#highlight reel theory

[clownowo]

Sisters :]

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C5)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.7K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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05: Caffeine, Clem, and Capital-L Crushes

I was running on exactly four hours of sleep, and every yawn felt like my body’s way of scolding me for staying up way too late dissecting every little detail of my night with Oscar. Two hours on FaceTime with Clementine had somehow turned into a caffeine-fueled debriefing session, complete with dramatic reenactments, wild theories, and far too much giggling for someone who was supposed to be getting some rest.

Clementine had demanded every detail, leaning into the camera with wide, eager eyes, dissecting each word, each touch, like she was decoding the plot of a blockbuster rom-com. I’d found myself animatedly recounting every flirty remark and lingering glance, my voice climbing higher with each retelling, only for Clem to gasp and fan herself like we were living in some Victorian romance.

The more we talked, the more the night felt surreal—a blur of sun-soaked moments and teasing exchanges that played on a loop in my mind. I’d lost track of how many times Clem had paused to remind me, “Babe, he’s into you. Like, capital-L into you.” Each time, I’d try to protest, but the undeniable flutter in my chest always betrayed me. By the time we’d finally hung up, my cheeks were aching from smiling, and the adrenaline from our impromptu therapy session had me buzzing long after I’d collapsed into bed.

I could still hear Clem’s voice echoing in my head:

“I’m telling you, this is a Hallmark movie in the making, and you’re the main character. The Oscar Romance Special is about to hit season two.”

I’d rolled my eyes at the time, but now, dragging myself out of bed with a sleepy groan, I couldn’t stop replaying every flirty line, every shared smile, every moment that had made the night feel like something more.

The minute I’d crawled under the covers last night, I should have fallen straight into a blissful, uninterrupted sleep. But instead, I’d tossed and turned, Oscar’s voice running laps in my head, every cheeky grin and lingering touch replaying like my brain had hit the “rewind” button on the best parts of the day. And once Clem got wind of it, there was no way she was going to let me sleep without a full-blown breakdown of every micro-detail.

“It’s the way he looked at you when you were talking about chicken fights,” Clem had mused, eyes wide as if she were watching a thriller unfold. “Like you were the only person who’d ever said something even remotely interesting.”

I’d laughed, brushing it off, but the truth was, I’d noticed it too. The way Oscar’s gaze would linger, how his playful teasing had just the slightest undercurrent of something deeper.

We’d joked, sure—but every joke felt like it was skirting around something bigger, something neither of us were quite ready to name. And when I’d finally tried to put it into words, Clem had been ready with her own dramatic commentary, as usual.

“So he’s a Formula One driver, he’s charming, and he looks at you like you hung the moon with the flick of a finger. Babe, if you don’t lock in right now and lock that down, I’m coming over there myself to knock some sense into you.” She’d laughed with such glee and enthusiasm, but the teasing was laced with genuine excitement, and it had fueled my own sleepless spiral long after we’d said goodnight.

I’d tossed and turned for hours, replaying every moment in my head like it was some kind of twisted highlight reel. The way Oscar’s voice had dropped when he talked about his life on the track, the lingering touches that made my heart race, and that look—God, that look—like I was the only person in the world who mattered. Clem was right; it was hard not to get swept up in it, to not feel like the universe had handed me some ridiculous, too-good-to-be-true script of a romance movie. But as much as my heart was screaming at me to dive headfirst, my mind was busy throwing up every possible reason to pump the brakes.

Now, sunlight was streaming through my window, mercilessly bright, as I trudged to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in a vain attempt to wake up. My reflection stared back at me, hair sticking out in every direction, dark circles under my eyes that practically screamed, You should have gone to bed sooner. But my mind was still buzzing, caught somewhere between the thrill of last night and the anxiety of what came next.

I brushed my teeth absentmindedly, trying to scrub away the exhaustion and the lingering taste of late-night anxiety. But every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that beach, Oscar’s teasing grin etched into my memory like a permanent fixture. It wasn’t just the flirting or the way he’d pulled me close; it was the way he’d made me feel seen, like all the walls I’d put up to protect myself had been effortlessly dismantled in a single night.

I leaned against the sink, sighing heavily. “Get it together,” I mumbled to my reflection. “He’s just a guy.” But even as I said it, the words felt hollow, lacking the conviction I so desperately needed. Because deep down, I knew Oscar was not just any guy. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to stick to the safety of denial.

My phone buzzed on the counter, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Clem, her timing impeccable as always:

Clem: morning, lovebird! dream of your racer boy? 😘

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Me: morning. and no, i dreamt of sleep deprivation, thanks.

Clem: liesss girl liesss, i can see you RIGHT now in my mind. you’re probably blushing just thinking about him right now.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and, sure enough, the telltale warmth was already creeping up my cheeks. Damn it, Clem. She knew me too well.

Me: oh my god, clem. you’re like a psychic stalker. can’t a girl have some peace?

Clem: peace? honey, you signed up for the drama package the moment you met him. so spill, what’s the plan? are you gonna ride this love rollercoaster or what?

And, damn her, she was right. I tossed my phone onto the wooden dresser, groaning. Everything felt too raw, too immediate. It wasn’t like me to get this twisted up over a guy, but there was something about Oscar—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on—that made my usual cool detachment completely useless.

I splashed my face one more time, hoping the cold water would snap me out of my reverie, but it was no use. The memory of Oscar’s easy laugh, his warm touch, and that sincere, almost vulnerable side he’d let slip through lingered like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. And the worst part? A small, stubborn part of me didn’t want it to go away.

As I ran a brush through my tangled hair, I caught myself staring at the mirror, silently wishing for answers. What was I supposed to do now? Lean in and see where this crazy, unexpected thing with Oscar could go, or protect myself and pull back before things got messy? Either way, I was in uncharted territory, and the thought of navigating it without screwing everything up seemed both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Guess I’m in it now,” I muttered to my reflection, feeling the weight of the decision resting heavily on my shoulders. Because whatever happened next, there was no going back to before.

Clem: you better not chicken out now. i swear, if you start overthinking this, i’ll fly over there myself and push you into his arms.

Me: so violent, hehe.

Me: but thanks for the pep talk, dr. phil. ilysmmm

Clem: ilysm booo! you know it. and hey, you’ve got this. worst case? you get a story to laugh about later. best case? you get a hot f1 boyfriend. seems like a win-win to me.

I laughed, shaking my head as I set my phone down. Clem’s relentless optimism was a lifeline, even when she was half-joking. I wasn’t sure which possibility scared me more—letting this thing with Oscar fizzle out into a ‘remember when’ or diving in headfirst and risking everything.

I threw on my seafoam green strapless dress, the one with the ruched bodice that hugged my waist just right and flowed into a ruffled hem. It was the perfect mix of casual and effortlessly chic, capturing that laid-back Mediterranean vibe I’d always admired but never quite pulled off until now. The soft pastel green felt fresh and summery, and as I adjusted the fabric, I couldn’t help but feel a little more put together than usual.

To complete the look, I fastened my chunky gold chain necklace, adorned with oversized sea-themed charms—starfish, shells, and other ocean treasures that jingled softly with every movement. It was bold, a little gaudy maybe, but it felt right, like an unapologetic nod to the seaside setting we were in. Matching gold earrings dangled from my ears, catching the morning light, and I stacked a few gold bangles on my wrists for good measure. The jewelry was heavy, warm against my skin, but it grounded me, giving me a little boost of confidence as I prepared to face whatever this day would bring.

I took one last glance in the mirror, adjusting the loose waves in my hair and making sure the necklace lay just right. There was something about the way the outfit came together that made me feel a little bolder, like I was dressing not just for breakfast, but for the possibility of whatever—or whoever—came next.

Even if I felt nervous as hell and quite possibly so very close to the edge, I would make sure no one could see it (telling myself lies again but I digress).

I needed to look hot. Fucking impeccable.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone again, typing out a final message to Clem:

Me: okay, okay. i’m going. no more hiding. and if i trip over my words like a fool, that’s on you.

Clem: that’s my girl! go get your man.

With Clem’s words echoing in my head, I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed downstairs, nerves fluttering in my stomach like restless butterflies. The scent of breakfast hit me as soon as I reached the bottom step—freshly brewed coffee, the crisp aroma of toast, and something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. It was a comforting mix, and it tugged at the edges of my anxiety, coaxing me forward.

The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, casting a golden glow over the bustling scene. Mae, with her short hair tousled in that effortlessly cool way only she could pull off, was dressed in an oversized graphic tee and a pair of tiny denim shorts, her legs stretched out as she lounged on the stool, half-distracted by whatever was on her screen. A few bracelets jingled on her wrist as she absentmindedly scrolled, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic comment that made the others laugh.

Hattie, ever the organized one, was moving around with purpose, her damp curls pulled back into a messy bun that still somehow looked put-together. She wore a light blue tank top that matched her eyes and high-waisted linen pants that billowed slightly as she moved, the kind of outfit that screamed effortless summer chic. She balanced a stack of mismatched plates on one hip, arranging them on the table with precision, her expression a mix of focus and amusement as she chimed in on Mae’s snarky commentary.

Edie, the youngest but certainly not the quietest, was manning the stove with the confidence of someone who had taken on the role of breakfast chef many times before. Her hair was pulled into two loose braids, little wisps escaping around her face as she flipped pancakes with practiced ease. She wore a sunflower-yellow sundress that brightened the room even more, the fabric swishing around her knees as she moved. A slight dusting of flour clung to her hands, and there was a faint smear of batter on her cheek, giving her an endearing, carefree look.

The kitchen smelled heavenly—warm, sweet, and buttery—with the faintest hint of vanilla wafting from Edie’s pancake masterpiece. Mae’s playlist was faintly audible, playing some indie pop tune that filled the gaps in their conversation and set an upbeat mood. It was the kind of scene that felt both chaotic and comforting, each of the sisters contributing to the lively morning energy in their own way.

“Morning!” Mae chirped, barely glancing up from her screen but still managing to sound chipper. “You’re up early. Couldn’t stay away from us, huh?”

“Morning,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light and casual. “Smells amazing in here.”

“Edie’s specialty,” Hattie said with a grin, sliding a stack of pancakes onto the table. “She’s got this whole breakfast chef thing down to an art.”

Edie turned, waving the spatula in a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week. Literally.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, taking a seat across from Mae. “Well, lucky us. I’m definitely not complaining.”

Mae finally looked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, did you sleep well? You know, after your little moonlit stroll last night?”

I felt my cheeks heat up instantly, and I reached for a mug to hide my flustered expression. “Yeah, fine. Just… normal.” I took a sip, hoping the coffee would ground me, but all it did was make me more aware of how on edge I was.

Hattie exchanged a knowing look with Mae, then turned to me with a playful smile. “You guys were out there for a while. I half expected to hear the soundtrack of a rom-com playing in the background.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no malice in it—just the familiar tug of embarrassment. “You guys are impossible, you know that?”

Edie laughed, flipping another pancake. “Oh, we know. But you love it.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I said, trying to keep my voice light as I picked at a piece of toast. The truth was, I didn’t mind their teasing. In fact, their relentless ribbing was almost comforting, like being folded into a dynamic I didn’t know I needed.

“Anyway,” Mae continued, dragging out the word as if savoring the moment, “Oscar’s still asleep. Guess all that romantic strolling wore him out.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and I choked on my coffee, trying to keep my composure.

“Mae, please,” I said, laughing despite myself. “I don’t need a play-by-play of his morning routine.”

Edie set down the last plate of pancakes and took a seat, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on. It’s just so fun watching you squirm.”

“Yeah, and you’re kind of the only normal one here,” Hattie added, piling syrup onto her plate. “Oscar’s always either being overly confident or sulking about something. It’s refreshing to have someone who’s, you know, sane.”

I smiled, feeling that familiar warmth of being welcomed, even if it came wrapped in layers of teasing. “Well, thanks, I guess? I’ll take being the sane one if it means I get pancakes.”

Hattie passed me the syrup, her grin wide. “Deal. But don’t think that gets you off the hook. We’re all dying to know—what’s really going on with you and Oscar?”

I hesitated, suddenly aware of how much their playful scrutiny meant to me. I didn’t want to let them down, but I also wasn’t ready to admit to anything that I hadn’t even figured out myself. “Honestly?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not sure. But I think that’s okay. We’re just… figuring it out.”

Mae nodded, surprisingly earnest. “Hey, no pressure. Just enjoy it. Life’s too short to overthink everything.”

I glanced at her, surprised by the sudden shift from teasing to sincerity. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, feeling a little more settled. “I think I will.”

Mae’s expression softened, and she set her phone down, propping her chin on her hand as she watched me. “Seriously, though, don’t stress about it. If anyone can handle the chaos that is Oscar, it’s you. Plus, he’s not so bad once you get used to the terrible jokes and the occasional bouts of bravado.”

Hattie chuckled, sliding into her seat and pouring herself a glass of orange juice. “And the dramatic speeches,” she added, winking at me. “He’s got a flair for making everything sound like it’s life or death, but really, he’s just a softie at heart.”

Edie finally turned off the stove, setting a towering plate of pancakes on the table with a triumphant grin. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, giving me a conspiratorial smile as she sat down. “Just roll with it. That’s what we do.”

Their encouragement warmed me more than I expected, and for a moment, I felt like I was being let in on a secret, one that went beyond the lighthearted teasing and easy banter. It was clear that beneath all the jokes, there was a genuine care for their brother—a kind of protective, loving acceptance that made me feel a little less alone in navigating this new territory with him.

I sat down, reaching for a pancake and letting their words sink in. The idea of just enjoying the moment, of not overanalyzing every tiny interaction, felt both freeing and slightly terrifying. But sitting here, surrounded by this noisy, welcoming group, it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could let go a little. I could let myself lean into the unexpected without the weight of expectations dragging me down.

Mae poured herself another cup of coffee, her smile turning back into her usual mischievous smirk. “And hey, if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have some great stories. Like, ‘Remember that summer I got tangled up with a race car driver and his three crazy sisters?’ It’s all part of the adventure.”

I laughed, shaking my head at Mae’s dramatics. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, taking a bite of my pancake, the sweetness filling my senses. “But for now, I think I’ll just enjoy breakfast and see where the day takes me.”

Hattie raised her glass in a mock toast. “To not overthinking and just going with the flow,” she declared, her eyes sparkling with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how to live in the moment.

Edie joined in, clinking her glass with Hattie’s and then mine. “And to great company,” she added, beaming as she dug into her stack of pancakes.

Edie took a sip of her juice, then leaned forward, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “So, we got all wrapped up in Oscar’s big secret yesterday, but what about you? We didn’t really get to know much about the mystery girl who’s apparently brave enough to keep up with our brother.”

I smiled, feeling the spotlight shift to me as all three sisters turned their attention my way. “Oh, nothing too dramatic,” I started, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m twenty-one, a senior at George Washington University in DC.”

Hattie’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ooh, DC! The nation’s capital, right? I’ve always wanted to go. It’s like, politics central, isn’t it?”

I nodded, laughing at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s a pretty unique place. It’s not a state, but it likes to think it’s important enough to be one. You know, home of the White House, Congress, and a whole lot of people in suits pretending they know how to run the country.”

Mae snorted into her coffee. “So basically, it’s one giant power trip?”

“Pretty much,” I grinned. “But it’s also got this amazing mix of history and culture. There are monuments and museums on every corner, and sometimes it feels like you can’t throw a rock without hitting some important landmark. It’s kind of like living in a history book—except with more Starbucks.”

Hattie laughed. “And you’re majoring in what? Political stuff, I’m guessing?”

“Close,” I said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. “I’m majoring in International Relations. It’s like political science, but with more foreign countries, diplomacy, and trying to figure out why world leaders can’t just get along. Basically, I’m training to be the world’s most overqualified peacekeeper or, you know, a very stressed-out diplomat.”

Edie nodded, clearly impressed. “That sounds really cool, though. And probably way over my head. So what do you do for fun in a city full of politicians?”

“Well,” I said, a little shy but pleased they were interested, “when I’m not drowning in textbooks, I actually love to photograph the city. There’s something about the mix of old architecture and modern chaos that just... speaks to me, I guess. Plus, it’s an easy way to escape all the academic stuff and just focus on something beautiful.”

Mae’s ears perked up. “Wait, so you’re a photographer? That’s awesome! Do you post your stuff anywhere?”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit bashful. “Yeah, I have an Instagram account where I share my photos. It’s kind of taken off a little bit.”

Hattie immediately pulled out her phone, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s your handle? I wanna see!”

I told them my Instagram username, and within seconds, they were scrolling through my feed, their faces lighting up with interest as they took in my shots of cityscapes, moody portraits, and candid street moments.

“Whoa, you’ve got 32.9K followers?” Edie exclaimed, holding up her phone to show the impressive number. “You’re basically Instagram famous! And these photos are gorgeous.”

Mae looked up, clearly impressed. “I’m not even surprised. You’ve got an eye, girl. These shots are like... magazine-level good. I feel like I’m seeing DC through a totally different lens.”

I blushed, feeling a mix of pride and humility. “Thanks, it’s kind of my little escape. I just love capturing the city’s vibe—the people, the little hidden corners, the chaos and calm all mixed together. I never expected it to turn into something people would actually follow.”

Hattie scrolled through a few more pictures, pausing on one of a sunlit Washington Monument framed by cherry blossoms. “I get it. This is art, seriously. And now I’m kind of jealous of your life. You get to live in this cool place, study fascinating stuff, and take amazing photos on the side. That’s like, triple threat territory.”

Hattie leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know, I’ve never even been to DC. I mean, we’ve talked about going, but somehow we always end up at the beach or stuck on some last-minute road trip that Dad plans.”

Mae laughed, nodding. “Yeah, because why visit the nation’s capital when you can get lost in the middle of nowhere and argue over gas station snacks, right?”

Edie snorted. “Honestly, the closest we’ve been to DC is watching reruns of House of Cards and pretending we understand politics.”

Mae threw her hands up dramatically. “I swear, we’re missing out. I mean, we’ve got to see all those marble buildings and secret government stuff, right? What’s it like, just casually living near a bunch of old guys in suits who make all the rules?”

I laughed, enjoying their banter. “Honestly? It’s a mix. On one hand, you’ve got all these important people running around pretending they’re changing the world. On the other, it’s just a bunch of monuments, overpriced coffee shops, and tourists blocking the sidewalks with selfie sticks.”

Hattie giggled. “Wow, it sounds like such a glamorous place. Like New York, but with more government scandals and fewer Broadway shows.”

Edie nodded, trying to look serious but failing miserably. “I feel like we’d be kicked out of DC within a day. One of us would probably start an argument with a senator over parking spaces, and Mae would definitely try to sneak into the Capitol just to see if it’s as dramatic as the movies.”

Mae pointed at Edie, pretending to be offended. “Hey, I’m not that reckless. But, like, if we do go, I’m definitely hitting up those underground tunnels. You know they’ve got to be hiding some cool spy stuff down there.”

I shook my head, laughing at the absurdity. “Yeah, I’m not sure you guys would last. You’d probably spend the whole trip critiquing the statues or getting lost in the Smithsonian.”

Mae shrugged, grinning. “Hey, we’re up for the challenge. Just promise to be our tour guide when we eventually decide to grace DC with our presence. We’ll bring the chaos, and you bring the camera.”

“Deal,” I said, raising my glass in mock seriousness. “Just don’t blame me when you get kicked out of a museum for climbing on the exhibits.”

Mae nodded in agreement, setting her phone down. “Yeah, honestly, I’m just glad we finally got to hear your side. And hey, now we know that if you ever get sick of Oscar, you’ve got a whole city full of potential new admirers.”

I laughed, feeling a warm sense of belonging settle over me. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick around for a bit. I’m kind of liking where I am right now.”

The girls laughed, and Hattie leaned in, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Wait wait wait I still have a few questions. You must have some wild stories. I mean, it’s DC—you’re right in the middle of all the action!”

I smiled, settling into the moment. “It’s a lot of things—hectic, beautiful, sometimes frustrating, but never boring. I love how there’s always something happening, whether it’s a protest down on the National Mall or a pop-up art exhibit in some random alley. There’s this constant energy, like everyone’s in a rush but also living in this incredible historic moment all the time.”

Edie nodded, fascinated. “And the photography thing—how do you even capture all of that? Like, do you just walk around with your camera 24/7?”

I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Pretty much. I like to just wander around and see where the day takes me. You’d be surprised how many hidden gems there are—little parks tucked between office buildings, street musicians who are just as talented as anyone on stage. Plus, it’s fun capturing the contrasts—the shiny government buildings and the raw, gritty parts that make the city feel real.”

Mae smiled, clearly impressed. “Okay, so now you’re officially our go-to when we make it to DC. We’ll get the full insider experience—no boring tourist traps.”

I opened my mouth to agree when suddenly, a familiar arm draped around my shoulder, pulling me into a warm side hug. “Speaking of insider experiences,” Oscar’s voice broke in, far too close to my ear. “Are you telling them about your little secret photo spots? Or do I get to be the first one you show around?”

Startled, I jumped and let out a sharp yelp, my heart leaping into my throat. Without thinking, my elbow shot backward, driven by pure instinct and a jolt of adrenaline. The impact was immediate—I felt my elbow connect with something firm and unyielding. It wasn’t the soft thud of bumping into furniture or the awkward smack of knocking into someone’s arm. No, this was solid, unmistakably muscular. My elbow sank briefly against the defined ridges of Oscar’s abs, and I could feel the tension of his muscles bracing under the sudden, unexpected blow.

Oscar let out a strangled, surprised grunt, the sound half-laugh, half-pained exhale, as he stumbled backward. His expression morphed from shock to mock agony as he clutched his side dramatically, doubling over with a theatrical gasp.

“Ow! Holy—” he managed between strained breaths, his free hand pressed firmly against his stomach as if he’d just taken a punch straight out of a boxing ring. He staggered back a step, his body curling protectively around the spot where my elbow had connected, and for a split second, I worried I might’ve actually hurt him.

But Oscar’s over-the-top reaction was more comedic than anything else. He leaned against the counter, groaning with exaggerated flair, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were the star of his own melodramatic performance. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and even in his mock pain, he couldn’t quite hide the playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’ve got some serious power in that elbow,” he wheezed, still clutching his side but peeking up at me with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “What have you been eating? Steel oats? Protein shakes? Because, damn, you’ve got a weapon there.”

“Oh my god!” I gasped, half mortified, half laughing as Oscar pretended to lurch dramatically against the counter. “You scared the hell out of me! Why are you sneaking up on people?”

Oscar winced playfully, rubbing his abs where I’d jabbed him. “Damn, remind me never to surprise you again. You’ve got an elbow like a linebacker.” He laughed, but his eyes were twinkling, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d caused.

I sat there, caught between concern and stifled laughter, my face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, half-panicked, half-giggling as I reached out, instinctively trying to pat his shoulder as if that would somehow ease the pain. “I didn’t mean to! You just—scared me, and I—I panicked!”

Oscar straightened slightly, still rubbing his abs where I’d jabbed him, his expression teetering between pain and mischief. “I thought I was gonna end up on the floor.” He let out a breathless laugh, eyes sparkling despite his over-the-top suffering. “You’ve got some serious reflexes.”

I glanced down, my gaze lingering on the spot where I’d made contact. Even through his t-shirt, I could feel the distinct firmness of his abs—hard as a rock, like something carved from stone rather than skin and muscle. It was like hitting a brick wall disguised as a human. My cheeks heated as the realization sunk in, and I quickly pulled my hand away, trying to mask my flustered reaction with an awkward laugh.

“Next time, announce yourself!” I shot back, still breathless from the sudden surge of adrenaline. “Or, you know, maybe just don’t sneak up on me when I’m in the middle of a conversation.”

Oscar straightened fully, his grin widening, and he offered me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Lesson learned. I’ll approach with caution—and maybe a helmet—next time.”

The girls burst into laughter, Mae doubling over as she clapped her hands. “Nice one, Oscar. Just try not to get yourself KO’d next time.”

Edie was practically crying with laughter, holding her stomach. “I’ve never seen anyone get taken out by a breakfast elbow before. That was amazing.”

Hattie chimed in, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oscar, you’ve got to work on your stealth skills. Or at least your reflexes. She got you good.”

I was still blushing, torn between embarrassment and pride at my unintentional takedown. “Maybe don’t sneak up on people who are talking about their city adventures,” I said, giving him a playful glare. “I almost knocked the wind out of you.”

Oscar straightened up, still rubbing his side but grinning like he’d just won a game he didn’t know he was playing. “Noted. I’ll keep my distance when you’re in storytelling mode—didn’t realize I’d need a bulletproof vest just to get your attention,” he teased, his voice laced with that familiar playful confidence. He gave me a mock bow, adding, “But hey, it’s not every day I get nearly floored by someone half my size. Impressive, really.”

Mae, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with wide-eyed amusement, chimed in, barely able to contain her laughter. “Honestly, I think you got off easy. If she can take you down with an elbow, just imagine what she could do with a roundhouse kick. You better stay on her good side.”

Hattie snorted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, Oscar, if she’d been holding a frying pan, you’d be out cold right now. I’d pay to see that fight.” She shot me a wink, clearly enjoying her brother’s over-the-top reaction. “Nice job, by the way. Most people just tell him to buzz off, but you? You went straight for the kill.”

I was still blushing, torn between embarrassment and a tiny bit of pride at my unintentional takedown. “Maybe don’t sneak up on people who are talking about their city adventures,” I said, giving him a playful glare.

Oscar chuckled, his grin never faltering. “Lesson learned. I’ll approach with a white flag next time.” He rubbed his abs one last time, his expression softening as he glanced at me. “But hey, consider me officially intrigued by DC and whatever other hidden skills you’ve got. Might have to keep my distance, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Edie was wiping away tears of laughter, her cheeks flushed from the hilarity. “This is officially the best breakfast we’ve had in ages. Who knew we’d get a free Oscar takedown with our pancakes?” She raised her glass in mock celebration. “To the unexpected and unintentional, but very satisfying, smackdown of the day!”

Oscar shot her a look of mock offense but couldn’t keep from laughing himself. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m the morning entertainment. But just you wait, I’ll get my revenge—when you least expect it.”

I smirked, still feeling the lingering tingle in my elbow and the rush of adrenaline from the whole absurd encounter. “I’ll be ready. But remember, sneak attacks don’t end well around here.”

Oscar held up his hands in surrender, the playful banter still dancing in his eyes. “Point taken. No more stealth moves—at least not without a warning. But hey,” he added, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper as he leaned in just a bit closer, “I guess that means I’ll just have to find new ways to get under your skin.”

His words sent a small thrill down my spine, the challenge hanging between us like an unspoken promise. It was impossible not to smile, the line between annoyance and attraction blurring further with every quip and every lingering look.

We all settled back around the table, the remnants of breakfast spread out like the aftermath of a lively party. Mae was still giggling into her juice, and Hattie was busy piling pancakes onto her plate, but the atmosphere was lighter now, filled with an easy camaraderie that made the whole morning feel like a scene out of a feel-good movie. I scooped up some scrambled eggs, trying to act casual, but every now and then, I’d catch Oscar sneaking a glance my way, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Pass the syrup?” Oscar asked, leaning in closer than necessary, his arm brushing against mine as he reached for the bottle. It was a small touch, barely noticeable, but it sent a little jolt through me, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes playfully.

“Careful,” I said, handing it over with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself with this dangerous syrup. It’s a real menace.”

Oscar grinned, pouring a generous amount onto his pancakes. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to handle it without getting taken out by a rogue condiment. But thanks for the concern.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she munched on her toast. “You two are like a sitcom. Seriously, how are we supposed to eat when it’s all banter and sneak attacks?”

Mae nodded in agreement, waving her fork in the air for emphasis. “Exactly. We need a warning before you two start up again. I almost choked on my juice.”

I laughed, grabbing another slice of fruit. “Don’t worry, we’ll try to keep the drama to a minimum. Breakfast is a sacred time, after all.”

Edie set down her fork, glancing at the clock on her phone. “Speaking of time, it’s still early enough that we could hit the market before it gets too hot. We need to grab some stuff for tonight anyway.”

Oscar perked up, leaning back in his chair. “The market sounds good. It’s not far, and we can get there before the sun decides to fry us alive. Plus, we can stock up on snacks. I’m thinking... fresh pastries, some local olives, maybe something sweet?”

Mae grinned, tapping her fingers on the table. “Count me in. I want to see what kind of cool stuff they have. And maybe pick up something to annoy Hattie. It’s like, a sibling rite of passage.”

Hattie rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Sure, Mae. I’ll make sure to keep you far away from anything that looks remotely like a musical instrument. I don’t need another round of impromptu concert performances.”

I glanced around the table, feeling a swell of excitement at the idea of exploring the local market with them. It was the kind of spontaneous plan that felt like the perfect way to spend the morning—just wandering around, sampling local food, and maybe picking up a few souvenirs. And, of course, the thought of more time spent with Oscar, in and out of playful jabs, wasn’t exactly unappealing.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, pushing back my plate and stretching my arms. “But we better go soon before it really heats up out there. I’m not trying to become a melted puddle on the sidewalk.”

Mae let out a dramatic groan, fanning herself with a napkin. “Seriously, I already feel like I’m halfway to becoming a human popsicle. Let’s move before I turn into a puddle of regrets.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he finished the last of his juice. “Don’t worry, Mae. We’ll keep you hydrated. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a portable fan to add to your collection of weird market finds.”

Mae shot him a playful glare. “I’m not the one who bought that weird wooden frog last time, Oscar. That was all you. But if I find a fan, I’m buying it. Consider it an investment in my survival.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, but if anyone finds a fan that also doubles as a weapon, I call dibs. You know, just in case I need to defend myself from any more surprise attacks.” He shot me a teasing look, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Edie laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin as she pushed her chair back. “Oscar, the day you need to defend yourself from anything other than your own bad decisions is the day we all need to start worrying.” She grabbed her sunglasses from the table, slipping them on with a flourish. “But I’ll keep an eye out for a fan-weapon hybrid. Seems like something that could really elevate your whole ‘I’m constantly under attack’ vibe.”

Oscar feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me, Edie. But you know what? I’ll take the fan and the survival bragging rights. And when we’re all sweating buckets, just remember who thought ahead.”

Hattie shook her head, tossing her empty juice cup in the trash. “Let’s just get to the market before you guys end up buying the weirdest stuff just for the sake of it. We’re here for essentials, remember?”

Mae snorted, throwing her arm around Hattie’s shoulders as they headed toward the door. “Speak for yourself, Hattie. Some of us are here for the thrill of the hunt. And maybe a sun hat that screams ‘I’m on vacation and I don’t care.’”

Oscar turned to me, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “What about you? Got any market goals today? Weird trinkets, secret weapon fans, or just here to keep me out of trouble?”

I pretended to consider it, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “I think my goal is to keep you in just the right amount of trouble. Can’t have you getting too comfortable.” I winked, enjoying the easy flow of our banter, the way it felt like slipping into a well-worn routine despite how new it all was.

Oscar laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a flutter through my chest. “Deal. I’ll keep it interesting. And if I find anything particularly ridiculous, you’ll be the first to know.”

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author's note: a double update for my lovelies, so sorry i didn't update on sunday <3, i hope you enjoy chapters 5 and 6!!

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09 @fix5idiots

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambles: Vertigo Week

Happy Sunday evening. I'm on the cusp of an insanely busy week but I wanted to spend my last calm evening sharing some of my thoughts on Buck and Tommy with all of you. So let's get into the highlights of the weekend.

Let's start with the hospital kiss Instagram reels data. Right now the video is at 921k and 83k in likes. It did get passed by the Happy Birthday Gavin post but who can blame that. But strangely enough, it still holds the 9th overall place because the video of Oliver making a basket on set of episode 4 is now gone. I'm really not sure what happened to that one. With that said, there is now only a 26k difference between it and video 8 and I do think at some point in the coming weeks it will pass that. I'm probably not going to be checking this everyday anymore since the views has slowed so much (which is to be expected). I'll probably check in once a week until it hits a million or until another Tevan reel is posted.

The Vertigo Poster nonsense that happened late last night and early this morning. I already made a post talking about this here so please go check that out if you want to know my thoughts on it. But to quickly summarize: it was made by a friend and posted on Tim's private Facebook. I'm not personally going to be putting much thought into it or using it for any theories because I don't think there is anything more to it then being a fun spoof poster made by a friend.

After seeing the second round of interviews with Ryan coming out on Friday I am now fully confident that marketing is doing a hard-kill on pushing Buddie. I was predicting this in my last ramble but now I'm fairly confident I was right. Ryan repeatedly hit the same key points in multiple interviews by explicitly saying that Eddie is straight. At this point, that seems to be intentional and seemed to be a talking point that marketing wanted out there. There also seemed to be far less buddie questions so I'm fairly sure they're not approving or limiting how many interviewers can ask.

Next weeks episode prediction: We will not be seeing Tommy...and possibly not Eddie or Buck. The summary only focuses on Bobby's storyline and the preview only showed him (and Athena). This might be an episode where the rest of the cast isn't there and is solely focused on what is happening with Bobby and Athena. If it does include the rest of the cast, it looks like there only going to appear in very short segments and are definitely not the focus. Which does mean the Eddie storyline is either on pause for next week or marketing is really, really killing anything involving Buck or Eddie.

Final thoughts: I don't predict anymore interviews with Oliver or Lou until the finale. Probably not anymore for Ryan either that haven't already been done. Marketing in general seems to have massively pulled back after the mess with the bachelor party. I think we won't get anything about this week until Thursday (just like last week).

[ms-scarletwings]

Scarlet Talks About [Invader Zim]

Highlight reel for the funny green alien show word vomits, HOO-AH! Updated March 2024

General Setting/Lore

• Irkens

- If you behead one…

- On the meaning of defective

- Speculative Insights I : Of Irk and empires

- Speculative Insights II : Diet, maggot skin, & lunch meats of evil

- Speculative Insights III : The Tallest and Control brains as morphic castes within a eusocial species

- Irken senses and edibility

- “Cuteness” through Irken eyes

- Small theory about Irken Hygiene (TBA)

- About auditory communication

• Misc.

- Vortian headcanons

Character Analysis

• Irken Zim

- The Trojan Horse PAK Headcanon/theory

- Top 8 members of his hypothetical fan club

- Tidbit on his strange relationship with prisoner 777

- Chaotic evil wearing lawful evil’s threads

• Dib Membrane

- How he carries a torch his father takes for granted

- In which a big head gives room for an even bigger mouth

- My poor insane antihero

• Zib

- A character autotopsy, figuratively

- A character autotopsy, literally (TBA)

- My poor insane antivillain

[hannahssimblr]

As the evening draws in, others arrive at the house. It’s been nice, just Evie and I, for the hour alone that we had, once my family left and I finally showered the smell of grass from my body.

We laughed together while preparing the oven snacks that are now laid out on plates on the table, being picked at by people whose surnames I’ve already begun forgetting. It was sad too, in a way, being happy with Evie, and living out some kind of domestic fantasy where she burns the spring rolls and I tell her it’s okay, because I’m a dustbin of a man and I’ll truly eat anything, and maybe later, before going to bed we would brush our teeth together and flash each other frothy smiles in the mirror. 

I considered kissing a flake of pastry off her lip, too, in a temporary burst of madness, before remembering it would be among the worst ideas I ever had. It was just as well I didn’t, because the doorbell was ringing, and four people from school were waiting outside. 

Now, in the light of the golden sunset, we’re apart, as I, on the lawn, listen to a group of guys talk about the college offers pushed through their letter boxes this morning, and Evie sits with Tara Neary and her gang at the patio table and does her best to include herself. I hope they don’t tell her about the weird stuff I did at school, but chances are, they’ve already been through the highlight reel. 

They all turn to look as the patio door swings open and Michelle comes out and down the steps towards me. To my great surprise, she greets me with a hug. 

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” she says. “Jen had a thing about her hair.”

“Ah, classic Jen,” I glance over her shoulder, and spot that signature flash of red in the kitchen. I’m uneasy, knowing I’ll have to have a grim conversation with her later, but later is later, and now, Michelle is smiling in a way I’m almost sure she never has, surveying the little crowd that has gathered in the garden.

“A good few showed up after all, didn’t they?”

“I think they wanted to see what the inside of my house looked like, to be honest.”

“Don’t be like that! They wanted to give you a proper sendoff, to wish you well on your big adventure.”

“Oh, yeah. That whole thing.”

“Are you nervous?”

I smirk. “Yeah, it’s my first time on a plane. I’m shitting it.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not talking about the flight.”

“I’m trying not to think about it, to be honest,” and my eyes, once again, find Evie through the crowd. “I’ll just get on the plane, and I’ll let it all sink in when I’m there.”

“Makes sense, in some sort of way, I suppose.”

“The whole thing is surreal,” I admit. “Like, tomorrow, before midday, I’ll be there. Like, I’ll live there. It seems like too much change all at the same time.”

“It’s what you wanted,” she reminds me. “And if you don’t like it, just come home.”

“I doubt I’ll come home. I think that’d be, like, the biggest failure of my life.”

“Worse than losing me?” She says, and I baulk, before she cracks a grin, “God, I was joking.”

I break into a laugh. “Nah, actually you know what was worse than that? Losing Goose.”

“Oh God,” she covers her mouth with her hands, “the Goose of it all. How could I forget about him? Do you have a theory about what happened?”

I grimace. “I want to be realistic, but that also means I don’t really want to speculate, because, I mean… Most likely…”

“Fucking hell, you know, I’ll never forget that…” 

As we talk, and catch up and laugh with one another in ways that we haven’t for a decade, I lose track of time, and don’t pay attention to the sun that dips below the horizon. The evening moths vanish from the garden, and the stars rise and the summer dies, and my last day in Ireland ends without me even noticing.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[1moreff-creator]

Updated intro post and masterlist time!

Hello! I'm 1moreff-creator, or just FF, and I'm your

Local Min Jeung Kinnie

(Art from DRDT's Sleepy MV, Literature Girl Insane MV, CH1 EP6)

This is a technically multifandom (but generally DRDT-centric) blog, where I mostly do analysis posts and theories, though there's some variety around here. I go by they/them, I'm aro/ace, and I have a sideblog dedicated to the Milgram project, 1moremilgram-enjoyer!

Here's my post masterlist, which I moved away from Tumblr to avoid the 100 link per post limit I was going to run into eventually. Interests and post highlight reel under the cut.

Interests:

(AKA everything you're welcome to flood my askbox with :D)

-DRDT. Obviously.

-Mainline Danganronpa, DRA and SDRA2, Project: Eden's Garden, DR (He)artless Deceit.

-Milgram. Though you should probably go to the sideblog for that :p

-FNAF. This thing grabbed hold of me in 2014 and will not let go. Probable cause of my likely insanity, given I'm well-versed in the lore.

-BNHA. The hundreds of thousands of words I've written for class 1-B are the reason for the "fanfic" the "ff" stands for in my name :)

Smaller interests also include Slay the Princess, JJK, Class of 09 (mainly OG and Re-Up I don't really like Flipside), Undertale/Deltarune, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe (haven't thought about this one in a while though), and more I'm probably forgetting.

Post Highlight Reel:

-DRDT Secret Masterpost. Generally a good idea to check this out before any of my more unhinged thoughts.

-DRDT CH2 PT Analysis. Probably my best post ever, 28k words of mental illness.

-Mai Akasaki Analysis. Really love this one. I consider it a great introduction to Mai's character, and contains some theories I love a lot.

Amendments: Arrow in her numeral (ft cider-est) (Rb) - Matching phone charms (ft wist-eri) (Rb) - Mai flower discovery by the-fox-in-the-socks (0% my post but pretty important)

-Literature Girl Insane Analysis Video. Two and a half hours of sheer insanity, though reading the Mai post first is recommended.

Amendments: Post CH2 PT2 Update (Corrigendum).

-About Page Text Analysis. (Ask). Shorter than the others, but I think it's important enough to be listed here.

Update: where did it go.

-DRDT reacts to "I fucked your mom last night." Behold, my most popular post ever.

-Eden!Culprit Levi!Accomplice Theory. Although this was proven wrong, I'm still pretty proud of it and consider it a good theory for the time.

-Proving MonoTVid canon with LGI. Objectively the best post I've ever made.

Recommended Reads

Smaller theories I still recommend you read, especially if you want a full understanding of my beliefs when it comes to DRDT.

-Thoughts on Min's secret. (Pre-CH2 PT2 Ask) A bit of Min analysis, and a basic theory on how exactly she pulled off her motive secret.

-"Mai Order" Analysis and observations on the CH2 PT1 QnA. (Rb) This one's just funny.

-Survivor Predictions. (Ask) Self-explanatory.

-Thoughts on Teruko’s plan to end the killing game. (Pre-CH2 Ep16 Ask) Holy shit I kinda got something right???

-The Deal with Whit, according to me. (Rb) I just like how this analysis came out :v

[basilone]

I want to hear your thoughts on fandom and the recent influx of the term content creation!

Well, anon, you are in luck! (Or not, depending on your definition of luck. 😉) I just so happen to have many Thoughts & Opinions™ about this. I will get wordy, this will get lengthy, and I will be social and put most of my thoughts under a readmore cut.

I personally try to avoid the terms ‘content’ and ‘content creation’ when talking about fandom works and a fandom’s creative pursuits nowadays. Occasionally, sure, it happens that it slips out anyway �� it’s a term we’re all really used to using! – but I want to be as mindful about its use as possible. This is a personal decision on my account and I won’t get uppity about other people’s use of these terms, though.

But, Killy, you might say... why would you avoid using these terms? For me, here’s why:

Content is not synonymous with art;

Content creation indicates something different than art creation;

Fandom should not be subject to consumerism;

Fandom is about connection.

If all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die.

Yeah. I know. Melodramatic much? I’m on my fainting couch here, folks. 😂 But let’s dig in, shall we?

You know, maybe it’s just the archivist in me that balks at the term ‘content’. Content is a data entry field in the archival system we use at my real-life job: literally speaking, this data entry field is where we put a brief summary of the document attached to that specific archival file. It contains information that tells you the key takeaways of what the document is about, but it will not contain the full text of the document itself. Content is one of the points of access for our archival search: I know what I’m looking for, so I put a few keywords into our search and it pulls up the relevant file. But what do I need, really need, in my line of work? It’s the document itself, not the data entry field. The document tells me the whole story that I need to be able to truly do my job well. The content-field is a cliffnotes edition of that story.

It’s the same way with the art we create in fandom. I’m gonna take myself as an example here, because I create a fair bit! (Shocking, I know. Local Tumblr cryptid sighting, more at 11. 😎) I spend hours writing fic. I spend hours sorting through screencaps before screeching at Photoshop for a lengthy amount of time. I spend days pouring over quotes, books, documents, photographs, tutorials, and other things that will help me create something cool. I apply color theory, art framing/perspective, narrative focus, and many other theories and techniques to my writing and my giffing. If I were to put my finished work or any of my WIPs in that same archive system, it would be the document within the archival file. The tags I use on my posts? Those are markers similar to the content-field. They tell you who my gifset depicts and from which show it is. They tell you which OC of mine my fic is about. My work contains these things I tagged.

But my creative work is not content itself.

Content is marketable, easy access, blurb-y stuff. Content is something you absorb within one minute flat. Content is the highlight reel. It’s what fills a page, something you’ll scroll past in a heartbeat, something that barely stands out in a long long long list of stuff. Content is what you consume on a lazy Sunday afternoon without ever being forced to read lengthy pieces, take in the details of what you see, pause mid-scroll to ponder the meaning of life, whatever else have you. Create content and you create a flash in the pan, a quick laugh maybe, before it fizzles back out again. Create content and it’s here today and gone tomorrow without anyone mourning its absence for too long.

Art should last longer than that, don’t you think? 😉

So when I see people put a fic request in an askbox and it’s phrased like “Speirs x spy!reader fluff” and that very same request makes its way into about ten more askboxes before the fandom starts comparing asks? I might be inclined to classify us all as slot machines. Put an ask in and out rolls a fic. Who cares which slot machine it came from? As long as you’ve got your painstakingly crafted fics that you consume the same way you do actual content, right? We, its writers, are just lucky if we get a pat of acknowledgement on our little slot machine head for our troubles, aren’t we?

When I see an overly detailed summary of what sounds like a full-fledged fic in an askbox and the demand is “write this for me”, I recoil from the screen and go “child, who the hell birthed you, were you raised in a barn?” out loud. If you can tell a story in the space of an askbox, consider asking for help to let that story – a story you own, a story that is more yours that it could ever be mine – grow into what it has the potential to be.

When I see fics and gifsets and other creations get likes but not reblogs, I mutter something about the state of fandom economy these days. We exist in a little fandom bubble. Our bubble can’t expand or blow from place to place without a little help from our friends. And you’re my friends, right? I know the follow-button says follow, guys, believe me, I’m not that far gone, but for me ‘follow’ means ‘friend’. 💚 You’re my buddy now. Suck it up. We’ll share a can of peaches. 🍑

When I see fics and other creations get reblogged without tags or comments attached, I die a little on the inside. I feel like a little Victorian orphan child going “please, reblogger, a little penny of thought for its creator, if it pleases?”. I feel like commentless and/or tagless reblogging is giving me nothing, nothing at all, about who you are.

And I want to get to know you! I want to know who’s in my notes. I want to know who’s scrambling through my MotA gifsets like a fat little raccoon inhaling its third helping of a box of jelly-filled donuts. I want to know who is adopting which character and why. I want to know that it’s your birthday, or that you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up, or that you are locked in an Ikea at three in the morning reading my blog by the bright lights of countless Solhetta bulbs. I want to know that you love my OC Darlene but that you ain’t sure what the hell my OC Lottie’s got to do with anything. I want to know what tickles you – a turn of phrase I used, a color in a gifset, a little detail I captured that made me go !!!!!! on the inside while I was creating too – and I want to know what moves you.

What reaches into the soil of your being and nourishes you enough to blossom into whichever lovely self you can grow to be? What is precious to you? What comforts you in the dark nights of your soul, when all light feels like it’s faded out? What do you love, truly love? What feeling and thought and idea and love love LOVE do you consume – truly consume, head to tail, no takebacks – and what are you consumed by in turn?

Let me connect with you. Let me know the little internet scraps of you that tell me you’re a DeMarco girlie, or that you’re here for Hoosier only, or that you’re as feral and batty about Speirs as I am, or that you actually really can’t stand the one dude everyone else raves about. Let me know that you like angsty quotes on gifsets – feel free to yell at me for making you schedule an impromptu therapy session – or let me know you saw what I did in my fic there and you’ll be demanding compensation from me while you lie down and wail about it. Let me know you’re very into those lovely blues on a gifset (I know, SO good, right??) or that you are side-eyeing me because that close-up of your fave turned you into a little puddle.

Let me know what moves you, because I created these things with love. I created them because they moved me, too. I created them because I have a story to tell, somehow. I created them because the whole world is a string of stories and I want to pass the heart of them on to you. I created them not because I want to jump on a hypetrain that races past all the episodes and all the alternate universes and all the stories without stopping, but because I want to soak up the sun and point at something and tell you “look, isn’t this beautiful?”. I created them not because I am looking for a quick fix or a distraction or an escape, but because I want to give you something that nourishes you as it has nourished me.

That’s so much more than that quick flash in the pan, yeah? That’s so much more than what content could ever hope to be. That’s something that lasts beyond the clicks and gives you an ever-expanding horizon that leaves you wondering just what in the world is next.

Let me repeat point five: if all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die. Because content doesn’t sustain you. Connection does. And connection? That happens with meaningful interaction. That happens when you stop getting followers and start getting friends. That happens when you treat all forms of art as something unique that can be precious to someone, rather than something to like today and forget about tomorrow.

Can I do a lil mic drop? Yeah. I think I’m gonna. Just this once. 🎤

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Something, something

with the Bang Bravern music

Or why oftentimes the music is the clue. And why it is high time the staff must release the soundtrack.

A) Lewis’ Theme and Bravern

Concerning the Bravern-Lewis theory. I wasn’t on board on it at first. I was vetting that Bravern would be much more insidious, a robot that has something malicious on his mind ready to wreak havoc after earning the trust of Isami, wooing him until the Japanese pilot said yes. What more evil than betraying the trust of the one, who thought you love him.

We saw the PV for the episode 9 and heard the background music playing while Isami grieved.

On Episode 2 as Bravern recounted the ways he loved Isami, he assured the international community that he fought for justice. (Anyway, Bravern is multilingual. Is Smith multilingual too?)

The moment Lewis realised that he was dead and Cunus was waiting to bond with him, his life began to roll like a film reel.

B) Reincarnation, Knuth/Ku/Cunus’ Indian music theme & uhm, Hinduism/Kali? And Lulu?

It is interesting how the music editor has chosen a Bollywood-sounding music accompaniment when they introduced Lulu and subsequently Knuth/Cunus to the equation. The key words are time travel/transmigration. After Smith fused with Knuth/Cunus, the result was Bravern. A different body with the same soul. Whereas Lulu, attempts to come back to the past in order to correct the future. Another way of being reborn. Hence, their theme’s Indian motif.

C) Superbia

When Superbia first appeared on episode 2, a piece of Gregorian chant was playing. Cementing the fact that his name is indeed from Latin, which means pride.

And once again on episode 11, when Superbia, who warned Bravern not to interfere, challenged Segnities. Anyway, the Gregorian chant only plays when Superbia is winning.

[lunanoc]

Tibetan Sea Flower (藏海花) Drama Review or Why I Think It’s a Laundry List of Crimes Actually

Because somebody had to do it

So the Tibetan Sea Flower (or 藏海花, or Adventure Behind The Bronze Door) drama, meant to be adapting the Tibetan Sea Flower novel, first sequel following the main eight volumes of Daomu Biji, has been out for a while now, and I finally got around to actually finishing it. And I have Many Things to say about it

That I can tell, a lot of people in the English-speaking part of the fandom have praised it for various reasons, and while I’m glad there are people who enjoyed it, I’m not one of those people, so for the sake of variety of opinion I thought I’d share my thoughts about it. I could honestly write an essay because that’s how many crimes this drama committed in my opinion, but no one wants to read All That so this is going to be an attempt at a highlight reel

TLDR; Tibetan Sea Flower is firmly at the bottom of my list of DMBJ adaptations with Lost Tomb 2.5. It’s only slightly above that because unlike Lost Tomb 2.5, Tibetan Sea Flower has a few redeeming qualities at least

First off, some things I did enjoy, or if not enjoy, that I can appreciate in a “there was a vision” sense

My favorite part of this drama was the first 4 or 5 episodes, and the choice to start with the tail end of volume 8 of the main story was a smart decision in that it gave a lot more emotional impact leading into ZHH proper. The start of the drama is fast-paced without feeling rushed, and while my opinion on the ZHH drama isn’t entirely based off of doing a one-to-one comparison with the book (mostly because adaptations inevitably change things to adapt to a new medium so they can’t and shouldn’t be one-to-one copies), the fact it followed the book to a T was a touch I appreciated. The cinematography, directing, and music for the most part are also a strong point this drama has going for it. I can also appreciate that the PingXie married vibes were off the charts to the point where every single time someone said “you’re the patriarch’s chosen one/friend” they might as well have been calling Wu Xie ‘Zhang furen’ it would have been the same thing. The addition of Ten Years Later (and the Fishing King extra which isn’t really an extra anymore since it’s been published as part of Ten Years Later) is also a decision I can appreciate in theory, and from a storytelling perspective makes for a fulfilling and thematically relevant ending. Chen Minghao as Pangzi also almost single-handedly carried the entire drama, iconic, thank you for your service king

Now that that’s out of the way, I can get into the meat and entire point of this post, that is some of the multiple crimes the ZHH drama committed because trust there are Many

I think the fact it started out so strong to me is what makes the rest of it worse. I’m not even sure if I can actually coherently explain the extent of the psychic damage this drama gave me by the time I finished it. There are sometimes significant differences between the drama and the book, which is something I expected because it’s an adaptation, and departures from the source material aren’t necessarily a bad thing. So it’s not that it’s different from the book that’s fundamentally a problem for me. What is a problem, however, is when an adaptation decides to make choices that fundamentally compromise the integrity of both the characters and the overarching plot. I don’t tend to expect anything from DMBJ adaptations, mostly because in general their quality varies, and they’re the main source of the misconception that DMBJ canon is a mess of inconsistencies and lack of cohesion when the original source material is by opposition generally both consistent and cohesive. The ZHH drama is one of those drama adaptations that decided to take the equivalent of a sledgehammer to everything from characterization and lore to any hope of cohesion between it and either the other drama adaptations or the books

The Zhang family lore takes the biggest hit. The casual obliteration of it is probably my biggest beef with this drama, and I can already hear people saying “but it’s not obliterated if it’s thematically adjacent, it doesn’t have to copy the book!. Now listen. It can be thematically relevant and not need to copy the book without creating completely unnecessary plot contradictions with the rest of the story, and as far as the Zhang family lore reworks are concerned, some of them aren’t even thematically appropriate, and sometimes are done in a way that’s?? Honestly baffling to me. Zhang Nian’s entire arc and existence is one of those, because he manages to make himself and the entire subplot that stems from him completely irrelevant by episode 20 where the drama just goes “...so anyway!”

There’s also the choice of having the tianshou (or the heavenly gift) be some sort of bug poison/disease that’s implied to be the only thing holding the Zhang family back from being “free” and living a normal life, and so from the moment Xiaoge decides to take on the mantle of Zhang Qiling for his own personal reasons (which is another issue I have), he alone bears the weight of the heavenly gift, and the rest of the family either disperses into living perfectly normal lives, or is at a bit of a loss as to what to do, which while this last bit is true to some extent for the overseas branch in the books, it stems from circumstances forcing them rather than a goal they wanted to achieve. I’m going to be very generous in blaming this change on censorship, but this alone, surface level as it is, is already contradicting the Zhang family’s most important thematic relevance in the story beyond the lore itself: the fact that they’re meant to be a family led astray by their own hubris and isolationist elitism, eventually switching gears from re: Queen’s Banquet an ancient people likely cursed by primordial entities beyond human understanding into becoming Other and seeking a cure for that, to a widespread and powerful clan pulling the strings of an entire empire for centuries upon centuries seeking a way to achieve true immortality

In the books, the Zhang family’s downfall is their own hubris that blinds them to their own failings to the point that eventually they lead themselves to being wiped out entirely by the Wang family, at least as far as the main branch is concerned. In the ZHH drama, their downfall isn’t even a downfall so much as it’s like they decided to retire and are having post-retirement depression. Zhang Nian is a pawn for the Wang clan, and in that sense he’s “relevant”, but his story is long-winded at best and undermines the impact and importance of the Wang family itself that ends up becoming a barely relevant footnote much like Sand Sea itself

The only thing I’m willing to believe is that Xiaoge either suffers from a more powerful version of the tianshou or is the only Zhang family member at present that suffers from it, mostly because we have no other living members of the main family alive to know if the tianshou ever became a burden Zhang Qiling alone carried for the rest of the clan. I’d be here forever if I started getting into how the ZHH drama somehow managed to lowkey retcon the Zhang family lore that was hinted at at the end of Queen’s Banquet, but it’s impressive how it managed to do even that. By the time it reached this point in episode 31 I was honestly just head in hands

Characterization issues in this drama also exist, and the three characters who suffer from it the most are probably Zhang Haike, and to a certain extent both Xiaoge and Wu Xie. Zhang Haike’s character is changed to the extent he might as well be a different character altogether so I won’t bother going into detail or I’ll be here for a while (TLDR; more or less erasing the fact he wears Wu Xie’s face permanently erases the somewhat antagonistic and overall complicated relationship he has with Wu Xie), but Xiaoge and Wu Xie have smaller changes that create contradictions down the line

Despite the drama mostly (but not entirely) disproving that Xiaoge specifically chose Wu Xie to carry on the task of tending to the tibetan sea flowers, it doesn’t discard the possibility entirely, which creates a number of problems, namely the fact that Xiaoge’s entire reasoning for going behind the bronze door in Wu Xie’s place and pushing him away the whole way up Changbai Mountain was to try and push Wu Xie out of tomb robbing and conspiracies altogether. Xiaoge sets up contingencies to help Wu Xie if he reaches specific points of no return, but going behind the bronze door is essentially Xiaoge doing the exact opposite of choosing Wu Xie to do a task, he’s aggressively unchoosing him. He also doesn’t ever relegate his duties as Zhang Qiling to other people

The same goes for the reasoning behind Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling being a deliberate move to help him find out who his parents are. This I can’t entirely discredit simply because the Three Days of Silence extra (the story of Xiaoge meeting Baima) gives no specific timeline or indication of his reason for going to the Jila temple besides that he was looking for a woman but he didn’t know who she was, and ZHH the book itself never talks about the circumstances behind Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling. The early main books place emphasis on Xiaoge’s driving force being discovering his identity and by extension his place in the world, so it’s not impossible to consider that might have been the case when he was a child as well. This is mostly vibes and not so objective, but the vibes are different, and to me Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling carries something more akin to a lamb offered as a sacrifice that accepts the role it’s been given, coupled with stepping up to a duty the Zhang family had essentially abandoned by that point, as opposed to doing it for strictly personal reasons. The same goes for the entire reasoning behind the tianshou wanting to kill Zhang Haike’s wife and taking control of Xiaoge to do so, because there’s irony in making Xiaoge, historically the least traditionalist Zhang alive outside of his actual duties as Zhang Qiling, Zhang family traditionalist number one via tianshou as if tianshou ever cared about the Zhang family’s isolationist politics or other earthly forms of power or symbols

Wu Xie is more complicated in that part of the problem for me is that I don’t particularly like Zhang Luyi as Wu Xie. Or in general as an actor. I’m aware this is a personal preference, but a lot of the more emotional moments were lost on me because to me he simply wasn’t conveying whatever emotion was meant to be conveyed convincingly. The biggest issue I have with Wu Xie’s portrayal outside of that is the subtle erasure of his character development. Reducing the Wang family’s relevance and impact cheapens their importance in the overarching story, which in turn cheapens the Sand Sea plan and its extreme difficulty, and the heavy personal cost of it for Wu Xie, which takes shape in the changes to the origin of his self-harm scars. Again, changing things from the book is fine, but when it alters what I consider to be a fundamental element in a character, it becomes a problem

The ZHH drama makes a point of showing that the first two scars that Wu Xie gives himself stem from what’s basically survivor’s guilt. He failed to protect the Zhang family, like he failed to prevent a situation that forced the Yinshaluo (I’m not sure that’s the name of the tribe considering all the place names in this drama are fake) warrior to sacrifice himself to stop the storm. Wu Xie punishes himself because he feels he failed, because he felt like he could have and should have done better. There are elements of that in the reasoning behind his scars in the Sand Sea book where their origin is explained, but the fundamental difference is that ZHH drama Wu Xie’s actions and reasoning come from a place where survivor’s guilt aside, he’s not objectively to blame for situations beyond his control, and in that sense, he’s “morally good”. Sand Sea book Wu Xie’s actions and reasoning come from the perspective of a man who deliberately orchestrated events in which he manipulated various people into becoming his pawns on a very high risk chessboard. Each scar represents a bad choice of move of the pawn that resulted in the death of his chosen sacrifice, so the element of failure is there, but the difference lies in the fact that contrary to the ZHH drama where he fails to save people, in the book, the people behind the scars are his victims that he willingly led to their deaths. He punishes himself because it’s his way of tolerating the intolerable from himself. Wu Xie’s amorality for the greater good in Sand Sea is such an important facet of his character, and by shifting the origin of those scars, it takes away from that element that the ZHH drama doesn’t hint at at all, or barely

There’s so many more things I could get into about this drama, like how paralleling Wu Xie and Xiaoge as being similar feels like a fundamental misunderstanding of their characters because them being different is the entire point. It’s doubly ironic when NPSS said recently that the entire point is that they’re entirely different people who only after the ten years have passed meet in the middle where their trajectories truly parallel each other: one of a man who went from a god to a man, and one of a man who went from man to god. I could talk about how Mama Bear Pangzi is a carry-over from the Reboot drama that doesn’t accurately reflect either what Pangzi is like in the books or how his dynamic with Wu Xie functions in them. I could talk about how despite there being good intentions in adding those scenes, shoving in as many impactful moments from the main story and Ten Years Later + Fishing King as they possibly could ended up feeling like boxes were being ticked off a list and it took away from their impact to the point some of those moments felt off or bland. It didn’t help that whether it was a directing issue or a filming issue (not an acting issue because Zhang Kangle was overall a good interpretation of Xiaoge), Xiaoge had practically no actual chemistry with either Wu Xie or Pangzi. I could talk about this drama’s pacing issues where it yo-yoed between going fast then excruciatingly slow. I could talk about the irony of an adaptation managing to both take a sledgehammer to the source material in a way that’s honestly criminal, yet ironically also being one the least newcomer friendly DMBJ adaptations

It’s safe to say I won’t be watching the ZHH drama again. This post exists mostly for the purpose of expounding on why I didn’t like this drama despite its strong start instead of just saying “it was bad”

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Kate Andrews

Has Kate Middleton united America? For the past few days, we have been one nation under her spell.

The Princess of Wales has dominated Google searches in the United States ever since Kensington Palace released that now-notorious doctored photo of her with her children for Mother’s Day.

Her name search beat that of both ‘Donald Trump’ and ‘Joe Biden’ over the past week.

To say she has broken the internet would be only the start of it: rumours of her well-being are making their way into every newsroom, dive bar, and church fellowship hour across America.

My friends from all over the country text and call me to ask the same question: What’s happened to Kate?

They know I’m as removed from the royal family as anyone could be, but I’m in London and I work in Westminster, so they hope I’ve heard a theory that hasn’t made its way across the pond just yet.

Left-liberal pals who usually text me when Trump says something obscene now want to know when I last walked by Buckingham Palace.

Did anything seem strange? More right-leaning friends, who tend to send videos of Biden jumbling his words, want to know if it’s unusual in Britain to not wear your wedding ring.

Or did someone photoshop her ring out of the Mother’s Day photo, too? Is that even her hand in the picture?

I wonder if Kate knows she has achieved the impossible in bringing America together in this way.

I suppose that depends on where she’s been, how she’s been faring, and how much she’s checking the news – all questions that largely remain unanswered.

Either way, it’s an impressive feat and a wonderful service she has performed.

Sure, it would be nice if existential threats to the United States and its citizens were cause enough for us to find common ground. But I’m not going to be picky.

I will forever be grateful for this smidgen of evidence that, if the cause is compelling enough, America can pull itself back from the brink.

How did ‘Kate-gate’ go viral in a nation that isn’t even her own? The princess’s prolonged absence from public life has the right components to capture America’s imagination.

We are a country obsessed with The Crown and true crime. Since we rejected the British monarchy almost 250 years ago, we have rarely had the opportunity to combine the two.

The mystery of Kate’s movements and the online sleuthing required to discredit that photograph proved to be a golden moment.

But it’s the cover-up elements, which made the story stratospheric.

Like everything else in the States, conspiracy theories tend to be big – the more far-fetched, the more viral they go.

Trumpist QAnon talk has never appealed to non-partisan Instagram girlies, but speculation around a princess’s whereabouts make for perfect 20-part video series to add to your highlights reel.

That’s because Kate-gate is not your traditional conspiracy fare.

The big questions – what’s happened to Kate, where has she been – have not been whipped up from nothing.

Suspicion has been fed by a number of public-relations mishandlings from the Palace.

Stories have changed, a photo has been botched and is still being censored on social media.

This is particularly strange given the normal PR slickness of the Firm: a protective, ruthless operation that presidents and popstars envy.

Some of the rumours have taken absurd and dangerous turns. But it’s not only fantasists who have questions. Something seems to be happening; we just don’t know what.

We may never find out what Kate has been up to these past months. And perhaps we shouldn’t. Her medical issues aren’t our business, after all.

But we know what’s happened to her in the eyes of the public: Brand Kate has skyrocketed.

She and her family have become even more intriguing – the Prince and Princess of Wales’s Instagram and X accounts gained more than 200,000 followers combined in the days after the doctored photo was posted.

That intrigue has made the princess all the more sensational.

Kate is now a mega-celebrity. She has the kind of fame her sister-in-law craves so badly.

Markle’s tactic was to shout from the rooftops: to make herself and her point of view heard through every media platform and streaming service that showed any interest. It worked for a while.

Had a pandemic not scuppered her big moment, ‘Megxit’ would have been the story of 2020.

She and Harry still got to sit down with Oprah. Netflix charted their journey from the Palace to the Hollywood Hills. But attention quickly waned.

This week, the duchess finds herself doing what every fame-hustler must do in the fight for survival: launching a lifestyle brand.

Her Californian-inspired venture, called American Riviera Orchard, will be offering us fashion advice and gardening tips, along with another outlet selling artisan jams and yoga gear.

Yet as she pushes the cutlery and cookbooks, it’s absent Kate whose face is projected all over the world: a testament, if there ever was one, to the power of silence.

Given the long line of mess-ups from the Palace, this boost for Kate is a fairly good outcome.

The princess disappeared for a few months, and the world made its message clear: we simply can’t bear to be without her.

When she returns to public life, she will be more adored and loved than ever.

The rumours and theories will die down. The outpouring of support for the Princess of Wales will continue.

It seems likely that she will, as promised, resume public duty in the spring.

The future queen of England will return, radiant as ever, to stand next to her future king and her family, as if nothing ever happened.

We’ll watch on, always with the niggling feeling that there was something we weren’t told and that not knowing is the key to the charm.

As Walter Bagehot said:

‘We must not let in daylight upon magic’ – or photoshop, for that matter.

NOTE: Additional photos have been included in this article.

[inquebrar]

ok. it is time. i still can't believe i lived long enough to witness this moment.

i will be opening the door to something that changed the trajectory of my life.

i still remember when i watched the Run mv for the first time shortly after it was released. i still remember what it was like to experience the HYYH era and see the BTS Universe (BU) being built, at the very beginning, where there were only theories and a lot of analyzes trying to put the pieces together and understand what was happening in the story and what they were trying to do with the narrative. i still remember thinking "omg i wish they made a series or movies about this! that would be so amazing"

and then more and more things were being released about it, such as the Highlight Reels, the books (The Notes), the webtoon (Save Me), the game (BTS Universe Story) and yeah a lot more content over the years until... FINALLY

Begins ≠ Youth

i still can't actually believe that this is happening, i've already rewatched all the first 4 episodes that were released countless times and i'm still so happy that i have no words to explain it. although i'm also extremely disappointed at how this kdrama that contains a story that has such a huge emotional value, isn't getting the promotion it deserves. the actors are doing an impeccable job and they deserved to have a lot of recognition, and also the show being published where and in the way it was, i think it was a very big negligence in general.

that being said, fuck capitalism.

and i will be talking about Begins ≠ Youth and obviously also about HYYH and BU because after all, i waited 8 years for this to come true.

[lemotmo]

I’m honestly curious if the spec of a nde for one or both of them is what’s gonna make Eddie realize his feelings for Buck at this point is correct.

Because I can’t really think of what else they are gonna do now to get him to have that moment. The priest seems to have been a one and done (though they could bring him back I guess in theory) and they all already said it wouldn’t be another Eddie goes back to therapy so there’s no Eddie figuring things out and working through them with Frank.

So something has to happen to make Eddie actually stop and go “Oh” Like he definitely took that first step or two last night but just acting free and silly is a far cry from him realizing he’s queer and in love with his best friend lol. Like he’s not going to just randomly wake up one morning going oh I’m queer and love Buck without some driving force behind it.

It's is definitely a possibility. Eddie needs a push in the right direction and if they were both in an accident or something like that, where Eddie had to attend to a wounded Buck (once again), but this time on his own? I do think that this would rattle him enough to start thinking about what exactly it is that he feels for his friend.

There have been a lot of call-backs to past Eddie and Buck centric calls in the previous episodes. There is another call back to the lightning episode in 8x07. The show is definitely showing us a reel of all the Buddie highlights and they're also showing us Eddie's medical skills in every single episode. So I'm thinking something might happen in 8x08 where they both get hurt and Eddie has to use his medical skills to save Buck.

Knowing 911, this will be a cliffhanger and we won't know how it turned out until after the hiatus.

It's all very intriguing. Can't wait to see if all our speculations were right or wrong. 🤔😋

[whatwouldvalerydo]

The theory of blow magic - The merry boy band - 8/9

Warning: minor sexual references and jokes

Once more lazy to edit a picture or else we would have waited another week if not more.

Characters mentioned here or belong to: @flareshin @lifeofkaze and @kc-and-co

Walking inside an empty classroom, a few pair of eyes rose when Phil entered, the words “Welcome honorable knights.” Falling from his lips as if they were commonly used amongst them on a daily basis. Dylan rolled his eyes when several papers were presented on top of the table they gathered around, Phil offering a broad smile “Today is the first day of this adventure and I need your skills if we are to vanquish the evil that has possessed this castle. Once we are victorious, I will attribute a bag of carefully selected items as a reward. Until then I require your skills as we embark on this journey.”

“Who are you and why are you talking like that?’ Jonathan asked.

“Why am I here?” Lachlan chimed in, taking a seat, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes skimmed the papers.

“I thought my speech will add more to set the mood. You’re all in your last year and there’s a mystery, aren’t you excited?” looking at his friends, he added a tad sheepishly “Not even a bit?”

Nodding, Jonathan offered an encouraging smile “We are, of course. But we just don’t know what you want from us.”

Pointing a finger at the papers, Phil added in a dramatic but serious tone “To help me piece these together. Jonathan, you can use your imagination and drawing skills to redraw the pictures that are faded. Lachlan you can help us decipher the riddles and you Dylan can be our critical eye, see what we can’t.”

“I’m out, thanks but no thanks.”

Not looking at Dylan, Phil took a paper reading out loud “One shall handle with care such an instrument for it is delicate however when handled correctly, the most beautiful sounds shall be produced.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lachlan picked up another page “Come on Dylan, what does that sound like to you?”

Sighing, he sat back down “I don’t know. A blowing instrument of some kind? Let me see.” Looking at the picture in the corner, he tilted his head “It doesn’t look complete. Maybe there’s a continuation on another page?”

Taking out a blank page, Jonathan already started doodling away, adding lines and shapes based on their descriptions.

“Maybe you can draw portraits of criminals for the Ministry since you’re so good at drawing.” Phil said after an hour of going back on forth, reading line after line.

“I don’t think so.” Jonathan mentioned pressing the page against his chest, his face going red.

Trying not to laugh, Lachlan elbowed him “That doesn’t look right.”

Looking at him panicked, he almost yelled “You think?” causing Lachlan to laugh out loud.

“Engorged, phallic shaped, member…” looking at everyone once he regained composure, he just shook his head amused at the situation “Guys, I think this book is a joke someone played long ago. It’s about” stealing another glance at Jonathan, he reeled himself in slightly “a different type of blowing. Something tells me you might actually not want to get to the bottom of his…curse.” He added the mandatory air quotes, Phil giving him a grave look.

“Quest.”

“Whatever.” Looking at everyone, Lachlan raised his hands “Really? That’s a…” urging Jonathan to show his drawing, a fully erect penis represented the highlight of his hour of labor. Phil blinked a couple of times, Dylan smacking his forehead while adding.

“So this is a nasty book on how people in the Victorian era went on about it?” squinting his eyes at some text, he sighed “That’s an awfully complicated way of explaining how to…no, no, I’m done. DONE.”

“But I want to break the curse.” Phil added with the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Jonathan had ever witnessed.

“Trust me buddy, this might not be something you want to really discover.”

“No 100% completion?”

Shaking his head “Afraid not.”

“Unless you really want the entire picture on complicated sex and foreplay.” Lachlan added with a smirk, Jonathan crumpling his drawing and throwing it in the bin.

“Butterbeers anyone? I’m buying if we don’t speak about this ever again.”

“Deal.” Dylan said.

A day later as they were attending one of their classes, professor Winger held up Jonathan’s crumpled drawing, addressing the class “I’m curious to know who decided it was a good idea to use the classroom for such reasons. And if you don’t come clean there are spells I can use to track down the student that decided to have fun in my classroom.” Seeing Scarlett raise her hand, he looked at her “Yes miss Tempest?”

“Wasn’t me but I wanted to say nice dick. Thank you for sharing that professor.”

“And that’s detention for you, anyone else?”

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

After finale ramble.

The Eighth Sense and its visual storytelling, the artfulness and the sheer effect with which they make the stories visible, highlighted, in colors, in light and dark, in acting, in movement. Like, of course they use sound, too, they appeal to all the senses that film medium can, visual, auditory, even associations of scent and smell and touch just by the heightening of the audio-visual experience, through filters, distortions, manipulations, framing, score, lyrics, leading the eye and the expierence. Artful and so well-made that it stands out in its emotional impact.

The editing, the extreme close ups, the alteration between movement and stillness, hand camera, aerial drone views, reverse, above water under water upside down mirror views too close too make up what you’re looking at for a moment...  it all makes you almost dizzy at times, as even your vestibular sense is appealed to by these very physical visual techniques and effects, too, right next to all the themes and metaphors about balance throughout the text.

I do love the theories about the series title I’ve seen around, about the seventh sense being proprioceptive (movement and how you place, orient yourself) and the eighth one being interoceptive (internal, your physical needs, maybe in extension emotional needs, as it is a story about listening to those and healing/growing/moving).

I dare say this series comments on and appeals to all of them, through the technical use of medium, its metaphors and its art and messages about the human experience, and life being the use of all those senses, exitsting through and inside them, life being all of those experiences and the changes inbetween, the stillness, the stagnation, the getting moving again, the waves, the being tossed by waves, the watching of a tamed ocean inside a fish tank, the just dipping your toes in water. The salt-water tears you cry.

I came here to say. Just having watched the last two eps, and there’s just so much there, so many things, layers, so many artful things, but boy did I feel a visceral reaction when Jaewon started moving again, walking with that skip in his step to school, down the stairs. 

Because what does depression do to you, it makes you stuck and stagnant, holding yourself still, frozen, preserving energy, paralyzing you. It reads all over your body, its immobility and rigidness. The acting on this is impeccable and had a visceral effect on me.

And then? When that animation comes back to you, to Jaewon, in that skip in his step, the animation of his face, elasticity and livelyness, the sheer movement of it all, that means feeling alive? How yes, there’s work and growth and healing that brought him there but sometimes it just happens, suddenly, just so? To make that point visible through these short scenes of walking, and the relief I felt, the energy?

Even the flow of meandering through the city feels like progress made visible, but when he walks again, with purpose, the acting out of that walk towards Jihyun, arms swinging, hands engaged, whole body motion walking with purpose?

That scene hit hard, will stay with me, because everything about those last two eps made that story visible, the getting back into movement, movement as what makes this life, the rush of it after stillness, that leaves you reeling. They took me along on that journey with those last eps, reminded me.

The evocativeness of this series and how it’s made, of taking you along on that ride, put you through it, all senses engaged, remind you of life... a very cathartic one, this one. No I’m not crying. I am actually so elated.

I do love those shows the best, that put you through the story’s experience as a viewer, by the means of the medium and publishing, too. Shows that guide and engage your emotional journey in a way that adds deeper layers of meaning to the messages, and is a very potent message in itself, I feel. Especially if you end on a positive hopeful note, much needed in these times.

Catharsis, yes. Connection through art, too.

Wow and thank you.

[springtrappd]

n. o?????? what racist guy

so there's this guy on twitter called blackfootferret, who's a pretty standard fnaf theorist guy who tweets shit, uploads videos to youtube, you know the drill. pretty standard, right?

well, earlier this week (on 01/11/2033, aedt) he decided to upload a video called The Two Williams: The Jekyll and Hyde of FNAF [archive], in which he very seriously argues that not only does william afton suffer from dissociative identity disorder, but so does scott fucking cawthon. yes, seriously. part of this fnaf theory video is that Real Guy, Scott Cawthon, has did and is using afton as a stand-in for himself.

the video itself is utterly batshit in ways way too extreme to go into here. like, every single sentence is another sucker-punch of "jesse what the fuck are you talking about" that wouldn't fit within tumblr's image limit. to give you a taste, however, enjoy these screenshots from this totally normal video:

naturally, this drew people's attention and incited controversy, especially when he went on twitter to complain about being banned from the game theory subreddit [archive]... which caused people to dig up some of his older theories [archive], and... yeah, that random mention of lamar (one of charlie's friends in tse) in that screenshot? that's because he thinks every dark-skinned background character is the same black guy -- lamar afton, the son of ballora and part of his afton family horcrux theory, where he argues that all of the robot suits were actually intentionally made to store parts of the afton family's souls. if you want to know more about that, you can always check out his series on it -- clocking in at a nice, short and digestible 5 hours and 43 minutes! (i'm not, though. you could not pay me.)

he also compared the security puppet's armband system to the nazis (and used a racial slur against romani people -- classy!), claiming it as an allegory for racism against charlie, who is -- as we all know -- the daughter of henry and ballora, who later gets stuffed in fredbear.

naturally, he's taken the backlash every well and is responding thoughtfully to criticism. just kidding here's a highlight reel of his replies

he's a level of batshit beyond even matpat and it's genuinely impressive. like, i can't even be mad? because it's just so fucking hilariously insane. "the fazgoo from fazbear frights is a parallel for william afton being a system". his use of outdated language and complete misunderstanding of how literally anything works ever making it very clear that he googled precisely one thing and it was "did population percentage". the fucking graphs. "how is it ableist to headcanon that every villain/questionable person in the series are actually evil alters". rting barack obama in the middle of all this. "i can't be racist, i follow three black people on patreon". i'm kind of obsessed (and honestly surprised he didn't pull out "the pink guy is pink as a reference to the pink triangle", but i'm gonna be real here, i don't think he's ever googled anything about the holocaust either). to close us out, please enjoy him putting his foot in his mouth:

[jessthetea]

You’re right, why did she post something to Liam only today ?

This woman is a sociopath, she pretends to be impacted by Liam’s death and if that is the case so she wants people to consider her a sensitive woman and who has a heart of gold, if I remember correctly she posted something about the death of Vivienne Westwood in order to draw attention to herself and she managed to have more followers with what she has posted.

I think she shouldn’t have posted something about Liam and she dared to put a picture of him and her, even the people who were closest to him for example his ex partenaire and she is also the mother of his child (Cheryl) didn’t do like this leech with crocodile tears (I’m talking about Jess).

Liam never dated with Jess, he never recognized her as his girlfriend in 2017 or 2018 and it’s not written anywhere either on social media or the internet that they both dated together, despite the fact that at the time Jess tried and wanted to make everyone believe that they dated together, knowing that she did everything to appear in the pictures with him and she managed to get noticed, but not like now with Jamie

Her little essay about Vivienne Westwood is "touching" but noticeably untagged to any official account or person connected to Vivienne, almost like she didn't want it seen. Probably because those theories about her leaving on bad terms are true. But of course, she couldn't resist making it a big deal about herself, highlighting her time there as if to remind everyone that she once held a “meaningful” job—despite clearly blowing it so badly she was never allowed back in fashion.

If Jess was going to post about Liam, it should've happened ages ago. Waiting this long feels strategic, like she didn’t want her post buried among the flood of other tributes, so she held out to maximize visibility. And yes, it's honestly revolting that she included a picture of herself with him when no one else has done that. She has to make everything about her, to ensure people see her and how “important” she is.

Whether they actually had a fling, I don’t know—it was reported, but it wouldn’t be shocking if Jess herself planted that story with the press to stir up buzz (or maybe a short-lived fling did happen). Either way, it’s obvious she pounced on Liam when he was on the rebound, which is grimy no matter how it went down. And now she's using his passing, weeks later, to reel in attention and sympathy.

Her comments are filled with people saying, “So sorry for your loss, Jess.” What loss? They hadn’t spoken in years—6, maybe 7? He didn’t follow her on IG, and it’s not like they were close. She was in his life briefly, pretended to be his manager, then moved on to do the same thing with Jamie. She’s absolute trash.