#because of the hypothetical possibility (which certainly has no possibility within the next year) (she will not live here a year from now)

[livvyofthelake]

i’m a feminist but can my sister fucking kill herself or something girl it’s impossible to be around you sometimes!!!!

[arctimon]

What If...? (Big Hero 6 Edition)

So the next Marvel series set to release is What If...?, a series of nine episodes that will focus on alternate events and timelines that occur within the Marvel Cinematic Universe.  The series, based off of the comic series of the same name, will premiere on August 11th, running straight through October 6th. The show was suppose to have ten episodes in both Season 1 and 2 (which is already being worked on), but producer Brad Winderbaum mentions in an interview that they had to push an episode back because of, you guessed it, the pandemic:

"We had to push an episode into Season 2. It was just, honestly, like everything else, that was a COVID impact," Winderbaum told Collider. "There was an episode that just wouldn't hit the completion date, but luckily we do get to see it in the second season of the show."

Judging by both the poster and the trailer, we know of a few scenarios: Peggy Carter becoming Captain America, an alternate Avengers lineup battling at New York, Black Panther as Star Lord, Marvel Zombies (of course there’s zombies), and Spider-Man as the Sorcerer Supreme.  Inverse has an article breaking all of the possibilities down.

A lot of the actors who portray their characters in live action will reprise their roles for the animated series, including the late Chadwick Boseman as Black Panther/Star Lord.  Star...Panther?  Black Lord? That last one sounds wrong. Among those not coming back are Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man, Chris Evans as Steve Rogers, and Dave Bautista as Drax.  Bautista was, according to the man himself, wasn’t even asked to come back to voice Drax.  Others include Brie Larson as Carol Danvers, Tom Holland as Spider-Man, James Spader as Ultron, Zoe Saldana as Gamora, Elizabeth Olson as the Scarlet Witch, Letitia Wright as Shuri, Gweneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts, and various members of the Dora Milaje.  They have all apparently been confirmed to be appearing in What If...? in some form or another, but voiced by different people.

It will certainly be an interesting show, but I hope you can see where I’m going with this.

The Big Hero 6 fanbase has a lot of burning questions for the show and movie, and it’s not all just unanswered ones about what happens after the show ended.  I think collectively there are a few common “what-ifs” that we have in our minds about the team.  I think the most obvious one involves one of the Hamada brothers, and that branches off into other what-ifs as well.

Granted, not all of these are reality-altering hypotheticals like there are in the show or comics, but they can still change the course of the movie or show in a huge way.

1.) What if...Tadashi had survived the fire?

Tadashi being a survivor of the fire that takes down the exhibition hall brings up a few interesting conundrums.  Would he be scarred for life?  Would he even be able to complete school?

And if Hiro still made the team, would he end up becoming Sunfire like a lot of fans theorize?

The thing is that Callaghan knows that Tadashi died in the fire.  If he knew that he didn’t, would that change his motivations?  Would he still be using the Microbots knowing that the person that was trying to “stop” him was still alive? Alternatively, you also have...

2.) What if...Hiro had died instead of Tadashi?

Hiro was probably about two seconds away from being fully engulfed in that giant fireball.  It’s entirely plausible that he (or possibly both Hamadas) could have perished in the fire instead of his brother, which sort of leads to the same circumstances as the first question, just with different powersets.  Tadashi would no longer be tied to fire-based powers but the magnetic equipment that that Hiro currently uses.

But one has to think about whether Tadashi would be in the right state of mind to be a hero long term.  Seeing his kid brother perish in the accident would probably cause him to go insane, and perhaps the rest of the team would have to reel him in.

3.) What if...Baymax had killed Callaghan?

It’s worth noting that if Honey Lemon had been about three seconds later on getting the healthcare chip back into Baymax, this wouldn’t have been a “What If?” question.

And sure, the team would have saved the day, but at what cost?  The permanent scarring of a fourteen-year-old?  And what would have come of the major revelations after that fight concerning Project Silent Sparrow and Abigail?

Maybe they would have been the ones to build the portal to the other dimension to try to save her.  That would similar to what happened in the original manga (where Tadashi actually helps with the construction of the original portal and got sucked in as a result). 4.) What if...Baymax had saved Obake in “Countdown to Catastrophe”?

Obake dismissed Baymax after his hideout started collapsing near the end of Part 2, and you could tell that Baymax was seriously considering rescuing him before leaving him in his chair amongst the rubble.  Ultimately, however, he did leave him behind after Obake’s insistence.

Imagine what would have happened if he had gone against his programming and saved his life.

The relieved group hug on the beach would have been replaced with a disheveled (and probably a little damp) Obake.  Hiro would have been staring hiim down in disbelief.  Perhaps there would even be another fight, or at least the makings of one.

And then Obake would give himself up for arrest.

Maybe that’s where Chief Cruz could have been introduced.  It would have given a good lead into the next season, and it would give Megan’s meeting with Hiro in Season 2 a little bit more meaning.

And finally, because I’m a shipper and we have to go there:

5.) What if...Karmi had never left SFIT at the end of “City of Monsters”?

We know from the boards that Bob Schooley posted that “City of Monsters” was originally going to end very differently than what actually made the final cut.  It seemed that Karmi, in addition to getting a nonsensical boyfriend named “Flammarion”, was not suppose to leave SFIT in the early draft.

So what if Hiro had shown up to her lab, and instead of seeing this...

He saw this?

Or...something a little less dramatic?  Maybe just her packing up stuff because she’s in the process of leaving?  And Hiro had to say something in order for her to stop what she was doing? And how exactly would you achieve that? See, if that scenario happened, I think that this particular point would be where Hiro told her about being in Big Hero 6.  And of course Karmi wouldn’t believe him, even though she’s now in love with him crushing on him.

Then, he takes her to the base.

And she turns back to him with an incredulous look.

And roll credits.  What a cliffhanger to go into Season 3 with. I vaguely remember fanart depicting that exact scene (Hiro taking Karmi to the base), but I don’t remember who did it.  I would like to give them the proper credit. Season 3 would have looked totally different if that took place.  Maybe it would have been an actual season and not a bunch of mini stories.  Also...perhaps Karmi would have joined the team proper.

And maybe we would have finally had a giant canonical Karmiro moment.

...Now that is a big “What if?”.

(Marvel’s What If...? premieres on Wednesday, August 11th on Disney+.)

[amethyst-geek]

What they could do with the Olympos 12 in a Digimon Next Gen Story

So something I found strange about Digimon Savers is that the Merukimon is stated in-universe to be a member of the Olympos 12, and yet he is the only member of said group to appear in Savers. So here is my theory regarding what might have happened to the rest as as my predictions for a role they have in a hypothetical Digimon next gen story (for the sake of context, assume this is a crossover between the first 6 series, or at least Adventure and Savers)

A few centuries after the Olympos 12 defeated the 7 Demon Lords, a vengeful minion of the Demon Lords poisoned most of the Olympos 12 by slipping a cursed potion in their drinks during a feast, which most them drank except for Mereukimon and Bacchusmon (who were about to drink the laced punch but stopped when they noticed soemthing happening to their fellow Olympos 12 members). The cursed potion/poison caused the the Olympos 12 members who drank it to revert to Digieggs, and thanks to the effects of the potion, they will stay Digieggs until the eggs come within proximity with a compatible human (though the minion refrained from revealing this clause). So Merukimon and Bacchusmon placed the eggs in special temple for safekeeping until they revive them. 

A few years prior to the events of the Savers, Bacchusmon got so drunk that he feel asleep just before Kurata’s first massacre and didn’t wake up until just after the events of Savers (hence his own absence during Savers). 

Later, a few years after Tri, Claude (my nickname for dark Gennai) goes to to the Savers Digital World to steal the digi-eggs of some of the Olympos 12  (specifically the eggs of Junomon, Marsmon, Venusmon, Minervamon, Neptunemon, and possibly Vulcanusmon) and took them back to his world. However, he wasn’t able to get the eggs to hatch. Then, sometime later, while Claude was spying on the Ken and Miyako as Miyako was in labor with her and and Ken’s daughter, Claude noticed that Junomon’s egg had started to move around. Junomon’s eggs then managed to break free and flew to the Ichijouji residence where it hatched and became the partner of Ken and Miyako’s daughter. Rinse and repeat with the eggs of Neptunemon, Venusmon, Marsmon, Minevamon (and Vulcanusmon if he’s not partnered with someone in the Savers universe) 

Who they are partnered with and their pre-evolutions are

Dianamon- Natsuki Norstein (the OC daughter I came up with for Tohma)

Apollomon- If Masaru somehow has a child (probably a boy), then this child would almost certainly be Apollomon’s partner; if Masaru is childless (which would probably be more likely seeing as he lives in the Digital World), then Apollomon’s partner could be another child of Tohma, perhaps Natsuki’s twin (I do headcanon Tohma as having several children). 

Jupitermon- partnered with Suzume (the daughter of Ikuto and Chika); Rookie form- Falcomon (the version that actually looks like a falcon, not the version that looks like an owl, mainly because Ikuto is already partnered with the owl version, so if Jupitermon has Falcomon for its rookie form, it’s gonna have to be the the original version that actually looks like a falcon, unless he takes a note from Gatomon and has his champion form as the default form); Champion form- Aegiomon; Ultimate/Perfect form- Aegiochusmon

Ceresmon- partnered with Haruna Mori (Yoshino’s daughter) 

Junomon- partnered with Kumiko Ichijouji 

Marsmon- partnered with Isamu (Taichi’s kid)- child form is Liollmon, adult for Liamon, perfect form Grapleomon

Venusmon_ Yamato and Sora’s daughter

Neptunemon- Nobu Kido (Joe’s kid); adult form is Dolphmon, perfect form is Divemon

Minervamon- she is partned with with Izzy’s daughter or Iori’s daughter (whom I call Reina) 

Vulcanusmon- either he is partnered up with Iori’s daughter (if she’s not partnered with Minervamon), or he is instead partnered with someone from the Savers continuity and his partner is either a) another child of Tohma’s, b) the child of Kouichirou (Masaru’s friend from episode 11) or c) the token “not the child of anyone of consequence” child.

Edit: added the evolutionary lines for Neptunemon and Marsmon

Edit: I  recently learned that the Digimon franchise consistently presents Aegiomon’s rookie form be Elecmon, so let’s go with that instead of the original version of Falcomon)

[snicketstrange]

Rereading The End Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Olaf claims to be aware that the Baudelaires parents were on the island. According to the revised chronology, this happened after Gregor A.'s Schism, and after the fight for salmon. This means that Olaf had access to information about the Baudelaires parents being on the island after the AA fire. This corresponds to the events described by Ish about the creation of a tunnel connecting the island to AA. The events surrounding Gregor A.'s schism seem to be one of the main backgraunds for understanding Beatrice and Bertrand's stay on the island. This makes sense when we think that the deadly fungus MM was directly linked to Gregor's Schism.

Considering Violet's age, and knowing that Beatrice was pregnant with her when when Beatrice was on the island, we can conclude that Gregor's schism occurred about 14-15 years before the main events described in asoue.

It is interesting to note that Phill, in TMM states that for 14 years no one had knocked on the door that the Baudelaires slammed when they arrived at the mill. This mill was next to a forest full of peculiar apple trees. Did Beatrice, after leaving the island, try to replicate her experiments near the sawmill? Well, the chronology checks.

"Of course I'm trying to trick you!" Olaf cried. "That's the way of the world, Baudelaires. Everybody runs around with their secrets and their schemes, trying to outwit everyone else. Ishmael outwitted me, and put me in this cage. But I know how to outwit him and all his islander friends. If you let me out, I can be king of Olaf-Land, and you three can be my new henchfolk. "

Olaf's dialogue with the Baudelaires is very interesting, and it is possible not to disagree at least in part with the villain. There is no safe place in this world. And Ish is as horrible a person as Olaf, despite having the opposite motivation. I think Daniel Handler wants to show that extremism in any direction leads one to become a villain.

I found it interesting that Ish ate the apple just before he met Olaf and the Baudelaires on the coastal platform. Did he already suspect the possibility that Olaf had the deadly fungus MM with him? It is also interesting that Olaf already knew that Ish was going to eat those apples, and that the object that fell from his hands was exactly the core of an apple. Apparently, Olaf and Ish were in a piscological battle trying to deduce each other's next step.

"Do you think your pathetic history is the only story in the world? Do you think this island has just sat here in the sea, waiting for you to wash up on its shores?

Olaf demonstrated a great deal of knowledge about the events on the island. Probably people who left the island earlier informed him about what was happening there. But I think the concept (which started since LSTUA) that the asoue world does not revolve around the Baudelaires is really cool. This was very well reinforced by Olaf's words, when he made it very clear that the history of the Baudelaires is not the only history in the world. But the most interesting thing is that Olaf did not speak to the Baudelaires about the healing power of apples, even though he already knew that.

"Do you think that I just sat in my home in the city, waiting for you miserable orphans to stumble into my path?"

I understand that this question is ambiguous. But I understand that this question most likely indicates that Olaf was in his own affairs when suddenly and by chance from his point of view, the Baudelaires entered his life. I think this is the simplest understanding. The meaning can be the opposite, hypothetically speaking: Olaf did not just stand and wait for the Baudelaires to come into his life by chance, but he did something to make it happen. But that doesn't make sense here. Olaf is trying to prove that the world does not revolve around the Baudelaires. If Olaf had acted, causing the fire at their parents' house, this argument would have made no sense. While his last words may, hypothetically, be a way to act cruelly just before he dies, in an attempt by Olaf to leave the children in doubt as to who really was behind the death of their parents, this is not the case here. Olaf, without being encouraged, started a series of questions (he even seemed a little indignant at the Baudelaires' lack of awareness and their egocentrism) and tried to show that there are several stories going on at the same time. So, I believe that this question in this context is strong evidence that it was not Olaf (or anyone at Olaf's request) who caused the fire at the Baudelaire mansion.

"I could tell you stories, Baudelaires," Count Olaf said in a muffled wheeze. "I could tell you secrets about people and places that you would never dream of. I could tell you about arguments and schisms that started before you were born. I could even tell you things about yourselves that you could never imagine. Just open the door of my cage, orphans, and I'll tell you things you could never discover on your own. "

Those words from Olaf have always touched me. I feel like he's being sincere here in regards to him actually having a lot to say if he wanted to. I want to emphasize the fact that he talked about schisms in the plural, which reinforces the fact that there is more than one occasion in the history of VFD that can be called Schism. One of them happens when kit was a child. Another certainly happened at the time when Gregor A. planned to use the deadly fungus MM to get rid of his enemies. This caused another schism, but this time within the fire-extinguishing side. It is interesting to note that Gregor Anwhistle's Schism was caused by a fundamental question: Was the violence against enemies on the VFD fire-extinguishing side justifiable or not? When Olaf accused Captain W.'s family of never deciding which side of the schism they would support, I think Olaf was referring to Gregor Anwhistle's schism. However, I find it significant that Olaf claims that he could tell secrets about the Baudelaires themselves that they did not know. If we associate this with the hint that Olaf was orphaned by the Baudelaires 'parents, we can conclude that Olaf believed that the Baudelaires' parents supported Gregor Anwhistle's ideologies that violence is sometimes justified. If we add to this the fact that the Snickets fought for the salmon, this seems to indicate that they also came to believe this, at least up to a tolerable limit of violence. Kit was admittedly involved with the poison darts, but she still did not accept the use of the deadly fungus MM. I think all of this shows that Gregor's Schism has fragmented VFD into several factions.

Lemony says that Klaus has been curious about many books since a visitor to his home wrote the alphabet on his wall. This is very specific information and I wonder how Lemony got it. I think the simplest answer is that Lemony read about it in the Baudelaires' writings, although it is possible to obtain this information from other people. However, I think it is more likely to be through the Baudelaires' writings because two pieces of information come together: the first is that there was a visitor who wrote the alphabet on the wall and the second is that Klaus became known for reading that remarkable moment. This second information is of an internal nature, and could be accessed through Klaus' family members, or through Klaus himself. I can't imagine Beatrice and Bertrand meeting Lemony to talk about Klaus.

The end of chapter 7 considers a hypothetical secret that the Baudelaires refused to hear. Lemony's narration really makes me think of the secret about the Baudelaires' parents, that they were not as peaceful as the children wanted to believe they were. I think the children thought the same thing and refused to accept that thought for having a little cordial coconut drink.

[folderalconspiracy]

Stop hurting people

First, I want people who are talking about Destiel with no knowledge to think about something. And that's who I'm talking to here:

I know there are some Destiel shippers who aren't happy, although I think you're mostly unhappy because you think this is the end...but I think you're wrong, and sorta you're being duped into that by the people I've addressing, who have decided to become giddy about queerbaiting or something. If you are Destiel shipper, or even a current viewer of the show, I'll know everything I'm about to say, and you might want to skip to my conclusion.

And let me be clear: I’m not a Destiel shipper, in the sense I really care about the relationship. In fact, I'm not really a 'fan' of the show exactly...I watch it, but often a season or two late. I just have caught up to 'see the show out', if you will...I watched it from the beginning, and I will see it end. And it's not like anything else is on. So I'm saying these things as a general, moderately engaged viewer of the show, not a shipper or fan.

If you are not a viewer, here's a ton of background about Cas 'dying':

You do not understand how this show works. Stuff is happening at the cosmic level, and almost all the players can immediately bring anyone else back to life.

And not only is death a revolving door, Cas didn't 'die' anyway. Jack went to The Empty, the same place as Cas, _literally earlier this episode_. And was sent immediately back out. The Empty is not hell...and also hell isn't hard to get out of, the main characters have wandered into hell (the actual hell) three times this season, once to borrow a cup of sugar.

Besides the Empty, Death can bring anyone back, and, she just died (We think?), meaning there's a new Death out there...although we don't know how that relates to everyone vanishing.

God probably _can't_ pull people out of the Empty it...or, least, we don't think he can. We're not sure. He's been upgraded a bit now that he has merged back with his sister. (No, I'm not explaining this show to you.)

Speaking of that: The end of this eposide had God erased all people from existence except the main characters. Probably cleared out Heaven and Hell too. The dead aren't going to stay dead, or this the most downer ending that has ever existed.

I mean, I get you don't watch the show, but you didn't even watch the _episode_!

As for the relationship:

These two characters have been in love with each other for quite some time. This isn’t me being a ‘shipper’, which would be something like promoting it or wanting the ship...I don’t really care. I am aware this relationship exists because it is clearly, textually, there. By both characters.

Dean has had worse reactions to losing Cas than losing his brother. (And had one at the end of this episode, although I don't know if the ten second clip you all apparently watched showed it.)

So, every single person who thinks Dean doesn’t love Cas is...hilarious wrong. It is maybe possible to argue it isn’t romantic on Dean's part, and it’s even more possible to argue that Dean can’t let himself go there, either out of some level of self-loathing homophobia and toxic masculinity, or the actual answer: He can’t let himself be in a relationship with anyone, because he knows it will end horribly, which is, of course, a thing I know because I watch the show. (And Cas literally said that thing in the very scene.)

Meanwhile Cas has said, a few times, how much he loved Dean, although he has tended to immediately backtrack in the way he did in this speech...saying he loved Dean, and then saying he loved everyone...but in this speech, he went back to talking about Dean. Making it very clear.

Other things I know, that you don't:

The phase ‘I want things I can’t have’ is a meaningful phrase as it has been used by Dean, about himself, talking about love, in regard to flirting with an imaginary women.

Dean recently has had a lot of realizations about himself, and some closure on his relationship with his father.

Only two episodes ago, God explain that this universe went sideways due to Castiel. In other universes, the apocalypse story (waaay back in season 5) played out as intended, but in this one, it didn't. Castiel used his free will, and the entire story, and universe derailed. And here, this episode, we get Cas confessing about how he learned to love due to Dean.

Thus, Castiel love for Dean saved the universe. Not metaphorically, or a shipper reading that in. That is a textual fact within universe of the show Supernatural: According to God, Castiel's free will derailed the End Times, and according to Castiel, his love for Dean is the reason that happened.

You guys basically just watched She-Ra and turned it off when Adora apparently died and ran online to start yammering about the show is homophobic for doing 'bury your gays'. Good job, everyone!

And I almost leave this out because I don't even want to have to say it: While it is a bit shitty for you, who don't know the character at all, to attack an actor portraying emotional responses in a normal way for a character, whatever. But it's incredibly offensive to imply this was due to the _actor_ being homophobic. You can attack the acting, because you...don't know anything and...came in with some weird assumptions based on whatever the clip said. But don't attack the _actor_. At worse, he's a bad actor. (He isn't.)

--------------------

And that brings me to my conclusion. It's technically a hypothetical:

When Cas comes back, either to be part of the next two episodes, or just to say goodbye, and when Dean manages either to stammer out his love confession or...not do that but somehow manage to indicate it's really there but he's not able to deal with it...

...how do you think all your clowning is going to look?

And how do you feel about shitting over all of this, when you don't know how it's going to end, and you don't even really know what's going on?

I'm part of the Supercorp fandom, and we, right now, have been talking about how we _might_ be seeing the buildup to the slowest, most epic slowburn on TV.

What if Supernatural beat us, what if they've been playing the long game for...not this entire time, but like five years or so? And create the slowburn to end all slowburns.

And _this_ is how the internet responded right at the end, by memes about being sent to super-hell for being gay, because we couldn't keep our fucking memes in our pants for two goddamn weeks?

So maybe all you clowns just...stop? Wait it out.

Because it's possible that the greatest Supernatural quote of all, which predates Castiel and certainly was intended as a joke at the time: And here we were thinking that, you know, we were teaching you and all this time you were teaching us, about heart, about dedication, and about how gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day.

...ends up being how the show ends?

[livlepretre]

This is part 2!

2.) How do you think SWBS!Klaus would react to one of his siblings killing Elena? I think it would very much depend on which sibilings did the killing to determine what would happen next, but with this latest chapter having Klaus state Elena is as much apart of him as his own hand, I’m wondering what he would do if the other most important people in his life decided to do to him what he has done to them countless times over the centuries. She is certainly difficult and causes him lots of emotional distress, but he sees her as the only person who has ever truly related to his abandonment and loneliness issues. She has also proved that she cares very much about him and is willing to protect him from harm against all others (except herself). Elena will certainly guard her feelings and block people out if she needs to, but once she commits to someone, she’ll become the ultimate ride or die. ("I've told you there isn't a risk I'd hesitate to take for the ones I care about.") If this hypothetical scenario took place after Elena had truly committed and both she and Klaus were certain she wasn’t going to leave, what would the fall out be like? I mean, that scenario is all Klaus has ever wanted: someone who understood him, loved him, and truly wanted to stay by his side. It’s why in SWBS that he is the one who is putting himself out there more. I think he knows that if he were ever going to find his perfect match, it would be in Elena, so he’s willing to do some things he normally wouldn’t be vulnerable enough to do because the risk is worth the reward. If one of his sibilings (especially Elijah or Rebekah- whatever the motive) were to destroy this for him, I can’t even imagine what would happen. He would be a total hypocrite for being mad about it because he got Celeste and numerous of Rebekah’s boyfriends killed, but Klaus has never cared much for fair when it wasn’t in his favor.

PS. This ask also has to discredit Elena’s bad assery because we all know the reason she fits right in with Klaus and his siblings is because she can be just as cruel and ruthless as them when need be. She could find her way out of any long game death plot by one of the Mikaelsons because it is what she does best; however, she couldn’t survive a rash murder. Like in FE, when Rebekah compels Stefan to rip her face off. Those are the real types of attacks that she is defenseless against, and it’s the only scenario she couldn’t be ready for.

Oh, I think it would be absolutely catastrophic were that to happen. I think the chances are good he might actually stake a sibling in the heat of the moment and regret it later. Definite daggering/revenge-wrecking their lives at the bare minimum. I think the devastation he would feel over that loss would make any longer forms of revenge-- actually torturing them for example-- impossible. 

The issue is exactly what you pinpoint so well: Elena is filling the chasm Klaus has always felt to be empty within him, and even though she’s incredibly difficult and really roils his emotions, he considers that entirely worth it (and maybe even part of what initially captured his interest). When I’m characterizing Klaus, I always think about that conversation with Rebekah at the end of 3x05-- the “is that what this is all about? you just didn’t want to be alone?” conversation-- Rebekah sounds so appalled, because from her perspective, Klaus has never been alone-- but the thing is, her love isn’t good enough, because ultimately there is always that tension of Rebekah wanting to leave/love someone other than her brother, and Klaus wanting to be the center of her universe. He so obviously wants and needs someone to connect with and understand him and give him what he’s looking for, and the tragedy in his character is that that’s probably impossible for anyone, and of course, the hybrids definitely don’t fill that gap. 

In SWBS, it’s not quite perfect with Elena because of course she’s having the baby, who is going to be her #1, but he’s banking on long-term being able to take that spot (Elena’s right in that he probably plans to turn her) and also, he can’t really imagine a child getting in the way of the kind of connection he specifically wants with her. Like you said, Elena’s the first person he’s ever looked at and seen as a mirror of his soul. That’s a huge part of why he is pursuing her with so much candor in the fic, and also because the jealousy situation with the baby really forced him to consider what he wants from her and to face his feelings directly. 

(this question of why Elena? is probably the biggest question when writing this pairing-- it’s not just, why this random 18 year old girl over every other girl for the past thousand years? but also: why Elena and not Katherine or Tatia? and, why Elena, over his siblings? The fact that Klaus out and out states that he is lonely and his siblings cannot make him any less lonely has always seemed to me like a prime route to answering those questions, especially when Elena herself is such a terribly lonely character.) 

Anyway, if one of the siblings were to kill Elena, I think Klaus would just come unhinged. I don’t think hypocrisy ever holds any weight with him, because his thinking is almost always so focused on himself, so there’s no chance in hell he would be able to pause and consider that he’s just experiencing what he put his siblings through. That basically leaves an initial explosive response-- and I’m not sure Rebekah or Elijah being his favorites could really spare them in that scenario. He would very much see it as his siblings denying him his only possible chance at happiness, and as a real cruelty against him, all without any real self-analysis. 

(and for the record, I think the reaction would be even worse in FE) 

(and btw OMG I appreciated that PS about our girl Elena! You’re so right, the only way she’s going down is with a surprise attack, but that’s exactly why she’s so vulnerable) 

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 12: MJ/Beck being kindred spirits isn’t an excuse (and they barely are anyway!)

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

Over the last two instalments I looked at why MJ would neither sympathise with Beck nor believe him worthy of redemption. This time out we dive into how MJ and Beck could be called kindred spirits…and why that wouldn’t matter all that much.

First of all let’s clearly define the ways in which, from MJ’s POV, she and Beck might be said to be kindred spirits.

In context of AMJ Mysterio is chasing what he claims to be his last chance to follow his dreams. Similarly Mary Jane has chased her dreams of stardom (and more specifically of being an actress) numerous times. Her shot in AMJ could be said to possibly be her own last chance at that.

They are both actors and clearly enjoy the craft

They both enjoy making a show and being in the spotlight

They have both had to hide their true selves in public and keep secrets

They could both be said to have a passion for the art of acting/film making/performative storytelling

Here is the thing though, none  of those things would be such strong points of emotional connection with Mysterio that MJ would let him carry on as he was.

MJ has risked or even sacrificed her dreams/career ambitions before. We will talk more extensively about that in a future instalment

MJ’s desire to be an actress isn’t that strongly engrained into her. She gave up her acting ambitions to become a model. When her modelling career was going well she didn’t try to leverage it into acting nor was she particularly upset that she’d changed her career direction. In fact she was more  upset when her modelling career fell apart early into her marriage to Peter. She actually readopted acting as a result of being blacklisted from modelling and when that fell through went back to modelling during her pregnancy and went back to it again after going back to college. I’m not necessarily suggesting MJ wanted to be a model more than an actress. I am just saying that it was a career direction that she loved and seemed to love interchangeably with acting.

Whilst MJ knows the stress and isolation that can come from wearing a ‘mask’ she has not emotionally connected to just anyone  who knows what that’s like. She emotionally connected to Peter through that, but he had numerous other qualities she valued too; including just being a good person. She did not for instance emotionally connect as deeply to Flash Thompson, even though she felt he was a sort of male version of her self. She even suspected he was keeping sides of himself bottled up (which he was). She details all this in Spec #96.

She most certainly didn’t connect to Norman Osborn, neither after nor before he knew he was the Green Goblin. In Spec #250 she comments that even when she was younger and dating Harry she could sense a shadow around him. That he was a man who lived with demons. Which is at least very similar to living with a metaphorical mask as she was.

It’s important to note that for the majority of MJ’s early interactions with Norman Osborn (before she knew he was a villain) he was amnesic and unaware himself of his evil alter ego.

In essence MJ was sensing that Norman was a man who lived with a ‘mask’ when neither of them were aware he was in fact a horrible criminal. And yet MJ didn’t hold any sympathy towards him, not even before she learned the truth.

With this in mind, when she comes face to face with another dangerous and horrible (albeit one not as  bad) person who lives with a ‘mask’, who is open about being a criminal (and is committing a crime right in front of her) she…has sympathy for him? Because they are kindred spirits…?????

Can we see how this is incredibly flimsy and ridiculous?

MJ might enjoy being in the spotlight but between the dangers of fame and how she has aged a lot since she first announced her ambitions in the silver age it is arguable that her passion for the craft diminished. This is somewhat supported by ASM v5 #25. An in disguise MJ delivers a stirring monologue about acting that entails her expressing a love for the craft but also a displeasure at the downsides of it.

Finally we come to the idea regarding this being MJ’s last chance for stardom. Let’s consider for a moment, MJ is a young and attractive woman who’s done Hollywood movies, TV work and stage work, even having been praised for it. She’s dropped in and out of the acting business for years. She also has contacts within the industry or in rich and powerful circles anyway. It’s really not inconceivable that (by chance or her own design) she might get another shot in the business. So having her connect to Beck on that front is flimsy at best. But even if this really was MJ’s last chance at stardom, it is implied in AMJ itself that she doesn’t value that chance above anything else. When she suspects something fishy she decides she’s going to walk.

In fairness the above occurred when she suspected her job was an empty promise. Additionally she didn’t realise Beck was seeking his last chance at fulfilling his own dreams. And besides she might’ve been bluffing.

Even dismissing AMJ #1 itself though, is Mary Jane seriously going to be overwhelmed by kinship she shares with this murderer  through pursuing their last shots at wish fulfilment? 

Is she really going to be so overwhelmed that she would forget or ignore his horrendous crimes and dangerous history?

So overwhelmed by their similarities that she’d allow the guy who has tried to kill her lover  to remain free?

That rather implies that MJ in fact prioritises her career or personal feelings over both her relationship with Peter and the greater good in general. This is quite simply nonsense contradicted by her history, but I’ll dive more into that in a future instalment.

Finally let’s return to the comparison between Mysterio and MJ’s father.

In the course of the last two instalments I compared the situation with Beck to when MJ forgave her abusive father. A key factor in the latter was her viewing herself and her father as two of a kind.

Should this then not justify her attitude to Beck once she views him as a kindred spirit too?

No, not at all.

For starters I refer you back to everything I wrote in part 10 about Phillip Watson’s criminal career vs. Beck’s and how the familial connection was a huge  variable between the two cases.

More poignantly though there was a huge difference between the similarities MJ was drawing between herself and her father compared to herself and Beck.

MJ was connecting with her father through understanding his pain and guilt, an understanding born to a turbulent family life they both shared  in. In fact the connection over guilt stemmed from hurting individuals from the exact same family. From their own  family.

These are extremely powerful emotions at the best of times. Far more powerful than the emotions through which MJ might’ve hypothetically been connecting with Beck. And when combined with this emotional baggage developing when MJ was at younger (and very formative) ages there would just be a much more potent emotional connection going on.

That’d be the case were Phillip Watson not MJ’s parental figure or relative.

But because he is her father (and her biological father at that) the similarities MJ was drawing would resonate much more powerfully.

It’s not just that she is a kindred spirit with anyone, but the person who in a sense was (half) responsible for her very existence. Someone whose blood literally ran in her veins. Someone who (for a time) raised her from birth. Someone from who she was (partially) forged.

They aren’t just spiritually similar, they are biologically  similar. Thus the similarities drawn would be greatly accentuated within MJ’s mind.

The closest thing to that she has with Beck is that they’ve both ‘gotten inside’ Peter’s head, but in very different ways making the connection nebulous at best.

In summary, it’s questionable if Mary Jane would view Mysterio as a kindred spirit at all.

But even if she did there wouldn’t be any justification for her complicity in his scheme.

And as a matter of fact the subject of MJ’s complicity will be our focus for next time.

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Master Post

[sponsoredbyanxiety]

I was going to post this as a reply to a post I saw this morning, but it kinda morphed into its own thing and I didn’t want to derail an innocent Tumblr poster’s post with nonsense so...here’s my manifesto on Taylor Swift’s video “The Man”

My personal biggest criticism with "The Man" is more of a criticism of the industry and leans towards a Marxist-femminist one, but I think this is a good opertunity to talk about it.

Drag is impressive because it's easy and difficult almost simultaneously. It's crazy that Taylor can go from basically the feminine ideal to total bro with only makeup and prosthetics. It's why I love drag queens - like, I know you are a man, I've talked to you as a man, yet here you are looking so much like a woman any stranger wouldn't know the difference. It's so empowering from a queer perspective to show that the only difference between being perceived as a man or as a woman is a bit of blush and mascara.

Of course, "a bit of blush and mascara" is underselling the work drag performers and makeup artists, especially the ones on this music video, do. I'm confident the makeup on this video took hours. Talyor did not do that herself. Makeup artists did that. They spent a long time turning "Girl-Taylor" into "Boy-Taylor", and their work was so impressive that Taylor chose to profile them in the credits to her video. Credits which...only include her (and, okay, a VO from Dwayne Johnson).

It's not typical for music video credits to include makeup artists, but it is awfully ironic that Tayor chose to highlight the work of artists (usually female artists - hair & makeup, as well as the art department more broadly, is one of the only fields in video production where the leads are disproportionately female) over credits listing Taylor, Taylor & Talyor.

Not only is Taylor obscuring these artists's existence in the credits, but she's probably also legally preventing them from even acknowledging that their labor made the video possible. While it's not quite industry standard among smaller artists yet, it's been increasingly common in the last few years for the big artists to request that music video crew members sign NDAs promising not to speak to the press or on social media about their involvement in projects like this. While that prohibition makes sense before the release of the video (to prevent spoilers/the surprise drop), these NDAs specify that crew members are never allowed to speak about working on set - even if they only want to say it was a positive experience. Like CIA rules - pretend you never worked on this video. Fine for breaking the NDA can be MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

If you don't sign the NDA, you don't get the job, and if you don't get the job, you don't get rent money this month, and the producer won't hire you on their next project because you are being difficult, and your agent will drop you for not making them money, so you won't be able to find other producers to work for. You have no choice but to pretend you don't exist.

Working in music video production means 12-16 hour days in the most expensive city in the United States for barely enough money to live. Each job is about 3-7 days of work at a time, maybe more if you do pre-production, and you are constantly looking for more jobs because, as I said, one job isn't even one week of work. Many people who work in production have told me they will not do music video work ever again because it is hell - but many others don't really have a choice. Uber-low budget films that don't pay the cast and crew will offer "copy, credit, and meals" - music videos, while paid work, do not even offer credit.

This is the ultimate alienation of labor. You ever hear an old autoworker point to a rusted yet still running Ford at a gas station proudly say "We built that, the car still runs because of our craftsmanship"? People naturally take pride in their work. It's hard not to. Yet some music video artists are technically not supposed to even post "look at this video I worked on!" to Facebook. Granted, positive social media posts usually escape legal attention when they do happen, but I’ve heard of crew members getting blacklisted for talking too much.

Working in music video production disempowered me so much it contributed to my two suicide attempts within the span of a month last year. It's not a problem exclusive to Taylor Swift, but it's certainly not one she has done anything to dismantle (and one that she has helped make worse). If you enjoyed any of the projects I worked on at that time (which I will not list for obvious reasons, so this is purely hypothetical), I really am happy that something I helped create brightened your day. That's why I became a part of the entertainment industry - I wanted to make things that people like watching. I'm very proud of all the work I did. I just wish we were treated like people and not disposable machines.

This music video, owned by Taylor Swift, was created by the work of overworked, underpaid, uncredited artists, many of which are women, whose names we will never know. Who, exactly, is this video empowering?

[punkscowardschampions]

James & Ava

James: Good morning, how are you? Ava: 😊 All the 🌞 for hearing from you Ava: how are you, James? James: I'm happy to hear that James: meanwhile I'm busy, but unfortunately not solely with hours dedicated to missing you, which is in itself dangerously close to a regret Ava: I know what you mean Ava: the universe doesn't allow nearly enough opportunities for pining at open windows or reflective musing whilst staring into bodies of water, or mirrors, depending on the mood Ava: impressive you can think up any beautiful words in such circumstances Ava: what are you busy with? James: I can't remember the last time I looked into a reflective surface that wasn't a kitchen appliance, but considering how few hours of sleep my present universe allows, that's perhaps for the best James: there is only so much a caffeine fuelled bloodstream can produce and therefore no new paragraphs of the novel are forthcoming either James: I'm steeping your in disappointments to begin your day, I'm afraid James: and you're not the only one, as what I am overwhelmingly busy right now is cancelling plans Ava: I'm sure I'll survive them all though Ava: as you will the lack of sleep and caffeine jitters, with a bit of help Ava: what can I do? Ava: Which is to say, what plans are worth keeping cancelled, and which ones should be salvaged from the ❌🗑 James: all I am left with are the activities which I cannot bear to erase from the schedule, therein lies my dilemma in its entirety Ava: Lay it on me Ava: two heads are better than one James: she is supposed to be here & isn't, which is of no surprise to me & wouldn't be of any consequence if I were capable of being in two places at once James: but I am not, nor do I have words to spin this into a story that doesn't end with a child having even less routine or structure when what she wants is more of both Ava: Right, and naturally, she's left it too late to contact any grandparent to be a stand-in? Ava: is it something I could do or not? James: I did try my mother but her reaction to being asked to enter the swimming baths was as hilarious as it was unhelpful Ava: I can imagine Ava: if that wasn't a waste of imagination James: I should have foreseen that they'd end up sharing the same unwillingness to get their hair wet Ava: but swimming caps are so fetching Ava: 🙄 James: of course James: & it's entirely about them, not the children's enjoyment Ava: or that swimming is actually a pretty vital skill Ava: you think people who like to spend so much time doing water-adjacent activities, yachting, sailing etc, would realize said importance but half my friends can't swim, only take the poolside pictures Ava: but seriously, if you think they'd be okay, I'm happy to keep watch on whichever kid would be more agreeable with me doing so James: Jay loves swimming, but I'm sure she'll outgrow it & prefer to pose apathetically on a lounger in designer sunglasses given a few years & the force of my wife's will James: that's how things work in this universe Ava: Not everyone is like that Ava: and your wife's will can be broken by the horror of damp hair, it can't be that much of an unstoppable force James: her will isn't the one being tested, but point taken Ava: No, I know Ava: I bet none of her yummy mummy friends take their kids though, do they? James: all of her friends have foreign au pairs that they barely have to financially compensation for raising their children full time Ava: so Ava: we can pretend I'm your enthusiastic...Swedish is perhaps a little too cliche Ava: Dutch? Ava: au pair James: what language do you actually take in school? James: they might hypothetically try to voice their complaints to you & expect you to respond in kind Ava: Such a shame the obligatory Latin won't come in handy, as per with dead languages Ava: I take French though, some of them might be Swiss James: it's inconsequential really, I can't ask you to help me when I haven't even asked what your plans are Ava: I offered, you didn't ask Ava: and I wouldn't have offered if I was busy with anything of consequence James: yes you would Ava: Nothing in my life is that important, not currently James: this isn't important to you James: & it doesn't have to be Ava: It's a life skill, like I said Ava: I don't mind doing it James: what am I supposed to say? Ava: if you think it's a bad idea, it's not like I'll be offended or anything silly like that James: it isn't that it's a bad idea Ava: What is it? James: it's that I feel bad, if this is what I can offer you James: because ours isn't supposed to be a sob story & it seems like I've only started a conversation with you to file my complaints Ava: it's not all you can offer me Ava: or all you do Ava: you have responsibilities, plenty of them, I knew that before Ava: and it's not a negative, even with it meaning we spend more time missing each other than we'd like James: it is however painfully stereotypical, 'my wife doesn't understand me' & so on Ava: well, yes Ava: at least you aren't alone in that pain Ava: 2/3 marriages, isn't it James: you're not supposed to be a sounding board for my mistakes, or hers, is all I'm trying to say Ava: I don't feel like one, I promise James: I just wish we could exist independent of this James: but there's no way not to feel equally as bad for wishing for a different world as I do for dragging you into this one Ava: I know Ava: but that wouldn't be a real world at all Ava: it could only exist within the pages of the novel Ava: it'd be perfect but James: I know that too, all of it James: ignore me, I'm tired Ava: I couldn't if I wanted to Ava: and I don't Ava: maybe you'll find a lilo to catch some 💤 on James: sadly I'm not taking any of you swimming at the villa Ava: You would have to tell me if I needed my passport as well as my swimsuit James: one day Ava: yeah? James: if you want to Ava: I don't need to pose apathetically in another sun lounger Ava: but of course, I'd like to be anywhere with you James: you won't be, that isn't even the hypothetical holiday I have in mind James: you know I want to experience things with you Ava: Then we will Ava: and it'll be much more than a photo opportunity James: okay, good Ava: Where would you most want to go together? James: I don't know James: but I like snow Ava: We can work with that Ava: top of a mountain, maybe James: that would be an undeniably good photo opportunity Ava: okay, so the view doesn't count 😅 James: I'll be relying on that, taking mental pictures is all well & good for now but you're a very lovely view Ava: oh 😌 Ava: you're lovelier James: no, you're impossibly beautiful James: all I can do is my best to put suitable description to it Ava: you're just Ava: I want to help you today Ava: but it's undeniably a bonus that I will get to see you James: I'll make some time purely for you James: I don't know when, but as soon as I can Ava: I'll take it Ava: whenever it is James: there's a chance I can use my mother's unwillingness to help me now as a insistence to do so later Ava: potentially Ava: promise her hair won't get wet, that'd be a start James: thank you, I'll open with that Ava: 😏 Ava: there must be something she'd like to do with them Ava: that won't also be entirely torturous for them, because certainly counterproductive James: I'm not sure there is James: but at the very least she's capable of feeding & putting them to bed Ava: then I can do the same for you Ava: more or less James: by then, it'll be my turn to do something for you Ava: which would you rather 🛏 or 🍽? James: it's not my decision, it's yours Ava: I'll cook for you James: I think that's wise Ava: I just want to see you, we don't need to go anywhere unnecessarily Ava: my place is often empty James: I'm happy to hear that in this instance, because of how much I want to see you too Ava: It has its perks Ava: you can take as long as you like putting me to bed, also James: can I? Ava: Yes Ava: I very much hope so James: I don't think you've anticipated how long I would like to spend doing so James: in a perfect world Ava: in this world Ava: we can go to bed very, very early, so you'll still be home by the time you need to be James: & if I don't need to be anywhere else, can I stay? Ava: yes Ava: you can stay as long as you can James: I'll try & stay until we can say good morning face to face Ava: I'd really like that James: me too Ava: You make me smile, you know James: I look forward to seeing it, should traffic ever allow Ava: Oh, I could've got myself there James: I know but I want to spend as much time with you as possible, just in case James: it's already been highlighted how unreliable all of my childcare options are & just how dependent on ridiculous whims Ava: I'm not going to complain, trust me James: you'd be entitled to, when you see how much energy these girls have compared to me James: they make me appear a level of exhausted that I haven't yet reached, honest James: it's horrifically unjust Ava: If I know anything about having kids, it's that any complaint I might have doesn't even register in comparison Ava: and you're still beautiful, even if you're very, very tired James: in theory possibly, but actually, your every sound & silence registers with me Ava: in that case, I'll make every one count James: I believe you Ava: not that I promise my words will be as good as yours Ava: that would just be foolish James: I don't doubt your vocabulary either, you're extremely eloquent & capable whatever the circumstances James: a very worthwhile skill in a protagonist Ava: you could make me the swooning type and it'd be valid Ava: perhaps not very likable or inspirational though James: unless you've changed your mind about seeing me, I don't have the time for such a drastic & unnecessarily out of character rewrite James: there aren't enough hours in the day to finish the saga, never mind turn us into the next Bella & Edward James: what a great disservice that would be to you anyway Ava: That would be so out of character, I couldn't possibly, we'd find ourselves in the same situation regardless Ava: and whilst I'm happy to miss you and do some pining for the cause Ava: I'll be happier to see you, of course Ava: no need to exile yourself to Italy, though I can see the pluses of that for you/Edward James: not to mention, the age gap is already enough of a potential concern Ava: at least you aren't re-doing high school for the nth time Ava: that would be alarming James: there's an argument to be made that I should Ava: if you picked a better school, maybe James: at the top of a mountain, perhaps Ava: yes Ava: though, distracting as you would be, I wouldn't be mad at an excuse to see you every day James: there is nothing more distracting than the thought of the blush of your cheeks in the cold air, which is what I'm considering right now Ava: James James: Ava Ava: I'm going to have to be cool when I see you, aren't I James: yes Ava: okay Ava: then I better compose myself James: such a heartbreaking sentence will never make it into the final draft Ava: it's okay, I like swimming James: you'll enjoy it when I can promise you a hot spring Ava: I'll love it then James: I hope so Ava: I will Ava: but I could be anywhere with you and feel 🌞 James: I can't help but feel as though this swimming lesson will put that to the test Ava: screaming kids are nothing Ava: I'm 💪 James: you can have the baby then, there's more heavy lifting involved Ava: alright Ava: I can do that Ava: she must be like a little 🐠 James: she looks like one with her 🐠 hooded towel on Ava: that's adorable James: [sends her a picture from a previous swimming lesson of that adorable bub wearing it because that's not cheating evidence Chlo, we're safe] Ava: Bless her Ava: she's precious James: you'll do fine, she enjoys a compliment Ava: I feel that James: well, it'd be amiss if I didn't flirt with my au pair & we don't want any raised eyebrows Ava: Exactly Ava: got to play your role James: if there was ever one I was seemingly born to play Ava: you don't want an actual au pair? Ava: not for flirting purposes, obviously James: I'm not allowed one, for flirting purposes or otherwise Ava: Ahh Ava: I see James: yet another cliche Ava: you shouldn't need one Ava: she doesn't work, right Ava: or uni, or anything James: of course not, but we would hypothetically need one because, as you just highlighted, she doesn't do anything Ava: yeah Ava: maybe you could find a man Ava: or a really unappealing woman James: I'm not handing her someone else to sleep with, least of all someone who's supposed to be busy watching the children James: & I don't think a woman unappealing enough exists given that my imagined track record clearly surpasses the actual Ava: and it would just be cruel to force any queer guy to be her built-in gay BFF Ava: 🙁 James: oh god, that would be the cruellest fate imaginable Ava: couldn't wish that on anyone Ava: I just Ava: wish I could help more long-term James: all you have to do is be here, that is helping me both short & long term James: more than you know or I could feasibly let you know Ava: but you can try Ava: and I will very much enjoy you doing so Ava: later James: I miss you James: I want you to know that now Ava: I miss you too James: I'll be there soon though, whether or not that helps or makes the feeling worse for you Ava: we'll see Ava: at least I can let you know 💬 James: I'll take my own opportunity to compose myself before you do Ava: 😇 James: 😈 Ava: it will be hard not to be James: it always is Ava: yeah Ava: one day, you won't have to be James: but this morning, I'll try to please everyone Ava: and you will James: you're the 😇 darling Ava: but you are very, very good Ava: you should know, I want you to James: thank you Ava: you're 🥇 James: I will only accept the accolade if I can share the honour with you Ava: you're too generous Ava: you deserve it James: so do you Ava: nah, not really James: yes really James: I don't deserve you happening to me James: I'm in awe of everything about you, Ava Ava: That's not true Ava: you deserve me Ava: and a lot more besides James: irrespective of the difference of opinion, I don't want anything more than you Ava: anything? James: what could I possibly desire more than you? Ava: you're Ava: are you nearly here? James: yes, but I can take some kind of impromptu detour if you'd rather the answer was no Ava: I can definitely compose myself again Ava: becoming quite an expert James: which is why you deserve a 🥇 James: I know how difficult it is to do Ava: at least we share in it Ava: that makes it, not easier but at least worthwhile James: still, I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you Ava: it'll help when I get to see you in the pool Ava: or make it a lot worse in a kinda fun way, anyway James: oh James: I haven't stopped to consider what you're going to be wearing for this Ava: It's probably best you don't Ava: forget I said anything James: hm, what you're done is, you've essentially guaranteed I can't & won't Ava: it's okay, you have the whole ride there to think about it before you really need to concentrate James: except I meant it when I answered yes to being nearly there & as soon as I am, time will speed up as it tends to do James: around you there are just never enough moments Ava: I miss you before you've even got here too Ava: no amount of time seems suitable James: I'll write us days, weeks, months & years but there's every chance you'll still feel cheated by it Ava: that's just life isn't it Ava: there's no time for half the things we want to do, but we have to carry on in earnest anyway James: the fraction alters from person to person, depending on the life lived & what gets prioritised but I don't believe there's anyone satisfied that they've experienced enough of anything they still want Ava: right Ava: the best you can hope for is doing some of it and having no regrets about if you could've done any more with your allotted time James: in not doing regrets, I'm halfway there Ava: could be worse James: I'm aware it could also be better, don't worry, I won't make you say it Ava: who's couldn't though James: anyone I care about, if the 🖋 were mightier than the ⚔ or indeed intentions counted for more than words on paper in the 1st place Ava: good intentions might not exactly be doing good, but it's still much better than doing bad James: they might also be dangerously close to a fool's errand but I've definitely made a fool of myself for a lot less Ava: I think its noble James: do you? Ava: Yes Ava: of course Ava: I mean it, really mean it, when I say I think you're lovely James: it's just that I'm not used to hearing it James: give me days, months, weeks & years Ava: Done Ava: the only reason I'd stop was if you wanted me to Ava: even then, I might try again, a few more times James: I have no intention, be it good or bad, of stopping you from doing anything you want to Ava: as long as you want it too James: even if I don't Ava: I wouldn't want that James: give yourself days, months, weeks & years James: the point is, my limitations aren't yours, you can do whatever you want & I won't be something that prevents you Ava: I'll still have time and space to say and mean it, whoever I am, because it will still be true and you'll still deserve to hear it James: okay, I'll work on accepting that James: but I make no promises about getting that work done during this particular car ride James: nonetheless, if you're still willing to, you can get in Ava: [come through gal, say hello to them babies] James: [depending where we're putting this on the timeline it could be the first time you have] Ava: [very well could be, Jay just like whaaa] James: [she's like new phone who dis] Ava: [just like I too wanted to swim so I'm coming with, is that cool?] James: [cue excited chatter about swimming and all the other sports and activities she likes because she's a sporty bitch from cradle to grave hence her personal trainer future] Ava: [just taking an interest like your own mother never, so rude] James: [I like to imagine the baby joining in by making excited sounds like she's trying to chat too] Ava: [just replying like yeah girl, same, like you understand] James: [I love it when that's a thing] Ava: [so do babies] James: [already better with her than her actual mother is] Ava: [sad but true] James: [we know the bar is that low, no shade Ava we also know you'll be an amazing step mum and mum so] Ava: [but seriously, we aren't being that extra rn that would be weird, we're just being not shit lol] James: [exactly dr phil and we know this swimming lesson will go great cos I'm only gonna be evil after and not let him get away to spend the night with her cos forever rude] Ava: [that's real and fair] James: [you lowkey don't get to have anything you want rn lads it's just the era we're in] Ava: [true tea, can skip to that] James: the later we wanted is going to have to happen moreso than we thought James: I'm really sorry James: I've tried everyone, both my siblings even Ava: Oh, okay Ava: that is a shame James: It's not okay, you were wonderful earlier & I James: well, I'm hardly that, unless we're giving out marks for effort in the last hour Ava: I'm definitely counting it Ava: if it can't be done it can't be James: not tonight Ava: then it's, not okay but just a fact Ava: we'll find time James: what are you doing tomorrow, maybe we can find some time then? Ava: I'm going to another Uni taster day thing James: which uni is it? Ava: LSE, so I will be about the day after on James: & you'll tell me what you think of LSE when it's over, right? Ava: Of course Ava: it's 1st for journalism but I'm not sold quite yet James: the tour might swing it for you if they take it more seriously than the one I gave Ava: I happen to be fond of the tour you gave, thank you very much James: Yes, The Vault will forever hold a special place in your heart Ava: Exactly Ava: be swinging by whether I'm alum or not 😏 James: I'll bear that in mind should I ever need to find you Ava: you only have to ask James: or whistle, not your namesake's immortal line, but I'm sure it'd be effective Ava: I have two, should you ever like to try again James: I'll bear that in mind as well Ava: Are you named after your dad, or granddad? James: II not III Ava: might've skipped a generation, if he was feeling particularly ruthless James: that would be a fun anecdote, but no Ava: that's a shame Ava: how do they pick the second boy's name James: I assume my mother just named Teddy what she would have named me if my father's ego hadn't got in the way Ava: that makes sense James: how they chose me sister's name would be anyone's guess, were it not stolen from the royal family Ava: surprised they'd commit the faux pas Ava: never have you 'round now, very awkward James: or very much a relief Ava: Poor Charlotte is pretty awkward looking James: looking like your grandmother can go one of 2 extremely different ways James: the more greats you add, the more you're rolling the dice Ava: 😅 Ava: at least there is some mystery in that Ava: no prizes for guessing who I come from James: but hand on heart I can profess to being thrilled that neither of my daughters resemble any of their grandparents Ava: they look like you James: Jay does Ava: yeah, moreso Ava: little ones change so much James: yes, she's an unfinished work Ava: that's a good way to put it James: it's better than being a shelved one, as I am Ava: I can deploy tiptoes if necessary James: thank you for what will be a cherished mental image Ava: it'd be cuter if I was smaller but in relation to you James: you couldn't be any cuter, in relation to anyone Ava: I'm glad you think so James: of course I do Ava: no of course about it Ava: you're totally gorgeous yourself James: first you're comparing our heights & now follows the rest of our attributes James: it's okay, I'm sitting down Ava: well I'm glad to hear you're getting somewhat of a break Ava: I'm just saying, it was still very unlikely, if not star-crossed James: you don't think we looked right together earlier? Ava: I love how we looked James: is there a but coming? Ava: only in the sense I wish it wasn't such a predictable cliche scene around here Ava: but it's neither of our faults that employment is seen as an actual form of flirtation by some James: it was a convenient excuse, I couldn't have wished for more than that under the circumstances Ava: I know Ava: it did the job James: if you want to come again, we know it works Ava: do you think I'll be invited back? James: I don't see why not Ava: I did okay then James: you did better than okay, we're all in agreement here Ava: good James: you haven't been worrying about this since you left, have you? Ava: not worrying Ava: but I don't want to mess that up, so I'm glad I didn't James: I understand, but I meant what I said about being in awe of you, you know James: this wasn't any different Ava: You really do always know what to say Ava: I know it was only swimming, but I'm glad they got to go James: well it's obvious that you always know what to do because you were perfect James: I was worried I shouldn't have agreed to you coming with us, but I'm glad you did James: they would've missed out for no reason if I'd panicked needlessly Ava: it wasn't needless panic though, you were left properly in the lurch Ava: and on paper, does not sound like the best idea James: I'm used to that, but less used to us existing off the page, particularly when it isn't just the two of us James: I asked you what you thought about how we looked, but it's something I try not to think about Ava: because of what other people might think Ava: or because you don't like the thought James: because of everything about my life that makes it difficult for us to be an us James: & because of your age & theirs Ava: You aren't that much older, even if your life means you have to act it Ava: but I understand Ava: thinking about it too much makes you think it might only ever be a nice thought, a daydream on the page and in our heads James: I know but Jay is 6 & you aren't old enough to have a child of that age James: which is why you don't James: I can't help thinking about that Ava: Well, yeah, I don't get having kids, there's no denying that but I'm not trying to say I do Ava: most people your age don't have kids either James: of course they don't, that's the thing, there's not an excessive age gap but there is a huge discrepancy when it comes to our lifestyle Ava: I know James: I don't want to alter yours, that's all Ava: You aren't just going to Ava: my lifestyle is up to me James: okay, just don't let me rewrite you Ava: you won't Ava: you don't want to, and I won't let you Ava: don't worry, okay James: I'll try not to Ava: it's needless, we can use that word here instead James: it's only a worry because I like you exactly as you are Ava: those aren't your words, sir James: do you only accept original speeches? James: it's very much a sentiment that applies to you and how I feel in this instance Ava: as long as you stick to the classics Ava: Mark Darcy, Edward Cullen James: an easy promise to both make & stick to Ava: then I'm happy Ava: 😊 James: I'm happy to hear that Ava: I like it when you're happy James: I'm happy with you Ava: good Ava: that's a good start Ava: we'll see each other soon, but maybe we can call before then James: I'd like that James: when? Ava: whenever you can Ava: I'm going to have a quiet night in James: as soon as I can then Ava: perfect Ava: what are you doing now? James: everything you would if you were my actual au pair Ava: Awkward when I am just a pretty face James: you're not but you're also not on my payroll thankfully because that would be more awkward James: what are you doing? Ava: making some dinner Ava: then I'll see how long I can make a bath last, I reckon James: are you making the same thing for yourself as you were going to make for me? Ava: I would've made you something special James: you've earnt special too though Ava: I'll do a different kind of special then Ava: comfort food James: I normally can't stand compromises but that admittedly sounds like a lovely one Ava: aren't compromises key in kid negotiations though? James: I think that depends what kind of parent you are Ava: and you're the structure and routine, so you're the boundaries and rules that aren't up for discussion too James: whether I wish I could just give in sometimes or not Ava: you're the love too though Ava: you can tell they both adore you James: for as long as being everything doesn't wear me down to nothing, I'll keep being exactly what they need me to Ava: does anyone help Ava: like, give consistent help James: her parents are the closest I've got Ava: sounds really fucking stressful James: it was easier with one Ava: yeah Ava: now you're outnumbered James: & everyone helped more when Jay was younger because we were too James: I'm expected to know what I'm doing by now Ava: don't reckon anyone ever does though Ava: cop-out response, I'm aware but genuinely Ava: it's just everyone has the responsibility of fucking up their own kids James: every child is different & I'm not remotely the same person I was either James: an additional cop out response but true anyway James: the way I handle things now, or don't, is a world away from how I coped then so James: new challenges Ava: well, I can't say about then Ava: but you're nicer now than lots of dickheads 'round here that wait 'til they're 30-40 odd to have theirs James: thank you Ava: whatever missteps, having a parent that's a decent person is an advantage lots of kids don't get James: are yours? Ava: yeah, I think so Ava: like, they aren't storybook parents and they never have been that type, they're too fucked up for that Ava: but they did and would do anything for us, nothing we could bring at them would be too much, and my siblings have definitely put that to the test in recent years James: storybook parents tend to lead you into the woods using a trail of breadcrumbs or do nothing while you're placed under a curse anyway James: which sounds more like the school of child rearing my parents would subscribe to Ava: oh you're right Ava: the ones that aren't dead are usually terrible James: I need to write some better bedtime stories once the novel is finished Ava: you'd be perfect at that Ava: I can tell Ava: you can turn me into whatever animal sells best but it better be cute or I won't be able to help being slightly offended James: you'll be adorable & clever & kind, of course James: the good ideas can come from your animal counterpart as they always do from you when you're yourself Ava: very 🦗 Ava: she likes 🐕 a lot though, and I can handle that James: I was considering a water creature because you love swimming & are intending to be in the bath as long as you possibly can James: perhaps 🦦 Ava: see Ava: you're amazing at this Ava: that would be so cute James: you haven't seen the pictures yet, an amazing artist I am not Ava: we'll get you an illustrator James: male or unattractive? Ava: I'm not your wife, I don't need to make those sort of stipulations James: strictly hired on their ability to draw an adorable 🦦 it is then Ava: 👍 thinking James: [I was thinking he should send her some totally beautiful and expensive pudding because she said comfort food so that needs to arrive before she's in the bath otherwise that'd be annoying instead of sweet] Ava: James James: Ava Ava: how am I ever going to thank you? James: oh good, I thought you were say you didn't like it James: *about to Ava: I love it Ava: how are you just as sweet Ava: it's ridiculous James: it's ridiculous that I can't see you for days at a time James: I want you to know that you're in my thoughts more often than that Ava: if she knew how lucky she was, none of this would even be an issue, that's what's ridiculous Ava: but I'm sort of glad she doesn't Ava: selfishly James: she isn't lucky to have me, that's the obvious issue James: because to say that we don't work as a couple or aren't sweet to each other is an oversimplification Ava: did you ever? James: no Ava: I'm sorry James: I don't deserve any sympathy, I haven't always tried very hard Ava: It's still sad James: It's sad for them, I'd like to think that maybe one day they'll describe me as 'fucked up but...' as you did your parents though James: I'd happily settle for that Ava: I don't know how thrilled they'd be Ava: but there's not really a higher compliment so Ava: as far as goals go, it's a good one James: realistic goals are the only way forward Ava: I'll drink to that James: 🥂 since I can't actually Ava: I'm just eating my pudding, obviously James: very amiss of me not to send you 🍾 as well James: noted Ava: Shh Ava: it was perfect, you are Ava: there's always enough 🍾 'round mine to bathe in, should I feel so inclined James: I remember Ava: yeah Ava: I remember too James: I won't ask you to fill in the ensuing gaps in my memory, don't worry Ava: I tried not to pay that close attention, naturally James: 😇 naturally Ava: Hardly Ava: Buster was just pretty embarrassing James: I remember that as well James: though I took the 👑 in that regard so there's little room for me to say anything Ava: you aren't my brother so I guess it didn't really register James: it may have more closely registered had we stayed friends, I suppose Ava: He didn't stay, period James: precisely Ava: 🤷 James: if he had & we were still friends, there wouldn't be a you & I so Ava: depends how good friends you were Ava: think you'd have to be much better than you were, right? James: it would be an added complication regardless & there are more than enough of those Ava: very true James: no offense to your brother but I would rather have your company than his Ava: 😂 I should hope so James: you could improve your ⚽ skills but James: Jay'll help you Ava: Slander Ava: I could be semi-pro, you don't know 😏 James: 😂 Ava: I'm not though, don't want to get anyone's hopes up here Ava: definitely come back to bite me if I try and impress you with my dribbling skills 🙄 James: I won't wait for you to indignantly explain the off side rule to me, it's okay Ava: we're both better than that cliche James: I hope so Ava: besides, I have ZERO interest in being a sports journalist thank you Ava: not putting that out into the universe James: or a WAG presumably Ava: not unless he has an interesting personality to go with the ball control James: some of them must Ava: probably be better going with a female player but I doubt they're girlfriends go in for the WAG label Ava: not invested enough to champion it solo James: it'd be a slightly less stereotypical existence Ava: except every lesbian is either a footballer, cop or farmer James: I'll have to take your word for it Ava: yes, I'm very reliable James: well I'm sorry, you can't be the novel's narrator Ava: I like your words too much, that's fine James: you're too kind to me Ava: no James: yes James: because it's another failing of mine that I can't get inside your head in order to write those words Ava: I like when you tell them to me Ava: with your voice James: can I call you? Ava: yes James: [does and I vote it lasts for hours and hours because they are cute and high key] Ava: [agreed]

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Season Zero: Yuugi Gets a Tomagachi Pt 2

So because I spent like...weeks away from Yugioh I recently decided to kinda review what was even going on in this show, and so, as I was quickly going through my own recaps this week while putting this Season Zero episode together, I was reminded about this observation I made so innocently so long ago.

I keep making jokes with this show and then the jokes end up being real. Like it just keeps happening, so I don’t know why I bother trying to dive so far into the hypothetical thinking “Yugioh would never possibly do this” but...I’ll keep trying.

So, lets see just how dangerous a Season Zero Tomagachi can be. (v bad)

So about 3-4 days have passed since Honda left school for maternity leave despite the fact he is a 14 yo biological male and was never pregnant. I’m glad he’s here to break gender norms and I’m glad that the teacher has just accepted this.

Anzu has decided it’s time for an intervention and thinks, “if I can talk sense into Yuugi occasionally, maybe I can talk some sense into this purple haired alien that we’re also friends with?”

Miho, I swear.

(read more under the cut)

Yuugi has decided to show off his digital pet, which looks a whole lot like the Olympics mascot from 1996.

Izzy. That was the name of the Olympics mascot from 1996. I got the stuffed animal of him for my birthday and that’s the only reason I remember this weird ass 90′s fact.

I do not like the weird bangs that are Tomagachi arms, and it says a lot about the volume of Yugi’s bangs that they could have tiny arms attached to all those little bangs and it would...match up.

Now I watched a dubbed version done by English voice actors (hence why I’m getting all these names wrong) and I figured, I may as well take you on the same journey I went through watching this episode, starting with the name of Yuugi’s pet here.

Some of you, who know every single thing about Yugioh, are right now like “oh girl, do you not even see how you’re getting played all over again? Do you not realize what you JUST walked into?” and don’t worry, we’ll get there. But first, I have to go through this entire episode. Don’t worry, I’ll address the elephant in the room shaped like “the Joshua Tree” but with bangs that are hands.

(if you are too young to know about the lore behind U+Me=Us, then please look it up and listen to their entire discography and know that we were so hardcore about U+Me=Us that, for a very little while, they topped TRL over Destiny’s Child and Britney Spears)

And so they decide to do the very awkward fusion thing where you slap the butts of these Tomagachis together, but Jounouchi’s tomagachi is way too tsundere to date.

Anyway, in walks this boyman who I think gets bigger and bigger every scene he is in, like Violet Beauregarde. I mean...the door is...only so big. One of y’all brought up in the comments (I think gingerninja) that his name means “whale” in Japanese. Indeed he is.

He decides to show us his shiny golden pet, and remember this is 1999, so here’s some...1999 technology alright.

Dear lord, never draw these nips again.

Just...never again.

This is just...

How is this the only post I’ve made in months that hasn’t been flagged?

...Anyways, Kujirada’s monster, instead of going on awkward play dates, just kind of devours whoever he goes up against in a battle. It’s sort of confusing though because like...the same process for battle is the same as for this weird social network/dating scene.

Like there was absolutely no battle system until just now, when this thing started eating other people’s little monsters.

RIP Johnny and Somomo, who we knew for like all of 4 seconds. Truly one of the most devastating blows of Yugioh lore to see the death of these little monster assholes that have consumed all the time that these kids should have spent studying/actually attending school.

And then, our hero arrives and he’s a freakin mess because he hasn’t slept in 3 days.

And I was fully expecting for Honda to also lose and gain a valuable lesson in how to better use his time. I was waiting for Yuugi to pull out his little pet and go through a whole transformation sequence right here and now. But, something impossible happened.

I can’t believe the episode is already over and it was Honda that won. You heard it here first, kids, always skip school for video games, the Yugioh way.

I mean...kudos to Honda, I guess. I’m just really surprised he won something. I mean, the last time I saw him play a game he full on died by being tossed into a pit of lava and then he got turned into a robotic monkey for like 12 episodes.

Haiyama, meanwhile, did not take this very well, since he was the one from the bathroom who was being coerced into giving money to Kujirada in order for Kujirada to buy the golden pet, who just lost within a day of buying it.

As Haiyama leaves, we kind of assume that Haiyama is about to get his ass kicked in, because he’s small and cute and wears glasses, and this is Yugioh Season Zero, and those are all the things required to get your ass kicked in.

When just...everything starts to get really, really weird.

Also, this happened,

And FYI whenever I do these Season Zero episodes, I also look into the other translations on Youtube and the one I looked at seems to have also noticed that the Warehouse situation in Yugioh has gotten a little bit out of hand.

Ah, I see what you did there, random Youtube guy. I mean I love the abandoned warehouse, personally, he’s a core actor in this show. But yes, I do see how it’s turning into a little tiny bit of a meme.

Hilariously, Kujirada makes sure to run directly past Yuugi on his way to the abandoned warehouse district while carrying this girl in a sack over his back.

It is the middle of the freakin day.

So you’ve probably guessed the main twist by now, mostly because of the lack of characters, but as Tristan comes to the end of this warehouse, out steps our very large 3 Stooges boy who keels over and is...entirely covered in bloody lashes????

For your consideration--Haiyama has the yellow glasses and this face type, yes? and Kujirada has the hair? You stick the two together and remove entirely the problematic whipping sequence and you have yourself a

Of course I say this and maybe Weevil is also in S0 and Haiyama is just his own type of nut.

With a whip for some reason. OMG why does this child have a bullwhip?

Also how on EARTH did he manage to get Miho all the way up there???

So Haiyama explains, while pulling out a photo album of just tons of people in it, a comically large photo album of people that I guess he just keeps in his butt pocket, that these were all the people who were doing dirty deeds for him in exchange for money. No idea how the hell Haiyama got all that money, but he likes to blow it all on what is essentially slavery because apparently once you get money from Haiyama, you’re stuck with Haiyama for life.

Like really there is so much gang imagery in this show, it’s like a big PSA of “Don’t Join a Gang, Kids! Or Your Classmate Will Whip You With a Bullwhip Until You Pass Out In an Abandoned Warehouse” and it’s like damn Yugioh fine, I wont, damn.

But like the whole murdery photo album was certainly something because uh--there were more people in there than Kujirada so it’s like...did they die? Did all those people die? Did you in fact murder all those people, Haiyama? Did you manage to kill all those people at age 14 like you’re some sort of Bakura? Like, it’s Yugioh, so I really am just assuming they died but like...can’t add it to the death count until they outright say, right?

And then Yuugi’s timing was pretty excellent.

colorist kinda messed up on Yuugi’s teeth here. It happens. Cartoons are hella hard to make so we’ll give it a pass.

The TRAJECTORY.

Haiyama then decides to point out to Honda that Miho is essentially using Honda like he uses Kujirada and that was...kind of cathartic for me, actually. Thank you, villain, for recognizing that this whole Miho obsession thing is uhhhh kind of wrong. I guess we’ll see if the fact that Haiyama pointed this out to Honda will actually stick or if Honda will forget it by next episode.

Although, in Miho’s defense, she may be too stupid to know that she’s actually using Honda. She may just be that stupid. I honestly can’t tell what her deal is at this time.

But then Haiyama decides to try and extend the great offer to Honda of being whipped and manipulated for the rest of his life in exchange for keeping Miho alive, which um. Wow Yugioh, this is a 14 year old kid. Wow, that’s some dark stuff wow, this basically serial murderer has just been hanging out in the back of their class for their what we assume is their whole lives, and NO ONE NOTICED?

Like again, this entire class is just...they gotta be plants. There’s gotta be at least 3 people in this class being made in test tubes underneath Domino by Gendo Ikari, there’s just no way they aren’t.

And what’s crazy about Zero vs the rest of Yugioh is that in Zero they just happened upon a freakin maniac. They didn’t like...search this guy out, or enter a contest that they knew was freakin cursed. No, they just wanted to play with a Tamagachi. That was it. Instead, they found out that their one classmate has been abusing their other classmate to the point of hospitalization for the past several years.

They just wanted to play with a Tomagachi.

After that, Yugi had a fun intro sequence into Yami Yugi where a beam of light expanded across his face from the middle and that was actually a very nice effect 10/10 I can’t actually cap the animation but you can trust me. For a low budget thing that this season appears to be, that was a nice low budget way to do a good effect.

(seriously, if Yuugi lived a normal life would he have ever known he was cursed? Would Pharaoh have ever woken up at all?)

Honda at this point passed out due to the constant whipping, which is very surprising because I’m so used to Tristan, who once threw Double Spike Mullet Man over his shoulders. Honda is kind of a weakling in comparison.

So, Yuugi looks down at this device with a little monster in it and is like “yo I have a great idea, lets make the monsters fight eachother” and so we got like...a Yugioh meets Pokemon aesthetic, and FYI Yuugi’s monster still has the weird hand bangs. It’s...it still looks like that.

And, turns out the kick that Jounouchi’s monster gave to Yuugi’s monster made Yuugi’s monster learn how to hate, enough to gain a new power.

...so, in the end, Yuugi spent a really long time making his monster just a very nice guy, and would have absolutely lost if Jounouchi’s tomagachi hadn’t kicked Yuugi’s tomagachi’s ass. I guess that’s symbolic.

PS never forget that these are Tomagachi’s with a 20-50 pixel screen.

and there you are, Haiyama eaten by his own Tamagachi.

Yuugi was like “and THAT’s why you don’t whip the people who are your pets. You treat your pets with love.” and it was like wtf that guy was devoured by his own Tamagachi.

And then you think about it a second later and it’s like “WTF YUUGI. Yuugi. That’s still not a very good message.” And like I figured...this is probably a translation error that they accidentally made Yugi seem like he was cool with using people so long as you’re nice about it, but it was in the other version I watched as well so I think the real desired meaning just...didn’t quite make it to the final draft. I hope.

Straight up, this episode would have scared me absolutely to death while I was still in the Tomagachi craze and feeling very guilty about not taking care of them. Like can you imagine just killing your Tamagachi over, and over when you’re 10 and then watching this episode? Like Gremlins did irreparable damage to me as a kid, can you imagine what this episode would have done?

This guy was devoured by a Tomagachi and Yuugi just watched.

Don’t worry, Miho says “momma” here so she is still about as blase towards Honda as ever.

They did pan down to show us that Haiyama is still alive after this whole event. Of course he’s...passed out so he’ll probably just end up in the hospital wing in Domino they’ve reserved for Yuugi’s classmates.

...Eaten by a tamagachi.

Now, a little bit of story time, in the process of putting these caps together, I figured well after the fact that I should, youknow, go and check on the spelling of all of these characters (because again, I watch the dub so I have no subs to tell me how things are spelled) and the sub version had omitted quite a bit of the episode, including the parts where Yuugi says his pet’s name.

...so I was like...is Yuugi’s pet named Yuutou or Yuutsu? And surprisingly enough, when I typed into Google “what is the name of Yugi’s tamagachi” ...

DAMN IT, YUGIOH.

HE REALLY DID CANONICALLY NAME HIS PET U2!

Freakin U2. SPELLED LIKE IT LOOKS LIKE.

That makes no freakin sense, whatsoever. Yuugi is the type of person who listens to weird grungy alternative from whatever local show his weird anti-establishment cousin tells him about and would just--I mean he has so many accessories and eyeliner, he does not put in his Mom’s CD of U2 and drift off, no, he puts in a burnt CD of early Radiohead while he spends 2 hours dying his bangs in the sink. There is no universe, let it be Season Zero or Season whatever where Yuugi acknowledges U2.

I can’t believe this is Canon.

I just...Wow. U2.

U2.

Y’all I am shook that Yuugi is a closet U2 fan.

FYI, I have been listening to U2 for the entire time I’ve typed this. I mean, Pride is a good jam.

Anyways, I know none of you that are too young to know 2gether looked this up when I mentioned it earlier, so here you go, one of the best worst songs ever made. In case you were wondering what I was busy doing as a young tween instead of having a Yugioh phase.

[electricbluebutterflies]

control

“Want isn’t the problem”

Post-s2-grayspace Kabby smut with feelings, aka I haven’t written them since certain things happened and I still have a LOT of feelings. Blame @to-hell-with-oblivion for where this ended up. Also on ao3.

He's being too nice and it's a damn problem.

Abby Griffin likes routines. Even in light of the past few months, even with so much changed around her, she has tried her hardest to maintain them. Unfortunately, it turns out quite a few of her routines rely on a particular someone else's tendency to be a complete asshole at all possible times, and lately, well…

Lately, Marcus has skipped right past the "basic human decency" stage that was once her wildest hope for him and instead started going out of his way for her. For a week or so, she let it go. Trauma makes people do strange things, and the Bad Thing was certainly within that range for both of them. But then she was able to move comfortably on her own and he was still gentle, and for the past few weeks since then their dynamic has been off.

By unspoken decision, they're co-leaders as things attempt to settle down. In theory, it's no different from the routine they had for years up in the sky. Except it is, because there's no sparring. No passive-aggressive death threats, no unsaid fuck-yous, none of the sharp details that made their dynamic the only thing keeping her sane that last year in particular when it became the only real thing she had. Can she admit that, now that they're changing? Is she allowed to say that he became her release valve, that she sought him out a few times because yelling at him about things that probably didn't matter in the grand scheme of things was a reminder that she was somehow still alive?

She doesn't know. She's not sure how much she cares.

What she is sure of is that where they are now is inexplicably different in ways that cannot be blamed on their respective recent injuries. That may have been how this workspace thing happened - neither of them could move well for two weeks after the Bad Thing, hers was objectively worse but he'd walked miles both ways on a bad leg - but they still drift together without that  concern. It makes sense, as they redefine systems, to be in the same place for all the tiny but necessary decisions that land on their shoulders.

The downside of this is, well, they're together. A lot. Which means she has to look at him and watch the slow changes of giving-up have their way, and she is appreciative of this physical transformation, and…

"You got that?"

Her big project for the day, apparently, is figuring out where to put a nice chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere this morning. Like most of their generation, Abby's aesthetic preferences begin and end with "does it work", but apparently working a new piece of furniture into the layout of a small enclosed space requires moving literally everything else in the room. Including a table that is perfectly within her abilities to maneuver, even with the piles of papers currently upon it.

She could, in theory, accept that this would all be a hell of a lot easier if Marcus helped her. She's not actually sure how long he's been standing there watching her efforts, and… it's weird, this asking for permission. Six months ago, had they somehow ended up in this sort of a situation, he would've stepped right in and arranged everything to his own preferences and not even spoken to her until it was all over with.

Is it wrong that she misses that side of him? Is it wrong if she wonders how long this current gentleness will last?

She could accept his help. Or she could push and see if she can find his limits. She decides she likes option two a lot better.

"Yeah," she mutters, almost growling. "I've got this."

And sure enough, with appropriate physical effort that she is more than capable of thank you very much, Abby shifts the position of the table so it's a little more in the center of the space. The goal, she's decided, is to eventually get this not-quite-armchair into that newly vacant corner. But for that to work, she has to move the couch. Dammit.

Frankly, Abby is not sure how someone else got that couch through that door during the few days she was immobile and catching up on two decades of bad sleep. She's assuming that's when it happened, because if she'd been lucid and present she would remember something that ridiculous. It got nested in that corner over there, and she's not inclined to move it, except… that would be the easiest way to make all of her other plans work. Temporarily move couch, place chair, put couch back where it started.

Ah. Yes. Maneuvering something of questionable structural integrity, which is big enough that she's taken a few naps on the damn thing. Twice. Yeah.

Screw it. Time to see how well Marcus can handle her in full fire.

She turns her head and yep, he's still standing by the doorway with that obnoxious amused look on his face like this is the best thing he's see all week - and it probably is for reasons that have nothing to do with her shirts riding up - and she can't deal with this man right now. He is too much, and she's gonna tear all of that down and remind herself that she used to get wet thinking about his hypothetical death.

And shit, now she's thinking about that. No, bad, do not want.

"Now you can help," she hisses, making sharp eye contact. "But if you try anything…"

"What are you implying?" he counters, taking a place at the more accessible end of the couch. This, she gets. She's quite a bit smaller, slightly more capable of slipping into a small space between couch and wall and lamp.

It hits her, as she does so, that there are a lot of things that could happen with this kind of energy and some of those could be much more fun than others. But she can't fixate on that. She won't. She can't.

"You've let me rearrange every goddamn thing in this space without so much as a 'leave those papers there'," she replies. "I know you. What do you want?"

"Maybe my ability to do my job doesn't rely on the specific placement of objects within our space. You didn't take anything out. The rest is detail."

Abby rolls her eyes. "I have known you since we were children, Kane. You are obsessed with detail."

"People change."

"You never have."

"Can we just move the damn couch where you want it?"

"Take four steps back. There. Yes."

The weight is imbalanced, she sees it as they move together. He's stronger than her, she knows that, but he's doing more than he has to because that's just what he does. Because god forbid she ever be capable of anything, god forbid he let her be all that she is, god forbid-

"Alright. Now you can try to pick a fight."

Yeah. There's a breaking point in there somewhere, and she's gonna find it if it's the last thing she does. They've known each other way too long for her to believe this is real.

"Or you could just tell me what you're trying to get out of me," she counters, hand on her hip and perfect do-what-I-want face that has gotten results out of everyone else she has ever tried it on. Despite the rest of her look, Abby has learned how to be absolutely terrifying when she needs to be, and it works. Except on him. Never on him. Dammit.

"Does everything I do have to have an ulterior motivation?"

"I know you too well. Has there ever not been?"

"Maybe I just want to help you."

"There are multiple words in that sentence I'm not sure you even know."

"How are you the only person who doesn't believe I'm changing?"

"Because I'm the only person left alive who knows you're not capable of it."

This, she is well aware, is a conscious and intentional lie. For years on end, she hoped for this kind of transformation. There was a long stretch of time when she tried so hard to see some kind of light in him, this man who seemed to exist for no other purpose than to challenge and undo her. Even at their worst, she had hope for him. But now that she's gotten what she wanted, it's different. A reality she never prepared for and refuses to trust. Because she knows him, and she knows what darkness he's capable of, and she knows-

"You made this happen," he breathes, and this may be that breaking point and oh how she did not expect it like this. "I almost lost you, and I… I cannot let that happen. I need to be better so I can keep you safe."

A different woman would accept the awkward confession, maybe kiss him or something, feel all warm and sweet about it. Abby is still burning, and she's not ready to sheath her claws just yet.

"You tried to fucking kill me," she hisses. "You would've tried again down here, and maybe even done it, but you needed me too much so you did the closest thing and had me electrocuted while you watched and you didn't even flinch. You do not get to say you love me."

Marcus takes a few steps closer - clearly the death wish she's started seeing in him isn't going anywhere. He's close enough she could hit him if she were so inclined, and she's halfway tempted, and she wants, and-

"I know. I don't expect… this is because of you. Not for you, if you don't want it."

There is pain in his eyes, spreading across his body, and here is that moment of regret that she's always dreamed of. They haven't really talked about certain events before, always brushed past and moved onto the next crisis because neither of them knows how to be vulnerable with another human being, but here they are two feet apart in a small room behind a closed and probably locked door and here they are and-

"Want isn't the problem," she mutters, and then she kisses him.

She's not sure what she's doing, in that half-second she tastes his shock. This here, all of it is an experience Abby never prepared for. Only the second person she's ever kissed, and she loved the last one for twenty years and meant for a lot longer before tragic fate had its way. She has never thought of casual encounters for herself - never judged those who did, but kept her own preferences on the subject. She knows, in that half-second, that there is no coming back from what she's doing right now.

Then it sinks in, and he moves, and she is reminded of why they have been like magnets for so long.

Marcus has never done anything halfway, and apparently this applies to physical involvement as well. He kisses hard, biting her lip as his hands tangle up in her hair, and the difference in size between them feels like nothing at all. She'll hurt from this, they both will, she does not care.

"Tell me if I go too far," he breathes against her lips when they break for air.

"I don't think you ever could," she counters.

"Still. As you said. I've hurt you before."

"Don't leave bruises anywhere my clothes don't cover. Otherwise…"

She likes kissing him, she decides as they continue. She likes running her tongue over his skin, the feeling of his scruff against her, the sharp contrast against her past experience. (She cannot fault herself for this comparison. Only her second lover, or he will be before this is over, and she will allow herself this innocence.) He has become new and made whole this past month. Perhaps it's her turn.

"May I?" he asks, pausing with hands at the hem of her shirts.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

She raises her arms to make the removal easier, not sure what she expects him to do once the fabric falls to the floor. Not sure, but surprised when his fingers trace patterns on her hips and slowly climb. An exploration, mapping her, learning details she herself is too familiar with to note. Hesitant on the small of her back, hesitant as he ghosts over the scars he helped inflict. A month and a half after the incident, they don't hurt anymore, but they are still visible and stubborn and-

"You're strong," he breathes, a certain reverence as he kisses her forehead.

"You knew that long before you hurt me."

He nods and continues, working his way up her body until he reaches the clasp of her bra. No permission asked as he undoes the clasp and slips it off her shoulders, no hesitation as he presses his lips to the hollow between her breasts and she flinches because scruff against sensitive skin is new and foreign. Yet not unwanted, she thinks as he traces patterns and switches between hands and mouth without warning. Were he to rest his head between her legs for a while, she could accept it. But she doubts they'll go there today. Exploration and examination is a safe enough set of acts; thorough ravishing is more dangerous, to be saved for a quieter day and a mattress.

"Your turn," she murmurs after a while, pushing him back and slipping her hands up his shirt.

She's seen more of his skin over the years, roles as they were, and little of this is new to her. He has less scars than she does; she fears, as she traces the badly healed line on his forearm from a day he won't talk about, that this will soon change. Someday, and she hopes she gets to see it, he will be a map of deaths that didn't stick. For now, though, he is relatively untainted and completely still before her, allowing her hands to wander. Allowing her to step closer for a moment and rest her head on her shoulder, as she did a month ago when all she could fixate on was her pain and the person who caught her, as she did several days before that beneath a destroyed building. Different, skin-on-skin, but the same.

He could anchor her, if she let him. She wants to see what that could look like.

She undoes his pants because she can, because her hands are on his hips and she wants him. There's some maneuvering to be done, kicking off boots and creative balance, and then he is exposed and still not fighting her. Not lifting her up and fucking her against the wall, not testing her limits. Allowing her fire to have its way.

"You can…" she starts before realizing she doesn't know what permission she wants to give him.

"You want control, Abby," he murmurs. "You need control."

Next time, if there is a next time, will be different. Next time, she suspects, she will learn what their sparring is like without barriers. But here and now, she will take this proof of his changes. Her hands start on his inner thighs, working up. No scars to be found here either, only skin that responds so well to her cautious touch. He wants her. He is willing to let her choose how that happens. She is adrift. She could spiral. She could-

"You have control," he says again as he steadies her. How long has it been since another person has held her? How long since she's been pulled against someone's chest and told that she will be alright? Longer than she wants to admit, and-

"I never knew you could stand that still," she laughs.

"You're good motivation."

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my lifelong nemesis." She rolls her eyes, kisses his neck, breathes. Maybe fire isn't all they are. Maybe…

"I might be in shock."

"Me too."

And there's a warmth to it, as she takes a half-step back and sheds her own pants because she doesn't trust him not to damage her best pair of underwear. There's a warmth in how he looks at her, and it is not the first time either. Weeks ago now, when they were the first actual adults of their people to see sunlight in a hundred years. She should've seen it then, this transformation that is in full force now. But at least she has now, accepting the reality of their changes as she braces for a lifelong inevitability.

It's real. All of this is real. And she's never wanted anything more.

His hands put just a little too much pressure on her hips as he twirls her around and half-pushes her onto the couch. Out of their options, that's the obvious best spot for this - not ideal, god no, but it'll do. He kisses her again to be thorough, kisses her as she maneuvers her body for best access, kisses her as he positions himself, and then he drops.

This is her moment of shock, that heartbeat as they collide. Her body responding, circumstances enough to prepare her, overwhelmed as they become one. How often she wondered about this, and reality is so different and so much more beautiful.

"I don't-"

"You talk too much," she mutters, kissing him to shut him up.

She could love him, maybe. Given time to watch what else this transformation brings, she could get attached so easily. Marcus has always struck her as someone with a lot of raw potential, more than most people are given, and perhaps this here is the wrong time to realize he's starting to do something with it but oh, he is and fucking her on this godawful couch is likely just the start of what he will become.

Wherever that leads, whatever choices he makes, she will stand by his side. She makes that decision with eyes closed, pressure building and then breaking, the sweet giving-up of being loved. She is so, so good at being the loyal woman. She will make those choices again, and this time she will stay enough. There is no other fate.

He finishes and collapses above her, shifting weight as best he can but still more skin-on-skin than she wants, and they stay there and recover for a few moments.

"So that happened," she breathes.

"It doesn't have to change anything, Abby. You can go back to hating me once you get dressed."

"What if I don't want to hate you?"

He's quiet for a few heartbeats, quiet in a different way as he shifts off of her and sits down beside her.

"That would be a bigger surprise than anything else I've seen down here," he finally says. "And a better one."

"I'm not saying… I don't know how to move forward with another person, but… I believe you now."

"I can accept that."

She gets to her feet and starts getting dressed, unsurprised when he is right there for her to lean on as she needs. Their dynamic will change again after this, but perhaps they were headed that way all along. Now sooner than planned, but still just as good.

"So what's the next part of this redecorating scheme?" he asks once they're both decent again.

"I am not decorating," she laughs. "Just moving furniture. There's a difference."

"If you say so."

"If you tried that line at any other time…" she sighs. "Alright. So. Chair goes in empty space, couch goes back where it was, we do not talk about what just happened until I have time to process that it did. Good?"

"So this means I can't kiss you in front of everyone we know?"

"Not if you like being alive."

He takes the hint, shuts up, and moves the damn chair without further stupid questions.

He's gotten nice lately, and it is the exact opposite of a problem.

[colorofmymindposts]

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Three

Chapter Title: The Unyielding Interim

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1514 for this chapter, 4291 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here and chapter two here. Note that this is not Brit-picked, but I tried my best.

Story:

The next two weeks passed in such an odd succession that Holmes began to wonder whether he was indulging too much in the comfort of his seven percent solution. After that first night, Watson had not come down for many hours, not until late afternoon, all dressed in clothes appropriated from Holmes’ wardrobe, though neither of them addressed the subject. He had given a curt thanks and goodbye before departing.

The next time Watson deigned it worthy of his time to visit, Holmes had just finished conducting his experiment on the potency of various chloroform formulas. When Watson burst into his rooms, unannounced, he scolded Holmes for not leaving the flat in a span of time which had lasted four days apparently. In a fit of frustration, Watson left in search of food, insisting Holmes was going to “lose half a stone at this rate” if he continued in his totally reasonable, reclusive behaviours. Later, they chatted over dinner about the day’s newspaper, Holmes’ findings in the last seventy-two hours of intense dedication to the differences between trichloromethane and ether while Watson contributed an anecdote here or there about an unruly patient in the clinic.

They did not talk about Mary. They also did not speak of Watson’s domestic, precipitating him to storm off and drown his sorrows in cheap ale. Holmes had suspicions, however, even if he didn’t voice them.

One possibility was infidelity. “Three continents Watson” would imply to a simpleton that he was dissatisfied in marriage, but Holmes knew his Watson better. A man as loyal as he, who followed Holmes into the thoroughfare of the European criminal underworld with revolver in hand and no questions asked, would not be a husband who would lie with another woman. Especially not when Watson was clearly enamored by his Mary’s charms and said wife was understandably in love with Watson, a phenomenon Holmes could not explain but inherently knew was truth.

The second situation was problems with money, hypothetically. For some unknown reason, Watson had adopted a rather Draconian ideal of finances and women’s place within that (being nonexistent) much to Holmes’ chagrin, particularly as he knew undoubtedly Mrs. Watson would manage transactions far better than that gambling boy. But for such a violent reaction to occur those six nights ago, when Holmes had repeatedly criticized Watson’s handling of his funds in the past, this hypothetical seemed, just as the previous one, highly unlikely.

The third scenario Holmes could not feasibly wrap his head around without feeling prone and ill inside. Simply put, the consummation of marriage...was known to have its difficulties. The desired product of a match between man and wife as desired by a Christian God would only solidify the reality of Watson’s world apart from Holmes’ own isolated one, never again to amalgamate together but at short, infrequent intervals. If this were really the case though, some kind of disagreement had brewed between the Watsons, interrupting idyllic sentiment leftover from honeymoon bliss. The baseness of sex could very well have that effect on a standard English gentleman and lady.  

Watson’s eyes had been upon him for some time, he could tell. He met his friend’s gaze head-on, finding concern and something else indescribable mingled in between. Upon reflection, he should make a study of Watson’s eyes, if nothing else than for his private records.

“You haven’t spoken in two hours,” Watson remarked casually.

Holmes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the settings. Seated in his chair, tea gone cold. Disposed of his waistcoat, Watson slouched in what was once his designated chair, brown suspenders rolling off his shoulders slowly but surely, his top button undone. Thoroughly distracting. Holmes sniffed the air.

“Have you been smoking?” He inquired, recognizing the scent as that of a Cuban cigar circa 1889, approximately.

“Yes, I thought it might make you more alert. I fear it may have made you fall deeper into that stupor of yours you just came out of,” Watson admitted as his fingers idly tapped against the cigar resting in the ashtray on the table. “What has addled your brain so?”

“Watson, you know my methods. My periods of introspection provide clarity to my work. My thoughts are in perfect working order.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back. After straightening his braces, Watson began to loop his arms through his coat previously draped across the back of his chair. “Perhaps I should leave you to your thoughts, in that case.”

“Back home again?” Holmes mused.

Watson, as ever, corrected him. “To Mary.”

Perhaps the lovers’ quarrel was not as serious as he supposed at all. Nonetheless, he felt he had to offer: “My door is always open.”

An affirming smile answered him with a quality of sadness to it, the only thing preceding Watson’s familiar tread on Baker Street.

Another week was to be endured before Watson’s presence graced him once again. In this particular instance, Watson seemed more at ease. He suggested to Holmes that they go for a stroll in the city. Watson always liked it when Holmes would make and share observations of passersbys, one of their favourite activities to engage in from the earliest point in their friendship. If Holmes himself was in worse spirits he would have refused such a triviality, but knowing it might help his friend, he acquiesced cordially to the offer, fortunate enough to still spend time with the man as he was.

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first. An oversized clerk bumbled down Manchester Street obviously having taken too late a lunch break; an older American couple conversed loudly about the spectacles and filth of London to distract from the all too personal topic of the wife’s dying father; a paperboy shouted the newest headlines, limping as he did so due to a factory accident which likely cracked most of the bones in his left foot that never healed properly. Watson smiled along to most of these descriptions but frowned at the last, almost bent on offering his services to the boy, but by Holmes’ observations the accident had occurred years ago and no doctor’s attention would help him now.

At last, they reached Hyde Park, a perfect spot for observation of both animals and nature alike. As it was a Sunday, many families were out and about, relieved to send their children to attend to their own amusements. Their shrill cries and laughter was certainly no symphony to Holmes, but Watson appeared slightly perturbed, glancing at his fob-watch for the time and requesting that perhaps they roam somewhere else. Holmes himself was growing tired of this charade his friend was putting on and scoffed loudly.

“Really, you could just tell me that you prefer the company of your wife to my own, and we’d be done with it,” he ground out, kicking his one boot against the pavement as he did so.

“What?” Watson had the audacity to appear flummoxed. His attempts at treating Holmes with decency were driving the detective mad.

“I know you’re inventing excuses to be around me now that you’re married and yet still feel obligated to maintain our partner—pardon me, friendship,” explained Holmes, in a manner not unlike when he told Lestrade off for one of his idiotic theories. “But you’re bored because there are no cases for me to amuse you with, so you’re regretting the whole outing. I’d prefer that you just be honest with me instead of relying on me to deduce it for the both of us.”

He refused to look Watson in the eye after his statement and proceeded down the footpath without his friend in tow. It thus surprised him as he was about to turn out of the park when running footfalls made their distinct approach. Watson’s all too familiar ragged breaths were there behind Holmes, on his neck, and then he was being spun around by his shoulders, Watson having a firm grip on both his arms and a dazzling intensity in his gaze.

“For once Holmes you have no idea what you’re driving at, but my problems with Mary actually have nothing to do with you this time. I can’t explain. It wouldn’t be right to you or Mary—”

“Sirs!” The voice of a young lady, no older than in her twenties with a crying babe in her arms. “Please, if you’ve anything to spare good sirs, my child’s life be saved. You’re honorable gentlemen, fathers? Think of the poor children, gentlemen.”

Damn her timing, just as he was getting something out of Watson. Though much as Watson’s readers of The Strand might have insisted otherwise, he was not heartless.

“3 shillings, madam,” he said as he withdrew the change from his pocket into her grateful outstretched hand, pins and pricks visible on her fingertips. A factory seamstress then, paid a pittance for her work.

She issued great thanks, politely scurrying away in the opposite direction from whence they came. He likely would have mused more on her upbringing, physicality and motivations too, had Watson not suddenly fallen out of consciousness into his arms, helpless as a babe.

[aleapoffaithfiction]

X.

This is not a coincidence 
And far more than a lucky chance 
But what is that was always meant 
Is our ribbon in the sky for our love, love 
- Stevie Wonder

Am I a pessimist?

History has shown that it is quite laughable that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving and yet every year, we flood the grocery stores spending hundreds of dollars to prepare a meal for a large number of people who we most likely won’t see or communicate with until the very next year when they’ve come to freeload from our dining room table all over again for the same ol’ holiday. It’s all in “thanks” though, right?

I think Thanksgiving is more of a performance for my mother than it is a time for thankfulness and bonding. It often feels like the event of the month for the neighborhood and she seems to hypothetically leave the door open for anyone to either drop by to have a couple of words with her or sit down to have a plate of the feast made by the hands of she, my sister, and myself. It’s also a day for her to head into her closet to pull out pieces of her more expensive attire that she likely purchased with my Nordstrom credit card. Today, when the apron came off, she only claimed to be freshening up, but upon exiting her bedroom she was donning a Roland Mouret dress and Christian Louboutin “Piagelle” pumps. I found myself scratching my head in confusion at the manner in which the pale orange material skimmed over her frame like a second skin. Though subtle, the seams were angular in their waist-defining approach. I hadn’t seen her wear anything that formfitting since the last date night she and my father enjoyed before his untimely death. The pearl set she paired with it was typical. She swears every woman should have a set of them though the world has certainly moved on to strictly gem stones. Thankfully, she didn’t put together a clutch bag or purse because I probably would have screamed in mental agony at how ridiculous she would have looked. Like a woman competing for a pageant, she’s been working the rooms filled with people all throughout the house for clout that she doesn’t need in the slightest.

“You still hiding in this corner?” I didn’t have to look up to know it was Kyle. Every year he flies up here from Miami to spend the holiday with Preston and my sister, so he ends spending the holiday right here in Brooklyn at my mom’s like the rest of us. Initially, I thought they’d pushed Kyle in my direction because we’re not that far apart in age and could probably relate on some things, but over these past two years I now know it’s because yet again Celeste thinks that she’s found someone who can be a good match for me. She does her most fucked up rendition of cupid whenever she comes across a man who she’d be interested in herself if she weren’t married and then she pushes him in my direction. I fell for her bullshit with Shamel but it will never happen again. Also, her husband’s brother? That’s entirely too close for comfort.

“It’s my preferred place to be when I’m not feeling the atmosphere.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Merlot.” I’ve been babysitting this glass of wine for over an hour now. My tongue is yearning for a Don Julio Paloma. If I don’t get home too late tonight, I’m absolutely going to fix one for myself while I watch whatever movie that’s OnDemand that I missed out on while it was in the theaters.

“I think Preston has some Barcardi in there. You want some?”

“No, I’m okay with this.” I only made the decision to indulge as a literal painkiller. I needed something to relax my body after having mostly been on my feet since early yesterday morning when I was rushed out of my bed to go and pick up a few last-minute items from Walmart.

I had no choice but to leave Odell tangled in top sheet and blanket as I quietly readied myself and put together an overnight bag for the following day. I thought I’d at least be able to make him breakfast but her demanding phone calls did not cease until I was actually at the store. As of now, my feet are viciously aching and I barely have enough energy to move my mouth to speak to everyone, let alone walk around. I’ve been wanting to go to sleep since I ate and I’m mentally cursing myself out for choosing to wear these boots, though they’re one of my most comfortable pairs.

“I think it’s cool that you all host this every year. My family always went to my grandmother’s for holidays. We never hosted anything at the house because my folks were never into that.” Neither am I. Maybe that’ll change when I have my own family, but as of right now, I’d rather keep my home as the safe haven that it is.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it as far back as my memory goes. I feel like my father set the precedent. He was a people person and chose to have an open-door policy within the neighborhood. It used to be the one trait about him that drove my mother insane, but somehow, she adjusted to it and opened herself up to understanding why he chose to be that way. If people needed anything, they knew they could come here and we’d help out somehow. I guess you can say that our blessings were fruitful so that we’d be able to share them with others.” Though he’s no longer with us, I’ve kept his gems about being about the community embedded into my conscious. I donate to women’s shelters, the Boys and Girls Clubs, afterschool programs within the inner-city schools, and I’m working on creating recreational weekend sports camps for this up and coming summer.

“You look a lot like him.”

“Yeah, my looks definitely lean in his direction.”

“Great looks, by the way.” With a faint chuckle, my shoulders slouched in an adjustment for the slight aches in my back. Living alone has its perks and not having to constantly stand in front of a hot stove every day is one of them. The last time I stood on my feet for hours cooking was last year, this time. I’m just not used to it.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“So, what’s it like being on ESPN? I know that it was always a dream of yours and it’s cool as hell to see you sitting up there. I feel like often times when we look at public figures on television, it almost seems like jobs like that are so far out of our reach and yet look at you. It’s impressive.”

“It’s great. It still feels surreal and then it has its pressure and stressfulness too. It’s a job in every single sense and I think a lot of people don’t think about it that way. A lot of people look at the glitz and glamor of it, but there’s so much that goes into our panel being able to sit there and entertain people every morning with our sports knowledge and banter.”

“I believe you. I know there’ll be a lot of work to put in for it, but is the goal to have your own show?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it and sometimes it sounds ideal and other times I feel like I want to do something more. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life on television but I probably wouldn’t mind it either depending up on the circumstances. I’m trying to figure that out. I know I want to create my own sports platform or possibly be in collaboration with another black creative or many of them to create something for us and by us. I can try and get our people in the door at ESPN but that final say isn’t mine, you know? And that fucks with me.” It still makes me chuckle when people call Scott the “token white” on our panel but it makes perfect sense in all of the wrong ways. His overdone sarcasm and constant need to play the devil’s advocate doesn’t negate his talent but could they have added a black journalist in his place? Would they have is the real question? I can’t call it.

“I feel you. I feel the same way. In tech, there aren’t many of us. I spend a lot of time going to speak at historically black colleges to persuade students to bring their talents to the field. You’d be surprised how a lot of the internal parts or software programming for some of our favorite gadgets are created from ideas young talented blacks have either sold or got swept under the table over due to fucked up contracts. I’m doing my best to change that reality, because I’m not slaving for anybody and none of us shouldn’t have to.”

“Cheers to that.” As our glasses clinked, I nodded in appreciation. Kyle and I always have great conversations and if Celeste weren’t so pressed for me to romantically pursue him, I think we’d be great friends. He’s progressive in all the right ways.

“Pictures please! You know I do a Facebook photo album every year. Stand up Sarai.” She came out of nowhere like a bat out of hell. I hadn’t even heard her Jimmy Choos clacking against the floor. I’m now finally realizing that both she and mommy have the same curls in their hair. What a kiss ass. I’ve been rocking a hat since guests began to arrive. After having sweated out my hair in the kitchen, I couldn’t be bothered with slaving in the bathroom with a flat iron trying to fix the pity. This slicked back ponytail will have to be until Anna fixes me up tomorrow.

“I’m not standing up.”

“Don’t be a sour grape.”

“My feet hurt. You can take one or two with me sitting right here.” Though she prepared her phone for the photos, it didn’t happen without her childishly rolling her eyes and stomping one heel clad foot. Kyle allowed it to be a solo moment by standing up and stepping away from the warm mantle of the fireplace. Even with the bit of makeup I put on to mask the exhaustion, I know I’m not in a picture worthy state but I’ll compromise for the sake of not having to hear her go on an attention seeking rant.

“Can you at least smile?”

“This is not a photo shoot. Take the pictures and send them to me when you finish. You’re not going to have me looking crazy online.” She took them, but without flash, and that within itself left me weary of her intentions. I’m slumming it in my joggers and this little off the shoulder top I randomly found on a clearance rack at Wet Seal. It damn near looks like I dressed myself in pure darkness but I’m making it work enough for myself alone. I wasn’t wearing pearls either way.

“I sent them. They’re cute.”

Surprisingly, they are. Daddy swears both Celeste and I get our photographic nature from our mother. He had a thing for constantly either videotaping or snapping pictures of us around the house or during family outings. Keepsakes of that kind have always been a tradition on his side of the family and he felt compelled to instill that in our household so that the future generations could use it all to piece together our family’s tree and history.

Everything we have is idly collecting sheets of dust in the lower cabinets of the entertainment center in the living and that’s where they’ll remain until someone has the courage to pull them out for what is sure to be the most draining emotional rollercoaster that any of us needs right now. I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate my memories of him, so I’d rather not clog it with better detailing about our days. I don’t know when I’ll get to the point of complete acceptance with a clear conscious but I’m with dealing it. For now, that’s enough.

I felt like a booty call gone wrong when you just got up and left like that. I woke up like, oh wow…

Heat flushed through my face as a fit of giggles erupted from my core at his nonsense. Not only did I text him and let him know that I left, but I wrote down the security code for the security system so he’d be able to lock the door whenever he planned to leave out.

How did you feel like a booty call when I left you in my bed? It’s not like I walked out of a hotel room on you. No one leaves booty calls in their own beds. If anything, I treated you like a booty call that I plan on calling again.

I considered waking him up, but the serene expression on his sleeping face halted my actions. The side of his face was meshed into the plush pillow on my side of the bed once he readjusted his position and though he reached for me, my absence didn’t wake him.

Oh, so that’s all I’m good for?

I despise how he has the capability of making me blush with his silly little banter and presence alone. It’s a naturalness that I’ve never experience at any of point of my life thus far and comprehending it seems undoable. My grandmother used to say that sometimes we don’t need to think but instead just feel but that is by far the most perplexing statement I’ve ever heard. All I know how to do is think, especially over these last couple of years.

Don’t be offended. At least I like it.

Like it? Lately I’ve been questioning if that’s enough to describe it. Liking it would be simple and this is anything but simple. I can do simple and blow it out of my way, but this? It’s a fucking enigma.

Happy Thanksgiving gorgeous. I’m rocking the boot today. Everyone is loving it.

Unexpectedly, an impromptu picture of himself standing in front of the grandeur double doors of his home followed his message. Per his usual, he was in loud textures that only he can get away with and hilariously covered in winter attire above the waist and summer attire below it. He wouldn’t be himself without having the crimson Supreme crossbody bag around him to perfectly match the boot. Oh, and how can I forget the phone case? Everything about his style would reek of hypebeast if it were anyone else and yet for him, it’s as uniquely expressive as his personality can be.

Handsome.

And that he is. It’s throttling.

Thank you, baby. Send me something.

The prickling in my dampening skin worsened my posture. I’ve never sent racy photographs to any man and yet the thought of sending a few to him is doing more to me than I understand, though that’s not what he’s requesting. Shamel would request them from me quite often and I’d deny him every time because the thought of laying back somewhere and spreading my thighs for a photograph of something that I barely wanted to give to him was unwarranted. On birthdays and holidays, I’d get pieces of lingerie that were satisfying to his eyes rather than well thought out gifts with aspects of my taste involved in the selection process and all of it was left in a box on the side of the street when I moved. I didn’t even deem it worthy enough to be sent out to the shelters and Goodwill's that I donate plenty of my things to.

I couldn’t bother with putting on anything special because I’m in no mood for that, so don’t judge me.

I bit the bullet by sending one of the pictures taken by the ever-nagging Celeste. Now that I’m looking at it, I know damn well I could have put on a pair of jeans with this flannel shirt.

You’re the epitome of beauty in every sense.

Not even the sudden presence of Quinton’s frame walking past me could put a damper on the gut-wrenching fluttering uncontrollably multiplying throughout every bit of me as I read his words over a few times. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Has he called my bluff? Am I exposed?

Even with a bad hair day?

I’m not completely aware of all of the details of his dating history but I’ve seen the women he has been rumored to have dated and much like anything would expect, they’re picture perfect. I don’t fit into the mold of those ideal body types who have all of their curves in the right places with a perfect set of perky boobs and an ass that is sure to make any man look back twice. I don’t even understand my shape enough to be able to describe it but I do my best to work with what I have.

Once upon a time, I thought about ridding myself of my breast insecurities by having a fat transfer done to plump them up without having to have implants inserted. Shamel didn’t make the situation any better by agreeing that I’d go from average to a dime piece if I did so. He even offered to pay for it if the insurance wouldn’t. When he and I split, I finally had the time to really sit down and consider if it was something that I desired to do for myself and it was then that I let the idea of it go. I am who I am. Laying on a surgeons table was never going to fix the issues within my mental space.

What bad hair day? I don’t see a single hair out of place. Am I still seeing you tonight? I miss you. I know it sounds weird for me to say that because we were just together, but I really do.

Not only am I physically drained and in need of my bed, but I also have to work tomorrow. I considered making this weekend a four-day weekend for myself last week but it slipped my mind to request the day off.

It doesn’t sound weird. I miss you too. I’m so tired though. You don’t want sleepy company, do you? I just want to lay in the bed.

I’m purposefully sitting on this bricked fireplace, because it’s uncomfortable and keeping me from dozing off somewhere.

Well, my bed is waiting for you to come and go to sleep in it. I don’t mind sleepy company at all. Come on.

I’m still very convinced that the universe is somehow trolling my life for whatever reason. Where did this man come from? When my prayers go beyond my loved ones and I began my requests to the man above for myself, I only pray for peace. This isn’t peace. It’s disruptive, confusing, and yet so damn earth shattering.

I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. I have work tomorrow, so I have to head to my house to grab some things so that I’ll be able to properly ready myself in the morning.

Hopefully, it’s not too late.

Sounds good. See you in a bit. Oh, and bring me some red velvet cake.

It took an additional twenty minutes of me idly sitting there to muster up the strength to move. Upon observing the room, Quinton walked past me twice without a word spoken and though it didn’t trouble me, I can’t say that I’m not shocked about his chosen tension and immaturity. I thought we’d be better than that because as he said, we have a history, and it goes beyond a date that didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

You win some, you lose some. Despite everything said between the two of us that night, I haven’t held any of it against his character and I probably never will because I honestly do believe that he’s a good guy with a good heart. I just think he’s lost track of who he is beyond the political career and until he figures that out, he will continue to make superficial decisions for his life all for the sake of upholding a specific public image.

“You coming to eat again?” Though everything else remain perfectly in place, mommy finally removed the heels and comfortably leaned against the kitchen’s island in a pair of Nike slippers she took out of my closet about two months ago.

“No. I can’t eat another bite. I’m just going to take some dessert with me for right now and then I’ll come over tomorrow after work for anything else I have a taste for.” I’m going to bring Beckham some red velvet cake, pineapple upside-down rum cake, and a bit of banana pudding. That should more than satisfy his sweet tooth. I handled all of the desserts this year. Next year, I’ll be damned if Celeste doesn’t help me.

“You look tired. I told you if you’d get into that kitchen of yours more often, you’d be used to this.”

“Cooking for a neighborhood of people? Not really.”

“Cooking for your family.”

“I cooked with my family, which counts for something. I don’t have a family of my own and I’m not sure if or when that’s going to happen for me, so I haven’t cared to train myself. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The fact is, I actually do know how to cook, so I’ll be fine either way.”

“You could have a family of your own but you choose to avoid it.” If I’m avoiding anything, it’s where this conversation is about to go.

“With Quinton? Yeah, I’m sure that makes sense to you but it never will for me and I don’t appreciate you inserting yourself into that situation. I’m perfectly capable of choosing who I will and will not involve myself with romantically. I don’t need any lobs or assists from you.”

“If you’re so capable of choosing, why haven’t you chosen anyone? Why is he not worthy of a proper chance? You didn’t even try.”

“There was nothing to try. I’m not interested. I get it, though. It looks like it makes sense since we come from the same background, have success stories while coming out of the same neighborhood, and his mother and yourself can relate in ways that are both painful and triumphant, but it’s not going to work for me.” Quinton and I look good on paper. We’re ideal in the general sense, but anything beyond that? We’re a disaster waiting to happen.

“So, what is? You live in that huge home of yours all alone and you want to do that for the rest of your life? I worry that you’ll actually do that. Companionship is a good thing, Sarai. Having someone around to balance out life with you is healthy. Celeste has her own life and though I am your mother, you need more than just my shoulder to lean on whenever you take a break from that overly done independent woman rampage, you’re on.” Rampage? If anyone’s on a rampage, it’s her. She’s on a rampage for me to be barefoot and pregnant while being subservient to someone not even worth my troubles.

“Whatever I do will be my decision and I’ll have to live with that, not you. You’re so adamant about all of this, but you don’t even know half of the shit I went through with Shamel. So, excuse me for not being as enthusiastic about settling down as you need me to be. As I said before, I don’t know if or when it’ll happen, but I’ll be okay either way. Sometimes I wonder if the only time you’ll be proud of me is when I put on a big fluffy white dress and vow my life over to someone, because you certainly don’t show it when it comes to anything else that I do.”

“Oh, nonsense. Don’t do that Sarai. You know that I’m proud of you.”

“Well, you have a poor way of showing it. Excuse me.”

I had to put the banana pudding in a small plastic to go bowl because I didn’t want it to touch the pieces of cake I had on the plate. I don’t know about him, but occasionally I can be super anal when certain food touches one another. It throws the taste off.

“It’s late and since the crowd in here has died down, I’m going to head home. I have to work in the morning. I’ll be over here tomorrow.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I’m not cooking anything, so leftovers it is. I’m definitely coming.

“Well, give me a hug and kiss before you go.” I fulfilled her request immediately. I would have done so whether she asked or not. No matter what we disagree about, she is my mother. I don’t allow our indifference to steer me from that reality. I have one parent now and I’m going to nurture that as best as I can for as long as I’m granted to. I’d rather not live with any regrets.

“Drive safely and let us know when you get home.”

“Will do.”

People being slumped inside of the comfort of their homes or someone else’s seemed to keep the traffic down. I avoided the tolls by taking the FDR drive and Harlem River drive to Hudson Terrance in Fort Lee. Even Exit 73 was clear and I always tend to hit a bit of a slowdown whenever I’m coming from that direction.

The sight of my bed enticed me like no other as I lazily put together all that I needed to make the morning go as smoothly as possible while I drag and dread having to make that commute to Bristol. I’m going to need the most potently caffeinated cup of coffee while driving myself up there and I’ll probably need another for the commute back. That aside, having no plans for the weekend is absolutely official. I intend to sleep until my body can’t take it anymore.

On my way.

The anticipation to be within his presence battled the fatigue like the fiercest gladiator and that yearning carried me back out of the door and into my car. Even if I attempted to pass out, the guilt of standing him up would have kept me wide awake and staring up at my ceiling. I’m not even sure what to call Beckham but he’s my…something.

Taylor’s my person in the same manner that Meredith Grey is to Christina Yang. Is Beckham, McDreamy? Are our souls tying within that manner? It’s terrifying to think about and even more distressing to know that in some manner, it feels that way.

With Eris and Khan idly walking around the entry driveway to his home, there he sat awaiting my presence. It was the sight of the headlights that alert him to stand to his feet and I barely had the car in park before he was standing alongside the driver’s side of it.

“Glad you made it safely.” As the seatbelt slid back into its proper position, he leaned in and I instantly pressed my lips into the warmth of his for the kiss we both seemed to have been anticipating.

“You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. I could have rung the bell.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not that bad out here anyway.” It was his strength that pulled me out of the seat and I was thankful for it because I know I would have sat there for much longer than necessary. The Chanel bag he gifted to me was all I had to carry inside, because he handled the rest.

The chattering coming from the kitchen and the low music was to be expected but with it nearing almost midnight, it was clear that whatever crowd he had in the house before had already gone home.

“That’s momma, Jazzy, and Kordell in there. They knew you were coming. You cool with saying hey?”

“Of course. I can’t just come in here and not speak.”

“You’re tired.”

“Tired, but not rude.”

There’s something about being in the house with his family that unnerved me. It’s not their presence but instead the circumstances for why I’m here. Family tends to be perceptive and how would his feel knowing that I’m likely going to lay alongside him in his bed tonight as I rest? It’ll be no marital bed.

Despite our ages, it doesn’t prevent people from side eying or negativity whispering about whatever it is they’re frowning down upon. Heather and I mutually admire one another and I’d hate for her to no longer feel the same way about me or believe that I’m a poor influence for her daughter.

“Sarai! You made it. Happy Thanksgiving.” Her long arms pulled me in for the bear hugs that she always gives. They’re comforting and reassuring; maternal and yet friendly all at once.

“Happy Thanksgiving. How are you?”

“I’m so good. Look Jazzy. Meet Sarai. Sarai this is O’s little sister Jasmine and his little brother Kordell. Sonny’s sleeping.”  In some ways, the both of them resemble him, especially Kordell. He’s literally the milk chocolate version of his older brother. In just my short moments of observing him, they also have similar mannerisms in the way they shift and squint their eyes.

“Wait, so this is your girl? This is the one? She be on TV with Kobe.”

“Kordell, shut up. It’s nice to meet you, Sarai. My brother speaks very highly of you.”

“You do too. Don’t try to water down the fangirling you be doing.” Beckham needed to put them on blast in order to save himself from the playful embarrassment they were attempting to inflict on him. I was once just as annoying to Celeste whenever she’d bring company over to the house. Even though we didn’t share a room, I’d deliberately invade her privacy just to be an annoying ass.

“I am a fan.” There was pride in her tone.

“I appreciate it Jazzy. Thank you.”

“How was your Thanksgiving? Did you spend it with family?” In her usual behavior whenever I’m here, Eris circled my feet and I leaned over to give her the attention she craved.

“It was nice. I spent it in Brooklyn with my mom, sister, and brother-in-law. Some family stopped by and a whole bunch of neighborhood friends. My mom likes to do it big for Thanksgiving, so it was busy.”

“It sounds like a good time though.”

“It was. It turned out nicely.” People kept the peace. I suppose that’s nice enough. I’ve been at family functions when shit has gone left and arguments happened.

“That’s good. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed, but I love leftovers, so tomorrow sounds like a plan.” I could raid his fridge and my mothers. Either way, I can’t lose.

“You’re welcome to whatever you like. We were just getting ready to start…” Before she could finish the statement about the UNO game they were soon to begin, her impatient son cut her off.

“She’s tired. She has to get up for work in the morning.”

“If you wanted her all to yourself, all you had to do was say so.” What his siblings didn’t accomplish, she had. The rosiness flushing throughout his face tickled me into an uncontrollable laughter, that eventually both his mother and sister joined in on.

“She really does have to get up for work in the morning.”

“I do, but I can play a round of UNO. It’s no big deal.”

“You can play tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He held his hand out for me as if I were a stubborn child. If I weren’t so tired, I would have given him a run for his money at one of my all-time favorite card games. I know he hates losing.

“Well, goodnight.” I waved before latching my hand onto his own. Can this get anymore awkward? I should have just told him to come over to my place. Next time, I will.

“Goodnight.” It was all in unison with their attention completely locked into to whatever they assume is going on between one of the most important people to them and myself. I’m not sure what he’s told them but they’re well aware that we’re beyond just being friendly. At this point, even the dimmest person could pick up on it.

“I put extra towels, wash clothes, and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you. I’m not sure if you brought your own soap, but I took some Dove body wash from out of the bathroom my momma uses whenever she’s in town and staying here. I’ll plug your phone up and sit it on the nightstand for you.”

As soon as I removed my coat, he grabbed it and walked off to hang it on the outskirts of his closet. I’d been in his bedroom before but I didn’t necessarily observe every detail about it, but it’s very telling of the demanding career that he leads. Though a master suite in size, it’s fairly simple in décor and yet exudes the masculinity that I expect. Given that he’s highly detailed and puts plenty of thought into the attire that covers his body, I’m surprised that he hasn’t hired an interior design team to come in and turn the entire house into something out of an art gallery.

“I know you’re not hungry, but do you want anything to drink?” While I rummaged through my bag, I could hear the paws of the doors pattering against the wooden floors as they made their way into his personal space.

“No, I’m okay. I do need something to sleep in though. My sleepy ass forgot to pack that.” I don’t even remember attempting to find pajamas. I was so preoccupied with finding the perfect dress to wear on air and after that, decorating for Christmas. There’s always a mixture of dread and excitement about that. That’s one of the downsides of living alone. I have to spend days putting everything up on my own and it’s not easy.

“I got you. Hold on.” Yet again, he headed in the direction of his closet. At home? I only sleep in actual pajamas if I have company. Other than that, I’m usually in bed in damn near nothing. It’s comfortable and less of a hassle.

“Okay, here’s a shirt.” I knew it would be something Giants related. I’m sure that he has thousands of team related shirts that he hasn’t worn.

“What kind of shorts do you want? The cotton Nike ones are soft and light. Or do you want sweats? You want socks too?”

“The shirt is fine. That’s all I need.” Everything else will eventually end up on the floor if I put them on.

“Okay.”

I didn’t have to ask for privacy. As soon as he placed the shirt on the bed, I was left alone with the dogs once he walked out and closed the door behind himself. He’d given me more than enough time to change, brush my teeth, and even get settled into the coziness of his California king bed. The plushness of his ice grey down comforter was coaxing me into the perfect relaxation for slumber and yet I couldn’t refrain from rocking my hips, snapping my fingers, and mumbling along to Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”. It wasn’t loud at all, but the volume was up just enough for me to be able to make out the song. Stevie’s soulfulness has always been a part of the extensive musical collection in my mother’s living room. His sounds were our Saturday morning clean up music during my childhood and that tradition followed me all the way to my own home.

“You’re an old soul too?” His amusement didn’t go unnoticed upon his reentry.

“I don’t have much of a choice but to be that. I get it from the two who made me.” I wonder if he allows the dogs on the bed. If it were my bed, I’d allow it. They’re so lovable, even in their massive size and intimidating demeanors.

“Stevie’s only on because my momma’s here. This is a Future household.” He could barely contain his own laughter. Future?

“Oh, how enjoying it is to listen to the misogynistic raps of Hip-Hop’s walking sperm bank.” Why do women fuck Future? I need a 60 Minutes episode about that.

“He’s just misunderstood.”

“I will kick you out of your own room. Misunderstood? He’s a demon.” Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear his laughter loud and clear. I can’t front, I can and will hit the dance floor to some of those infectious trap records created by the Atlanta native but the antics of his personal life are atrocious. No, but seriously, why do women subject themselves to him? Is the dick that lethal?

“A demon huh?” I couldn’t respond. The muscles in my throat contracted into a tightness that forced my frame back against the pillows as my lips fell agape at the sight of his tattoo covered skin. His chiseled abs aside, there’s something about the manner in which the ink is etched into his golden skin that is worthy of being displayed in the Louvre. Every bit of it tells a story that I want to run my fingers over and know thoroughly from start to finish. I want to plant kisses on the areas that are representative of past pain and marvel over those that are picturesque versions of his triumph.

“That’s exactly what he is.” I wasn’t as edgy as I am now when he was in my bed and yet as he joins me in his own, I nearly want to run to the opposite side of the room. As he did that night, he stretched out his arm to invite me into his space and I slid over to the middle of the bed to meet his warmth. With one press of a button near the bed, the lights were off, setting the complete mood for the few hours of sleep that I’m going to get.

“Am I forcing you to go to bed early? You’re a night owl.”

“I’m only a night owl because having surgery ruined my sleep schedule. When you don’t have much else to do, you tend to occupy your time with crap that’ll keep you up. Video games were it for me.”

“I miss being a night owl. Nowadays, I struggle staying up past ten. This is why I hope the show moves to New York. We’re currently in on and off negotiations about that. We’re also tossing around the idea of doing a few weeks in the Los Angeles during the summers with a live audience just to change the scenery of the show. Hopefully it goes through.”

“That would be great. You’d be closer to home and L.A. is always a nice change of scenery. I’m sure Kobe would love that too.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the one who’s advocating for that idea.”

“And we’d be together in either city, because the timing would permit it. That’s perfect, actually.” He does spend his off seasons in the West, so I can see why he made note of that.

“It could be perfect. Fingers crossed; it works out.”

Our limbs were like magnets as they intertwined at different points and he’d idly plant a kiss on my forehead seemingly every ten to fifteen seconds.

I wouldn’t consider either one of us worthy of musical recording contracts and yet as the medley of Stevie’s “Ribbon in the Sky” faintly played below us, hums from the both of us drowned out his vocal delivery. The depth and rasp of his lulled me beyond what his warmth and the comfort was already doing. It inflicted a tranquil sense of drowning that I welcomed and yet the manner in which is large palm lightly grazed over the heated skin of my inner thigh ignited a ravenous blaze for him. The seat of my flimsy barely there panties dampened with every thrashing throb of my center. I haven’t been touched in so long, I’m afraid to know if I just unraveled from a gesture so simple.

A dewiness flushed over my skin as my heart thumped against my chest in a quickened rage. The pressure ignited that natural yearning that any woman should have when lying next to the man of her affection and I have no way of being able to reach over to my own nightstand, open the draw, and grab the blackened vibrating device to handle this myself. I had to move over for the sake of my sanity and most of all, to lessen the possibility of humiliation. His now resting body didn’t allow the distance to last as long as I needed it to.

Yet again, his hand met the inside of my thigh and drew me into his side as I once was before. The aroma of his intoxicating fragrance slithered up my nose as I was locked into place with his arm, which coaxed me to whimper at such an endearing torture.

God, help me.

The scenic sunrise was my company in the shower after hitting the snooze button twice to extend the comfort that I didn’t want to lose. With a lack of regard for time, I prolonged my minutes in his state-of-the-art shower just as much. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sorrowfully dreading stepping onto that set to do what I love to do.

“Good morning.” I attempted to be quiet but I must have not done a good enough job. As his frame towered behind me, he trailed kisses up my back, ahead of the zipper that he was pulling up from the back of my maroon pencil style dress. At home, I unraveled a wire hanger and turned it into my own personal hooked zipper closer. I prefer this. The feel of his lips pressing against my skin and the aura of his being surrounding me supersedes that any day.

“Good morning.”

Although I’ll be doing my make-up routine in my dressing room, I still moisturized my face and applied a decent amount of lip gloss to my lips as while he stood at the sink brushing his teeth. I’m not even sure if concealer will be able to do much hiding of my exhaustion today. My eyes are literally burning because they’re open and I have a budding headache just waiting to worsen as soon as I walk out of the door.

“I’m going downstairs to let the dogs outside.”

“Okay.”

I chose comfort for the commute with my favorite black Nike slippers and carried my Jimmy Choo pumps in the dust bag I keep them protected in. I didn’t bother switching purses, although the Chanel one is no match to this dress. No one’s going to see it and right now, I don’t give a shit.

While sitting on the bed, I texted Chad to take pictures of the agenda and send it over so that I can glance over it once I hit traffic, because there’s no doubt that maybe forty minutes into the commute, I will. If I can get a head start on reading over it, our briefing will be a few minutes and I’ll be able to take somewhat of a cat nap before we’re on air. If I’m not mistaken, Isaiah Thomas is coming by to speak with us today about how he’s adjusting to life in Cleveland. Boston’s decision to trade him was one hell of a shocker to the public and a blow that he took extremely personally after not only dedicating all of his loyalty to the team, but even continuing to do so after the loss of his sister. So, no matter how worn out I am, I certainly want to be alert to ask him a few of my own burning questions.

Yet again, I did my best to remain quiet as I maneuvered through the second floor of the house and descended down the staircase to the first. No one else was awake with the exception of us and the dogs, who were all highly alert and within close proximity to me.

“I thought you’d come down sooner.” He was in the silver reflective goose coat that he greeted me in last night and I’m even more in love with it now. If I can’t find it to buy on my own, I’m going to plead with him for his because he’s probably never going to wear it again. I have some Maison Martin Margiela boots that would be perfect with it.

“I’m dragging. What’s that?”

“Your breakfast.” In one hand is what appears to be some kind of a green thick smoothie and in the other is a bag with God knows what in it. He hates coffee and the way it makes him feel, so the smoothie makes sense.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Uhm. You coming back here when you get off?” With every inch we moved closer to the door, his four-legged protectors were right along with us.

“After I drop by my mom’s.”

“Okay.”

The awaiting SUV completely caught me off guard because I hadn’t requested a driver. Should I have? Absolutely, because I don’t feel like driving, but did I? Nope. I didn’t do a lot of things that I should have done this week. This is why I need to spend my weekend in the bed.

“You called?”

“You’re tired.”

His simple explanation made more sense than anything that I can think of.

“While you’re at work, think about coming to Louisiana with me.” He held my things while I slid into the backseat. Louisiana?

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“What’s in Louisiana?”

“Home.” I already knew the answer and yet I asked.

“I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask. Gimmie them lips.” There was no hesitation. If anything, it was lingering and nearly enough to make me truant on ESPN.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Thank you. See you later.” I snuck another taste of his lips for a good day and closed the door on my own.

I prepared to nearly gag at the green concoction he blended together for me, but ended up pleasantly surprised at its appeasing taste. Though it was kale, the medley of pineapple, mango, and banana served as a balance. Inside of the bag? Chobani yogurt, crackers, and Sargento string cheese. He remembered my odd choices for a favorite snack. I never remember to put together any of that stuff the night before or right before I’m leaving out for work. I don’t even need to stop for a crappy sandwich at Dunkin Donuts now. I owe him, because this is perfect.

“Any requests for the radio ma’am or should I turn the Bluetooth on?”

“Bluetooth, please.”

I let my Stevie Wonder playlist on Apple Music do its thing. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” instantly began my usual solo backseat party. Usually it happens on a Friday as I’m on my way home from work, but on this particular Friday, I’ll be partying both ways.

Louisiana sounds like a nice trip.

[montgomerymelgaard5-blog]

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thoughts about the hs epilogues

this discussion post will contain spoilers for both the Candy and Meat routes of the homestuck epilogues, so read at your own risk (also there’s discussion of heavy topics like suicide and genocide, so please take notice of this Content Warning)

My takeaway from the epilogues

In Homestuck, there are many doomed timelines that are seen or referenced, which are all different in some way from the main timeline, but are still essential for the plot. Some character from them or an event that occurs is necessary to further the plot in the main timeline, and as a result the doomed timeline remains significant to the plot, even if it's never revisited.

That's what I think is the case with the epilogues. Terrible things happen in both timelines, yes, many of which I'd certainly hope would not occur in the real, canon timeline. But the mere fact that there are two parallel timelines in this story, each with references to the other, means that neither is the real timeline. However, I believe the events described in the epilogues are real within the structure of Homestuck, even though they are framed as outside of canon, because they set up certain things that are necessary for the plot of whatever is coming next. (Davebot in candy, and Rosebot in meat, as a major example).

The duality between the meat and candy decision is a deception. Those are not the only options possible for John, because he doesn't have to choose between following Rose's instructions, or not doing anything at all. He can, as @wakraya pointed out, go find Terezi and bring her back, which would probably solve a lot of things. He can muster up the energy to resume interacting with his friends again, without having things go down the way they do in the Candy route. For one, he doesn't have to bring back Gamzee. If Calliope asks him, he should refuse to consider the idea. That alone would solve a lot of the issues with Candy.

This would create a hypothetical pumpkin route, or "veggie route", as I like to think of it, which would be sort of a hybrid route combining elements of the two epilogue routes, but with all the worst stuff fixed. That's what I hope happens.

My thoughts specifically regarding Dirk's fate in the Candy route

As we learn later on in the Candy route, and experience firsthand in the Meat route, we have to be aware when reading the epilogues that the narrator's voice shouldn't always be trusted.  Dirk's death in the Candy route is described as a Just death, but is it really? Since he is a godtier, and from the context of the rest of the route, where he remains dead, we know that his death must have been either Heroic or Just, since those are the only conditions under which a godtier can actually die. But again, we are only presented two choices, as if they were the only ones! How can we know for sure whether these are the only two options? Heroic is equally as repulsive an explanation to settle on as Just, because both options imply that the right decision for Dirk to make was to kill himself. But as we saw in the Meat timeline, he has accumulated power over the narrative for years, internalizing and growing his powers as Rose tried to ignore her own powers, which led to her condition we saw her dealing with in the prologue. Dirk, if it is to be believed grew control over the narrative in the Meat timeline, also had that same control in the Candy timeline. Why, then, would he commit suicide? Perhaps he saw that if he remained in the narrative, he would become an antagonistic force. Perhaps he feared that he would renounce his humanity, and with it any shred of being a good person. Perhaps he feared becoming the monster that poor Dave had to grow up with, who caused much trauma that Dave is still dealing with, something Dirk is well aware of.

These reasonings still do not justify suicide. Nothing does. Dirk's death in the Candy timeline should, by all accounts, not have been either Heroic or Just. But perhaps what may have occurred is that his suicide caused the clock to malfunction. His death could be seen as Heroic in one way, because he was preventing the birth of a malevolent god, whose unbridled power and selfish intentions can be seen in the Meat timeline. In another way, it could also be seen as Just, because Dirk himself would have been that malevolent god. If the clock determined that his death could be construed as both, or neither, it may have failed to make any decision at all, and left him dead without any real justification.

Both options, Heroic and Just, presume that the only possible future for Dirk in the Candy timeline is that he becomes evil like he does in Meat. But if he knew that he would become evil, and killed himself to prevent it, would that mean that he could have remained alive and attempted to keep himself from becoming evil? Well, yes, but that would result in a different timeline.

I'm going to try to wrap things up on the topic of Dirk's suicide. First and foremost, there should've been some kind of warning about this specifically, because it's a lot more traumatic than anything else in the epilogues, especially for people (such as myself) who struggle with depression, and certainly for those who struggle with self-harm or have even attempted suicide. Just something as simple as a small warning at the top of the page would've sufficed, such as "this page contains a graphic depiction of self-harm, continue at your own risk."

But as for the event itself, within the narrative, it is necessary for the rest of the events of the Candy route to occur - and I personally believe that the events of both epilogue routes need to occur in their own timelines, so that certain characters from each can come into the true timeline.

I don't like it. I don't like thinking that Dirk's death is something that needs to happen, even in a single doomed timeline. Dirk isn't my favorite character by any means, but I would never wish death or injury upon him or any of the eight Homestuck kids. I like Dirk, and I think that in the true canon timeline, he - as well as the rest of the eight - would always be always capable of redemption, of seeing his own faults and being a good person. But, I suppose, it is reasonable to theorize that there are timelines where even the Homestuck kids do unspeakable things and become irredeemable, a glimpse of which we've been subjected to with these epilogues. Is Jane still redeemable in the Candy timeline? I really doubt it. Jane had been my favorite character in the comic, but I can never see her in the same light again. I know that the epilogues are merely a couple of doomed timelines, but seeing that version of Jane, that possibility that she becomes xenophobic and turns against her friends in two timelines, and even becomes a genocidal maniac in one, has ruined her character for me. The epilogues' treatment of Jane is a whole other can of beans that I might get into someday, but for now I'm just focusing on Dirk.

Suicide is not a subject that should've been approached like this. I don't agree with the writers' decision to include something as dark as this in the story, canon or not, and on top of that, putting it so early on in the Candy timeline, before most of the bad things happen. But then, Dirk's death is the catalyst for much of the horrible things that occur in the Candy timeline. So as much as I hate to admit it, within the context of the Candy timeline, Dirk's death had to happen the way it did.

Further thoughts about the epilogues in general

I don't really know what to think about the epilogues. Whether to like them, or to hate them. Some who embrace them claim that "everything in them is necessary and canon." I wouldn't go so far as to say that, but I wouldn't disregard them either.

They're written by Hussie, with the help of a couple other writers. They have a lot of really great dialog exchanges, many of which capture the same feeling as the dialog of the original comic did. Both timelines are continuations of the main timeline from Homestuck. But the very nature of there being two equivalent, opposing timelines means that neither of the two timelines is the Real, Empirically True, Actual Homestuck Canon. As Rose said in the prologue, all of the events on Earth C take place outside of canon, which mean that neither the Meat nor the Candy timeline is as real and true as the events depicted in the original comic.

But they do both build up to something, implying that there will be a continuation of the story, where certain things from both (such as Davebot and Rosebot) enter into the real timeline. In this hypothetical "real timeline," John doesn't go off to fight Lord English the same way he does in Meat, but he also doesn't do what he does in Candy. There has to be a third option, a third timeline where things don't all go to shit, Lord English is defeated, and none of the characters we know and love from the main timeline have to die.

[yesjustcallmewes]

Police Pursuits

Like many of you, I watched transfixed last week as body-cam video of Las Vegas police officer William Umana shooting at a fleeing car THROUGH HIS PATROL CAR WINDSHIELD played out. I tried to imagine what would have happened to me if I or one of my officers had even tried such a stunt, no matter how tempted I might have been to do the same at times over the years chasing people through the streets of Baltimore.

Of course, this was no stunt. Officer Umana’s shots were directed at suspects Fidel Miranda and Rene Nunez as he pursued their stolen vehicle through downtown Las Vegas. According to the commentary accompanying the video, Umana was aware that Miranda and Nunez were suspected of shooting Thomas Romero several times at a Las Vegas carwash, killing him. They were also shooting at the officer as they fled.

Many people will automatically condemn the officer’s actions, of course, and even good people can and will have honest disagreements about this pursuit and shooting. However, here you have armed homicide suspects shooting at cops. If the police don’t mount a vehicle pursuit under these circumstances, then under what circumstances WOULD they pursue for?

As I watched, I more or less automatically reviewed what I knew about the incident to assess, in my own mind at least, the appropriateness of such an extreme response. Here’s how that went; first, I knew that the officer was pursuing armed homicide suspects. CHECK. Second, the suspects showed a total disregard for the extreme risk to the public resulting from their gunshots and reckless driving. CHECK. Third, the armed homicide suspects were still shooting, this time at pursuing officers. CHECKMATE!

My visceral reaction as a cop who didn’t care much for murderers of any sort, especially those trying to murder me, was to excuse the officer’s actions as entirely justified. Balancing known elements of this chase, I focused on the risks to the public (and to the officer) versus the rewards to the public of capturing these bad guys as opposed to just letting them go to live another day.

I took into consideration factors such as is it worth the very real risk of a stray round – the officer’s or the suspect’s, who were continuing to fire at him as they fled – hitting granny waiting in line to get into a casino, or a bullet striking little Sally while her mother walked her in her stroller? And what about the kids inside the elementary school the suspects eventually crashed into? Finally, what about any “innocent” passengers that may be in the car? These are all legitimate public safety concerns, evoking a question for society: Are the rewards in this incident - or others like it - worth the risks?

Is it more beneficial for society to let criminals get away because an innocent person MIGHT get hurt or killed when officers try to apprehend them? Many times, yes - perhaps most times. Obviously, it depends on the nature and severity of the violent crime involved. But what if letting the bad guys go means they are LIKELY to hurt or kill an innocent person while committing a future crime? Might or likely – that’s the conundrum – and only the first of many.

Do we ask, which hypothetical victim is more valuable? Do we prevent a possible victim now in exchange for likely future victims? Shouldn’t we consider what police actions are more likely to prevent future criminals from running from the cops in the first place? Shouldn’t this issue be a part of the discussion? Shouldn’t those in the criminal justice arena – police, courts, prosecutors, law-makers – take actions now to reduce the chances future criminals will run from the cops, setting up more scenarios just like this one?

If you were a bad guy, which would prevent you from attempting to elude the police? If you knew the cops WON'T chase you, or if you know for sure they WOULD chase you, catch you, and hold you accountable for every felony and misdemeanor crime, traffic violation, and other infraction you commit during your attempted escape, that you’ll receive a mandatory extra five-year enhancement on your sentence when they do catch you - assuming such a law existed in the local jurisdiction (this is where the law-makers come in)?

Things to consider when deciding whether to pursue or not are things like the possibility of the fleeing suspect being known to officers (if you know who he or she is, it’s easier to locate them later), the time of day, weather conditions, traffic congestion, road conditions, terrain, etc. Regardless of these considerations, the trend, especially in politically leftist-run cities, seems to be to just let the bad guys get away by use of a blanket prohibition of all chases.

This discussion is about balancing the risk-reward to society: capture vs. escape. What was the crime? If violent, does the escape put the public at imminent risk of harm? For example, if the bad guy just shot or killed somebody, what wouldn’t that person do to avoid capture? And keep in mind, the mere act of eluding the police is (or should be) a felony, and driving recklessly is a violent act. Is it worth the risk to the next person—man, woman, or child—who may cross the bad guy’s path?

Now, I’m of the school that it’s on the criminal if there are damages or injuries that happen while in pursuit of a dangerous felon who ran from the cops. And the punishment should be such that few would even contemplate putting the public at such risk by running from the police. But, they ain’t asking my opinion. I mean, what would a cop know about police work anyway, right?

So, there was quite a risk of innocents being hurt in the Vegas incident. But I suppose those future victims who are still uninjured or alive because those bad guys didn’t escape, so they couldn’t hurt or kill them, are good with it—even if they’ll never know it.

Many departments have adopted policies where officers are not allowed to use deadly force against a suspect where the vehicle is the only weapon (my department, Baltimore, has had a policy since before my rookie year - 1970 - that prohibited officers from firing at any moving vehicle in virtually any circumstance). In fact, some policies direct officers to move out of the way rather than fire on the guy who would have run them down if they hadn’t moved. This brings up some interesting considerations, eh? Think for a minute about this:

If a bad guy is in front of me pointing a gun at me, I can shoot him. If a bad guy is in front of me with a knife, within a certain distance, I can shoot him. The same goes for a bad guy with a rock, a club, or a bowling ball, if I can infer I’m about to sustain serious bodily harm, I can shoot him. Try to come at me with those things, and I could fire away at will.

But, according to these policies, if a bad guy is in front of me, revving the engine of his two-thousand-pound car, and he guns it and heads toward me with the clear intent to kill or seriously injure me, I cannot shoot him. Does that seem right?

Now, obviously, jumping out of the way should always be a part of the officer’s total strategy. But it certainly seems like a surefire loophole for bad guys to make it to their cars before they try to kill the cop. Kind of like home-base in a game of tag. You can’t get me! Perhaps, mayors and city councils can call it the 'sanctuary vehicle policy.'

Call me old school, but what is wrong with making the bad guys pay a higher price for their violent acts? You have bad guys running from the cops, shooting bystanders or killing or injuring them with cars, and the criminal justice system is changing its rules to make the cops more and more liable for the violent acts of criminals. Does this make sense?