#do I really want to subject myself to this?

[katerinaaqu]

What's your opinion on how Telemachus was handled in Epic (so far) ? I'm curious 😀.

And what is different from his Odyssey portrayal ? Not counting the fanart that infantilizes him, I'm strictly talking about the musical itself.

Hahahaha you guys definitely wanna put me against a wall one of these days! XD But I absolutely LOVE this question! Hahaha okay here goes;

Absolutely I wasn't gonna talk about the fanart and all that is part of the designing process and arguably that is part of every person to do. They could easily choose the depiction more Odyssey-accurate and still use the musical sound so yes you do well to mention it because yes I myself wouldn't touch the design part in this ask

Anyways long story short; I don't like it.

Storywise it is overly-simplified and shows only one portion of his possible emotions; the one that tries to connect with his father. That part is genuine and I see where the portrayal such as the song "Legendary" came from. Arguably Homer himself also touches the subject of glory through one's deeds and I see where the musical came from when Telemachus says what he says but the song was too bbbly, too naive portrayal of Telemachus and in a way completely disregarded the true depth of sadness and depression in Telemachus.

In the Odyssey Telemachus never connected to his father because his father was never there. To the point where he was even doubting whether he was his son or not. He basically says that "everyone calls me that but how can I know? The dude was never there. Possibly never will be here again". His whole energy was the total opposite than Epic.

Epic portrays Telemachus in a manner that reminds me of Disney's Little Mermaid in "Part of your world"; a bubbly teenager who dreams to start his life or to be making a legendary name for himself like his father and in childish naive energy says "bring me all these monsters to fight them!" while in his childish naive nature was also making him afraid or worried to face the bullying of the suitors (the way the suitors were portrayed as if Jorge wanted to make them EVEN MORE evil also had me cringe like Antinous calling Penelope "tramp". Antinous called Penelope more or less "divious" because of her scheme against them but that was all. In here they are competing for her hand while calling her names without reason? Yeah right....). He seemed like the average teenager that needs the adult to get him to realize video games is not the life and that he needs to do something about his future! Does he also seem low-key sad? Yes. But just like Ariel in the Disney movie was pictured as a dreamer that wanted escape from his confided situation through bubbly and childish dreams.

Odyssey Telemachus was both emotionally and psychologically exhausted; his mother was taken down by grief and endless waiting and had confided herself in her chambers, trying her best to avoid the suitors that were at her home for FOUR YEARS, constantly crying at this point. Telemachus also saw his grandfather lose his mind in sorrow and his grandmother melting away by desperation and sadness and dying or potentially killing herself by it. The last thing he wanted was "to be legendary". In fact Telemachus gave me the exact opposite energy than a dreamer. He was very down to earth and his main goal was to get out of this nasty situation, trying to grow as a person to set himself free from this torment. He had so much in his plate that the last thing he wanted was to dream. In fact he gave me the impression of a person with no more the luxury of dreaming. He almost seemed crushed to the point of breaking himself almost like every other member of his family. (He gives me the impression of a person that after spent years of trying and fulflling their dreams now they are forced to work in a work they hate for survival and think that "dreams are for fools. No luxury for them!")

Like I said Menelaus described Telemachus as a spitting image of his father including his eyes, which is something I find the most important. Menelaus compared Telemachus's gaze to Odysseus; a man that fought a war with him! A man exhausted by the evil he saw and caused. Telemachus's profound grief was so intense that his look was equivalent to a man Menelaus fought a war with! He was the opposite of what we see in Epic! In fact we know that Telemachus was also very much silent and tried to keep a low profile so he didn't need to face the humiliation of the men that were literally plundering his wealth and harassing his mother and himself. The last thing he had in his mind would be to "be legendary". He was also plundered by the fact that not only was he doubting that Odysseus was his father per se but also he was in doubt that this Odysseus that everyone named his father would be alive or dead. He didn't know that. He was actually almost certain that Odysseus was dead but that part in the back of his head was not yet leaving him in peace which is why he needed Athena's guidance

Which brings me to the next part; Athena In Epic Athena appears to...give Telemachus the boost to fist-fight the suitors for some reason and mind you he still gets his ass handed at him! It made it seem as Telemachus's only problem was that he didn't have the guts or skills to fight the suitors and Athena gave him a solution! (potentially a message to stand up against bullies for teenagers? Perhaps but still I felt it massively undermined Telemachis's situation in the book) As I have answered to another person around here, Telemachus's problem was that the suitors claimed the law of hospitality and named themselves ODYSSEUS'S guests. Telemachus could not yet take over as king and he had no power to send them away. Plus he was plundered by doubt about his own inheritence. What Athena did was not to make Telemachus a fighter for he already was (we see how well he stands against them at the side of his father in the Odyssey) she came to encourage him to find out on his own.

Arguably the trip of Telemachus was a mirror counterpart of Odysseus's but instead of a trip that makes you lost like Odysseus was lost, it was a trip for self-discovery. Mind you, both the trip of Odysseus and the trip of Telemachus are cognitive trips; both characters learn in them and come in contact with places. Psychologically the trip allows Telemachus to escape this boarderline toxic grief in his home and explore the world. Also find out on his own information about his father. Now, arguably he never really finds out about his father's whereabouts for certain apart from Menelaus's vision but there is something he definitely gets out of his trip that is not talked about enough;

He finds out he REALLY is the son of his father and he gets information about what kind of man he was!

He hears from friends that fought with him how similar he looks to him; not just from his closed and secluded environment but of people outside his circle and his known people that he looks like him and they also give him information about him. No more the random comments the suitors he hated say or his sad mother who could either idealize his father to escape her grief or the loyal slave Euryclea who adored the family naturally like a mother; now it was also friends and known people of Odysseus that speak about him Telemachus is double-checking his information! Thus coming home much more confident on his inheritence and his own destiny and duty

Arguably the Odyssey is as much Telemachus's story as it is Odysseus's. Telemachus was in one way a spectrum of Odysseus; fighting a different type of war; losing himself in a different type of sadness. His story was a story of coming of age not a story of a goddess that teaches him how to stand up against bullies. Telemachus already does that in the Odyssey by calling the council. Arguably he was alays standing against the suitors but his position did not allow him to do something drastic! I think just like many things Epic missed this by a mile; reducing Telemachus's profound grief, sadness and uncertainty to an average teenage escapism story rather than the fact that Telemachus had no luxury or energy for escapism, Athena's advice for self-discovery to the average "raise your fists and fight your bullies" story ignoring the deep cultural details that led Telemachus to that tight spot in the first place and of course it completely abandoned the importance of Telemachus's trip which could be a subject of a movie on its own! (Quite frankly Telemacheia covers more chapters in the Odyssey than Odysseus's own flashback! It covers 5 rhapsodies of the Odyssey while Odysseus's story covers 3-4)

I hope this answers some questions! I will be happy to elaborate more.

[ihearthes]

Abbey Road Studios:

A Harry Styles Meet Cute

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Original Unnamed Female Character

Rating: Fluffy Meet Cute

Word Count: 3439

“You’re shitting me?” I gaped at my manager. “THE Abbey Road Studios? How did you…? When am I…? What the actual fuck?” 

Her grin across the desk was wider than a grand piano. “When I talked to the publishers about the audiobook, I assured them that being in the quintessential studio where the Beatles recorded The End would lead to a more inspired audiobook recording of your book The End.” 

Leaping out of my chair, I rushed around her desk and hugged her tighter than a guitar string nearing its breaking point. Her laughter was rich, the hearty kind that could be served with both a spoon and a fork. Maybe even a knife thrown in for good measure. 

“I’ll make you proud,” I vowed before releasing her and returning to the other side of the sparse wooden desk with its ornate carvings on each of the four legs.

“You already have,” she grinned. “After all, you have the most popular music podcast in the world.” Her statement was a major overstatement. Although my 2 year old podcast Time Machine Tunes was growing, it was barely in the top 100 music podcasts. Maggie was convinced the book would drive more listeners my way. “This book is going to be the icing on the cake of your popularity. You’re going places, kid.” 

While I could have managed without the ‘kid’ tacked onto every sentence the 72-year-old American dynamo spoke about me, I was keenly aware that I still had a long way to go in establishing my career as a historical music writer. Without Maggie fighting on my behalf, I would still be shopping my manuscript to publishers. Meticulously researched despite the subjects not honouring me with an interview, my book was garnering buzz from the musical world before the final manuscript was even sent to the publisher. 

“If you’ve heard the author’s podcast, you’ll understand her fascination with the greatest band of all time. You’ve heard the stories of how they ended, but this book delves more deeply into the stories surrounding their breakup,” read the promotional blurb written by Cameron Crowe. 

Maggie never would tell me how she managed to convince the great Cameron Crowe to write a blurb for my book, but I suspect it had something to do with the past she never mentions, likely involving a stint as a groupie in the late sixties. 

Days later, the popular zebra crossing was laid out before me with a steady stream of fans lined up to record their personal rendition of the most famous band photograph ever taken. I took a deep breath. In one tote bag, I carried my favourite teas, biscuits, and a bag of fresh fruit. The other tote bag held a copy of my bound manuscript with notes written in the margins of how I want to sound when I read certain parts of the text aloud. Places to pause were marked in pink highlighter. Sentences to be spoken with more emphasis were underlined. The usual. 

This is how I prepare for my podcast, so I shouldn't have felt as strange as I did. At the bottom steps of the studio, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and whispering to myself, “Just act normal.” 

My fingers pressed on the wooden door, and it surprisingly opened at my touch. Inside was a reception desk with a stony-faced twenty-something female sitting behind it, tapping lightly on the keyboard keys, and a security guard wearing a uniform that must have weighed double the young man wearing it. 

“No tours. The shop is next door, Miss,” the receptionist politely used her pen to point the way. 

Gulping air, I nodded, then spoke in a rush. “I’m here to record. I mean, I have an appointment. I mean I’ve – my manager, really – has reserved a studio for me.” 

So much for acting normal. 

“Which studio?” 

“The Front Room?” I ventured. 

She tapped her pen on the book in front of her before shrewdly surveying me from head to toe. “Oh yes. Hand over your ID please so we can verify your identity.” 

I fumbled my way through my pocketbook, seeking the one item that always seemed to fall to the bottom, no matter how large or small my bag might be. Just as I felt the leather of the small wallet touch my fingers, it slipped away again until I finally had to set the bag on her desk to more effectively dig through it. In triumph, I finally withdrew the offending item, raising it above my head. 

The security guard simply stared at me until I freed my licence from its card slot, handing it over with a flourish. With a brusque nod, he took it from me with two fingers, exiting the room to another office. 

“Should I – follow him?” I inquired, my voice a combination of shaky and firm. 

“No.” Her reply was curt. 

Minutes later, he emerged, handing me back my licence before directing me to another door. “That’s the Front Room. The team is waiting for you.” 

My insides quivered like a bowl of elderflower jelly as I took the steps necessary to walk to the identified door. 

“Ta!” I waved to the front office team before opening the studio door and stepping inside. Closing the door behind me, I slumped against it, eyes closed, and whispered, “You daft git.” Because of course I would see them again. Soon probably. And every day for the week while I would be recording. 

“Excuse me?” The voice caused me to stand up straight. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean you.” My eyes took in the slight man standing before me in blue jeans and a cosy oversized jumper. His curls were ringlets that reached his shoulders, and his beard was neat and trim. 

“Who did you mean?” 

Wincing, I frowned, my face cycling through about five different expressions before settling on a smile that, I hoped, lit up my whole face. “Me. I meant me. I’m —” Freezing, I held out my hand to this man, briefly forgetting my name. 

“I know who you are. I’m Sean, your engineer.” 

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me.” 

Sheepishly, he shuffled his feet. “Don’t thank me too profusely. This is my first time doing this on my own.” 

“Congratulations!” My voice squeaked out a little too loudly. “This is my first time recording in a real studio. My podcast is normally recorded in a tiny room at home that I’ve converted into a studio.” 

“I’ve heard your podcast,” Sean reveals. “My partner and I never miss an episode.” 

Grasping my hands together, I hold them over my heart. “Really? Thank you so much. It’s my baby.” 

“One of these days you’re going to need a producer, you know. You can’t keep doing it all on your own. Not if you want to get bigger. And you’ll need a recordist. And an engineer too.” 

“Oh.” My voice was tiny. His words felt like a scolding and a dismissal of my teensy podcast and my dream to grow it into something larger. 

“No, no. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He was quick to correct my assumptions. “You’ll continue to expand your audience, and more people will want to be part of your team. It’s the natural evolution of recording. Unless you’re not any good – which I’ve already said you are.” 

Choosing to take him at his encouraging word, I set my totes on the sofa in the control room. “Sean, I’m confident we’re going to get along just fine this week.” 

“I’m sorry that you’ve just got me. It’s usually a bigger team here for the Front Room, but…” His voice trailed off, and I focused on his face. 

“But?” 

“It’s nothing.” He mindlessly picked some lint off of the immaculate sound board. “Some of the rest of the team thought it was sacrilegious for you to come into Abbey Road Studios to share your book about how THEY ended.” 

The emphasis on the pronoun made it clear who he meant. “Ah, I see. They refused to work with me even though they had no idea what the book actually says or how much research I did?”

His shoulders raised and lowered, and his eyes roamed the floor. “Like I said, I’m sorry.” 

The reluctance of the rest of the team set like a stone in my stomach, but I shook off the negativity. Oh well. Fuck them. 

“Their loss,” I grinned. 

He smiled back at me. “Agreed. Let’s do this.” Sean gestured around the space, pointing out everything I needed to know, and I unpacked my totes in preparation for the day. “Nice selection of teas,” he commented. 

“My throat gets dry sometimes.” 

As if he needed my explanation. He had worked with loads of people who probably needed tea to lubricate their throats, so it couldn’t be unusual. Why I felt like I needed to justify every bit of my practice was beyond me. I was a professional after all. 

A professional who had no idea what she was doing in a fancy studio like this. 

Apparently I was feeling a twinge of imposter syndrome. 

“Shall I heat some water now?” Sean asked as I unpacked the manuscript with all of its sticky notes resembling the jagged cliffs of Dover. It was really sweet of him to offer, so I agreed. The control room wasn’t very big; other than the sofa, it housed a couple of plants and, of course, the prominent sound board. Sean flicked the switch on the electric kettle to the left of his console and turned back to where I was standing, my manuscript tucked to my chest as though it contained a pirate’s treasure. 

“Let’s get you into the booth,” he said, leading me through the only other door in the small studio. “We mostly do music here, as I’m sure you know. But I think I’ve got things set up well for an audiobook. I brought in this small desk and a chair. If you don’t like the chair, I can find another one. Oh, and I found this.” He directed my attention to a book stand. Sheepishly, he smiled. “I was worried a music stand would be too flimsy.” 

His simple preparations were touching, and my gratitude was boundless. 

My arse settled into the chair, and I sighed at how luxurious it felt on my bum. “Perfect!” I proclaimed, placing the first chapter of the manuscript on the book holder. 

“Great! Let’s try some different microphones and test your voice.” 

An hour plus a few minutes later, we had finalised the microphone choice as well as the calibration of the sound board controls with my voice. My cup of tea was to my right and my coloured pencils were to my left so I could easily grab them to indicate changes to my delivery. 

To record, Sean closed the door between the control room and the booth, but I could see him through the full sized soundproof glass inset on the door between us. During the first couple of hours, he would encouragingly nod to me at times. Or he would grimace, and I would know I had to read a section differently. Or louder. Or softer. Or with more expression. 

“Uh, this first chapter will probably take a long time to record,” Sean shuffled his feet as we finished our morning tea. “Don’t panic. Once we get into a groove, the rest of the book will go much faster. It’s just that we have to, you know…” 

“I understand,” I commented, nodding graciously. “It’s fine. As long as we get finished with the book by the end of the week…” 

“Oh, that won’t be hard.” He flapped his hand at me. “We might even have time on the last day to record a few of your upcoming podcasts.” 

“Really?” I was intrigued at the thought.

“But only if we don’t get too distracted.” 

Ha! What could possibly distract me from my work? 

I found out the answer to that question that very afternoon. 

Sean and I were finally recording chapter two, our bellies full of the lunch he’d convinced a studio runner to take away from a nearby Indian restaurant. The remnants, half-full boxes of rice and curry with naan bread, covered the top of the coffee table by the sofa. 

We had switched out the comfy chair for a wooden stool so that I could sit upright, practise my best posture and, most importantly, not fall asleep after the heavy meal. Sean played the roles of engineer, recordist, and director with joy and a skill that I came to both appreciate and disparage as the early afternoon flew by. 

 When I looked up from the script in front of me as we were in the middle of chapter three, I was surprised to find Sean turned towards the main studio door, his lips moving as though he were talking to someone. 

“Hey!” My voice expressed my gentle offence in his headphones. “I thought we were a team, but you’re not even listening!” 

He shook his head, removing his headphones and punching the button for his microphone. 

“Take five. There are a couple of fans of yours out here who want to meet you. I think you might recognize one of them.” 

Ugh. Fine. 

Standing from the stool, I stretched my arms over my head, my vintage Beatles t-shirt rising and revealing my belly button. Through the large window between the booth and control room, I watched as Sean stood, his head bobbing up and down and a grin on his face. 

When I could stall no more, I opened the door, leaning against the door jamb as I examined the two men standing by the studio door.

“Hi,” said one. 

My jaw dropped as the other man’s face came into focus. Holy shit. How was he here? Had Sean joked about him being a fan? He must have been because there was no way… 

“Jeff Azoff,” I breathed, attempting to speak coherently. “You’re Jeff Fucking Azoff.”

“Yes” was his smooth answer. “And I’m sure you know who this is…” He gestured to the man with him, and I shifted my gaze briefly to him. While extremely handsome, his face didn’t ring any bells, but I decided I’d better be polite and go along with the implication that I should know him by sight. 

“Nice to meet you,” I muttered, quickly turning back to THE Jeff Azoff. “How did you…? I mean, holy shit. The number of times your father’s name has appeared in my research is staggering. Did you grow up surrounded by all of those musicians? REO Speedwagon? Dan Fogelberg? The fucking Eagles?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. 

Man of few words. 

“What was it like? Oh wow. What I would give to pick your brain. Did I hear Sean correctly? You’re a fan? You listen to my pod?” 

Once more, he bobbed his head in answer to my multiple questions. And then he tried to hoist me off on his friend again. 

“Harry has worked with some other great artists,” Jeff began, nodding towards his companion. 

Dismissively, I waved my hand in the direction of the handsome man who simply grinned, an extraordinary dimple appearing. 

“YOU know my podcast?” I demanded of Mr. Azoff.

“Yes.” 

Holy shit. Confident I would need to pry any future responses out of him, I placed my hands on my hips. 

“You’ve heard my series about the Eagles then?” 

“Indeed.” 

“And? What did you think? Are you going to tell me everything I got wrong?” 

“No, but I really think you might want to talk to Harry about…” 

I interrupted. Whoever this Harry was, I was much more curious about this man’s take on my podcast. “Has your father heard my podcast?” My voice may have squeaked a little when I asked the question. 

A nod was the only reply I got before he turned back to the bloke with him. 

“Is this weird for you?” 

“No.” The handsome man appeared to be amused as his lips twitched to the side, and his eye crinkles magically appeared. “Unique, but not weird.” 

Narrowing my focus on the handsome one, I squinted. “You’re a musician recording here?” 

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he grinned. “I’m Harry.” When my face still showed no signs of recognition, he added in a smooth voice with a northern accent, “You might have heard of me. My music has won a few awards. Harry Styles.” 

The blood drained from my face. I had been freaking out over Jeff Azoff when the muse to Stevie Nicks was standing in front of me? It was Harry who grasped my elbow when I started to fall over from a lack of oxygen, gently guiding me to the sofa. 

“Maybe some water?” he asked Sean who rushed into the booth to grab my water bottle, handing it to Harry quickly. 

“Sip it slowly,” the Grammy winner said, and I ignored his instructions, nearly choking as I sucked water into my lungs. “Hey, hey. Easy there.” Glancing at Azoff, Harry laughed, “This feels more normal.” 

“You –” I choked, coughing between words. “You – know – Stevie – Fucking – Nicks.” 

Curiosity furrowed his brow. “That’s why you nearly passed out? Because I know Stevie?” 

“You not only know her.” My voice was filled with incredulity and awe. “You’re her muse. You’ve performed with her – and with Fleetwood Mac. And you were the one who inducted her. Holy fuck. You must have done something right in life.” Stopping, I swallowed. “Holy fuck. I must have done something right in my life.” 

He had settled on the sofa next to me, his face a mass of confusion. His head was tilted, and his lips were pursed as he scratched at his head. 

But I didn’t have time to wait for him to catch up. “You can introduce me! Fleetwood Mac is my next podcast series, and if this book does well, I might write a full book about them. I’ve been engaged in a deep dive of reading about their time as a band. I’ve read everything I can find – official or not. In fact, there is a stack of books on my nightstand about Stevie and Mick and the rest. You have to introduce me. It would mean the world to me.” 

My pleading must have broken through his confusion, and he cleared his throat. “You want me to vouch for you to Stevie? I don't really know anything about you.” 

“But you listen to my podcast, right?” My head swivelled between Harry and Jeff. “Oh! You could read my book. See what my style is. I swear I would do right by Stevie. I’m so disappointed that I didn’t get to meet Christine before she… Anyway, I’ll do anything for an introduction. What do you need from me?” 

“Anything?” Harry humoured me. 

“Yes.” Swallowing, I nodded eagerly. 

“You’re saying I could read your book? The one that’s not yet published? The one you’re recording now?” 

My head bobbed like a cormorant. 

“The one that’s about The End? That book?” 

I hadn’t stopped my silly affirming as my head continued to move in the same up and down pattern. 

“And maybe Jeff could read it too? And my friend Paul?” 

My head froze, mid-bob. “Paul? Sir Paul? Sir Paul Fucking McCartney?” 

Harry laughed, a delightful tinkling sound, his head rearing back with his joy. “Does everyone in your world have the same middle name?” 

“Huh?” 

“Fucking. Jeff Fucking Azoff. Harry Fucking Styles. Stevie Fucking Nicks. Sir Paul Fucking McCartney.” 

Slapping my hand over my eyes and forehead, I groaned. “Please don’t tease me or joke with me. I’ve been trying to get Sir Paul to talk to me and read the manuscript since I started writing it. Not a single response to my queries.” 

“Hmmm…” Harry murmured, tilting his head to one side. “So if you would do anything to meet Stevie, what would you be willing to do to meet Paul?” 

“Name your price.” I was hoping he wouldn’t ask for much. All I had was the flat I shared with a friend from uni and a wardrobe of vintage clothing I’d carefully culled from a variety of charity shops.

“I get to be there when you meet them.” My head whipped up so that our eyes connected. “Plus five dinner dates with me.” 

My eyes narrowed, “In addition to any meals we share with Stevie or Paul?” 

Nervously, he licked his lips and glanced at Azoff who shrugged, seemingly disinterested. 

“Yes.” 

Author's Note: This really is just an introduction to these characters as part of a series on Meet Cutes. Who hasn't dreamed of meeting Harry Styles somewhere? Live vicariously through these women who randomly run into Harry Styles as part of their normal lives. How might one chance meeting change their lives forever?

[yandere-paramour]

What are the yanderes' ideal date nights? Who enjoys classic candlelight dinners/movie nights and who enjoys going to an escape room, aquarium/zoo, arcade, etc.?

On that subject, being with Ata would lead to disastrous gift shop visits; I wouldn't be able to stop myself from getting every plushie and cool rock and she'd just enable me.

I have been researching for this all DAY!! Let's GO!!

Vivien loves planning dates for you and him. Don't get him wrong, he loves a night where you both just curl up with some basil popcorn and watch some anime, but he also loves planning eclectic dates for the two of you. He wants to give you the kind of experience neither of you have ever had before, the kind that you'll be talking about months, even years later.

To find these crazy date ideas, Vivien always browses the city's event pages. There are always tons of fun and interesting things that either he is interested in and wants to share with you, or that he thinks you will be interested in. There is a lecture at the Botanical Gardens called "Around the World in 20 Plants" where you can learn about obscure ethnobotany. The Amphibian Society has a "Critters and Cabernet" event where you get to play with the salamanders and frogs. The science museum has an adult "After Dark" night and the observatory has an Open House night! He takes you to the art museum for a cartography workshop, to the IMAX theatre for a documentary about the Arctic, and to an underground speakeasy for Edgar Allen Poe night.

If you're not into doing something very in-depth but you still want to go out, Vivien suggests a drive-in movie. His car is

You always end up seeing the stars or holding some kind of critter or doing some kind of fun activity, and it's all the more special because Vivien is with you.

Popular Vivien Dates: Science Museum, Salamander Society Open House Night, Cabernet and Critters, Botanical Garden Lecture, Drive-In Movies, Speakeasys, Art Museums.

Variety is the spice of life for Noelle. She is well aware that even though you get overwhelmed easily, you still need excitement and stimulation and she is happy to spoil you. Therefore, you and Noelle have a few dates a week. It is usually one low-key date and one bigger one. The low-key one is always very calm and chill, usually just the both of you cuddling on the couch, a bowl of some sort of snack in your hands as Noelle feeds you, calmly watching a movie. Noelle likes these because she gets to put her laptop down and really just enjoy touching you and enjoying your company. She gets very relaxed and calm during this time, she's very happy. Another kind of low-key date is a spa night. Noelle loves taking care of you and this is perfect for both of you; she gets to care for you and you get to lay back and enjoy being pampered. You both bathe together, do face masks, paint nails, and Noelle always takes her time giving you a long massage and really showing you how much she loves you.

For the exciting date, Noelle always picks a theme like an activity, around the world, a particular event, something like that. Sometimes you still watch a movie but she does a kind of movie theme thing where like if you watch Ratatouille, she will make sure you eat all the food from the movie. If there is a concert you really really want to see, she will stream it right to your living room, put up decorations, and basically throw you your own private launch party. She has subscriptions to all sorts of activities like at-home escape rooms/murder mysteries, craft kits, date-night boxes, anything that you might be interested in trying. Noelle loves how excited you get for your date when a new box comes. The walls of Noelle's office are covered with all the paintings you've done together. If it's not time for a box, Noelle falls back on some childhood favorites: indoor picnics, blanket forts, and indoor camping. Noelle is particularly fond of the dates that last a couple hours; she wants the fun and your happiness to last as long as possible.

Popular Noelle Dates: Making sushi/pasta from scratch, streaming an event to your apartment, indoor camping, picking a country/movie and eating food from that place/thing, subscription box night.

Atalanta is a traditional date kind of woman. A romantic candlelit dinner, a movie, just something where you both can sit and talk and give each other your full attention. Atalanta has the resources and the audacity to fly you anywhere in the world for a weekend just because you had a mildly stressful week and needed a break, or you were craving a smoothie with fresh mangos. No matter how obscure the venture or how difficult-to-procure the reservations, Atalanta's money can grease some palms.

One major date for Atalanta is dinner. There are several interesting and expensive restaurants in the city, and Ata is well-known to all of them. Any time a new gourmet restaurant sets up in the city, they send the Montclairs an invitation, hoping they will be seen coming because that will skyrocket their business. Ata doesn't go to many, but if you are interested, she will make it happen. A normal restaurant is nice, but Ata also likes taking you to ones that are very unique. A molecular gastronomy experience with food you barely understand, meat grilled with the heat of volcanoes, or a food/architecture combination.

Ata is also a great patron of the arts. There are a few theatres in the city and the Montclairs have private boxes on reserve at all of them. If Atalanta Montclair sends word that she will be seeing a show that night, whoever intended to use that box that night better get tf out because everyone knows the Montclairs take priority. The seats in the box are more like thrones than seats; soft, comfortable, with a perfect view of the stage. The staff dote on the two of you, bringing you champagne and light snacks and constantly checking to make sure you are comfortable. Ata doesn't like to be bothered so she sends them away, and you sit on her lap, letting her feed you popcorn as you both watch Swan Lake.

If you want to go to the cinema instead of the theatre, she will gladly take you to "Fork n' Film". It is usually booked months in advance but if you want to go this weekend, she will make it happen even if she has to buy this branch of the company and make them add a private showing. If you want it to be a double date, she can even invite Noelle and her Darling to come. Spend the evening cuddled up to Atalanta on a comfortable couch, you both watching Ratatouille while eating the food from the movie at the same time Remmy cooks it. There are movie-themed cocktails too, and they have non-alcoholic options, but Ata is in such a good mood that she might even allow you to drink.

Another fun date idea is a sunset sail. The Montclairs don't own a boat (they don't want to), but they have a boat rental company on standby and do use it. Just you, her, and a sparse crew on a small yacht, the warm sun on your faces as you both are served a delectable dinner. Imagine Atalanta in some breathable linen, her arm curled gently around your waist as you both point out dolphins together. Imagine doing the Titanic "King of the World" stance with her as the ocean lightly sprays you both. Imagine her pulling you close on the bow of a boat, kissing you at the crux of sunset. If it's a particularly special occasion, she might even arrange fireworks.

Popular Atalanta Dates: Sunset Sail, Expensive or New Restaurants, The Arts (ballet, symphony, theatre), Gourmet Picnic Basket.

[rafeskai]

Violets for Roses - Rafe Cameron

One-shot inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Violet for Roses"

Ever since I fell out of love with you, I fell back in love with me

And God knows the only mistake that a man can make is tryna make a woman change and trade her violets for roses

Summary: The reader, an aspiring actress, faces a heartbreaking confrontation with Rafe Cameron, who believes her dreams of moving to Los Angeles are unrealistic and wants her to stay in Kildare to build a simpler life with him. Despite her love for him, the reader realizes that sacrificing her ambitions for his vision would mean losing herself.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x AspiringActress!Reader

Warnings: Angst & just Rafe being really toxic lol.

The fight with Rafe was brewing long before you even knew it. It was in every dismissive scoff when you mentioned auditions, in every time he’d change the subject whenever you’d dream out loud about Los Angeles. It was in every eye roll when you brought up your favorite actresses or directors, the people you’d studied obsessively since high school. And now, it’s spilling over—weeks, maybe even months of resentment unraveling in his bedroom.

“You’re really just gonna throw us away for some… fantasy?” Rafe’s voice is thick with frustration, every syllable weighted. “You’re not some actress, Y/N. You’re just… you. You’re never gonna be one of those people.”

The words sting like a slap. You’ve heard him doubt your dreams before, subtly, gently, but tonight it’s different. Tonight, he doesn’t hold back. “Why do you care so much about this? About some fake Hollywood life?”

You clench your fists, fighting to keep your voice steady. “It’s not fake, Rafe. This is real to me. It’s everything I’ve worked for, everything I want to be.”

“And that means more to you than us?” His question hangs heavy in the air, a trap you can see coming from miles away but can’t avoid. His blue eyes, usually so warm, are cold now, scrutinizing you.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. “I don’t want a simple life,” you finally admit, and it feels like exhaling after holding your breath too long. “I don’t want to stay in Kildare and pretend that’s enough for me when it’s not.”

“Why?” he says, his voice low, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“Because I can’t trade my dreams for yours.” The words spill out, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I love you, Rafe, but I also love myself. And that means going after this. I’m not going to stay just to keep you happy.”

Rafe’s face softens for a moment, vulnerability breaking through the anger, but it fades quickly, replaced by a steely resolve. “If you leave, don’t expect me to be waiting for you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you know this is it. If you stay, it’ll be for him, not for you. If you go, it’s a leap into the unknown, one where Rafe might not be in the picture. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving behind the life he tried to shape for you, the one that never quite fit.

━

Two months later, you’re in Los Angeles, breathing in the open-air scent of Larchmont Village. The warm breeze sweeps across your skin, carrying with it the smell of flowers and freshly brewed coffee. The sun beats down, casting everything in a golden glow, and for the first time, you feel truly free.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the girls around you are dressed in sundresses, laughing without a care, exposing bare faces and wide smiles. You smile too, feeling that same joy seep into your bones, like the city itself is welcoming you home. This life, this city—it’s vibrant, messy, electric. It’s everything Kildare wasn’t, everything you were missing.

The Paramount sign sparkles in the distance, a beacon you once only saw in magazines and movie credits, and now, it feels like it’s lighting up just for you. Your heart swells as you look at it, thinking of all the dreams you had, the ones Rafe wanted you to set aside. This city, it doesn’t just allow you to dream; it demands it.

“Ever since I fell out of love with you, I fell back in love with me,” you whisper to yourself, feeling the words settle into your heart. Each syllable is a quiet reminder that loving yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. When you loved Rafe, you’d sacrificed so much of yourself, convincing yourself that his simple dreams were enough. But here, in the warmth of Los Angeles, you’re reclaiming everything you let slip away.

━

You’d never noticed it before, but Rafe’s love had come with conditions. He loved you, yes, but only the parts of you that fit into his life. He was drawn to your fire, but he wanted to tame it, to keep it small and safe so it wouldn’t consume him.

He made you trade your violets for roses, wanted you to choose tradition over the ambition that set your heart ablaze. When you’d talk about acting, he’d say, “That’s great, babe, but don’t you want something real?” As if your dreams weren’t valid, as if they were just fantasies, things to let go of for a white-picket fence, a life that fit his mold. The truck you dreamed of owning, the freedom you craved—he wanted to exchange it for horses and stables, for the steady routine of a life rooted in one place.

And for a while, you let him.

But now, each step you take in L.A. feels like reclaiming a part of yourself. Every coffee shop, every bookstore you stumble into, feels like a universe waiting for you to write your own story. Your days are filled with auditions, with scripts spread across your apartment floor, with nights spent memorizing lines and dreaming of roles you could bring to life.

It’s hard, and you’re not always sure you’ll make it, but it’s your life, and for the first time, it feels entirely yours.

One evening, as you walk down a quiet street, the air still and warm, you think of Rafe. You wonder if he’s missing you, if he’s trying to imagine you in this new world, a world that’s as foreign to him as the one he tried to push you into was to you.

You don’t miss him, though. You miss the girl you were before you let him dim your spark, the girl who once believed she could conquer Hollywood, whose dreams were as boundless as the California sky. And as you walk, the shadows stretch and the quiet settles, you realize that girl is back.

━

One morning, you stand outside a casting agency, the sun warming your face. You close your eyes, inhaling the scent of lilies mixed with the hint of exhaust and coffee from the nearby café. You feel the city’s pulse, its rhythm, and it beats in time with yours.

Rafe had never understood why you’d wanted this life, but that doesn’t matter anymore. The city, with its flashing lights and dusty sidewalks, with its blend of elegance and grit, it understands you. It’s a love that’s pure, that asks for nothing but your own ambition, and it’s a love that feels like freedom.

And so you walk into the building, your heart pounding with nerves and excitement, knowing this is only the beginning.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[zootopiathingz]

Hey! I've been following you for a while and I've noticed you've been posting a lot of Hasbin Hotel content, especially Charlie x Alestor stuff.

Honestly, I haven't really watched the show. (I do listen to the soundtrack. That sh!t is 🔥) That being said, I don't get the whole drama about the ship. Literally any fandom has shippers. And while their are some ships I don't like, sometimes it's better to keep those opinions to yourself. There's no need to cry online about a pairing of two fictional characters.

As long as both characters are consenting adults and are not related, it shouldn't matter. These characters aren't real people.

Tldr, I haven't watched Hasbin Hotel (and I don't think I will) but I say, don't listen to the haters. ❤️

“These characters aren’t real people”

I want you all to read that again

These👏🏻characters👏🏻aren’t👏🏻real👏🏻people👏🏻

I do not care what your reasoning for hating Charlastor is, in the end it does not fucking matter. Somebody who doesn’t even watch the show knows it’s ridiculous to argue and harass people over a fictional ship. If that’s not a sign you need to calm the hell down, I don’t know what is.

Thank you anon. I’ve been dealing with haters for months now and I’ve gotten used to shutting them down (cuz in the end they have no ground to stand on, cuz there’s actually nothing inherently wrong with Charlastor they just want a reason to be mad). It gets tiring and it’s a big factor in me separating myself from the rest of the fandom. But I appreciate your input on the subject! I often wonder what my non-Hazbin followers think when I have to relentlessly defend my OTP to braindead strangers online lmao I bet it’s either really entertaining or really tedious (it sure feels like the latter)

Anyway, viva la Charlastor everybody!!🤪🥳

[fishbloc]

*Dr. Eggman voice* I miss you, Fishbloc, I miss you a lot. I'll be back (but seriously, I do miss you and your art!! I hope you're doing well and take care! <3)

wait this is so sweet 🥺

for my absence, i've been offline as usual (no surprise there). i tried to watch a bit of wild life but i keep forgetting oops. mcyt is a bit on the backburner lately. i have been more inclined recently to engage in the characters within my own verses and worlds, and also with friends.

but truthfully most of my time lately has been spent trying to live life in a less miserable way 👍 trying to reconnect with my old friends, trying to spend more time with current online friends. its probably not as holy as it sounds, and a lot of days are still spent quite aimlessly.

i dont draw as much as i like, but i don't hate myself for it! and the few art i do these days are just for other fandoms that doesn't fit this blog in particular haha (i have so many sideblogs...) that's why it seems like ive gone too quiet here. i've always been into various video games even before mcyt so i've just kinda revisited them.

that doesn't mean my life still doesn't have its really depressing miserable days, it still does. but im actively working towards in trying to view my life differently, even if only for a little bit.

i've talked a lot to a few people on regarding whether or not i want to let go of fishbloc, but i think ultimately that will always be an indefinite decision because im so sentimental towards this account and the people i've come to meet from here. besides! i am working on a few personal projects (sorry they have no set schedule oops) and a zine! so fishbloc as a whole can't be abandoned just yet.

for what its worth, i think mcyt will always be a core part of my life now, and it always was a subject i like drawing about due to the creative freedom it gave me unlike other fandoms and media. i just hope no one forgets me as i kinda hibernate right now, i'm still here.

and seeing this really helps me feel better for the uncertain times in my life that are coming. <3

[donnerpartyofone]

Because this happened to me more than once today in different scenarios, and because I don't wish to start multiple conversations about it with people I don't really know, I will just say right now: When I am describing persistent personal problems, please don't contradict me, even if your instinct is that denying what I said is the nice thing to do. I'm not looking for compliments. I'm not secretly hoping someone will argue with me. I'm also not, like, a child with low self-esteem who just hasn't learned some important lesson yet. When I describe my experience of life, I'm speaking as a middle-aged adult with decades of observation and trial and error. I know what I can and cannot do and I generally post here in order to say, "This is who I am, this is how things are for me, this is what literally happens," because there aren't very many places for me to do that. But it happens a lot that I say something that sounds "negative" or whatever, and various people cannot control the urge to correct me with something nicer-sounding. I know it is meant well, usually, but the only effect of this is to make me feel like I'm not allowed to talk about my life here, without immediately having it reinforced that no one understands or believes things I say. This is incredibly frustrating and alienating for me, and I think I have been abundantly, elaborately clear on this point on this blog. So that's all I want to say on the subject, if I'm saying "I have these deficiencies or difficulties," please repress the urge to tell me I don't. Try saying, "That sounds tough, I'm sorry you're dealing with that," or alternatively try saying nothing at all, which is a potentially more compassionate, respectful response when you're really not the expert on somebody else. I don't want to get into a discussion about this with anybody; if you happen to feel like you have something to apologize for, the best thing to do is just stop the behavior. If this seems insane to you, that's OK with me, just take it as a measure of how strongly I feel about this. If you pursue this with me in any way I'm going to block you, even if I actually think you're probably nice. I just can't take the friction and my only alternative is to just express myself less and less and less, which I do not prefer. Now I have this post I can reblog whenever someone is not getting the memo, and I've gotten it off my chest for now, and I hope I can relax enough to get at least a little bit of sleep. I have a big day coming up, even if I'd rather have no day at all at the moment.

[dandelion-de-deus]

the real reason I don’t listen to a lot of classical music is because I’ll inevitably start listening to some Mendelssohn sextet and find myself getting really upset over the fact that I don’t live with more musicians

[fisheito]

hey. hey you. yeah, yoU!! the one who actually looks at clothing!!! i request help. i need images of wedding dresses that you think would fit the starter trio [yaku, ed, oli]. pls send images........ of any ideas you have🙏

[doctorweebmd]

also uh….real life update

my grant got funded

[boycritter]

its getting harder and harder to quiet the part of my brain that wants to be a humanities major

[savage-rhi]

Magenta 😥

[northern-passage]

one thing i find really difficult about navigating the IF space is the direct line of contact between readers and authors. we share the same space, and i think that plays a big part in this weird blurred line we have in this community and overall lack of boundaries.

for a lot of people this is a fun hobby and while i personally try to keep it... semi-professional most of the time, it's easy to get wrapped up in having fun on tumblr (or the forums, or reddit, wherever it is that you mainly post/interact) and have a lot of personal interactions with both readers and authors alike - which is fun! i like it more often than not, but i also think that's why a lot of comments in this space can end up being really entitled, over-familiar, and inappropriate.

it's no secret that most authors get really weird messages on here, and while this is also a problem on social media at large and not just specific to IF tumblr, it is still definitely a big problem in this community.

and to be clear i'm not saying that you can't be friendly with authors or readers (i've become friends with a handful of readers myself) and i definitely don't mean to imply that there needs to be a huge divide between us; that's silly - again, most authors are readers, most readers are authors, we’re just people on the internet sharing the same space. but all of us deserve to have our boundaries respected. this is my story, and we are strangers. as a general rule of thumb: if you wouldn't say it out loud to someone you just met, you probably shouldn't be saying it to a stranger online. especially anonymously.

[funkytoesart]

you can always tell the people who give social media advice who are naturally or conventionally attractive even without even having to look at a photo of them cause they're always the ones that recommend showing your face in reels or videos to promote your art and it's like,,, talk about pretty/skinny privilege lol

[littledeadling]

I really love the baby star bedroom, it brings peace to some part of me. Thank you for sharing it

Thank you! 🥹💖 I’m glad!!! Me too it was very calming to draw