as a performance piece in the accompanying mini-documentary Autumn. In the doc, Vernon mentions the problem of ‘How is it going to be played live?’. Immediately, we are forced to imagine i,i as more than just another album on Spotify.
> Yi bleeds into iMi, a psychedelic echo of a track built from interspersing a melancholic vocals/arpeggio combo and an encroaching synth/dub beat combo. We is similarly eclectic, digitalised vocals juxtaposing with endearing, major-key sax. Following is Holyfields,, perhaps the most alien but most beautiful song on the album.
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> Hey, Ma is the headline single from the album. An ode to Vernon’s mother and a sense of the sunrise walk home after the summer party (I’ll try and avoid further seasonal references: the four albums are set up to represent the four seasons, i,i being autumn, but IMO this is pretty naff).
> There is a sense of time passing in Hey, Ma, a nostalgia for the yet to be – ‘Well you wanted it your whole life’ – but with this passing is a sense of desire – ‘I wanted all that mind, sugar / I want it all mine’ – and of becoming or evolving – ‘You’re back and forth with light’. Becoming is the famous Deleuzean postmodern motif; i.e. being is constantly flowing and reforming. Bon Iver’s becoming, however, is not a flow, but a hauntological wrench into the future state. The entire album feels as though you’re experiencing the tech-enhanced evolution of Bon Iver’s music. That skipping between soft indie and futuristic synth reminiscent of the OG Pokemon games when your Pokemon was evolving and it would flicker between its past and future states. But becoming is never complete. As Fisher highlights, ‘futuristic’ no longer refers to a time/space but is now merely an adjective. We’ll never hear the Bon Iver made entirely on digital tech.
> For Fisher, melancholia is a productive force of political resistance. He distances his ‘hauntological melancholia’ from that of Wendy Brown’s ‘left melancholia’ which ‘seems to exemplify the transition from desire (which in Lacanian terms is the desire to desire) to drive (an enjoyment of failure)’. Fisher’s melancholia, ‘by contrast, consists not in giving up on desire but in refusing to yield'. Under scrutiny, Bon Iver’s first two albums fail this melan-test – they are a spectacular, self-pitying self-indulgence. Self-pity as a common form of masochism. For Deleuze, thinking through Jung, thinking through Bergson (yeap, I know), masochism is always regressive, flipping the Oedipal on its head as a form of un-becoming.
> Is Vernon’s song to his mother a masochistic form of melancholia; a self-pitying reversal of the Oedipal? ‘I wanted a bath / “Tell the story or he goes”’; ‘Tall time to call your Ma / Hey Ma, hey Ma’. The type captured by Maggie Nelson in The Argonauts (2015) when reflecting on Ginsberg’s poem Kaddish, which is dripping in, in Nelson’s words, ‘misogynistic repulsion’. Or is Bon Iver’s a hauntological melancholia? One of stubborn resistance. The type of mother-son relationship photographed by Donald Weber in his response to Alison Sperling and Anna Volkmar’s conversation on the post-atomic (Kuntslicht, 39: 3/4). Weber’s photographs were taken over two years in Chernobyl. The, now fetishised, explosion in Chernobyl perhaps the example of the nuclear, a hauntological theme post-WWII, made material. The bursting of a political, biological and biopolitical reality which was never meant to be. Weber’s photo of a middle-aged man and his elderly mother is captioned: ‘Mothers sought to be photographed sitting close to their sons, in domestic scenes of proud companionability. Their eyes signal an unalterable communion. And more – elevation. A man’s mother transcends the material order, and rises easily above even the most squalid circumstances. It is the frank declaration of her biological supremacy: This is my child’. If it is this relationship captured in Hey, Ma, it may promise a spectre which can be made material. An artefact which can continue its evolution, its becoming. ‘Let me talk to em / Let me talk to ‘em all’.
> Finally, that Hey, Ma’s nostalgia is a culturally productive one is suggested by one of its more memorable lines: ‘I waited outside / I was tokin’ on dope / I hoped it all won’t go in a minute’. In Fisher’s posthumously published Unfinished Introduction to Acid Communism, he, when imagining the process of resistance and a new politics whilst citing Jefferson Cowie, writes 'these new kinds of workers – who “smoked dope, socialised interracially, and dreamed of a world in which work had some meaning” – wanted democratic control of both their workplace and their trade unions’. The curious, outdated use of ‘dope' in Vernon’s lyrics then mirrors Cowie’s use of 'dope', echoing Cowie’s nostalgia for a lost working-class culture of 1970s America. Fisher uses Cowie’s argument to piece together an acid communism, which I will return to, but this, surely consequential, similarity further constructs i,i as a contemporary hauntological album.  
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> Following Hey, Ma comes the Sunday-school piano of U (Man Like). Raising an image of a crisply ironed, white America, like that depicted in Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone (2000), which acts as a reminder that nostalgia isn’t always productive. However, the nostalgia is continued with Naeem ‘Oh, my mind, our kids got bigger/ … / You take me out to pasture now’. Fisher asks ‘is hauntology, as many of its critics have maintained, simply a name for nostalgia?’. However, he argues that it is not a ‘formal nostalgia’ but one of solidarity and of a longing for the process of social improvement. Naeem, despite its nostalgia, continues the flickering between hope and despair. The joyful ‘More love / More love / More love’ and ‘I can hear, I can hear’; the anguished ‘I can hear crying’ and ‘What’s there to pontificate on now? / There’s someone in my head’. The latent and angelic child-like choir on Naeem another hauntological theme. As Fisher declares, ‘no doubt there comes a point when every generation starts pining for the artefacts of its childhood’. However, Vernon’s evoking of childhood is one perhaps linked to the, at times damaging, trope of ‘future generations’ in environmentalism. It is still a political longing though – ‘I’d Occupy that’. Occupy: that great post-2008 political uprising which dissipated into a mere exemplar in an undergraduate geography textbook.
> Next, Faith brings back the aliens from 33 “God” but this time, for attention, they’ve brought their clean guitar and slowly morph into the catholic choir we began to hear on Naeem. God died and, despite the sexy, liquidity of our modernity, we miss him.
> Marion momentarily brings us back from the cybernetically fractured semi-future. Back to the £3-coffee coffee-shop where you’re telling your friend that you think you and that girl will probably get back together but you need the time to be right. The hope is sucked back out; we’re back in capitalist realism and Arctic Monkey’s fourth (fifth?) album. Luckily, Salem restarts the signal to bring us back from our self-pity, dragging us to the obfuscation we were enjoying. Salem’s witches are still here and they’re pretty good at Ableton.
> Next, Sh’Diah grows from an autotuned prayer – ‘Just calm down (calm down) / And she’ll find time for the Lord’ - into a yearning saxophone riff/rift. But, alas, RABi, the album’s final song, returns us to a blues guitar and Vernon’s vocals. If the oscillation between past and future throughout i,i was a dialectic, the depressing outcome is ‘consumer capitalism’s model of ordinariness' (Fisher) of the neoliberal present. As in Fisher’s hauntology, the technologically-infused creativity of i,i is a lost future. Watching Vernon being interviewed feels like this. He’s got the Pacific-North-West hipster look: vegan but drives a V6 truck. Goes to the craft brewer’s bar and talks about that latest public health campaign to encourage men to talk about mental health over a pint but refrains from actually talking about depression. (Maybe serving beer in 2/3rd schooners means you never end up getting to the important part of the conversation?)
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> But why does it matter? Because it’s about political and cultural (and creative) imagination. Fisher’s last big, and tragically but appropriately unfinished, philosophy is that of Acid Communism. Maybe there is a future !
> Fisher mourned not only the flattening of pop music, but also the ‘culture constellated around music (fashion, discourse, cover art)’. In contrast to a digital album which you never perceive in any physical manner, Bon Iver have emphasised various forms of art in their work, ensuring a communal creativity. There are multiple iterations of the album cover art on public posters and on social media. More excitingly though, is the collaboration with WHITEvoid, a Berlin-based sculpture group/company, which is discussed on Autumn. Prepared for live performances, WHITEvoid have constructed an ensemble of floating mirrors and kinetic lighting made from ‘space-age metal’ and motion tracking sensors. An artistic contribution as ethereal and tech-enhanced as the accompanying music and one which aestheticises our material sciences. The lighting provided by WHITEvoid in collaboration with the experimentation in sound system, similarly shown on Autumn, constructs the performance of i,i as an ongoing innovation and experimentation. The effort put into the upcoming live performances of i,i ensure that it is a music to be experienced not merely consumed. In another discussion on Autumn, Michael Brown, Bon Iver’s Artistic Director, says ‘you have to be in the moment with other people, you have to be able to know that the person next to you is having the same communal experience’.
> In Krisis (2018:2), Matt Colquhoun sees acid communism as a “project beyond the pleasure principle” (2) and of an ���experimental” politics. If the sounds of i,i are hauntological, then the spectre it suggests is one of acid communism. The acid is provided by its accompanying artistic experimentation and the communism is its emphasis on the political and the communal.
~
Text: William Fleming
Published 30/8/19
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amethystdarkwolf · 6 years ago
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AU:X Ship: Royality, background Analogical Prompt: X Requested by: X Warnings: Not taking care of oneself, lack of sleep and not eating consistently. Let me know If I missed any. Summary: Roman overhears a conversation he was not meant to hear, and it leads down a long path of trying to prove the argument incorrect. By any means necessary.  F/A/H-C: Hurt comfort. POV: 3rd ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Side Note:  A friend gave his opinion on Royality. And I got a fic idea based on it XD. I do respect his opinions, but this was a good idea. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I just… I dunno, L.  He isn’t good for Patton. I don’t think he would treat him correctly. He would just make the entire relationship about him. And Patton would probably say nothing against it. See, I can tell Patton loves Roman, and that’s just the thing. Is it really Roman feeling the same about him? Or is it just Roman enjoying the attention?”
The words stung.
They stung more than Roman thought the words would. This was his fault truly, he should not have been listening around the corner from where Logan and Virgil stood, speaking to one another in the kitchen. He could not help his curiosity however when he heard Virgil starting to talk about him.
That thought alone made him want to cry, want to breakdown into sobs. Of course. Of course, he started listening when Virgil began talking about him. He was that selfish and arrogant that he only paid attention then. Was Virgil right? Was he just dragging Patton into the relationship because he adored the attention?
No! Of course not! He loved Patton. He truly did with all of his heart. He cares about him, he only wants the best things for Patton. He loves his smile and laughs… The one that This own. He felt his heart shatter. No! This wasn’t true, this isn’t why he loves Patton, he isn’t that full of himself. Patton is similar to him of course, but he was nowhere near the exact same.
There was a small sigh, “I’m not sure Virgil, maybe you can present these concerns to Patton? Either to gain reassurance that this was not the case or to show the possibility to him of that being the case?” Logan suggested, to which Virgil hummed out a small agreement.
That was what did it. That’s what caused the tears that had been teetering on the edge to fall down his face. He bit his lip hard, choking back a sob. He was going to lose Patton, wasn’t he? He was going to lose him, and he would never be able to get him back. He loved him, he loved him so much and did not want to even think about losing him, but that seems now like a very real possibility.
He can’t let that happen, especially not when it wasn’t anywhere near the truth of the matter. He quickly rushed to his room, hearing Virgil and Logan murmur their words of love and affection as well as their good nights. He wasn’t going to hold himself back from crying once he was in the comfort and privacy of his own room. That would only lead to things hurting worse, later on, he knew that from experience, that was another thing that Patton began helping him with.
Soon though, he was cried out. He was not going to just sit back and wallow in self-pity waiting for that inevitable conversation with Patton about him being unsure due to his arrogance. He needed to take action. He needed to show Patton how much he cared about him. How much he truly loved him. Then maybe he wouldn’t take Virgil’s words to heart.
So began a full month of doing every little thing he could to show his affection to Patton. From simply leaving a red rose on Patton’s desk when he was having a bad day. To creating an entire mansion scene in the imagination, complete with a garden, massive pool, covered floor to ceiling in marble and decorated with gold, silver. Having light blue satin curtains, decorated with silver shimmery decals.
Though, the smaller gestures began coming few and far between. Instead, the more consistent ones were the grand gestures. Creating scene after scene for him and Patton to see and admire in the imagination, performing again and again, long and love filled scenes from musicals just to impress him. This began to wear on him, he was losing sleep, he wasn’t paying attention to his eating habits as much. He would begin planning or making something and suddenly it was three in the morning and he had not eaten.
Roman tried to push through it, however. This was for his love, this was all for him.
Patton, of course, began to notice. He noticed the darker circles forming that Roman tried to hide with makeup that only rubbed away after the activities they had. He noticed Roman slowly getting thinner. It was barely noticeable, but Patton can tell so much about the others. He can read facial expressions and emotions in an instant because he was the heart! That was his job!
The look Roman gave him once another one of the surprises transpired, was so clearly the appearance of someone trying their hardest to hide their nervousness, but their eyes always gave them away. So Patton planned the conversation he needed to have. He doesn’t avoid things like this anymore, they need to be talked about especially in a relationship.
Roman felt his heart slowly tear as Patton took his hand and asked, “Can we talk about something, Roman?” Roman couldn’t find his voice and instead nodded. Allowing Patton to guide him to his bedroom so they could talk in private, he only felt his heart ripping more and more.
“Ro, I love you, a lot, really! I do… but… This isn’t fair… Not to either of us, you can talk to me about this, and you know I’m not going to judge you. I know how love languages are, and I love all the amazing things you’ve done and made for me… But they need to stop right now… I can tell it’s hurting you, you’re getting thinner, and I can see the circles under your eyes… Please, Roman… you cannot keep hurting yourself like this.”
Patton’s explanation was the final crack in the vase before the tears came once again before Roman knew it, he was sobbing loud and unashamed into his hands as Patton tried his best to hold and comfort him. Murmuring reassurances to him. Roman needed to explain this now, no matter how much the aftermath might hurt. No matter how much Virgil’s glares to them whenever he sees them together stung. No matter how many nights those words played on repeat in his head to the point he had them memorized.
This needed to stop.
He couldn’t explain anything in the state he was in though, so he instead just focused on those gentle touches, reassuring words and comfort, so he could calm down fully.
Once he finally did so. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully, he needed Patton to understand exactly why he did this. “Patton, my sunshine, about a month ago at this point, when we first informed Logan and Virgil that we were dating. I heard them talking, and I decided to listen in, seeing as how I heard my name and yours being thrown around. I knew it was bad of me, but I was curious. What I heard, was, well, Virgil’s true opinion of what he thought our relationship would be like. He stated that he felt you were too good for me, that I would not treat you correctly. That I was only in this for attention. None of which is true in any regard! I truly love you, sunflower. And Logan told him that he should voice those concerns to you, so I wanted to do everything in my power to show you how much I truly did care for you….”
Silence.
That tense and heavy silence that Roman knew was coming. He did not dare look at Patton directly. He was frightened, he hated to admit it, but he was frightened of what he would see when he did. The silence seemed to last for hours, though in reality, it was only about ten seconds before Patton spoke up.
“Roman, can you look at me please?” He asked, his voice had no discernable tone. Which was even more terrifying. Both of them were the most expressive sides, Patton was the literal heart and emotions, so for his voice not to have anything, it was terrifying.
When he did look at Patton however, he expected realization or anger or anything that would lead to the end of this, the realization that Virgil was right, the anger that Roman listened in on their conversation. But, no. It was nothing like that. His expression was soft kind and understanding.
“Roman, I know you love me. Virgil told me what he thought a while ago, and I just reassured him that I knew you, despite how worried he was. You know he’s anxiety, my Prince. He worries about everything. Darling, I’ve been aware of how much you love and care for me since we first got together. You have nothing to worry about.”
Now, of course, there were more tears, but now they were tears of joy, tears of happiness and relief. Both of them ended up crying a bit, holding one another tightly, murmuring words of reassurance and love to one another. Sharing small kisses when they caught their breath. Roman promised to begin taking better care of himself once again, and Patton, of course, promised to help and support his love the entire way.
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