#and the text he is writing is replaced with “I must not start a new WIP”

[katerinaaqu]

Finished Chapter 14 of The Song of Achilles and like you I already found one change that gets on my nerves. Why is Odysseus now the Prince of Ithaca? When he was already King by the events of the original poem? What was Madeline Miller’s purpose in demoting him from King to Prince?

This better have a payoff or else… without Odysseus being King I feel his 20 year absence from Ithaca has less serious consequences. I think without him being King of Ithaca, his wife’s suitors wouldn’t be so eager to replace him.

Well I will start with what me and other classics readers say, that Miller is extremely biased with certain characters and that shows in her writing (true she writes in a very beautiful way and has great expression but still...) so certain characters are depicted positively and others negatively (no surprise or news there) and she writes in a feministic way so certain characters in the background are bound to be disregarded or worse changed. However most people have come to know that her writing of characters is really inaccurate or that it comes straight from her imagination (see for example how in order to get her romcom aura we must see a "homophobic character" aka Thetis who acts almost as a villain, we see the stereotype of star-crossed lovers like Achilles and Patroclus (which is a trope she uses by combining elements from the original but ignoring the character development of others in order to fortify her message) etc.

That being said, Miller's style seems to me like she uses SOME elements of the original, blasts them out of proportions, altering it to be more simplified to fit a romcom setting and re-writes the rest to fit the characters. I am not 100% famliar with her books given how I haven't read them in the full but I have seen stuff around and read some passages so take this hypothesis with a grain of salt but this seems to be the case to me. So in this case it is clear that Miller doesn't see Odysseus in a very positive light (given what she goes with to her other novels as well) so yeah her trying to lesser his importance or the status in the story seems more than just a possibility to me.

So here goes my reply, sorry if this is long:

In this case she seems to take advantage of the fact that in translations there is no distinct difference in the text between the word "prince" or "king" in the homeric text (both are being stated by the term άναξ (anax->wanax, from mycenean greek as well) and is being used to speak on the ruler that has under his command the ships and the army. That is to be said some of the commanders of the greek army had living parents back home and Odysseus was included among them. It seems like Laertes was in a way retired since indeed Odysseus seemed to be a king in his own right, in fact Penelope even insinuates he had been so for a long time, given how she tells Antinous the story of his father who arrived to the palace begging Odysseus for his own life, possibly implying that Odysseus was a ruler of his own right more than 20 years prior, possibly before Antinous's birth or during Antinous's childhood or infantry. On the other hand some people seem to separate his father from Odysseus by naming Laertes "King of Cephallenians" and Odysseus "King of Ithaca" aka that technically Laertes is the king of the entirety of the kingdom (Ithaca, Cephallonia, Acarnania etc) and Odysseus's juristiction is Ithaca. Personally I do not fully support that last one given how Odysseus is the only one who seems to be in charge even if Laertes is still alive. It seems that the tradition in Ithaca was a bit more family-like in terms of ruling and the king retired from his duty because of age, letting the younger and more capable son to rule (potentially Laertes is an exception and gave the authority to Odysseus because he thought he was more capable ruler than himself. Odysseus possibly proved his worth during the internal conflicts with the Taphian pirates or in conflict in Messinia [when he received his bow in his youth as a gift])

It also seems to be backed up by how by n large they got married within the kingdom (Eurylochus is from the same kingdom, from the small island of Same and marries Odysseus's sister Ctimene, the suitors of Penelope all come from within the kingdom from different principates and regions). Laertes and Odysseus seem to be exceptions to the rule since Laertes marries Anticlea, daughter to the great thief Autolycus who lived in Parnassus and Odysseus who married Penelope from Sparta) So it seems that the kingdom is more like a "family business" than actually some kingdom with expansive or military construction (unlike Mycenae or Sparta) so it doesn't seem impossible that there is either a tradition for the old ruler to quit and pass the throne to the next generation rather than wait for his death to pass authority or that if one did it wouldn't seem impossible. It also seems that other kingdoms are not necessarily the same as modern kingdoms either. Icarius is still alive when the events of the Odyssey take place. We don't know if Tyndareus also is alive or not, from what I remember, in Homer's writing so it is not clear what kind of rules exist to that realm. Could it be also that the ruler is not only of age (able to grow a beard aka around the final 20s or early 30s) but also marriage that gets them ready to rule? Like Menelaus is a ruler of Sparta by marriage, Odysseus rules as a sovereign ruler because of his marriage? It could be although again the suitors of Helen were often called "kings" in literature, it doesn't seem to be the case given how most of her suitors are either young (Ajax, Menelaus, Antilochus was also mentioned or even Diomedes in some sources even if the two of them would be literal children at that time) or sons of existent rulers let's say Odysseus. So it is possible that marriage AND coming of age play their part in succession. It gets a bit confusing as well since Odysseus leaves order to Penelope that she has to wait till her son is of age (when his beard grows) to pass him the throne, if he hasn't returned till then. Does Odysseus imply that his son would rule if he was of age, regardless of his death or is he implying that they first have to confirm he is dead before Telemachus takes over? It is indeed an enigma but then again the case of Odysseus is complicated; he goes to a war that he doesn't know if he is gonna return from and according to some readings and traditions, he was repared to be off for a long time as well from an omen he heard so his case with Telemachus seems to be an exception rather than the rule given the extreme conditions they deal with.

Either way yeah it doesn't seem that Odysseus is not a ruler in his own right in any shape or form in the Iliad or the Odyssey despite the fact that Laertes was still alive throughout the entire process. Either because it was a consistent tradition or because Laertes made an exception, it seems that Laertes was not an active ruler by the time Odysseus left for Troy and as I said it seems that Penelope implies Odysseus was already a ruler capable of giving pardon to someone (Antinous's father) or command armies (Taphian pirate incident, Messina, Troy) so yeah it doesn't seem that Odysseus is considred "a Prince" like for instance his brother-in-law Eurylochus or the Suitors and their families but he seems to be a king in his own right; he is the one who has the duty to send away the suitors; he is the one to command the army and he is the one to call the counter-attack in the Odyssey against the retalliation of the families after the murder of the suitors and not Laertes.

So to close this already long answer yes among the many changes Miller imposes in her book to fit her narrative, it seems that she takes advantage of modern day perspectives of rule and succession (aka the sovereign ruler's death before the other takes over) plus the fact that there is no distinct word between king and prince in the ancient texts to call Odysseus "a Prince" possibly to decrease his status (similar to how ancient writers mentioned Odysseus not being legitimate son of Laertes but a bastard son by Sisyphus) so yeah it does seem like it as you said given how Miller doesn't seem to be fond of Odysseus as a character. But that would be my hypothesis. Either that or Miller simply doesn't want to consider a different rule of succession than the modern one she and her readers are familiar with aka a king becomes king only after his father's death. Which is ironic though given how many people mention Odysseus "a king" even if they know or possibly because they forget Laertes is still alive.

Hope this helps

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 17

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n today's self promo is catskin which is a felix x reader fantasy/fairy tale oneshot that i am pleased enough with that i might write a part two. anyway, here's more of the drama you're really here for.

previous | masterlist | next

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At 6:05 on the dot, there's a knock on your door.

He must have been up all night waiting for your text, you think as you answer it, the way that he'd made it down the stairs within five minutes of your alarm going off. You're still in your pyjamas, a hoodie thrown over the top when you'd dragged yourself out of bed to combat the early-morning cold of your apartment. 

The boys waiting outside your door are dressed similarly, at least, padding around in clothes they've chosen at random from a laundry hamper somewhere and shoes that they kick off as soon as they pass through your doorway. You're not surprised to see Chan, hair sticking up at every end like he's gotten straight out of bed for this and not bothered to even try to stick it back down again, but you are surprised to see Changbin. You don't think you've ever seen or heard a peep from Changbin at this time of the morning.

"Good morning," Chan says as you close the door, lingering within arm's reach as Changbin wanders his way further into your apartment like he's looking for something.

"Good morning," you echo, your attention divided between the two of them. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Chan hedges, hesitating like he's not decided yet what he's going to say next. "Changbin is here to steal your cereal."

"Hyunjin ate all of mine," Changbin says, his feet carrying him one step closer to the kitchen in question.

You wave him towards it, despite warnings you've been given against ever giving him free reign over your pantry. "There's eggs in the fridge too if you want them," you offer, and your heart lifts at the way his face lights up. It's funny how such a little thing could cause such simple joy.

"Gamsamnida, noona," he says, and disappears into your kitchen. 

Chan steps into your line of vision.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when he doesn't immediately say anything, though the pit in your stomach and the sleepless night unravelling behind you say that you already know the answer.

He draws in a breath and holds it, anticipation paling his face just enough for you to notice. "I'm being honest," he says, his eyes flicking up to the kitchen door. Changbin doesn't appear - he's busy making a lot of noise with your pans in there, the slam of a cupboard door a little too obvious to be anything but deliberate. "I promised I'd be honest with you, so...I'm here."

"About the things they're saying online, or what's going to happen next?" you question; and you don't miss the way that his face falls, his brow tightening imperceptibly.

"You've seen it," he sighs, as if he'd been hoping for something different.

A grim smile twists itself around your mouth. "It's trending," you point out. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"True." He looks away, eyes casting behind him to where Changbin is being deliberately noisy in the kitchen as he hunts through your cabinets for something. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you question. "You didn't do anything."

"They're my fans," he says and then blinks, correcting himself. "Our fans - if something I've done makes them think-"

You've seen the messages he's talking about, the back-and-forth between fans debating whether this was his idea or something that had been forced upon him by the company. Always Chan - Chan's group, Chan's members, Chan's decision. If the trending tags were anything to be believed, the general consensus was that the Chan they knew and loved would never do this to them, nor would he endorse it. It was obvious that you had forced your way into the group, and at first opportunity he would drop you right back out again; if only they screamed loudly enough in opposition, JYP would give him that choice quicker.

You didn't find that daunting at all. There wasn't a black pit opening inside your gut every time you thought about it, the urge to get back to the practice rooms and gruelling hours of work scratching at your skin. 

"You're acting like you told them to do this," you tell him wryly, and the corner of his mouth quirks upwards. Nearly a smile, despite how sardonic it feels. 

"I definitely did not," he answers, a hand pressed to his chest in honesty. "I meant what I said the other day. You're one of my people now."

Inexplicably, warmth blooms in your chest around the icy cold that has had a stranglehold around your stomach since you'd first seen...well, everything that's happening. The reminder of the conversation you'd had before all of this began is timely - it was easy to forget sometimes, around the screaming of a thousand voices that it couldn't be true, that he had chosen you, in a backwards way. That all of this was only happening now because he'd fought with the company for you. Because he'd won the fight, a feat you've never seen accomplished before, in a long career of letdowns.

Your teeth grit together at the thought of those voices online, hiding behind screens as if they know anything about what’s happened in the last three months or even the past six years. You had forgotten for a while last night, all the things that Chan had said; you’d felt like throwing something across the room, God’s Menu playing over and over through a tinny speaker until your body moved without thinking. You’ve contained most of that rage since, under the assurance that none of them know what they’re talking about, and truly, you don’t think that you’ll really care at all as the days wear on; but still-

"Someone should have told them that," you say without thinking, and then watch as Chan's brow furrows. "Sorry. I didn't mean you. It's not your fault."

"Someone will," he replies. "Once I've been to this meeting with management. Which I am probably going to be late for."

His phone appears in his hand, the screen lighting up to show him the time. "If you have to go-" you begin to say, already moving out of the way of the door.

"He's eating breakfast first," Changbin says from the kitchen door before Chan can argue with you himself. 

"Am I?" Chan asks; but his voice is mild and his feet are already turning towards Changbin, all the fight draining from his body before he has even begun.

"You think I'm going to eat all of the eggs myself?" Changbin fires right back. "I'm not a pig."

"But I thought you were a pig, Changbin," Chan says and watches in amusement as the sound of Changbin shouting indignantly fills the air of your apartment.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @keepswingin

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Chunguk for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hosuk.

🔞Age restrictions: 18+

👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: get

📑Number of words: ❓

📕 Number of part: 1/?

🖇️Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, ex-relationships, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character. Tags will be added as the story is written.

👩🏼‍💻From the author: I was supposed to write a completely different story, but my muse disappeared. So I wrote this story to replace my previous one for some reason. I had the idea for a long time and I just finished the first part, which I couldn't finish for more than 7 months. I wonder what will come of this story. The Jungkook I created here is not like himself at all, but maybe he could have been. So who likes to read fanfiction about friends who become lovers then please give this story a lot of love.

⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

Part 1. These fucking rules

The clock read 10 am. You left your room to satisfy the hunger that was making your stomach cramp. You went to the refrigerator and opened it. There was nothing in it but eggs and milk.

Yesterday you spent the whole day at the university and came home late at night. You had lunch in the campus cafeteria and didn't eat anything else. So your hunger was intense. You remember reminding Jungkook, your best friend with whom you were roommates, several times that it was his turn to buy the groceries for the week. You even wrote him a list because you knew for sure that he wouldn't buy everything he needed, and it wasn't a good idea to eat chips and beer.

Obviously, Jungkook didn't do what he was supposed to. The result was an empty refrigerator. Jungkook must have had more important things to do than buy groceries. Your stomach made a high-pitched growl. You felt your anger grow in direct proportion to your hunger. You slammed the refrigerator door shut.

Your eyes fell on the couch. Clothes were scattered around and on the couch. You raised your eyebrows and walked toward the clothes. You were seething with anger, not only did this careless guy not do what he was supposed to, but he was also leaving a mess behind. You were going to talk to Jungkook about how he was breaking the rules you had made on the first day you lived together.

It was Jungkook's idea. You decided to move in together because the apartment you were living in was too expensive. You were a student on a scholarship and could barely make ends meet, and only a part-time job at a convenience store allowed you to pay your rent. But you had to quit that job because you started to fail in your studies. The university where you were studying was supposed to give you a good profession, and you wanted to help your parents, who lived in a small town near Seoul and made soy sauce. They put a lot of love into you and did everything they could to give you a decent profession and to make you feel good about yourself. That's why studying well was a big priority for you.

And then one hard evening, when Jungkook came to your place for a beer, you complained to him about how unfair life was. He suggested that you move in with him and pay only for food and utilities. At the time, you thought he was joking or had had too much beer, but it turned out he was very serious. That's how you started living together.

But as it turned out, living with Jungkook was quite a challenge. He didn't keep the house very clean and liked to bring girls over almost every night. At first, you put up with it, of course, feeling a little irritated by it. But when you were trying hard to study and staying up late at night, it was difficult to learn the material by listening to the moans in Jungkook's room. So you decided that in order not to interfere with each other's lives, you needed rules.

You suggested some rules to Jungkook, and he kindly agreed to them. But he almost never wanted to follow them, so you often had small arguments about them.

It happened this morning, too, when Jungkook didn't buy any groceries so you will have to go the convenience store near your house to buy some food. You were in a terrible mood. But you were even more angry when you found Jungkook's clothes and women's things scattered around. You stared at the door of his room as you realized that he had brought another girl over that night.

With your eyebrows raised, you went to the kitchen and fried an egg for yourself. You flatly refused to go to the store because you knew that if you did, you would definitely buy food for Jungkook. And you wanted to teach him a lesson.

You were sitting at the table eating an egg when Jungkook's bedroom door opened. A sleepy Jungkook came out of it. He didn't have a shirt on, just the shorts he often wore at home. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his lips were pouty. You felt make muddle inside. And you felt like this every time Jungkook was half-naked. Even though he was your best friend, you couldn't help but think that he was a man, and a pretty good-looking one at that. You quickly gave him a glare full of lightning and continued to click the phone.

Jungkook noticed you and purred in satisfaction and headed in your direction. He came up behind you and bent down to look at your phone.

"Good morning," you heard next to your ear. Jungkook's voice was low and deep because he had just woken up.

"Morning!" you said dryly and continued to read the group chat with your classmates. Jungkook immediately realized that you were in a bad mood. He looked at you for a few long seconds and decided to start a conversation with you again.

"Did you fry the eggs? Where's my portion?" - He asked. You continued to ignore your friend.

Jungkook was about to ask you why you weren't talking to him when his bedroom door opened. The girl with whom Jungkook spent the night came out. You and Jungkook looked at her. She had the typical appearance of the girls he usually brought home. Slender, not tall, and with long black hair. Of course her figure was perfect.

She was completely Jungkook's type. You were her absolute opposite. You thought that Jungkook would never like you. Every time you met another girl that your friend brought home, you compared yourself to them for some reason. You were tall, but certainly shorter than him, and you had dark blond hair. Your figure was beautiful, but you definitely weighed more than 60 kilograms.

Jungkook's this night passion was standing in only her underwear. She rubbed her eyes and when she noticed you and your friend looked at her, she was visibly embarrassed.

"Uh, good morning." - She said quietly.

"Good morning!" you mumbled. You felt uncomfortable. Irritation threatened to burst out of you. You suddenly wanted to leave. You stood up abruptly, almost hitting Jungkook who was hovering over you. You quickly put your leftover food in the sink and hurried to your bedroom.

When you got into your room, you slammed the door and fell onto your bed. The morning did not start well. You were angry at Jungkook for not following the rules you had set up with him. You had always been good at following them, but your friend didn't seem to care about them. You had to do something about it. You decided to talk to Jungkook and remind him that you two had made those damn rules and that if he didn't follow them, you would have to find another place to live. Of course you didn't want to move away from him. It was convenient and beneficial for you to live with Jungkook in a way. But the irony was that by saving money you were paying with your nerves.

It was about half an hour after you heard the door slam, which could mean that Jungkook's girlfriend had left. You needed to take a shower because you had go to the grocery store to buy food. So after waiting about 10 minutes, you took all the things you needed and left the room.

Your gaze quickly glanced around the living room and kitchen. Jungkook was nowhere to be found. The apartment was quite quiet. You thought that he had gone to sleep in his room or might have gone out. You felt irritated again. But maybe it was for the best that he was gone. You walked to the bathroom door and was about to open it when it opened and your eyes met big black eyes.

Jungkook's hair was damp, and he was shirtless and wearing shorts. You shivered. You felt the heat spreading through your body. You continued to stare at each other for no more than a second, but it felt like an eternity.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Asked Jungkook, still standing in the aisle. "I thought you were sleeping".

"Obviously, I want to take a shower!" You replied dryly, turning away from Jungkook. You didn't notice his eyebrows jump up.

"What's wrong Y/N? Why are you so angry this morning?" - Jungkook asked as he approached you.

"Are you seriously asking me why I'm angry?" - You turned to Jungkook, trying not to look at his beautiful body.

"I'm asking because I don't understand what's going on? Did I do something wrong?" - You stared at your friend in shock. How can he ask you if he did something wrong when he does it all the time?

"Just tell me, are you really stupid or are you pretending to be?" - You clutched the T-shirt in your hand. Jungkook laughed at your words. Does he think it's funny?

"I'm not a mind reader, baby. So you'd better come right out and say it." - Jungkook's calling you "baby" made you even more angry. Usually you liked this affectionate nickname, but not on this terrible morning.

"What am I supposed to say to you, ha-Jeon? I'm like a fucking parrot to you all the time, and you don't do anything I tell you!" You wanted to talk to Jungkook in a calmer manner, but since you were an emotional person, it was hard to contain the anger that had long been in you. Your heart was pounding and your ears were ringing. You didn't understand why you were angry, but the more often Jungkook broke the rules and your personal comfort, the angrier you became. You'd been studying a lot lately, and the exam was about to start. Your tension and fatigue were making themselves felt, and Jungkook's behavior wasn't helping your situation.

"Y/N calm down. Are you mad at me for not buying the groceries?" - You didn't answer thinking "Hallelujah you guessed it".

"I really wanted to do it, but Jimin called and I went to his place, and then he dragged me to the club." - You continued to drill Jungkook with a menacing stare and he felt more and more guilty.

"Of course, how can you say no to Jimin and not pick up another beauty to take her to bed!" - You was indignant.

"Oh come on, Y/N are you mad at me for bringing a girl again?" - Jungkook asked.

"No, genius." - You snapped. "I'm mad because you forgot about the fucking rules again."

"Rules?" - Jungkook sighed. "You're doing this again?"

"Again?" you repeated his words quietly. Jungkook didn't want to argue anymore and walked past you. The scent of Jungkook's shower gel that you loved so much filled your nostrils. You gave your friend a shocked look.

"Jungkook, we created those rules for a reason, so that we don't violate each other's boundaries." - You explained, standing behind your friend as he gathered his scattered belongings near the couch.

"We weren't too loud!" - Jungkook tried to make excuses, but he sounded annoyed.

"It's not about being loud or quiet. You brought a girl home again, even though we agreed that we wouldn't bring partners. You didn't buy the groceries, even though I reminded you three times yesterday to do so. You constantly leave things scattered around, and I only go and clean up after you." - You could not stand it.

"Then don't clean it up, I didn't ask you to!" - Jungkook snorted.

"Are you serious now, Jeon?" - You laughed with a bit of hysteria. "We've been living together for almost three months now and you haven't followed a single rule, even though you promised you would every time!"

"I tried." - Jungkook admitted. "But these rules are..." He paused to find the right word. "All I'm saying is that I want to do whatever I want in my house!" - Jungkook turned to you and you, catching the look in his big deer eyes, stared at him. For a few unsuccessful seconds, you tried to figure out how to react to his words, but all you felt was anger mixed with guilt. It was your idea to create these rules, but he agreed to them, why didn't he tell you something was wrong?

"But... I mean, yes, it's your house and you can do whatever you want, but we agreed together that it would be more convenient for us!" - You said in despair.

"So let's just forget these stupid rules." - Jungkook said. He dropped the things he was clean up. All you could hear was the sound of your own heart in your ears. You're going to have to find a new place to live. Jungkook is not comfortable living with you. You can't continue to study normally and live in a bachelor's house without food and with the prospect of seeing a new face every morning of the girl your friend brought over. You exhaled loudly and closed your eyes for a moment.

"Well..." - You stuttered. "If you're not comfortable living like this, I'll have to find another place to live." - Jungkook stiffened. His eyebrows reflexively drew together, showing his face in a state of deep misunderstanding of what you said.

"What do you mean?" - He said sharply. "Why would you want to find another home?" - You looked at Jungkook and saw him getting angry at the whole situation. Your heart was beating like crazy, and anger was in almost every cell of your body. But the thoughts running through your head made you feel guilty. You wanted to make life easier for both of you when you made up these rules, but it seems like Jungkook had a hard time following them. He was used to living a certain way of life, but when you moved in with him, all of his usual things became forbidden or restricted. Knowing his freedom-loving nature, you understood why he resisted. But he agreed, he had the opportunity to add his own rules or offer something of his own. He just agreed, and that's what annoyed you the most right now. He was deliberately breaking the rules even though he knew how you would react.

Jungkook walked over to you. He stopped right next to you. You were only one step away. You did not take your eyes off him and tried to look only into his eyes. The fact that Jungkook was not wearing a shirt did not make your condition any easier. You always felt uncomfortable when he was naked.

"Y/N, let's calm down. You don't have to look for another home. You can stay with me. Let's just live without any of these stupid rules. Just together. As friends." - Jungkook wanted to touch you, but you took a step back.

"How do you envision that, Jeon?" - You huffed. "We're going to live without food in the fridge, you're going to bring a new chick home every night and I'm going to greet her cheerfully every morning. We'll live in an apartment where things are scattered and sometimes we'll have to clean them up. Or maybe we'll have fun when I bring my boyfriend here and he fuck me so you can hear my moans. Or bring friends from the university and sit here until the morning drinking beer or soju. Make life chaotic and have fun." - You almost burst into tears. Jungkook stared at you in confusion and surprise.

The words about your moans echoed in his head. "She's bringing her boyfriend? Does she have a boyfriend?" - Jungkook thought.

"Listen, Jungkook. I can't live like this. I am sincerely grateful to you for taking me in. But we are not a contractual marriage couple. I don't want to follow you around and clean up the mess you make. If we live together, we have to respect each other's boundaries. That's why those added rules were invented. But if you're not comfortable with them because I want you to, then I really need to move out." - You finally finished your monologue and exhaled heavily. Jungkook was silent for a few more seconds and then laughed to your surprise. Quietly and almost mockingly. Your face was again distorted by anger.

"Oh my God, you just gave me a good one." - Jungkook chuckled. "You've been holding it all in for so long. You should have told me earlier." - You thought you were going to strangle him. This arrogant half-naked man who is supposed to be your best friend.

"You think this is funny? I..." - You wanted to finally tell Jungkook what you thought of him, but he suddenly grabbed you in a hug. Without the possibility for you to move at all. He pinned you down so that your arms were pinned at your sides. You struggled in his metal grip, but to no avail. The struggle didn't last long, just a couple of minutes, and you didn't have the strength for more. You calmed down just as Jungkook leaned against the crook of your neck. His face was completely lost in your hair. You stood there for a few moments until you felt the vibration of his voice on your neck.

"Are you calm?" - You could feel your friend's breath leaving a trail on your neck, passing through your hair. "You're like that fire, baby." - You wanted to start pulling away again, but Jungkook held you tight, almost preventing you from breathing properly. "I'm so sorry." - He said. "I'm an asshole for not thinking about you." - Jungkook looked up, straightening up, and saw you almost holding back tears. He was hurt that he had brought you to this state.

"Please don't cry because of me, I'll follow your rules. And this time for sure." - He smiled lightly. "Just please don't go anywhere." - The tear you'd been holding back for so long ran down your cheek. Jungkook immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see you cry.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong too. I should have talked to you calmly instead of getting angry and yelling at you. We should have talked about it normally." - And you finally burst into tears. Jungkook was embarrassed and held you close again.

"It's okay, baby. I deserved you to yell at me." - These words made you cry even more. "Hey, don't cry, it's okay. We've worked it out. Please don't do this, I feel like a fool for making you cry." - You wanted to calm down, but the emotions you had been holding in for so long finally broke free. You had to cry out all the anger that had been building up inside you.

Jungkook picked you up in his arms and walked over to the couch where things had been scattered until recently. He still held you and after that seat down with you on his knees. You were crying so much that you didn't realize where you were sitting. He comforted you by stroking your back.

It took some time for you to calm down. You were hardly crying anymore, just sobbing slightly. Jungkook looked down at your crying face.

"Your eyes are red now." - You met his big black eyes. And suddenly you realized that he was holding you in his arms. One of his arms was around your waist and the other one was around your legs. You felt pressed against his naked torso. Only your T-shirt separated your bodies. For a moment, you thought, "It was interesting to feel his body by my own." You blushed at the intimate thought and quickly forced it away.

"Hey, are you okay?" - Jungkook asked you, looking at your face again. You tried to laugh.

"I'm fine." - You said in a tortured voice. You felt Jungkook's body relax.

"I'm glad to hear that." - You continued to sit there, but you seemed to be the only one who felt awkward. Because Jungkook didn't want to let go of you. He kept stroking you, running his arm around your waist. You didn't say anything. You thought about what to say. Or should you just say that you had to go to the shower, because that's why you left the room. Jungkook leaned against your shoulder and said with a desperate voice.

"Let's not fight anymore over these damn rules." - Begged Jungkook. All you could manage was a soft "let's." You wanted to say it more firmly, but your state didn't allow it.

"Y/N," - Jungkook called to you gently. "Let's not fight at all. I hate it when we fight!" - He confessed. You hated fighting too. Before you moved in with Jungkook, you hardly ever fought at all.

"I want everything to be fine with us. But it doesn't depend on me alone. I'm ready to compromise and solve all the problems at once." - You said.

"Then we have a deal?" - Jungkook held out his hands to you, extending his little finger and thumb. You smiled and intertwined your little finger with his and touched his thumb to seal your truce.

For a moment you sat there in silence and hugged each other. You wanted to tell Jungkook to let you go. But he was in no hurry. He seemed to like you sitting on his lap, or he was pretty sure you weren't going anywhere.

"God, we fought like we were married," - Jungkook said, laughing. You tapped him on the shoulder. What is he talking about?

"Don't be silly, Jeon. We were arguing like friends who just moved in together." - You said. Jungkook's face turned sly.

"You're be like that: I can't live like this. I'm going to leave you. I can't clean up after you all the time." - Jungkook laughed. His soft laugh both irritated and attracted you. "Doesn't that sound like something a wife would say to her husband?"

"If the world goes to destroyed and I'm told that I have to become your wife to save it, the world will die." - You replied sarcastically. Jungkook stopped laughing for a moment and looked at you with a challenge.

"No way!" - He didn't believe it. "You would love to marry me. I know you dream about me every night." - You were flustered by his words and almost boiling at the same time.

"Maybe in your dreams, Jeon. I think you're the one who dreams about me every night, or imagines my face when you look at that girl you're fucking." - You said in a triumphant voice as you poked your finger into Jungkook's bare chest.

"How did you know about that?" - Jungkook asked in a serious tone. "I confessed to you when I was drunk?!" You gasped at what you heard. You wanted to say something. Jungkook's seriousness made you believe that your joke was true. But your guess was shattered by your best friend's mocking laugh.

"You should see your face now!" - He said, almost laughing. You hit him again, but this time harder, but it seemed like it didn't matter to Jungkook. You tried to get up from his lap, but your attempt was unsuccessful, as your friend's strong arms pinned you down.

"You're a real ass. Let me go, I need to take a shower."

"I haven't finished talking to you yet." - Jungkook said in a purring tone. You tried to pull away.

"For example, I'm done talking to you. So go put some clothes on and go get some groceries, we need to make lunch." - You said.

"Yes, I'll go to the store right now. I'll even make us lunch, but you have to answer some questions for me." - Jungkook agreed and offered a deal.

You thought for a second, studying his sly look as it wandered across your face. He's definitely going to ask you something personal. What was he up to?

"And dinner, too, if you want to hear the answers to your questions." - You've outplayed your best friend. You finally stopped wriggling and sat down with your arms crossed over your chest. Jungkook didn't mind your conditions and smiled smugly.

"Deal." - He cleared his throat. "You said something today while we were fighting. You haven't told me anything lately." - You glanced over at Jungkook, who was obviously searching for words to ask you something. You wanted to laugh because it's usually not a big deal for Jungkook to ask you anything. And this applies to any topic. "Did you get a boyfriend?" - He finally asked. His eyes ran over your face, carefully studying your expression. He wanted to know if it was true, if you had found someone to fuck you so that he could hear your moans.

You expected to hear any question, but not this one. What makes him think you have a boyfriend? "You said something today while we were fighting."Jungkook's words echoed in your head. A puzzle formed in your head and you laughed.

"Oh my God, is that all you remember from what I said?" - You laughed. Jungkook looked at you, waiting for an answer. Of course, that wasn't the only thing he remembered. He also remembers how you said you were going to moan. "I don't have a boyfriend. Look at me. It's not physically possible with my study schedule." - You glanced over at Jungkook. He seemed... pleased? "I said it as a possible scenario." - Jungkook couldn't hide the relief he felt. He sniffed his nose out of old habit and asked another question.

"Good. Then I have one more question, and then I'll let you go. Have you ever had sex?" - You instantly blushed. Who even asks that question so directly? It's so...so...You seem to have forgotten how to think and speak. How you were supposed to answer questions.

It so happens that you haven't had sex. You didn't even date anyone. Studying took up all your free time, both at school and at university. The guys who met you almost immediately disappeared when they saw what a nerd you were. But you didn't care about those idiots because you didn't have time to meet anyone. Your friends and your studies were enough for you. It's not that you didn't think about getting a boyfriend. You're almost 20, but don't you have to study and become successful first, and then look for someone to date and have sex with?

Living with a friend who was a man under the same roof and who brought girls almost every night, and hearing those fucking moans made you think for a moment that you too want to feel hugged, kissed and made to feel so good that you moaned loudly. But you stopped yourself every time. First of all, you don't have time, and secondly, who would want to date a girl who only allows books in her bed?

You looked away from Jungkook and stepped your hands into your lap. Should you answer him or not? Will he mock me? Let him try and make me feel bad for him.

You were brought out of your thoughts by your friend's voice.

"Baby? I asked you something!" - He insisted.

"Why do you want to know that?" - Turning and meeting Jungkook's gaze, you said.

"Just tell me. I want to know." - He said firmly. Your heart started to race again. The blood was pounding in your ears. Why should you be worried? He's just your best friend. You're always honest with him. You know a lot about him because Jungkook likes to brag about his intimate accomplishments.

"No." - You said. "I didn't!" - Something strange is happening between you two today. Jungkook is acting strange. Even though he seems to be the same Jungkook, why can't you stop thinking about how he's making you feel.

Jungkook smiled lightly. "I thought so." - That was all he said. You wanted to know why he asked you that, but he let go of you, urging you to get up. He stood up after you and looked down at you from the height of his height. You had to tilt your head a little to look at his face.

"What would you like for lunch and dinner?" - Jungkook asked before you could ask your question. You felt a little embarrassed and answered: "Chajamyeon and Samgyopsal."

"I'll be back soon, you go take a shower." - Your friend said, picking up his clothes that he had thrown around yesterday. A moment later, Jungkook's broad, naked back disappeared behind his bedroom door.

[earl-grey-teacake]

I want to write a fic where George and Alex take in Logan since he’s alone in Europe now that Benny is gone.

Think about it. Logan just barely got the Williams seat, Benny left, and his crush on Oscar has burned to ashes as Oscar seems to have replaced him with Lando. He’s despondent, throws himself into training, stops responding to texts, and hides in his apartment. Physically he’s doing well but his mental health deteriorates.

Alex decides to step in and Logan starts staying over at Alex and George's place. They're taking him karting, out to try new food, spontaneous trips to Monaco, etc. Both they and Williams are doing everything in their power to make Logan feel supported. Slowly, he comes out of his shell. He goes back to being happier and starts to regain a bit of his confidence. It feels nice to be taken care of especially since he's had to be independent for so long. He feels confident for 2024 now that he is rebuilding his support system.

***Loscar chapter****

Oscar, meanwhile, is going through it. After the season ends and the threat of Logan not signing for 2024, Oscar realizes that he has a crush on Logan. He goes to Lando because Lando is in a relationship with Carlos which must mean he's a relationship expert. Every text and every phone call is Oscar talking about how wonderful Logan is and how the sun shines off his hair on a bright summer day. It makes Lando want to gag but Carlos finds it hilarious. However, he is so nervous about being around Logan and confessing and ruining their friendship that he stops contacting Logan. Now they are in a mess with Oscar wanting to confess but being fearful of the consequences and Logan thinks Oscar doesn't want to be around him anymore and is trying to move on.

Do I have a Galex fic in progress? Yes

Do I want to write this too because having Galex as a support system for Logan would be beautiful? Yes

Someone, please talk to me about Galex and Loscar. They are living in my head rent free rn :D

[zumicho]

home┊003┊005

004: softness vs. survival

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

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on the steps in front of the bakery, there’s a shared silence between you – he finishes the pastry you gave him. you enjoy his company.

it smells like dew and fresh bread.

“how much do you owe?”

“out of everything you could ask me, that’s what you choose?”

he licks jam off his thumb, and catches you getting distracted. “what else would I ask? for your number?” coy.

you look away. “I guess not.”

“why’d you leave without saying? I would’ve made you breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t have let you. plus I needed to get outside. my… ex, texted me. jeez. sorry. tmi.” you’re grimacing.

if he’s bothered, he doesn’t show it. “boyfriend?”

“of 3 years, yeah. douchebag ended it over text, told me not to spread the news because it would make him seem like a jerk.”

eye contact. whether or not it’s pity, you take the opportunity to admire. his eyelashes are long; if you squint enough you notice the speckles of green in his irises.

“ass”

“..what?” you snap out of it.

“he seems like an ass.”

you bite back a smile. “i… that’s one way to put it.”

“there’s no way I’m not paying you for that pastry, if you must know. if you keep giving freebies out, how are you gonna pay the debt you won’t disclose to me?” half-joking, you assume. why does he care so much about the money you lose?

“it’s a lot of money.” you think about telling him.

“didn’t ask that.”

“3 million yen.”

“…oh.”

“suna—“

“call me rin.”

“okay. rin,” you suck in a breath. “I’m perfectly fine with how I manage my finances now, thank you very much, and I sort of owe you.. for.. the other night.” you close your eyes, kicking yourself in your head. why’d you say it like that? made it sound like you did something else..

you’re about to apologize, but he laughs, “I was just trying to have a conversation with you, not become your accountant—“ you open your eyes.

he wanted to say

“you have the sun inside of you and it’s not just smiles. you have an internal being that shines so bright it’s taken my heart in one single night—a childlike spark I hope you’ll never lose. you’re a walking love letter that I will never open out of the fear that I’m falling for you harder than I’ve ever wanted to fall for anyone else. I hope you open that letter. learn to love yourself and heal from the things you don’t speak about. I hope you find someone who brings out the softness in you, not the survival. you deserve that and more.”

instead he said “—and no problem. you’re worth the trouble.”

but that was enough for you. enough for you to feel the same way about him. about each other, yet say nothing about it.

“I need your number if you wanna text. we’re heading back to tokyo today.” rin adds.

“okay. tell the miyas I’ll miss them.”

mentally, he replaces their names with his.

“I will.”

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author’s note: my musicals phase is making a comeback bc tell me why this took me 2 hours instead of the 20 minutes it shouldve took? (hamilton soundtrack start to end, half of the heathers soundtrack, i watched a bit of newsies & watched a cover of eurydice’s parts in hadestown BC ITS MY DREAM ROLE IM SUCH A THEATRE KID GOODBYE — or gretchen from mg)

ness ur truly my motivation to keep writing this smau even tho im slowly running out of inspo for the social media part of the smau 😭 send thoughts & prayers writers block is kicking me in the butt

i feel iffy about this one 😓😓

@phoenix-eclipses @thechaosoflonging @yuminako @nbcvs @tenjikusstuff4 @intergalacticrory @sonicsolos @yenonnoff @wyrcan @cnnmairoll @causenessus @reads-stuff-quietly @giocriedpower @applepi25 @gra-eae @lilchubbyyy @thvvluvr @toges-cough-syrup @steiins @girlkissersco @wolffmaiden @iluvaquaphor

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Don't Worry Today, Face It Tomorrow

kai parker x reader

summary: kai's been lonely enough in his life to sense something's off with you. tonight was a good time to trust his intuition.

tags: mental health issues, depression, loneliness, late night conversations, suicidal thoughts, emotional hurt / comfort

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this is a fic i kind of wrote for myself but still want to share. i somewhat vaguely made the reader's problems my problems, because i needed to talk them out, but struggle to do that with people, so i do it through my writing. i wrote this a little while ago but have been hesitant to post it bc i didn't want to worry my readers by posting so many sui/sh related fics, but as explained in the ending note of this fic on ao3, i'm entering a new stage in my life where i hope i can start writing gentler & more lighthearted & fun fics again. i've been in a dark place these last couple months and have completely lost myself as a person, but i'm actively trying to make my life one where i'm not afraid to be present. i saw a quote recently that said, "...if hope is out of reach, try curiosity instead," and so that's about where i am rn. but anyway, i hope, despite it's heaviness, you guys like this, or maybe, it helps you feel less alone. <3

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You roll your eyes at the familiar voice. Of course he’d come to disturb your peace. 

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The sound of shuffling indicates he’s coming closer. “Just checking on you.”

“I don’t need checking on. I didn’t the last time, nor the time before that, and certainly not this time. Can’t you catch the hint that I want to be left alone?”

“See that’s the thing… the hints are all there, I’m just choosing not to leave you alone.”

Fully irritated now, you shift your whole body to face Kai. Annoyingly, he leans against the restaurant’s chimney, unbothered by the heat that must be emanating from it. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his usual smirk is replaced with a somber look.

“Why?”

“Because…” He isn’t looking at you. In fact, he seems to look right through you, perhaps into some far off world or a deep void that threatens to swallow you whole. “...You look like someone who shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve climbed up here five times in the last two weeks. You’ve been acting distant. You don’t eat, I doubt you sleep. Everyone’s worried about you, and they have every right to be.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Maybe I just like it up here. I can see the whole town. I’m in it, without being in it. It’s peaceful.”

If that was supposed to comfort the young witch, it didn’t. He tilts his head against the brick. “And what about the rest? Are they right to worry about you? Are these new habits you’ve seem to have adopted secretly a cry for help?”

You narrow your eyes. “Of course not, that’s insane. I told you, I’m fine.” Before he can ask anything else, you continue. “And what’s it to you? Why do you care? If they’re so worried, why don’t they come and bother me instead?”

“Because they haven’t followed you to the extent I’ve followed you.”

“Comforting.”

“They see you at lunch, not talking, not eating, not laughing. And then they see you go home, usually early, and not come out for days. They acknowledge the fact you haven’t answered their texts in days, and they know you’re not feeling well, but they’ve barely scratched the surface.” He pauses. “I’ve been studying you. I see the dullness in your eyes, and I can tell apart a real laugh from a fake one. I’ve begun to notice that right before you’re about to make up an excuse to go home, you tap your nails on the edge of the table. You scan the restaurant, making sure the coast is clear, so that you can make a sure shot to the door without being interrupted.” You open your mouth to speak, disturbed by the detail, but Kai interrupts. “I’m a sociopath. I notice things in a person’s behavior that are missed by most.”

“And why do you think all these ‘things’ are reasons to have you so worried? Maybe I’m just tired of socializing.”

“Maybe. But I’ve been alone for a long time and I know how it feels. How it feels to be hopeless, and anxious, and exhausted, in a way that goes beyond needing a couple more hours of sleep. I might not’ve been under the same circumstances, but I remember searching for the nearest, tallest building several times when I was locked in that prison world. Let me tell you, the view is nice, but when you finally get the courage to walk up to the edge, the fall is not.”

Your eyes had dropped back down the roof’s floor, but they snap back up to him quickly. His words make your heart race with sudden anxiety. When you try to open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out. It takes a moment to recover. 

“How many times did you try?” Invasive, but he’s sharing, so you ask anyway. 

“Truth be told,” he surprisingly answers, “I lost count.” He inches closer to you, but you don’t move away. “I couldn’t die in there, but that never stopped me from trying.”

“Until Damon and Bonnie got there.” 

“Yes, but I was alone for eighteen years until they did.” He sits beside you now. “Maybe you can see why I was so determined to get out.”

“I could see it before,” you admit. 

You know most of Kai’s background. You know he had a big family, most of which are dead now. You know he has been in and out of prison worlds for most of his young life. You know his time spent in those other worlds was deserved; he wasn’t just a sociopath, but a serial killer, as well. Only recently did he finally stop hurting people, afraid of ending up in another one. It was a deal he made with the brothers and Bonnie.

Kai is less afraid of death than being alone. Hell would be a cakewalk compared to the prison worlds. 

“My father ensured I couldn’t die so that I wouldn’t be able to take the easy way out. And then again, in 1903, the heretics could only dessicate; they couldn’t die, either. Guess my ancestors have some deep-rooted fascination with eternal suffering. The twin merge is a curse. You either die or kill your sibling before you’re old enough to rent a car. Then, if you live, you have to marry and watch your kids do the same. And if you die before you have merge-able kids, whoops, the death of the coven is on you. Like, imagine you get hit by a car and die, and so does the whole three hundred year old coven. That’s embarrassing. Imagine explaining that to the ancestors in hell.”

You snort and let out a laugh. 

“Obviously, I don’t care about my coven, and I only wanted to be the leader so I could prove that I could, but it does suck that we’re all nonconsensually born into this life and can’t get out of it. It would be easier if we didn’t hate each other so much, and that instead of life being one big game of dog-eat-dog, we could come together and be like, ‘Hey! This sucks! Can we try to figure out which ancestral bitch cursed us and maybe reverse that? We’re supposed to be witches, right?’”

You laugh more now. A genuine laugh, amused by Kai Parker’s unusual bareness and honesty. Never had you had such a sincere conversation with him. Frankly, you didn’t know he was capable of opening up as much as he is now. It’s nice. It’s the most meaningful conversation you’ve had recently, and if you’re honest with yourself, it’s healing. 

Not only do you know Kai’s background, you know his loneliness. Of course, you’ve never been in his shoes exactly, but you know what it’s like to feel helpless. Sometimes your parents teach you about pain before anyone else has the chance. Sometimes your friends break your heart the hardest. Sometimes it feels like there’s a target on your back and everyone’s carrying arrows. 

You don’t need to experience the same trauma to relate to someone, you just need a little bit of courage to speak up about it. The right people will listen. Those who understand. 

“I said before that I understand why you were willing to hurt Bonnie and Damon to get out,” you say. “I stand by that still.”

“You do?”

“I met your father once. I was friends with Liv before she skipped town, and he came to her dorm when I was there. He was cold.” You pause, rubbing your arms as a chill runs through your body. Whether it’s the cool night breeze or the memory, you’re not sure. “He smiled, and he made a joke, but his posture was rigid and his eyes were dark. It was like looking into the face of a snake that could strike at any moment. I was afraid to look away, yet afraid to look right at him.”

“He was never a warm person. He loved his wife, and did love my siblings, I think, but coven always came before family. He would betray even those closest to him in a second if asked. I was always told it was complicated for him, but it’s pretty simple. He never hesitated. It was obvious. There was no right vs wrong war in his mind. Guess it makes him a good leader, though. Maybe.”

“Not a good leader,” you argue, “but a dedicated one.” Kai seems to ponder that. “My family’s the opposite: they are complicated. They say one thing, but expect the other. Everything is a guessing game. You’re never quite sure what they want from you, and nothing’s ever good enough. Life feels like a competition: you have to do the most, study the hardest. There’s a thousand boxes to check by the age of twenty-three, and if you don’t complete them, you’re never going to catch up, never going to make them proud.” You’ve ranted a little, spoken somewhat quickly, but Kai follows along with great understanding. “I have a relatively big family, too, and they’re all over the country checking boxes. I live in a small town, with goals only big enough that I won’t feel like a failure if I don’t achieve, and spend every day just trying to stay alive. I’m the biggest disappointment to them and it’s so obvious.”

“Looks like we’re both family disappointments. Do they know about the supernatural?”

“Oh, god no. Their heads would explode.”

Kai laughs. He sees you shiver again and silently unzips his sweater. You startle a bit when he puts it around your shoulders, but then welcome the warmth it brings. It smells like him, so you pull it closer, finding that as a new comfort. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s technically Alaric’s-”

You start to pull it off, “ew-”

He stops you with a hand to your back. “But I’ve had it for months.”

“How’d you-?”

“After Damon woke me up when they put me on ice. I’d siphon the magic from Caroline’s mom on two conditions: one, he’d let me merge that night, and two, I could borrow a sweater.”

You chuckle, then let it envelope you again. Kai’s hand leaves your back, taking some, but not all, of the new warmth with him. He stretches out, leaning back on his elbows, and watches you copy the position. Your knees touch gently, though neither of you move. He studies you again, eyeing your face for tension, but finds your lips slightly parted in a relaxed state. You aren’t afraid of him; you aren’t trying to get away. 

The only person who isn’t taut as a band around him is Damon, because the vampire’s confidence and strength matches that of the young witch. But here, you’re only human, full of emotion and exhaustion, and alone on a rooftop with none other than the self-proclaimed sociopath himself. If your friends knew, they’d surely be freaking out, and maybe an hour ago, the thought would panic you, too. But now, at this moment in time, you’re completely calm. You’re trusting him. 

“So what’s the verdict?” He says out of nowhere, speaking up in the dead of night. The restaurant crowd left some time ago, and the roundabout hasn’t been driven through for less. In the far-off distance, you can hear a dog, but it stops after a few barks. 

“What?”

“How are we getting off this roof tonight?” You look over to him with an eyebrow raised. “Are we jumping, or are you gonna climb off with me?”

You ponder the question. Truthfully, you didn’t climb up today with the full intention of climbing back down. If Kai hadn’t followed you up, you, as he put it earlier, may have made it to the edge. 

But now, with both of your hearts and histories spilled out in front of you, things are different. Things are harder, because he’s involved. Yet, at the same time, things feel easier. He’s involved. He listened, and he shared his own story. You found common ground and it brought you closer than you’d ever imagined you could be with him. Hell, lately, with anyone. Somewhere, deep in your heart, you feel a bit of hope. 

“I’ll be honest,” he starts, “even though I’m out of the prison world, finally leading this dumb coven, and somewhat surviving in this town, I’ve considered it. I thought getting out would be a fix-all, and once I was, I would be okay, but I never imagined that life outside of it could be as lonely as my life was there. My coven still controls me and my family still hates me, and I wanted to get out and prove myself, and live, but now, sometimes,” he struggles for the right words, “I can’t find it in myself to care anymore.” He looks over to you to find you nodding, understanding. “I could die a hundred times over in the prison world with little consequence, but here, death is permanent.”

You offer a smile and a second of silence before agreeing. “Sometimes its permanence is a comfort, but sometimes a hindrance. It's permanent, I’ll never have to carry this weight again. I’ll never be a burden, or a failure, or a disappointment. But at the same time… what if I regret it? What if I’m halfway through the fall, or lying in a hospital bed, and there’s no saving me, but suddenly, I regret it? Or what if we’re conscious in the afterlife, and I miss the body and soul I once had, but gave up before my time was up? It haunts me. I have decision paralysis over dying. I wish I could make up my mind.”

Kai’s never cared much for other people, but in this moment, he knows if you got any closer to the edge, he’d hurl himself forward to pull you back. He sensed something was off about you earlier. You’d been climbing up here for weeks, but this time felt different. Necessary. 

“How about this? Climb down with me and we don’t have to make any decisions. Okay?”

“So the decision is to make no decisions?”

“Exactly.” He sits back up, outstretching a hand for you to take. “Let’s go get a coffee or something, and we can worry about it later. And, maybe, tomorrow won’t be so bad, and we can put off that decision making a little bit longer.” Kai manipulates slightly. He knows there is no decision to be made - it’s not a yes or no - but an ultimate decision on when you will take that step closer to the edge. So, if he can distract you day by day, and put off that ultimate decision, he could, with time, pull you from the edge, and eventually, off the roof. 

And that is a decision he is willing to make. He’s never cared much for other people, but something about you softens him. His life hasn’t been a fulfilling one. He hasn’t accomplished much, and he’s done little that makes him proud of himself, but you make him want to change. Be better, do more. Even if he only does one good thing, he wants to do it. He wants to save you. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, taking his hand. “Coffee sounds nice.”

For the first time of possibly many, he helps guide you back down the stairs, onto the safety of the pavement ground. You keep a hold of his hand all the way to the twenty-four hour diner two blocks down, and the whole time, he can’t stop smiling. 

[fwoosheye]

When I first read the ask, I read it as if Legend up in TotK instead of Wild (tbf I was tired) and then I read the answer and was like "Oh! Yeah of course that's what they meant! And that's a good fic, glad someone found the link!"

And then I wasn't going to comment on this, but because my brain is apparently unable of just letting things go when it sees a concept (or misunderstands one).......

WARNING FOR SPOILERS OF EARLY/MID-PLAY TOTK PLOT AND CERTAIN MEMORIES AND LOCATIONS UNDER THE CUT!

So, of course, one take would be to replace Wild with Legend, which would surely change things because they deal with things differently, but things would probably not change so much

But!

Imagine if, when Wild is called away from the chain's adventure, Legend comes with him (either on purpose for help and advice bc he's a veteran with valuable experience, or on accident). So Legend follows Wild and Flora into the deep secret chambers of the castle partly because it's clearly the source of the gloom mist, and partly because it's the one spot Fable won't let him explore and Din damn it he is curious! Anyway when they meet the dehydrated Ganondorf there are three ways I can see it go:

Legend manages to grab on to Wild's foot in the last second and ends up on the Great Sky Island too, and have likely explored some of it while Wild is healing because he needed food and Rauru had promised Wild would be safe there (and then the question is if he can see Rauru anyway or if he had to use the glasses from ALBW)

Legend managed to grab on to Flora and ends up in the past with her. Maybe he had brought the Harp of Ages with him but doesn't trust his abilities with it to bring them home as he doesn't have access to the "portal spots" he had in Labrynna (I know those only existed one way but shhh). Lots of comedic and angst potential here (eg: joining Sonia and Rauru in teasing Flora about Wild only for Flora to turn it around and tease him about Ravio etc and giving Sonia and Rauru more teasing material, or realising that the pig Ganon he fought three times was only an avatar of the real thing (which is my hc at the moment), and so on). Flora would likely still do the forbidden thing because of the Master Sword, so I imagine Legend would either try to use the Harp when he's alone and he feels there is nothing more he can do in the past, or he is "sealed away" by Zelda (maybe in the form of a painting or while using the Serpent's Toga Outfit from TFH to make the process easier?) and is "sleeping" in the Temple of Time or in the hidden room in the Forgotten Temple until Wild can release him from the spell

He doesn't manage to grab onto either of them and falls down into the Depths with Ganondorf. Manages to get away from the Demon King through a small passage (maybe the dark magic that exuded from Ganondorf when he caused the Upheaval forced him into his Bunny form? And if so, would he be stuck in that form until he found an active Lightroot or he got onto the Surface again?) and then he is stuck in the Depths either until the Zonai Survey Team (ZST) have managed to get down there and he can hitch a ride back up with them or Wild himself have to find him (and would Legend then stay in the the Blupees' Burrow? Or would he be elsewhere? In some spot closer to Central Hyrule? Or further away because his instincts tell him to get tf away from the Demon King?). And then the question is what he feeds on because I hc it takes a few months between the Upheaval and Wild being healed enough to be able to leave the Great Sky Island. Is the grass edible enough for his Bunny form? Can he handle plants that are otherwise uncookable? Does he steal food from ZST and/or the Yiga? Does the blupees feed him? Have he almost starved to death when Wild or the ZST find him? Or the Yiga for that matter (and what would keep them from killing him in that case? Because both his Bunny-form (potential food source) or his Hero status would be reasons for the Yiga to kill him)

So yeah as you can see my brain played the what-if game again pls send help

OKAY I had a really vivid dream and then ideas stemmed from that dream and it was to do with legend so naturally the first thing to do is tell you said ideas right?

Yk how ever since tears of the kingdom was announced people were coming up with content to do with wild getting taken away from the chain to do totk before getting given back to them post totk? Imagine that, but with legend instead cause I think it would be fun.

So basically, everything is the same except to begin with, alltp link is there. So the chain is panicking because why the fuck is there a literal 10 year old here, this is worse than the 13 year old- etc etc. But them being them, they adopt this kid quickly, this is their baby brother and you can't tell them otherwise. Wind is happy there's someone younger than him tbh. The kids also really young, so where legend probably only talks about his adventures during his once in a blood moon lore drops, this child talks about them properly and actually has time to process. He's still traumatised from them but he's dealing with it in a healthy way and is surprisingly good at helping the others too.

Then during a world switch, somehow the kid disappears. He's gone for about... a month for them and then comes back visibly older, and more scarred and traumatised, sporting a fever to boot. For a while they can't get him to say anything about what happened but he's still a young kid so they do get him to talk about it. How idk tbf I haven't thought that deeply into it.

The same thing keeps happening after that. He helps the chain for a few months, disappears for a while and then comes back older and with a new adventure under his belt. By the last one they understood what was happening, and just.. waited for their not so little brother to come back.

I feel like this version of legend would be a lot less prickly than the one we all love because he had a proper support system after each adventure who actually understood what he was going through. Obviously he'd still be sarcastic as fuck but that's just who he is, after all that's a link thing.

I also think that they'd call lil leg some form of rabbit nickname or something to do with the pink hair.

anyways you're cool and this was a thing. Thanks for reading it b y e

FUN FACT!!!!! This is a fic!

I didn't write it, but I remember it was one of the fics that made me love Legend when I was first getting into the fandom!

It opens with ALTTP Link running into a random portal to escape the knights in his era and accidentally coming across the chain. warriors is actually like one of the first one's he meets, and because KNIGHT he goes into full panic mode. Warriors and the others help calm him down though, and eventually integrate them into their group. Wind and Warriors are debatably the closest with him, because Wind has a little brother now, and Warriors because after the misunderstanding when they meet, he kind of becomes Little Leg's protector and safe person.

And then Legend gets thrown back.

He thinks it's a dream, or he made it up to process his loneliness, but then after all his adventures, he finds a portal again, like he used to go through with his big brotehrs, and he's both scared and warily hopefull. He goes through, thinking they'll have grown and changed like him, that he's still the youngest.

He comes back on the same night he disappeared.

Nothing has changed.

They're still looking for him in a panic.

Naturally, Legend being Legend makes some comment about how they'll never find the kid they're looking for, and in a fit of protective big brother rage, Warriors absolutally loses it on him, thus forever imprinting the image of his big brother trying to kill him on Legend's mind.

They figure out what happens not long after, and of course Wars is apologetic, but Legend can now only see his protector as his attacker and a liar (Wars promised to never hurt him) and thus ANGST

The story is still in the works, but I would 100% go and read it! It's a real tear jerker!

.....I'll try and find the link, but if anyone else remembers what this one is called, please tell me, because now I ALSO want to read it.

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

True Form Sukuna/Reader: A Moment in Time (Part 4- Fateful Warnings)

Author’s Note: Hello people! I’m back with a new chapter of this fic. It’s super short but I wanted to ease back into writing since it’s been awhile. I just started a new job so I apologize for the lack of updates. Hopefully I’ll be able to drop the next chapter sooner. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of blood, implied sex, referenced infidelity, sexism, Sukuna

“Recite it again,” Tengen instructed. 

A young Ryomen Sukuna let out a sigh, holding the parchment in his hand closer to his face to make out the text in the dim candle light. 

“When ending the life of a hostile sorcerer one must be wary that they will not come back as a curse, you must kill them with the usage of cursed energy.”

Tengen stood up from her spot behind the table to stare down at the unruly nineteen year old. 

“Correct, so why did you fail to do so earlier?”

Sukuna tossed the parchment on the stack of other scrolls and leaned back with a shrug. 

The instance she was speaking of had happened earlier that day. A curse user had been causing trouble in a small village up north, leading to the deaths of a few families. This is why they had personally reached out to Tengen in a plea of mercy, for the landowning lords could care less about the lives of a few peasants. 

She had decided to send Sukuna in her place, noticing how restless he was becoming these days, only for her protege to carelessly allow him to bleed out. 

“I had every intention of going back to finish the job,” he huffed.

She glared at him. “Yes you did, as soon as you got back from desecrating his wife.”

He brushed off the claims of infidelity with a wave of his hand. 

“She invited me inside while the ugly bastard was out, believe me the little whore was singing my praises joyously.”

Tengen blew past his odious sentiments with contempt. 

“Yes, only for her to meet her end when he returned as a vengeful curse to slice her throat.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. 

“I was there.”

“Which is precisely why I’m failing to see how you don’t grasp the severity of the situation!” she snapped.

“What situation?” he argued back. “I used cursed energy to exercise him. It’s over.”

“After a completely preventable loss of life.”

Sukuna crossed his arms. “Are you talking about the wife? She was warming the bed of a man you wanted me to kill. Who cares if she lived or died?”

“It’s not just that Ryomen, it’s the way you’ve been handling everything as of late. Aggressively doing the tasks I give you with little regard for the wellbeing of others, blatantly ignoring my teachings, disrespecting my writings. How am I to trust you as my successor?”

Yes, the original reason she had taken the then young boy into her home. Being a woman, even as powerful as she, could only get Tengen so far. So she had begun relying on the presence of a male figure to act as a stand in for her. 

Played the part of Tengen while she operated from behind the curtain. Currently she had been using a fellow she had met decades ago by the name of Kenjaku, a person she had come to trust, but he was aging rapidly, feeling the affects of old age settling throughout his body. 

So a replacement was necessary, and that’s where Ryomen Sukuna came in.

When she had first encountered him she had sensed a powerful presence, verging on becoming predatory. Despite Kenjaku’s protests she decided to take him on as a student, perhaps she could harness his cursed energy and make him useful. 

But now, standing in front of him, Tengen was beginning to realize that not even she could control Ryomen Sukuna, and she feared a time would come when no one could. 

Sukuna stood up, glaring at his instructor. 

“I am not some puppet like that old bastard you have to keep around! And I’m tired of you holding me back!”

“Ryomen, your reckless actions will lead to your eventual downfall.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m warning you. If you stray I will no longer be able to help you.”

He let out a bitter laugh and stormed out of the room, out of the house, out of Tengen’s life.

“I’ll never require your help.”

~

From then on Sukuna strived to grow stronger, and he did, evolving beyond a human body with an appetite that could only be appeased by the taste of human flesh. He lived how he wanted, ate when he wanted, and entertained only those who he found interesting. And at this current moment the one he found the most interesting, was you. 

~

“Damn him! Damn him!” the lord of the house howled.

His personal physician worked quickly to stop the bleeding while he screamed in agony. The other residents and staff stood around him anxiously, waiting to see if he’d live through the hour. 

The young servant boy was the only person whose mind was still on you and the terrified expression you wore as Sukuna had whisked you away. He trembled as he reluctantly approached one of the palace ladies who hovered next to the physician, the same one who had scolded you. 

“My Lady,” he managed to force out. “What is to be done about (Name)?”

She peeled her attention away from the grotesque scene to face him. “Who?”

He blinked in disbelief. “The maid…scheduled for execution.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think you imbecile? Nothing. Her fate is sealed.”

The palace lady turned her attention to one of the noblewomen next to her. 

“Better a low status maid than one of us.”

“You!” the physician called. 

The servant boy looked up to find it was him who he was speaking to. 

“More rags. Go now.”

~

The End. 

[ifreakforicecream]

COD MODERN WAREFARE 3 Predictions

Disclaimer: I have never played the games I am just doing this for my own enjoyment (I don’t have 70$ lying around) I am going off of cutscenes, the wiki and other people’s head cannons. I kind of wanna see how this list plays out once the new missions come. (This barbie has to draft 30 sheets of site analysis for a presentation but is doing this instead) I will probably update this with coloured text as it goes

also, lmao mw3 getting revealed by monster energy drinks has the same energy as the previous installments being revealed by Dorito Chips or when hero movies get early reveals from toy/action figure patents.

Graves does come back but only as an operator for the multiplayer games. Conversely, He could be an illegal arms dealer but in hiding (think MacAfee before they found him). Shepherd has a higher chance of going in that direction in my books. Update: he comes back completely unscathed and going by the new trailer he's siding with Farah and Alex? oooo this gonna get messy (28/7/23).

Price, Laswell, or Gaz dies. Sort of a riff off from the originals I’m guessing the writers are trying to find some form of subversion but this is where it's at (oof)

Farah or Alex dies and neither of them finishes what they started. My money is on Farah tbf.

Gaz dying makes sense in the way that he started with wanting to do right by people when he first met and would probably die that way too. or this being a red herring price jumps in for him and dies and then takes his place which seals his fate as the MC of this installment.

Laswell goes out of the way of aiding a mission when she was expected/advised not to.

Laswell gets a protégé that will replace her in a much later installment. It has a shot at being Gaz man just collects good intel.

more female ops? I like to think COD writes them pretty damn well. (at this point my standards are must pass the Bechdel test. which is not a bad benchmark considering its flaws but not great either)(this is also where I found out the first installment of Twilight passes the Bechdel test. go figure)

Gaz replaces Laswell and Ghost takes Price’s place.

Price dies while killing Makarov. or we get him smoking a cigar as he is introed making it a full-circle moment once more.

Ghost trades bullets with shepherd but only shepherd dies. Many have said the reboot plays it safe so I am going off of that assumption here slightly but ik a lot of og gamers of the previous titles would find that satisfying.

In the wiki, it states that the shadow company is disavowed but that might change. I didn’t check the established title (Like if it was private or public) of such a company but there might be a line of succession here. for what they have in assets it seems too big to be disavowed.

we get a partial face reveal of the ghost. It could be something mundane as smoking or a teasing jump cut. it’s just like barely there.

everyone gets promoted: It happened after the mission in the ghost's origin story. It’s a hefty mission they just survived. I would be surprised if they didn’t. with shepherd gone this swings either way. or gets buried under the rug as it is a mission hidden from the public.

Roach gets in the picture. he also wins the IDGAF wars or is second to Price in that regard.

regional operators? They were all over the place in past titles and with las almas this seems the least farfetched. (hoping for some Indian or Nepalis operators woo)

someone from 141 or affiliated gets kidnapped or “killed” but it’s that “lucky death” situation that COD likes to pull like it did with Alex. This happens towards the end or at a start of a mission season.’

Shepherd is the actual villain and they kill off Makarov pretty quick as a subversion of the original title. Again moot, if you consider the potential monster energy leak his face is in red behind price.

price dies, Gaz finishes the job.

this is more of an anti-prediction: the price isn’t gonna be the main character but the most prominent. (also going by the monster leak) ghost was the last game’s MC I don’t think they were married to his POV all that much even though it played a huge role.

ghost dies, and Soap finishes the job. “you wanna be better than me Johnny” or Johnny dies saving Ghost in the final moment.

Makarov operates the no Russian mission remotely and he acts as a clean nationalistic politician, making him more dangerous and will cause international trouble when apprehending him. (a lot of opposing politicians or figures “fall out of windows” in the process.

The ghost team carries over to Russian soil.

141 gets bigger and possibly with pre-existing operators within the game.

shepherd gets murdered by a more evil boi/girl

ghost’s tattoo design has a canonical refresh/update. The grey fleece jacket comes back.

Soap recovers while Ghost hunts for Shepherd solo. (this happens right after the final mission or the bar scene)

Every now and then a COD title comes out with a new game mechanic or a way to play. In this installment, I am predicting laser sights for night missions.

Heavier lean on digital/informational warfare.

we don’t get much about ghosts. RalphsValve said there might be a spinoff personally I don’t this will ever happen but it’s a tossup considering the original investor report saying mobile makes 40% of revenue but the Microsoft acquisition may change things ( also wonder where product collaborations are at on that investor report probably not that sizable but still worth a look). Conversely, he’s ghostie has become a character favorite and the market landscape has changed drastically in the last 10-20 years and he already has source material. BTW I read that Origin comic That poor fucker can’t catch a break. Brother looked so red-eyed when he hit the tarmac when he met Soap.

[variousqueerthings]

so the whole thing about BJ for me, is that actually he’s not my favourite character (I was just going through the characters and I’m no good at playing favourites -- purely based on amount of words written it may be Hawkeye, but every one of them, including BJ, has something that makes me go !!!!!!!!!!)

but right now BJ specifically is someone I circle back to a lot, because of the mask of it all. no character on MASH wears masks as well as BJ does

when I first started watching I knew that there was a guy (I at some point had the name “honeycut” and was like... “honeycut? is he a bond girl??” (yes, he is)) who would be there after Trapper and stay until the end of the show

and then as I was watching I got sent some fanfictions and generally got an impression of BJ through the lens of devotion to Hawkeye and overall good guyness, maybe a little bland even

and around s6 I was really wondering... where are they going with this guy? Did learn later that there was something going on on the writing-side of things, so the inconsistencies I was noting were... noticeable, but often that can give unexpected things to work with. at the time I figured “I will wait until I’ve got the whole puzzle” (I say, like I wasn’t writing a dozen BJ-related posts while watching, but I was just... prodding at him: what’s up with you my guy?)

so now I’ve got the whole puzzle and it’s quite devastating. I’ve joked along with others that BJ is the villain of the piece, and it is kind of true that a lot of later seasons inner-MASH conflict comes from him, but the whole thing about the end is of course that none of the people at the 4077th are villains (except for Frank, of course, Frank is a bastard as he was meant to be), they’re just reacting to all the awfulness in different ways 

I feel like Hawkeye, Charles, and BJ react the worst to it (although everyone has their Stuff) and out of the three of them BJ reacts in the most unpalatable ways to a viewer

Hawkeye is Hawkeye -- could go on about him (and have done) forever, but I think I’ll leave it at that here. We have had Episodes Dedicated To Hawkeye Is Being Hawkeye, we Know.

Charles is introduced as intensely closed-off, strongly disliking everything and everyone around him, even casually bigoted -- every example of him growing and changing and allowing his door to wedge open just a bit is bound to be catnip to a certain kind of engager of these sorts of stories (me). and this is also at risk of becoming paragraphs of text, so I shan’t continue for long, but Charles in the last episode was perfectly everything that is Charles, in all his fascinating contradictions -- and in a lot of ways, Charles is quite open with who he is, and who he is is someone who hisses angrily at the idea of sharing his deepest emotions with others and then occasionally he does and I 😭

BJ though!

BJ is introduced as a good guy. he’s the new Trapper. he’s going to be there for Hawkeye. he’s in many ways everything Hawkeye is not (clean-cut, a little traditional in a charmingly white knight kind of way, married to a beautiful woman with whom he has a beautiful kid -- there’s even that line from Hawkeye where he basically says words to this effect, and ends it on “and despite that I still like the guy”) 

so when BJ starts knocking on the walls of being this Type of character --- what if he fully knows the connotations of being Trapper’s replacement and hates it? what if there’s no way to maintain an All-American ideal in a place like this and he’s floundering because he’s never had to consider himself outside of that perspective? what if the ugliness makes him ugly? (in how he treats others, not physically, fully once he got that moustache, the little gay boy from the 1970s inside of me went 😳 oh hello. sidenote, does Mike Farrell know this? surely he must know what he was evoking with all of that??? I hope Mike *I need to talk about gay rights* Farrell got fanmail from gay guys that he cherished). 

and what if he still acts, in many ways... not even so dissimilarly from how he did in the beginning, with the exception of the sudden outbursts and jealous rantings? what if the cheeky smile feels a bit... off now? more like a smirk. what if you go from “aww he’s got a letter from peg,” to “oh no, he’s got a letter from peg”? what if he obfuscates and tells half-truths and outright lies in the exact same tone of voice as when he’s being sincere? what if that means you just never know when he’s being real? what if he’s all-mask and no answers? and when did he start being this? was this somewhat disconcerting man always who he was?

and, like with Charles, there are little glimpses into the answers (I think war co-respondent is a not universally beloved episode, but the stuff about being a prisoner of war and needing to look towards home was wonderful stuff to me, dunno if I can imagine him ever admitting any of that to Hawkeye -- not to mention period of adjustment, in which some bit of truth only comes out after literal violence and binge drinking)

when I was watching s10 I noticed that this got especially intense, not so much in the period of adjustment way, but just the casualness of cruelty. there were barely any examples of BJ really being there for Hawkeye (and I have another post I want to do about times he aggressively projected onto him and how Hawkeye reacted to that within episodes) and I wasn’t happy about it, because I wanted to see mutual support dammit! I wasn’t prepared to consider the tragedy that maybe the ability to do that is just eroding (take away why things were written the way they were and just looking at the narratives themselves) -- maybe all that’s left is the projection and the familiarity and the trudging onwards with bits of mad impulsive abandon the only way of dealing

and after Goodbye Farewell and Amen, I reconsidered (we’ll see if I feel the same way on my second watch though). I do on some level wish that BJ had gotten to be more in the final seasons than mostly petty and mean, but I’m also warming up to the reading of him and the ways that reactions to trauma can be incredibly unkind -- and also that BJ maybe doesn’t naturally come to kindness, but it’s hard to say. I quite like that read, personally, and there are hints of it (the fact that he played tricks on people before he ever came to Korea is one. the fact that he’s an easy-going privileged white guy who was popular in a frat house is another.)

the other thing about BJ is the gradual slide of his character. in the beginning he’s confidently able to play the Role Of The American Hero Man Who Is (kind of bland) A Good Guy Here To Pick Up The Pieces Of That Other Guy Who’s A Mess and we have a clear enemy in Frank. It’s a simpler story, even though it actually gets complicated almost immediately in the first episode by the way BJ starts out in his nice pressed dress uniform and ends it having thrown up, having fallen into the mud, having had bombs dropped on him, having taken a girl who stepped on a landmine to an ill-equipped local hospital, etcetcetc. and at the end getting mind-numbingly drunk. in hindsight it feels easy to see all of this and go: ah yeah, he’s not going to be okay

and yet he spends seasons in which he just seems to continue and then seasons in which he does increasingly unhinged shit, while still acting as if he’s just continuing. masks under masks under masks. 

the first crack might be when he cheats on Peg. it’s totally antithetical to what he believes in. it makes no sense for it to happen. I wrote a whole post about how I didn’t understand the reasons from his side at the time when I was watching it (I believe it was the first episode to really give him a POV), and I’m not convinced that it was intended at all this deep in any way, but through the lens of this read, it’s the first of BJ’s sudden, destructive behaviours -- but he’s still Good Guy BJ, he’s going to explain it to Peg, he’s going to fix it... until Hawkeye tells him not to (and once again obligatory mention of how Hawkeye inserts himself in the Hunnicutt family over and over). Who knows if that was the right decision, the point is that there are no right decisions, but maybe for a man like BJ... idk, maybe it would have been good to let him face the facts and take responsibility. he’s increasingly not very good at that, after all

I also think “BJ Papa San” is one of the most affecting pre-s8 episodes. more scales falling from his eyes, there are no heroes, including him, nothing here matters, why should he try to make things matter? and it’s in s8 when period of adjustment hits and I do think (and again I may find myself reconsidering once I rewatch) that there’s a pre-s8 BJ and a s8-onwards BJ and the changes can be pinpointed down to specific episodes -- those episodes turned a slow slide into a waterfall, until you end up with something like “Bombshells” in which BJ’s hurt leads him to blame Hawkeye (and really himself) for essentially judging the average soldiers who come through, when Hawkeye has never been cruelly simplistic like that in how he fights against the war

*

in GFA BJ finally hits the wall with his way of dealing, and he deals with that really badly too. every bit of how he goes about trying to get home to Erin’s birthday makes me want to shake him. he triggers Hawkeye, he doesn’t consider the needs of the 4077th in terms of surgeons, he feels weirdly manipulative in the way he shows her picture around like, “see, this is why it’s important I leave right now, rather than in idk, two weeks, you wouldn’t break the heart of this little girl, it’s all about her actually and not about me, when you think about it!” -- then he leaves without saying goodbye to Hawkeye or even just leaving him a note (and yeah, sudden short timing, but like... dude... you had time before that and also that’s the thing he’s sensitive about! that’s... that’s literally the thing that happened that meant he met you how he met you, you were there my guy!)

and he gets sent back and once again doesn’t acknowledge that he really may have hurt him. Over and over again in that final story, BJ runs from direct confrontation of how he feels, down to the feelings that must arise from allowing the word “goodbye.”

when Hawkeye confronts him on that (and I love love love that it wasn’t about how BJ might have hurt Hawkeye or about the mutual projection they may have done on each other, or anything about the past time of BJ being kind of a shit, it was Hawkeye asking for the thing underneath all of those things) it’s in a way that’s very raw and puncturing, and feels like slightly to the left of an argument (you know when someone brings something out during a fight that seemingly has nothing to do with what it’s about?) + Hawkeye’s highly sensitive way of dealing with things invoking his actual death to try and get BJ to just do the fucking thing! It was pretty shocking, I will one day rewatch, but I am remembering that feeling of it like a kind of slap to BJ’s face, because he’s trying to not think about things like that!

it reminds me of the example of “times men are allowed to show emotion and be close and be intimate include when a buddy is holding his dying buddy on the battle field,” except in this case it’s fascinatingly meta, because it’s Hawkeye calling BJ out on it through that example, because Hawkeye, as we know, has no problem being emotional (filtering those emotions though... somethingsomething fascinating that we have two examples of Hawkeye being so emotionally wounded that he literally deals with it by repressing the whole memory! ANYWAY!) -- would it be enough then, BJ? would you say goodbye if he was literally dying, or would you be a coward then too? I’m doing some hyperbole and stretching of how Hawkeye says it, but it’s the slightly left to an argument feeling of it all... you’re asking, how much does this question contain?

and hey, what do you know: having to look directly at the violence without a haze of genial “I’m just a blank space where a guy should be”ism, is the thing that BJ is sensitive about! but they’re about to leave and Hawkeye can’t let him not look directly at him anymore, he needs them to say goodbye!

*

BJ is also a guy who’s been really hurt and is continually hurt by all the ways war is a near-constant violence. they’re all just hurt people doing their best, and I like the idea that maybe Hawkeye is quite aware of what BJ is doing and absorbs the blows knowingly, because they’re all just trying their best to get through it okay and Hawkeye’s way is self-sacrifice

at the end BJ does say goodbye

he makes the tremendous effort to do so, and it’s done in a very BJ type way, big and grand. it feels like an acknowledgement that what happened here did affect him, Hawkeye mattered to him, and despite everything and the likelihood that they may never see each other again (or maybe they will, but only once or twice), there was something in it all worth saying goodbye to. in a sea of nothing mattering, that mattered

another thing is that I think if this had been a different show, with more traditional types of masculinity, BJ would have fit right in. Hell, he might even have been “the sensitive one” because ultimately he’s a very passionate healer of people and he’s against war on principle and he’s a wife guy, but this narrative doesn’t let him stop at that point. things that might go under the radar in that type if story become red alarms in this one. maybe the original MASH, full of snark and cynicism would have let him get away with it

but in this one he says goodbye, dammit, he hugs Margaret (twice), he says fond goodbyes to his friends and salutes Potter, and he hugs Hawkeye as hard as he can like he’ll never let go, and he makes the grand gesture! 

and I don’t know, I might reconsider so many things as I go along... like I said, he’s... *pokes and prods* what’s going on here, huh buddy? how can we make this writing make sense now we have all the puzzle pieces we’re going to get?

how hard can I fixate on the act of saying “goodbye”

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 67 // Stuck on Repeat // Day 50

Contents (Warnings): Who are they, Claudia? (Slight angst, vore mention, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 3,000

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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(Nov. 14th, Monday)

Claudia

I should have felt and heard him enter the barrier. The others must be with him.

Her extra limb lay under his boots, crushed but not entirely useless. The fingers of it twitched as her mind looped the name he said. A fae's name held so much power against them that it was a weakness.

She kept her face from twisting in pain. She wanted to give Kalin something other than satisfaction. 

His attentions on Lynette. She was slower than him and not as strong, but he was easily distracted. The other burlap-colored arm slung out from behind her back; it sprang forward, clawed hands aimed to grab his head.

It was merely a distraction that he fell for. He twisted, digging his heel down into the arm underneath his boot. He went to grab the one springing at him, and the one underneath him stretched further at the base of his boot. Claudia felt the tear but got it wrapped enough at his ankles to throw him off balance. 

Her other hand grabbed at his face lurched forward, and she threw him by it into the illuminated shelves of potions. 

All her work, once again, shattered and broken, spilling over him and the floor. Though they were primarily ingestible potions, she knew mixing them in the way she did would at least have some effect on him. 

Her hurt, stretched limb flapped behind her. Though it didn't bleed, it looked like the inside of torn rubber. Her other functioning stretchy arm wrapped around Lynette. 

She picked her up and ran toward the only door inside her home, besides the new opening Kalin made in the skylight. 

She ignored the sound of him getting up and the others that fell through the opening, too, calling her name. 

...

Wicks

His eyes didn't move from the spot she left last night. His car was parked across the street, but it didn't stop him from taking his eyes off the area. 

The seals they had over their cars prevented them from being purposefully followed. So Wicks stayed up all night and day waiting for his sister to return to the pizzeria. 

Her car and suitcase were there, which he hoped she'd come back for. 

And he couldn't afford to fall asleep and miss her. The fact that Lynette ignored his calls and texts drove him crazy.

I promised them I'd keep her safe. I need to take make up for my mistake.

It frustrated Wicks to wait. He couldn't search for her; if he did, she might sneak back to the pizzeria, and he'd miss her. 

She works today, so she'll come in. Wicks hoped. It was almost time, twenty minutes left, until her shift started.

He glanced at his phone again. The temptation to call his friend Garter entered his head again. Garter could look around the city while Wicks stayed.  

I can't involve him in this. It's not an emergency. He figured. 

She was right to be upset. I lied to her. To Wicks, she had every right to be mad. He could have erased her memory again, replaced it with something else, or lie when she asked about it.

He had so many options, but...

Every day, I learn something else about monsters, humans, or magus's, or I make the wrong calls. 

He felt the warm yet painful squeeze at his chest. Your admiration, bad jokes, and smile improved my day, Lynette. It always did. I regret so many things except the day I met you.

His hands clung to the bench metal next to his mom. She sat back, watching Charletta, who hung wildly on the bars and talked to everyone.  Then it happened, another child locked onto him. Their bright watermelon hue stared before they started to approach.  Wicks clung tighter to the bench, looking up at his mom. She didn't seem to notice. Thinking back on it, she probably did.  "Hi, what's your name?" He didn't respond; he went under the bench and studied her. His mom warned him not to talk to strangers. "I'm Lynette." She giggled, going to the other side of the bar. He crawled under the bench and he scrambled to his moms' legs. His mom turned as if she finally noticed Lynette. "Hello, niña. Sorry, Wicks is very shy." She pressed at his back. "Why don't you say hi to this sweet girl?" Wicks clung tighter.  Lynette smiled at Wicks's mom, "Hi." She turned her gaze back to Wicks, getting closer. She was so persistent. "Do you want to see my cool super ranger?" Wicks had yet to learn what she was talking about. She quickly ran off, and he relaxed. He watched where she went. He saw her go to a thin, pale woman with light brown hair. Lynette put her hands up and then pointed to Wicks and his mom. Wicks cowered further. He didn't know what they were talking about. He didn't want to meet anymore people. The thin woman got up and followed Lynette as she raced ahead.  "Hello," the woman said as she approached. His mom's attention was off them. He didn't want his mom to forget about him. He was now stuck with the relentless girl. She crawled under the bench too. "Look!" He didn't want to, but she showed it by his face. "Isn't he cool." Wicks looked at the green-helmeted figure. "They are a superhero. They fight crime and protect people!" She hyped. She passed it to Wicks. His hand came up to grab it. He didn't understand how Lynette knew he was a hero by looking at him. "He is?" "YEAH! He has a bunch of super friends too, but he's my favorite." She went on and on about how he's the leader and touched the toy in Wicks's hands to show him all the cool poses the action figure could strike. Before he knew it, she convinced him of how cool he was. The green super ranger. After another hour of their moms talking, they left, but Lynette forgot to take the ranger under the bench. And because she did, Wicks told his mom they had to go back to the park the next day so he could give it to her. Wicks also didn't know that they exchanged numbers at the time either and that her coming back the next day was not a coincidence. His mom texted Lynette's mom to ask her to bring her back tomorrow. 

He still had that figure on his shelf. They watched those cartoons together religiously as children...he was embarrassed to admit he modeled him after the green super ranger a lot. 

All because of his first friend, his best friend, and his sister. She had always been a light in his life.

He felt the tiredness washing over him; he went to his left arm again and sighed. It was red with pinch marks; he pinched down until it hurt. He knew some would leave bruises because he refused to heal them. 

I'm supposed to be so powerful... he chuckled faintly, so why do I feel so helpless to help her. 

He picked up his phone again to check his messages. Then, upon seeing the moving object in his peripherals, he threw himself back in his seat. A rock-like thing burst through his car window. He glanced at it. It exploded in a burst of purple gas. Wicks threw himself out of the car, holding his breath. 

He tried to track its location and didn't see anyone on the roof, but he could trace their signature.

He glanced across the street for a second; he couldn't risk ever getting Lynette involved again. It's the reason his parents broke Wicks and her apart from the rest of them in the first place. 

...

Lev

His eyes traced the two at the time clock, the easily annoyed blondie and... His eyebrow raised in surprise. 

He rarely saw Zane, especially without being at Zilla's hip. Lev sadly didn't see the little Redhead yet. Shame. He built up a slight excitement over these past few weeks. He had so much planned for their little time together outside of work, and Lev was dying to give her a taste.~

"Deciding to stay a little late today, Zane?" Lev questioned. 

Zilla's fraternal twin chuckled, "I've got a vacation coming up, so I had to make sure it's scheduled." He then happily stared down the hall, "Plus, I get to see my lovely sister!"

"Lovely," Lev put air quotes down in his head. You've got an odd obsession.

Lev then looked at Alexander. He checked over the time clock. Lev's cocksure grin rode up his lips.

"Aw, Wendie, are you worried about Lynette, don't tell me you finally scared her off." 

Alexander's eyes narrowed on Lev. Those spotlights are terrifying.~ He joked in his thoughts. 

"Don't think I won't kick your ass." Alexander's voice summoned his faintly deeper growl. 

A snicker spurred out, "What? I only asked a question." Lev's innocence dropped to the floor like a 100-pound weight. 

Alexander remained over the time clock; he rolled his eyes, "That little demon took her last night; she probably made her drink something stupid."

"Little demon?" Claudia? It was the one person Lev had a hard time reading. He felt confident enough to play it up with any and all of his coworkers. Everyone except that fae. She's interesting and odd. Lev didn't particularly think of her as a demon; she may be a mystery, but she's not that dangerous, at least to him. 

Lev studied Alexander's expression, afraid of losing your favorite human; hmm? 'He grabbed the stick to poke the bear,' "Claudia told me about the siren potion she made and haphazardly broke." He leaned closer to the time clock, meeting Alexander's cloudy gaze. "Oh, imagine if she did drink the siren one last night."

Alexander squinted. 

Lev continued with his thick, honeyed tone, "I guess that means she'll be mine over this next week instead.~."

The blondie caught on and groaned, "fuck off." 

Zane finally chimed in after he checked his phone, "I wouldn't have guessed Claudia would be the one to do her in," he also gestured back to Alexander, "I'd imagine that'd be all him."

"Shut up," Alexander pushed up, muttering something about a wedding. He shook his head and started at Zane, "Claudia's not stupid enough to get her-" Alexander cut himself off. 

They were all in silence for a second. Alexander glanced back at the time clock. It was almost 2.

"Fuckin' idiot shrimp." Alexander went walking down the hall, cogitated again by responsibility. 

"You don't look worried." Zane tilted back and scanned over Lev's face.

Lev ran his hand through his hair, and his bright yellow eyes watched Alexander approach Edgar's office. He let out a breath and touched the badge on his uniform. He didn't look back at Zane, "Why would I worry for someone I don't know?"

He scanned in and turned to see Zane's unassuming and "innocent" face. I know you're as analytical as your sister. Don't play dumb, Zane.

...

Edgar

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the inventory order. Things are going to start picking up. He reminded himself. His eyes flicked to his office door.

The thumps rang a few bells, not that he needed them, as the male opened the door without knocking. Alexander. 

He released an exhale first, then gave him a customer service smile, "is something wrong?"

Alexander shut the door behind him and spoke, "I'm her fu-" He corrected himself, "supervisor, so Lynette went to Claudia's last night. I don't know if she's called out or not. But she hasn't got here yet."

Edgar got his phone from his pocket; he had no new messages. He looked for Claudia's number in his phone. 

"Do you know why she went with Claudia?"

Alexander rested on one of the bookcases, "to be stupid."

"Alexander." Edgar flashed the half-magus with seriousness.

Alexander uncrossed his arms and sighed, "She said she couldn't sleep in her apartment, and Claudia asked if she wanted to sleep over at her house. Lynette agreed."

Edgar called Claudia. The phone rang as he had it away from his ear. "She didn't express a reason?"

"Her apartment was flooded?" He didn't sound sure.

As far as I know, she lives with Wicks, does she not? Did neither of them have money? If not, they could have stayed with us, Edgar thought. Claudia's phone went to voicemail. 

He stood up, did a once over of his office, and his eyes met Alexander's after. "You and Sandra are in charge for today. Make sure everyone keeps in line and follows the rules. Including yourself." Edgar called Lynette next. He grabbed his jacket and threw it over his uniform. "And please tell Sandra to text me Miss Evedane's address. It might be another gray incident." 

Alexander nodded. He let Edgar move past him.

Edgar made it into the hall, and someone answered briefly. 

"Lynette-"

He swore he heard Lynette's voice. Everything after sounded too muffled to understand. Then the line went dead. He tried again, marching down the hall, passing Zilla and Zane. The phone now continuously went to voicemail. It's turned off. 

He scrolled through his phone; most numbers there were others related to Danee's line of work. He found the one he was looking for and called them next.

It rang twice before they answered. 

"What's up, Eddie?" He heard the concern even though he used his nickname.

"Lynette went to another employee's house last night and has not shown up to work. I've tried to contact them to no avail." Edgar explained. "If you're not busy, I'll need the C.P.P.A. observer agent there. It might be a case that'll require force."

There was a pause, then a sigh, "Why does it have to be the Payton's adopted daughter." Pete's said.

"Our new family members." Edgar corrected. Even though the idea still didn't sit well, his children's happiness trumped his feelings.

"Yeah." Pete's said.

"Are you in or out?"

A soft chuckle came from the receiver, "Like I'd abandon a brother; send me the address, and I'll meet you there."

"Thanks, Pete's," Edgar said with relief. He opened his car door.

"You're buying me drinks this time, though; I hate having to pay you so much."

Those words caught him off guard, and Edgar banged his head on the car's door frame. He adjusted himself quickly, "it was two times."

Pete's laughed before Edgar hung up and rubbed his forehead. He relaxed his shoulders, and he typed the address Sandra sent him. Not that Edgar needed it. Even though Claudia changed it so frequently, he made it a habit to memorize all their addresses in case he was in a hurry.

...

Lynette

He crushed her arm.

My body refused to move. The danger centers of my brain blared, seeing the curl at his lips and spirals in his eyes.

The only thing I could do was whimper, "Why did you do that?"

I didn't understand why he hurt her.

My eyes barely tracked what happened next. Everything happened too quick. I couldn't react. Claudia's good arm coiled around me like many times before.

She raced me across the house and got us through the giant door.

I felt the familiar cool breeze before my eyes tracked the floating cubes and those implanted into the ground and the pinkish sky. It was the same thing she used during that game with us. 

I couldn't see any glowing traps as she ran with me. Her thin tips of her feet splashed the water up as she ran.

"Wha-t's go-ing on Clau-dia?" I said between continuous bobbing motions. I swore I saw two other figures following behind.

"They've been finding me quicker and quicker." Her softer tone came out, "And now they'll kill us both. You'd probably be much faster, but they'd probably pick me apart."

"Are you saying they're your family?! Why would they want you dead?" I said with panic, she twisted around a corner, and her lower hand swung around at one of the cubes. She muttered a few words under her breath, then the cubes rapidly shifted and moved.

The floor underneath her was almost pulled out, and in a blink, similar to before, we were in a different location in this random area. A cube floating above us with giant ones around us.

"I'm glad you guys let me test this." She whispered as she let me down onto the dark, damp ground.

"Kalin's part of the family like the others," Claudia's voice didn't change its smiley octave. I couldn't see a smile on her face because of her monster form. "When I ran away, their base fell apart; they aren't happy."

I'm a liability here. I thought with a bad taste in my mouth. No, brain, please. Focus on Claudia. She's in trouble. I saw her healing her destroyed second stretchy limb, it looked a little blacker and less clay colored.

I touched my pocket. Wicks could get hurt; besides, how am I even supposed to ask him for help after I walked out on him?

I took out my phone, "if they're trying to kill us, I'll call my brother. He's part of the C.P.P.A."

In the dim light from above and the little bit my phone gave off, Claudia's voice sprang up.

"They won't help me, Lynette!"

"They'll kill you. And the C.P.P.A. helps monsters and humans in these situations, right? If there are so many people after you, we need them!"

I accidentally pressed Wicks's text messages, trying not to read them. I needed to call him.

In a swift motion, Claudia snatched the phone from me; the tip of her finger was typing something.

"What are you doing?!" I tried to get the phone back from her, but it was useless. I was at her knee in height. 

"Nothing." More urgency left her voice.

"C.L.A.U.D.I.A., WE NEED HELP!"

My phone began to ring. Claudia fumbled with it, surprised. I heard the voice beyond the receiver. It sounded like Edgar.

"EDGAR!"

She quickly crushed the phone in her hand and dropped the pieces down at my feet. They splashed in the bit of water less than ankle deep for me.

I looked up at her, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT!"

One of the arms at her back sprung at me and wrapped around my lower face, around my mouth, and partially my neck.

"They won't help me, Lynette." Her voice's usual static happy, bubbly manner fled.

Beneath, it felt cold, distant, and empty. "I've always been hiding and running from my family, and when I came to Earth, I ran from the C.P.P.A. too. It never ends." the grip on my mouth slowly tightened. "I can't get help from them, Lynette, because I'm wanted by the C.P.P.A..."

A sickeningly stale remorseful chuckle bounced along the walls of the cubes hiding us.

"for helping the family kill people."

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[awrldalone]

22nd October 2023, 10.08pm

On the train, going back to Paris. On the 12th of October I wrote down:

"I think I will start writing in fragments. I always try to take some time to myself to quietly unravel my thoughts until my eyes start closing and sleep demands my full attention, but lately I have not been able to. I will cut out small moments of the day – so my words might come off as disjointed. I will cut out small moments of the day – so my words might come off as disjointed. Nevertheless, I will try to keep this diary unified."

And then I didn't. I seem to only be able to write in-between things, in a bubble. No one has placed the weight of responsibility on me besides myself, but I feel it I feel it I feel it, and doing anything besides what I am meant to unleashes my guilt, and my guilt eats up at my soul. 

Then I wrote down:

"My eyes burn. I don't sleep enough, I never do. I have to wake up at six every day except Friday, and I don't get home until seven p.m. or later most days. I spend twelve hours outside at least, and then most days I leave again to go to the gym. Yesterday a man started talking to me on the street. I was walking home, listening to music and trying not to think. It must have been around eleven, and my feet were walking by themselves and I was not paying attention, caught up in my thoughts. I stopped at a red light, and a man stated talking. He was wearing headphones too so I ignored him, I figured he must have been talking to someone on the phone – but he was talking to me. I took out one headphone, then the other, and listened to him. He looked about thirty, with a beard and long dark hair in a bun. He was tall, which scared me. He said he sees me all the time, at the gym. He said he recognized me from one time I walked past him on the street, and another time that he saw me coming from the rotary. There was no one besides us, and he asked me for my instagram, which surprised me. I held his phone with a shaky hand as I typed in my username, but he must not have noticed. I said something about his keyboard being the French one, AZERTY, and we kept walking together and talking. He said we should workout together, or have a coffee sometime. We parted ways." 

He still texts me. I reply dryly, cordially but without giving him a way to reply naturally. It usually work to deter undesired attention, but he keeps coming back. I still have to cross him again, though. Part of me is so scared he will make a scene, he will scream and yell and demand an explanation to my sporadic texting. If I can't even write regularly in my diary, how does he think I'd ever reply on time to him?

I also noted, on my phone:

"Here, the way people get rid of their furniture is quite interesting. They leave it on the street, in front of their house, with a piece of paper taped on it and a number. Chairs, sofas, mattresses, doorframes, mirrors, mostly ruined, stained, with the paint chipped off, take up some place of the sidewalk like an art installation, waiting for the recycling center to come pick them up. I think it is explicatory of the French impulse to reuse, repurpose. French people do not shy away from the used, they let clothes pass from hand to hand, letting objects breathe of new life with a new owner.  I always wonder about those chairs, those chests of drawers. Where in the room did they fit? What other piece of furniture fill up the floor space? With what were they replaced? How were they ruined - who spilled the coffee on the upholstery? Was it a cat that ripped the fabric?  I imagine these rooms, looking at the building behind the object, trying to get a glimpse of an apartment from the windows. Is that a Breuer chair, black and metallic? From my apartment I see two huge living rooms – but there's never anyone in them. Hardwood floors, one of them in a fishtail pattern. A soft sofa, all curves and pillows. Upholstered in flowers that look like dust. A fireplace, used long ago but rarely lit now. What does the furniture hear, every day?"

Can the people across the road see in my small room? Do they see me, before the sun comes up, walking to the shower? Am I a silhouette that comes home at night and turns on the lights, exhausted?

At the beginning of the year, my Droit Privé professor said something I think about often. He told us we have to organize our time properly, that we can do anything if we count the minutes. He said we can decided to live three days in the span of one, consecrating eight hours to sleep, eight hours to university – classes and studying – and eight hours of free time, to play sports, take care of ourselves, our body, to hang out with friends. I wonder what brings people to lie so blatantly. Had he just not said anything, no one would have felt the absence of his words. Everyone might have forgotten about it already, but his speech keeps bugging me. I need my days to be forty eight hours at least.

Last Thursday I spent less than an hour awake in my apartment. I woke up at six, and stayed in bed half asleep until six thirty, and then in thirty minutes I washed myself and dried my hair and let my coffee brew and dressed up. I wore a red sweater, soft and warm, and then I left before seven.

I came back home more than twelve hours later, and I changed into a silk draped neck-line top and a pair of black suit trousers just to throw on my black coat and leave again to catch a bus to the Panthéon. I might have been a bit overdresses for a conference, but lately I have realized that waiting to wear, to do, to use something is just a waste of time. 

The conference was about future job prospects in the art world, but I found all three jobs represented to be so empty. I am terrified of leading an empty life. Perhaps it is the influence of puritanism in me, but jobs like marchand, a mere seller of paintings, fill me up with dread. He said his job consists of drinking coffee all day with his clients, and then at six p.m. he switches to champagne, because otherwise he gets grumpy. I felt my stomach turn.

The other man, a commissaire priseure, seemed much more hard working – but still, I went into the conference knowing I would never dream of such a job and I left unchanged. 

The only woman out of the three was an expert, specifically of Asian art, porcelain and such. I found he much more respectable – but still, her job seems like hell to me. 

We went to a bar afterwards, to talk over a glass of wine. I met a woman, she was 22 and shy, not in her element, but we talk for some time until the wine got to her head and she started laughing at nothing and everything. She works for an auction house, in the fashion department. Her Instagram is full of the clothes they sell, of her wearing them to advertise the sale. She looks like she is playing pretend,

A lot of people look like they are playing pretend. I hope I never do. I hate pretending, being something other than me. 

I went to a vernissage the other week. My friend works in this art gallery and they invited me to the opening. It's in the Marais, hidden in a street not too far from Place de la République, and when I arrived a lot of people had already gathered outside, smoking a cigarette and drinking prosecco from glass flutes. I saw J., who was wearing a blue and gold suit, talking with their partner and a girl I did not recognize. She turned out to be a friend from their childhood; she's a video editor, she said. 

J. gave us a tour of the gallery and handed a glass of wine to the girl and me, as if it was a ticket to the museum. Half of the works were made by a woman who comes from M.'s hometown. It was woven fabrics, either hanging like tapestries of shiny fibers and blue filaments, or draped over some wooden supports to resemble the floor of the ocean, where the waves create ripple patterns on the sand. The other half of the gallery was filled with half-finished paintings about memory, the past, loss. Oil paint and dry crayons. I loved them.

I was left alone with the girl, and sipping on our wine I realized I had never felt this fake. I tried to say what I genuinely thought. I told her I am staying art history, and she said I should analyse one of the pieces, and so I talked and as I talked I never felt that much like a fraud. She replied to what I said with the same tone, pretending she knew what she was talking about. I was uneasy, but I think I hid it well. I felt gross, plastic.

I left earlier than anyone expected, because I had to be home at nine. I had invited T., A, and L. at my place for dinner, and I could not be late to my own house.

When I got out of the metro, T. sent me a text telling me he had arrived. I found him and L. in front of the building door a few minutes later.

The three of them come to university with me, and they're the only people I truly bonded with. There's others I am friendly with, certainly, but the fact they are the first people I invited to my place means something. 

We walked my sixth floors of stairs, and exactly when we got to the top A. called us, saying she was downstairs – so I did it all over again, I went down, opened the doors, greeted her and walked back up. I have gotten used to all these floors.

I made pumpkin risotto, and while I cut the onion and the pumpkin we talked about M., a guy who really, blatantly likes T. I turned on the stove and brought the broth to a boil. I started sautéing the onion, and then I added the pumpkin as we were laughing at something that seemed so compelling. 

We watched the top of the Tour Eiffel shine irregularly, whenever it wanted, and we ended up talking about our parents, our time during lockdown, and by the time we were done the rice had cooked. I did the last step, what in Italian we call mantecare, mixing in some butter and cheese, and I plated up the orange risotto on some bright red plates. I always love cooking for people. I can take care of them in a way I would never do for myself: I can cook multiple courses for someone, and barely season an unevenly cut zucchini for myself.

I was surprised by how good the dish tasted. I did not even follow a real recipe, I just went by heart and let my hands do all the work.

They left late, with the last metro and the last bus of the night, and I did not wash the dirty dishes. I lay in bed and realized I was grateful I had found people I feel at ease with, but again part of me felt like I was pretending.

Talking in French is frustrating, sometimes. The other weekend I cried in the bathrooms of Centre Pompidou while finishing a dissertation I had to turn in the day after. I felt so stupid. Everything takes me twice as long in French – I read slower, I write slower, I feel like I think slower too sometimes.

I am afraid of not managing to come across as myself when I am speaking. I feel one dimensional, stiff. It's harder to be a part of the conversation, to weave myself in and out of the back and forth, to participate in class, or articulate what I think at the lunch table. 

It is frustrating. There are things I could do in an hour in Italian, papers I could write incredibly well in English, that end up taking me three hours at least, leaving me with just a mediocre text. 

Sometimes I feel trapped behind a layer of plexiglass, my voice passing through it fumbled and unclear. The screen fogs up if I scream too loudly, making everything worse.

And so I am scared that my friends don't genuinely like me. It is such a primordial fear, one that comes from elementary school and that I thought I had overcome long ago. But the fear not to be liked ambushes me at any moment. 

It bothers me deeply not to be able to be one hundred per cent myself in French. It's not only an academic problem – I just hate that I cannot joke like I usually would, making the remarks I want to make. It's humiliating, but there is nothing I can do besides keep talking and writing.

-c.

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: Feedback (Bluey)

READ NOW ON AO3!

Every morning right when he awoke, Bandit Heeler was on his phone, looking through any new notifications. Whether it was a news article, a text from a friend, or an email from work, he made sure to not leave anyone hanging for longer than necessary. He liked clearing them out as his first accomplishment of a productive day.

This morning, as he sat up in bed in their rental, he pondered what he might receive. He probably shouldn’t be doing this while on vacation, but a habit was a habit. The first thing to pop up across his lock screen was his email app.

His stomach did a somersault.

“Morning, babe,” Chilli yawned, sitting up. “What’s new today?”

“Marcus got back about the book,” said Bandit in a small voice.

For the past few months, Bandit had taken his career in a new direction. Instead of planning and supervising digs in various corners of the world, he had taken on a new challenge: writing a book about the first dogs to walk upright. Since Marcus Beagle was his closest colleague and an experienced book editor, he became Bandit’s biggest champion for making this dream of his a reality. Through the many writing blocks and organizing of all his findings into a cohesive narrative, Marcus was there offering encouragement and insights from the many books he helped see to shelves.

Finally sending off the book to Marcus was the catalyst for the Heelers going on this vacation in the first place, a much-needed respite while the fruits of his labor were inspected. This was his first book and the first big piece of writing he had shared since childhood. For once, Bandit couldn’t bring himself to look at the email yet.

“Well, what does Marcus think?” Chilli asked, scooting closer and peering over his shoulder.

Bandit tapped the notification and braced for the email app to open. This was it. The culmination of all he worked for. He started to read.

Bandit,

I realize you’re on holiday but I couldn’t wait to send this off to you. I must say that I appreciate all the work that you’ve put into this project and I quite enjoyed reading your first draft.

“That’s great, babe!” Chilli gave him a smoochy-kiss and hopped out of bed. “I’ll get brekkie started for the kids, you tell me how the rest of it goes, okay?”

Bandit nodded at his wife as she shut the door. He heard his kids’ excited cheers and chuckled. Now back to his business.

That being the case, it is only the first draft and we have a lot of work ahead of us still.

Bandit’s stomach plummeted into his tail. The world outside fell away and as he read through the email numerous times, he began to feel the lapping waves of discouragement.

He wished he never saw that notification.

BANDIT: This episode of Bandit is called…*sigh* “Feedback.”

“Where’s dad?” asked Bluey as Chilli set her plate of eggs and sausage down in front of her at the kitchen bar.

Chilli looked back to their bedroom down the hall from the living room. “I think…he slept in. I’ll go get him.” She delivered Bingo her breakfast and went back to check on Bandit. He was usually out by now moaning about his hunger, so this was a bit odd.

When she opened the door, she saw Bandit sitting on the bed staring ahead at the wall. His phone was locked and off to the side.

“Babe?” said Chilli. He didn’t acknowledge her. “Bandit?”

He flinched. “Oh, uh, hey babe.” His shoulders slumped and he turned back to the wall.

Chili sat down next to her husband and regarded him. The spark in his eyes he had a few minutes ago had vanished, replaced with an emptiness that had her worried “Is everything alright?” she said softly.

Bandit blinked and turned to Chilli, trying to put up his usual sunny demeanor for her. “Uh, yeah, it’s all good. Is, uh, brekkie on?”

Chilli placed her hand on his. “Bandit, what’s wrong? You looked like someone stomped on your pavlova.”

Bandit sighed. He really couldn’t sneak anything past his wife. She was too good, all that airport security training coming in handy. Slowly, his front broke down and he returned to staring at the wall. “He hated it.”

“What?” Chilli stepped back. “That doesn’t sound like Marcus.”

Bandit laughed. “You’re right, but he said it’s not where it needs to be yet, and he called it a ‘first draft.’” Chilli put her paw on his shoulder and his ears slumped, the last vestiges of his self giving way to his sadness. “He knows how hard I worked on this book already, how much he pushed the publisher to let me tell this story. It just feels like…heh, that I did make a beautiful pavlova and it’s been stomped on.”

“Oh, come here, big fella.” She pulled him into a hug.

“I poured over every word, babe,” Bandit lamented, “and I just feel like a fraud now. Like…I never should’ve started.”

Chilli’s next decision would be the key to getting her husband out of his funk. Like the bones he uncovered every day, she set to pull him out and clean him up.

She booped him on the snout before walking to his side of the bed. “Alright, Heeler, I know what you need,” she declared, pulling him up to stand. “A good day at the beach with your kids.”

“What?” Bandit sat back on the bed at Chilli’s abrupt tone shift.

“You’re on holiday and you deserve a clear mind away from your work. Did you read the whole email?”

Bandit scratched the back of his neck. “Well, no.” Truthfully, Marcus’s criticisms were only in the first paragraph. He threw his phone aside after reading just that.

Chilli helped him up again. “Okay, have some breakfast, leave all those cares behind, and maybe later on you can revisit that email with a better perspective. I know how hard you worked on that book and Marcus does too. Come on, Bluey and Bingo are waiting.”

With that, Bandit was gently pushed to the door and quickly gathered as much composure as he could. He knew Chilli wasn’t letting him dwell in his self-doubt but he wondered if it really would help him forget. Before he could sink back into the depths of his sadness, the door opened and Bluey and Bingo’s tails wagged furiously. They cheered his arrival and Bandit’s heart melted like it always did.

Breakfast did improve his mood. That gnawing in his stomach after he read the email did feel like hunger. It was funny how often he mistook one for the other. Afterward, everyone packed their bags and went down to the beach, which was also relaxing. Of course, Bluey and Bingo kept his mind and body active with tons of games. But when he wasn’t chatting with Chilli or helping his kids turn him into a merdog on land, he felt himself drifting back to that nagging voice that said, you aren’t good enough for this. Your words weren’t worth it. He zoned out and drifted his gaze toward the horizon as his kids’ laughter fizzled, blending with the washing surf into a kind of white noise.

A snap within the din brought him back to reality. “What? Huh?” He searched around, locking eyes with Chilli, her snapped fingers held aloft.

“Let it go, babe,” she said, gesturing to the sprawling beach around them. “You’re missing all this.”

“I’m trying,” said Bandit.

All the distractions seemed to only leave him afloat on his anxieties until one incident with a Stickbird would help both Bingo and him to process their grief over their creations and let go of the bad feelings. As he used all his might to chuck his angry and upset far away into the ocean, he felt like he could finally enjoy the day with his family and leave the book and its woes behind.

Later that day, after all the chaos died down and the kids were put to bed, Bandit sat back and let the silence come in without any of the negative talk that had plagued him earlier. Sadly, it didn’t last long as his phone rang. Sitting up, he picked up the device and beheld Marcus’s proper-looking headshot on screen. A wave of ill thoughts nearly made him drop his phone but he managed to answer the call anyway.

“What’s up, babe?” Chilli asked.

“G’day, Marcus,” Bandit said tentatively, finger twitching as he held the phone to his ear.

Chilli gulped. Oh, dear.

“Evening, Bandit!” Marcus greeted in his chipper English, “Did you get my email earlier today? I know you’re usually prompt with responses so to not hear from you all day was a bit unusual, I’ll admit.”

“Yeah, uh, busy day with the kids is all. We were at the beach.”

“Oh, that sounds delightful!”

“Yeah, it was…” Bandit trailed off, feeling his angry and upset filling him again. “Marcus, I-“

“Would it be alright if I turned this into a FaceyTalk? I want to talk to you about that email, not as your boss, but as your friend.”

Bandit raised an eyebrow in surprise. But he gave the go-ahead and moved to the kitchen bar. He propped his phone up on the napkin holder and soon, Marcus appeared surrounded by the overflowing burgundy bookshelves in his home office. 

He adjusted his big square glasses and waved. “There you are, then!”

“Hey there, Marcus,” said Chilli, leaning into the frame. She patted his shoulder. “I’ll let you two get on with it.” As she walked to their bedroom, she had a feeling things were about to be worked out.

With Chilli gone, Bandit turned his focus to Marcus. “So how’s Daisy and Honey?” he asked.

“Oh, wonderful,” said Marcus. “Honey’s more curious and inquisitive than ever, and Daisy? Well, where would I be without her?”

“So true.” Despite the levity, Bandit felt his worry threatening to spill over him, more so upon seeing Marcus take a breath in and sigh.

“Well, I should get on with it, shouldn’t I?” he said. “I wanted to hop on here, face to face more or less, and…really express how proud I am of you.”

Bandit blinked. “I-I mean, you already did in the email-”

Marcus held a hand up. “No, I really didn’t. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have it’s admittedly easy to…jump into that stuffy, professional voice and minimize how much of an accomplishment writing a book really is. It isn’t an excuse but an acknowledgment. I minimized your accomplishment in that email and I apologize.”

Bandit put up a brave face and waved the air away. “All good, mate. I know it’s business and all that. And I suppose it shouldn’t have upset me like it did today, but…”

He leaned back in his seat and scratched the stubble on his chin, once again searching for the perfect words, as he did countless times writing his book. It was all he could think to do. “I-I dunno. I guess I just thought back to school where I’d try to express myself by writing and the words were never right to me, never worth anything. This is really the biggest leap I’ve taken in putting something good out into the world, ya know?”

Marcus nodded. “It isn’t an easy feat by any stretch of the mind, and the fact that you’ve completed a manuscript is commendable. And I meant it when I said it was really good. Not many people can say they’ve written a first draft as close to a finished book as you have. It was compelling, well-researched, and made me feel as if I was out in the field by your side, and I’ve never done any iota of fieldwork!”

“R-really?” Bandit asked, leaning in slightly toward his phone.

“I felt your passion for this history as I have for all your years at UQ, and it makes me proud to call you a colleague and a friend.”

This was more than anyone had ever said about a piece of his writing before, and it threatened to overwhelm him. He cleared his throat to reposition the developing lump and said, “Thanks, mate. You…you don’t know what that means to me. But then what was that ‘still a lot of work to do’ talk about?”

“Because your words are valuable to the world, Bandit, and I want to do everything in my power to ensure they have as much value as they can have, that you never doubt your voice in writing ever again. That’s a promise. A wise dog once told me, ‘Once you put something good out into the world, it’s no longer yours really.’”

Bandit laughed, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “That quote sounds familiar, almost like it’s one of mine.”

Marcus reciprocated the laughter. “Yes, you’ve got me. So let’s make this the best thing it can be, together, before you let the world have it, eh?”

“You got it, Marcus,” said Bandit.

“And I owe you a pint when you return from holiday.”

Bandit laughed again, feeling all the extraneous negativity that weighed him down all day draining away til not a drop remained. “I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Of course. Good night. Tell the kids Honey says hi.”

“Sure will. Thanks, again.”

“My pleasure, Dr. Heeler.”

Chilli looked up from her book and smiled as Bandit entered and climbed into bed next to her. “Sounded like good conversation in there,” she said, bookmarking the page and setting it down on the table.

“Yeah, we worked it all out,” said Bandit.

“Still regret writing the book?”

Bandit turned to her, and Chilli saw the life in her husband's eyes back and brighter than it had been for a while. “Nope,” he declared, “Not one bit. In fact, I think I’m gonna really enjoy being an author.”

[melody-everbelle]

Michael In The Bathroom (Nathan Chen x Reader)

Title: Michael In The Bathroom Pairing: Nathan Chen x gender neutral!reader Word count: 701 Warning(s): Angst, panic attacks, mentions of drugs/unaliving/alcohol/cheating/etc. Summary: When Y/N discovers that Nathan is acting flirty towards Mariah, they go to the bathroom whilst suffering from a panic attack. Author's Note: It's been a while since I've last posted a Nathan Chen fanfic. Long story short, I was trying to cope with ChenBell while getting into new fandoms, which meant I lost interest in writing fanfiction for a while. However, now that I'm slowly getting into a new fandom (*cough* Pee-wee Herman *cough*), I have plans to write more of them.

This fanfic was inspired by Michael in the Bathroom from Be More Chill (I hope you don't mind the lyrics change 😅). This is also my interpretation of how Y/N would appear in a ChenBell fanfic.

***

You couldn't believe it. Not only you showed up at your boyfriend Nathan's party, albeit uninvited, but you were also shocked to discover that he apparently became flirty with Mariah. Panicked, you took refuge in the bathroom, where you were all alone in your thoughts, all while the partying was going on. Suddenly, you started singing…

I am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall I could stay right here or disappear and nobody'd even notice at all

I'm a creeper in a bathroom 'cause my buddy kinda left me alone

But I'd rather fake pee than stand awkwardly

Or pretend to check a text on my phone

You walked up to the mirror, where you saw a mirage of Nathan in the reflection.

Everything felt fine

When I was half of a pair

And through no fault of mine

There's no other half there

Now I'm just

Y/N in the bathroom

Y/N in the bathroom at a party

Forget how long it's been

I'm just Y/N in the bathroom Y/N in the bathroom at a party

No, you can't come in

I'm waiting it out 'til it's time to leave

And I'm picking at grout as I softly grieve

I'm just Y/N who you don't know

Y/N flying solo

Y/N in the bathroom by herself/himself/themselves

All by herself/himself/themselves

You checked your phone to look at pictures of you and Nathan together. All those memories you had with him were on the verge of being erased.

I am hiding, but he's out there

Just ignoring all our history

Memories get erased and I'll get replaced

With a newer, cooler version of me

You heard music coming from outside the bathroom.

And I hear a drunk girl

Sing along to Whitney through the door

"I wanna dance with somebody!"

And my feelings sink 'cause it makes me think

Now there's no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore!

Now it's just Y/N in the bathroom

Y/N in the bathroom at a party

I half-regret the beers

Y/N in the bathroom

Y/N in the bathroom at a party

As I choke back the tears

I'll wait as long as I need '

Til my face is dry

Or I'll just blame it on weed

Or something in my eye

I'm just Y/N who you don't know

Y/N flyin' solo

Y/N in the bathroom by herself/himself/themselves

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

They're gonna start to shout soon

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Ah, hell yeah, I'll be out soon

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

It sucks he left me here alone

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Here in this adult battle-zone

Clang, clang, clang, clang!

I feel the pressure blowing up

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

My big mistake was showing up

Splash, splash, splash, splash!

I throw some water in my face

And I am in a better place

I go to open up the door

But I can't hear knocking anymore

And I can't help but yearn

For a different time

And then I look in the mirror

And the present is clearer

And there's no denying, I'm just…

Suddenly, you broke down crying, unable to sing.

… At a party

Is there a sadder sight than, mhm

Y/N in the bathroom at a party

This is a heinous night

I wish I stayed at home instead

Eating kettle corn

Or  I wish I offed myself instead

Wish I was never born

I'm just Y/N who's a loner

So she/he/they must be a stoner

Rides a PT Cruiser

God, she's/he's/they're such a loser

Y/N flying solo

Who you think that you know

Y/N in the bathroom by herself/himself/themselves

All by herself/himself/themselves

All by herself/himself/themselves

Although no one could hear from outside the bathroom, you felt all of those emotions being poured out from your body. You sat in the corner of the bathroom, taking a quick breather before singing the following…

And all you know about me is my name

Awesome party, I'm so glad I came

[fringefangs]

Abandonment in New England

*As a disclaimer. I am aware of Lovecraft’s extreme racism. I am not trying to defend it.

Horror, as a genre, is, fundamentally, an expression of anxiety. An author’s fears become manifest within the pages of their writing. Central to the cosmic horror written by H. P. Lovecraft is the existentialist notion of abandonment. This essay explores abandonment in both The Call of Cthulhu and The Shadow Over Innsmouth.

To start, we must first define what we mean by abandonment. Jean-Paul Sartre describes abandonment as the assertion that “God does not exist, and that we must bear the full consequences of that” (27). He elaborates that it is “extremely disturbing that God no longer exists, for along with his disappearance goes the possibility of finding values in an intelligible heaven.” (28). This is to say, if God is the source of all that is good in the world then the supposition that God does not exist means that it is, at best, impossible to determine what is good or, at worst, that people are naturally inclined towards evil. Thus the consequence of God’s absence is that there is no limit to human immorality and nothing to encourage people to act morally.

Moving to the texts proper, it is important to demonstrate that the eldritch entities and their cults which pervade Lovecraft’s works indicate the dissolution of God. In The Call of Cthulhu, he routinely conflates the Cthulhu Cult that appears within the story with religion and faith and refers to the Great Old Ones as “unhallowed blasphemies” and the images and hieroglyphs etched into the walls of the city of R'lyeh as “impious” (41, 43). This cult “paled the speculations of theosophists” who “have guessed at the awesome grandeur of the cosmic cycle” indicating that these theosophists are unnerved at the notion that their understanding of God might be wrong given the presence of the Great Old Ones (The Call of Cthulhu 26, 5). In The Shadow Over Innsmouth, The Esoteric Order of Dagon is harshly described as “a debased, quasi-pagan” cult surrounded by “rumors of devil-worship” with the evocatively named Devil Reef located just off the coast of the town (8). With virtually every person from Innsmouth being a member of the Esoteric Order of Dagon and each of them being inexplicably drawn to Devil Reef on that fateful night, it is clear to see that the intention of the author is to show how people are being drawn away from their faith. Finally, when referring to the Great Old Ones, Lovecraft capitalizes the pronoun used, elevating Them to the same magnitude as God, further evidenced by Castro’s cautious disclosure that “They had come from the stars, and had brought Their image with Them” invoking similar language from the Book of Genesis (The Call of Cthulhu 39).

However, it is necessary to clarify that Lovecraft is not just concerned with the conception of a new religion that stands in opposition to existing faith but also that this is a total replacement of God. The narrator in The Call of Cthulhu is worried that, upon the reawakening of the Great Old Ones, mankind will become as Them, “free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside” (28). In The Shadow Over Innsmouth, the “ruinous old churches” of Innsmouth are not only decaying, indicating the decline in faith reflected in the state of the building, but they are actively being repurposed by the Esoteric Order of Dagon (18). As the narrator passes one of the churches he experiences “a momentary conception of nightmare” and an “unaccountable horror” at the sight of a priest from the cult within the basement of the church (The Shadow Over Innsmouth 12). In Zadok Allen’s drunken recounting of the history of Innsmouth, he refers to Captain Obed Marsh as the “old limb o’ Satan” and that Captain Marsh believes that “all the folks stupid fer goin’ to Christian meetin’ … they’d orter git better gods” (The Shadow Over Innsmouth 21). All of this is, in so many words, the kind of distress that Sartre describes that is felt by those experiencing abandonment. If God does not exist then all that will remain is chaos.

Yet this is not the full extent of the narrators’ distress. The abandonment weighs heavily on them as they fall into deep despair upon acquiring the knowledge of their abandonment. In The Call of Cthulhu, the narrator states that “I have looked upon all that the universe has to hold of horror, and even the skies of spring and the flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.” (48). And in The Shadow Over Innsmouth, the narrator comments that “Some frightful influence, I felt, was seeking gradually to drag me out of the sane world of wholesome life into unnamable abysses” (49). The despair is often accompanied by an admission that death would be preferable to the future created by this abandonment. In The Call of Cthulhu, the narrator says that “When I think of the extent of all that may be brooding down there I almost wish to kill myself forthwith.” and that “Death would be a boon if only it could blot out the memories.” (42, 47). In The Shadow Over Innsmouth, the narrator says that “So far I have not shot myself … I bought an automatic and almost took the step” (50).

To conclude, this existentialist lens demonstrates how Lovecraft is grappling with an indifferent universe devoid of any intrinsic morality. The author is wary of people because he knows that there is nothing that mandates them to be moral and are thus capable of any number of abhorrent actions.

WORKS CITED

Lovecraft, Howard Phillips.The Call of Cthulhu. Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing. 2018.

Lovecraft, Howard Phillips. The Shadow Over Innsmouth. Gothic Digital Series @ USFC.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism Is a Humanism. Translated by Carol Macomber. Yale University Press. 2007.

[miafoxmanblogs]

Module 2: Surveillance and Algorithmic Culture

Do you ever think about the good, the bad, and the ugly of surveillance and algorithmic culture in social media? Well let’s take a look.

The realities of surveillance in the “empire” of social media and the ways it affects our lives and privacy is highlighted in Bruce Schneier's eye-opening article, “The Internet Is a Surveillance State.” Schneier begins by looking at the weaknesses of the internet by looking at news that Chinese military hackers have gained entry to Facebook to conduct attacks against the U.S. government. The arrest of Hector Monsegur, who is the head of the LulzSac hacker movement) is mentioned to highlight the impacts suffered by people engaged in hacking. This is not okay. Or normal. We are being tracked ALL the time. The internet is a surveillance state where people are always being watched by several platforms like Google, Facebook, and Apple, regardless of whether they are users or not. We are being watched even if we are offline on Facebook through our purchasing habits. These companies are saving our information and are profiting from our lives. This raises many concerns in my opinion. Schneier is convincing from the evidence he has gathered as well as the examples he provides. 

Let’s move on to algorithmic culture. Algorithms are what social media platforms use to decide what kind of content to show their users. They are personalized to the user and show what is going to engage them. In Ted Striphas’s article, “Algorithmic Culture,” he analyzes the impacts algorithms have on society. The article uses the concepts of Raymond Williams in which algorithmic culture has led to a growing shift from “publicness.” It is not like this. It is all personalized. Everything has become reversed in the digital age. This new form of culture has led to a sort of power role in which our influence is in the hands of people. Saifya Umoja Noble speaks upon oppressions in her introduction of “The Power of Algorithms.” She particularly focuses on how search engines, such as Google, promote racism, sexism, and meritocracy; especially for people of color and women. She gave the example of how when you look up a “black girl” on Google; the first suggestion is HotBlackPussy.com. This is completely unacceptable and I would say the overarching theme is the need for awareness and to “reduce online racial hostility.”   

With this I really want to know what is going to happen in society where the world is messed up by these algorithms over the long haul? How long is this going to go on for? Is AI going to take over these algorithmic cultures and what could be the implications? The Rolling Stones article "These Women Tried to Warn Us About AI" by Lorena O'neil hints at this. She mentions LLM's that are "generative AI systems trained on extensive data to predict and generate highly human-like text." AI is writing papers for college students (which is happening WAY too much), influencing publishers to replace the words of human journalists, and are starting to come for people's jobs. There are far too many questions to ask about AI as well as surveillance and algorithmic culture. And I think about it almost every single day. It is affecting my life as well as millions of others. Why aren't we doing anything about it? Do people just simply not care? This must be stopped.