#i mean i doubt every single artist in the world does this but. yeah

[thedamageofherdays]

Hey pal, I was wondering what you think about people "begging" for kudos and reblogs and comments and whatnot? Cos sometimes it feels like a guilt trip yanno? Idk you seem pretty smart about these things so yeah wanted to know if you have Thoughts™️ And no need to publish if you feel it's gonna cause issues either. Just genuinely curious to know what you have to say 😘😘

Hi anon! Thanks for asking ❤

This is certainly a complicated topic and, potentially, controversial. So before I get into my thoughts I want to add that nothing I am about to say is aimed at anyone in particular. These are just some general observations and thoughts that I've had during my time in fandom. I am adding a read more cause my reply got a bit lengthy oops.

The first thing is that as someone who creates content I get wanting people to like and appreciate the things you put out into the world. Even as someone for primarily creates for themselves, getting that appreciation feels nice and validating. There are issues with constantly wanting to chase that rush but I will get into that later. Initially I just wanna make clear I get wanting to feel appreciated. A lot of creators put a lot of hard work into the things they make and often don't get much of a response. Which can be demotivating. Especially when sometimes reposts of artists works and plagiarism gets a much larger response than the creator themselves got. And honestly? Fandom can be a bit if a popularity contest sometimes. And some people only appear to value people who are popular which is incredibly disheartening.

But at the same time, as much as I understand wanting more appreciation, the way it gets phrased sometimes and the way people handle these things is in fact guilt-trippy. And I'm not a fan of that at all. No one is actually obligated to like your works or leave kudos or reblogs or leave comments. You don't know why a random stranger on the internet does or doesn't respond to your creation. They could have a million reasons why. And ultimately the reason doesn't even matter. They didn't reblog or they didn't leave a comment. Maybe they just liked or left kudos. Maybe they did neither. We can’t make them. We can explain the benefits of more people reblogging or leaving comments. We can talk about how it motivates creators to make more. But we can't make every single individual interact with everything they come across. And I strongly believe that making people feel guilty or like they are lesser because they didn't reblog will actually prevent them from interacting more because that's a lot of pressure.

Another thing regarding this I have noticed is that a lot of people who complain about the lack of interaction they get don't actually bother interacting with other people's creations. Which to me feels a bit hypocritical. You can't expect people to devote energy to you if you don't devote energy to anyone else. And this doesn't mean you, the creator, have to like every single person's works either, no one can like every single thing. But if you don't support anybody while expecting to get that support it makes me very suspicious and actually less likely to share your works.

The next thought I have is complicated. Because sharing your creations is incredibly vulnerable. And I understand that even people who get a lot of reblogs and likes and kudos and comments will still feel vulnerable and they can still get insecure. But it does, sometimes, feel a little off when people who appear to get a lot of appreciation for their work say it's not enough when I know there are plenty of people who get way less interaction. Now, I don't mean for this to be accusing and I truly do understand feeling insecure over your works and feeling like people don't like your works because you got less kudos than your previous work or someone else did or someone left a comment that made you doubt yourself. And those feelings are real and valid and I think people should be allowed to talk about the hard parts of creating and I think that goes for every creator, no matter how popular they are. But sometimes I do catch myself feeling uncomfortable about it.

I think this ties into the thing I mentioned earlier about chasing that rush. When a fanwork does well and everyone seems to like it, you get this rush of excitement. At least I do! And it's fun and wonderful and then you post the next work and for whatever reason it doesn't do as well and that's rough, really rough. You just want to get that nice feeling again. And you might never get it. Because a fanwork doing well isn't about quality. Some of the most talented people I know hardly get any appreciation. Equally there are some incredibly popular fanworks I just do not vibe with. There are so many factors that play into it. How late did you post? How many other people posted something that day? Is your fanwork niche or does it contain a popular trope? Did a popular blog reblog your work? Was it part of an event that brought more attention to it? And many other factors. I know people sometimes talk about needing to market your fanworks and while I acknowledge that it can be helpful to get more people to see your work if you do everything "right" it's still not a guarantee and I genuinely hate the concept anyway because fandom is my hobby and not a job and I don't wanna market my hobby because it makes me miserable.

So yeah this is a very ramble-y response (is anyone surprised?) to say that I think sometimes people do get guilt-trippy and while I get wanting more appreciation for your creations (trust me I've been there) sometimes people don't consider what the best way of getting appreciation is. And as cheesy as it is? Creating for yourself is the best thing. I am happiest when I make the things that make me happy and excited, no matter how niche they are. I think creating for other people's appreciation makes creating stressful and puts a lot of burdens on a creator that actually make it stressful and difficult to create.

Also a last final thought I have... I feel like all of this ties into something else I noticed and that's people taking people who rec a lot of things for granted. (I know the same happens to creators but that's a different issue). Sometimes it feels like reccers aren't seen as nice people who just really like fics but as a marketing tool for your fics and from experience I can say that being made to feel that way honestly sucks.

Anyway final disclaimer: I think my thoughts on this subject are very much in progress so I might not have phrased everything perfectly and I might change my mind on things.

Final final disclaimer: please no one yell at me and please don't take any of this as a personal attack. It isn't meant to be.

Thanks again for asking anon!

[dailytomlinson]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

[kaibacorpintern]

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life? 

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting. 

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like. 

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit. 

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip. 

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric. 

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound.  He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto. 

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat! 

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking. 

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

[kookiesjoonies]

risk it — jjk | nine.

risk it | nine: one more chance.

a/n: i know this update is kinda late, pls forgive me. xo 

↠ main pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x salon owner!reader

↠ side ships: namjin, vmin (fwb), hoseok x makeup artist!oc

↠ word count: 2.1k

↠ warnings: angst (duh lol), language 

SERIES SUMMARY:

✧ a drunken text ends with you wrapped up in the arms of your ex-boyfriend. aka the man that you dumped two years prior, after he refused to marry you. suddenly, all of the feelings that you’d seemingly had buried come rushing back up to the surface, and you’re not sure how long you can ignore them.

Jungkook’s hands were gripped onto the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had begun to turn white. His lips were pursed, brows narrowed, and chest heaving with angry breaths as he drove toward your salon. 

He had half a mind to turn around and drive in the opposite direction— to your apartment, where Yoongi was, and pummel him into the ground until he was bruised and bloody from head to toe. 

But he wanted to see you more. He wanted to tell you exactly what he thought about you having sex with his ex best friend, and he wanted to know exactly what the two of you had done together. 

Ever since Taehyung had sent that fucking picture in the group chat, it was all he could think about. He kept imagining Yoongi’s hands traveling up and down your body, Yoongi’s mouth trailing down your stomach, and every time he’d envision Yoongi fucking you into your mattress all he saw was red. 

When he finally pulled into a parking spot outside of the front door, he took a deep breath and ran the palms of his hands down his face in an attempt to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. 

The sign above the door read Kookie Cutters, and he couldn’t help but to shake his head as memories of the two of you together flooded back in. 

He was lying next to you on your shared bed, one hand mindlessly on your breast (as it always seemed to be), while his other hand held the television remote. 

You’d been trying to come up with a name for your business all afternoon, and at first, he was eager to help. But after you shot down all fifty of his suggestions, he’d resorted to just nodding and grunting as he let you ramble on. 

 “I want the name to be something unique, yet personal. Something that nobody else has thought of.” 

He nodded his head in agreement, attention more focused on the soccer game in front of him than on your words. 

You rolled your eyes, plucking a pillow from behind his head and swatting him with it. 

“Hey! I was listening!” He insisted, swatting your attack away with his hands. 

“Uh huh, so what did I say?” You lifted a brow, hands on your hips. 

He smirked at your newfound attitude, always finding it so adorable and endearing. 

“Alright, alright. You caught me.” He admitted, to which you let out an annoyed sounding huff. 

“Kook! This is important!” your eyes lit up then, a theoretical lightbulb switching on above your head, “Wait, that’s it! I’ve got the name!” 

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Jungkook teased, and you playfully punched his shoulder. 

“Kookie Cutters, but… spelled like your name.” You visibly blushed as you told him your suggestion, and he was sure you were the cutest person he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Sounds good to me.”

Jungkook inhaled one final deep breath before wrapping his hand around the door handle and opening it up, stepping inside of the decently sized building. 

He was immediately greeted with the smell of bleach and hairspray, the sound of gossiping hairdressers and clients buzzing through his ears. 

The place had grown impressively since the last time he’d been. You’d obviously hired more help, as well as made several renovations to the store’s overall aesthetic. The walls that used to be the ugliest shade of puke green were now a stylish cool toned grey, and the once tile floors had been replaced with dark rustic hardwood. You’d replaced the cheap light fixtures with spectacular chandeliers, and the waiting area that used to have a sofa and a small tv now housed several chairs and two wall mounted flat screens.

It suited the place, he thought. It suited you. 

“You look lost.” A feminine voice pulled him out of his trance, and he turned to face none other than Lee Mina. 

He offered her a small shrug, his eyes still looking the place over and attempting to catch sight of anything he might’ve missed. 

“Just impressed, is all. Looks a lot different than it did two years ago. Well, I mean, other than the name.” 

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch, you know that?” The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her toes on the floor below, exuding annoyance from every single one of her pores. 

“I’ve been told that a time or two, yeah.” He confessed, looking past her and scanning the other women in the salon— looking for you. 

“She’s in her office,” Mina informed, “but I highly doubt she wants to see you.” 

“I told her I was on my way here.” 

“Awfully bold of you to come into a place filled to the brim with scissors and bleach, don’t you think?” Mina held a bite to her voice that damn near sent shivers down the man’s spine. 

Luckily, you finally made an appearance and stood beside your hard headed friend. 

“Down, girl,” you placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding toward the waiting area, “you’ve got a client, no time for poisoning my ex boyfriend.” 

“Trust me,” she started, shooting a death glare in Jungkook’s direction as she began to walk away, “I can make time.” 

Jungkook was sure that if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now. 

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” 

You scoffed, hands on your hips.

“Can you blame her?” 

No, he couldn’t. 

He sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Can we go somewhere and talk?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, we can go into my office. Follow me.” 

He did as he was told, keeping a safe distance between the two of you as he walked behind you. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place, by the way.” 

You mumbled a thank you as you opened up your wooden office door, stepping aside and gesturing him to go in before you. 

Your office was just as impressive as the main space, but Jungkook could tell that you’d taken the time to make this room more personal. Pictures of you and your friends hung on the wall behind where your glass desk was sat, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t upset him to see that there weren’t any pictures of you two. Not that he’d expected there to be. 

Apparently, you could see the way that his face seemed to fall at that realization, and you were quickly bumping his hip to turn his attention to the picture frame beside your laptop. 

It was a photo of you and Jungkook, around seventeen years old, he guessed. His hair was much shorter, and his skin had a lot less ink— as in, had no ink. Yours was the same way, bare and tattooless. Jungkook was kissing your cheek in the photo, and you were grinning from ear to ear with your metal braces on full display. 

He couldn’t help but to reach out and touch it, allowing his fingers to ghost over the picture as he reminisced about the past. You’d become his everything when the two of you were just sixteen, the typical high school sweethearts cliché. 

He shared his first kiss with you, and you shared yours with him. It was so bad— teeth clacking and tongues unsure of what to do. But eventually, the two of you figured it out. Together. 

Your first time having sex was even worse, because neither of you even managed to cum. Maybe you would’ve, if Jungkook’s mom hadn’t walked in in the middle of it and proceeded to give you the world’s longest speech about how she was too young for grandchildren. 

“Did you really think I’d have pictures of everyone else, but leave you out?” You asked, taking a step forward and leaning your back against the desk beside him. 

“Guess it shouldn’t shock me,” he shrugged, straightening his posture as he sat on the edge of the desk and allowed one leg to dangle down, “seeing as how I still have a picture of you on my station at the shop.” 

“You know,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I was so mad before I came here. Really, my blood was boiling. But as soon as I laid eyes on you—“ 

“Don’t,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand, “just say what you came here to say, Jungkook. 

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were staring straight forward at the frames hanging on the wall in front of you. He could see the way they were glossed over, tears threatening to spill out at any moment. 

He’d made you cry so many times before, and every single time he did he felt like he was dying— like all of the air was being slowly sucked from his lungs. 

“Bug, don’t cry,” he stood in front of you instantly, his hands instinctively finding their way onto the sides of your face, “I just wanted to apologize, to tell you that I’m sorry for hurting you.” 

You closed your eyes, and to his surprise, leaned into his touch. He swiped his thumb across your cheekbone as a single tear fell down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You keep saying that,” you choked out, fully allowing the sobs to take over your body now, “but you don’t ever make any effort to stop doing it!” 

Your body began to shake, and you could no longer hold yourself up. The weight of everything that had happened recently, and in the past, was clearly getting to you. You fell against Jungkook’s chest as you continued to choke out pitiful sobs, and he used his strong arms to hold your body up to keep you from slipping to the ground. 

“I c-can’t do this anymore, Kook! I’m so in love with you that I feel it in every inch of my body, but all you seem to want to do is h-hurt me,” you continued to ramble, using the back of your hand to wipe at your nose, “and I know you don’t mean to sometimes. But sometimes y-you do! And I just— I miss you, I miss who you used to be. I miss the guy that loved me and treated me right when we were teenagers! I know he’s in there somewhere, so either dig deep and f-find him or stay the f-fuck out of my life because I—“ 

The sound of Jungkook’s own sobbing cut you off. He’d begun stroking your hair with his hand as he let you get everything out, but it wrecked him to know he was making you feel this way. 

“I’ll try and be better, I swear to God I will. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted, and I am so sorry for all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you. You deserve so much better than me,” he lifted your chin with his fingers so that his sad eyes could meet your own, “but if you’ll give me one more chance… I swear I’ll be the man that you need me to be.” 

He could tell that the gears of your mind were working in overdrive, weighing out the pros and cons of putting your trust in him again. He hoped with every fiber of his being that you would, because come hell or high water, he was going to prove to you that he was worth your love again. 

You lifted your hands up to meet his face, wiping his tears from his cheeks and tucking his long strands of hair behind his ears. 

“Okay. One more chance.” 

The sigh of relief that Jungkook breathed out could no doubt be heard from the other side of the world. He nodded once, taking in the fact that you’d actually agreed to have him in your life full time again, even on a trial basis. 

His forehead leaned against your own as he pulled you tighter against him, giving your body with the tightest embrace— scared that at any moment, you’d change your mind and run in the opposite direction. 

“I promise you won’t regret this, bug. I mean it, I—“ 

Jungkook was cut off by Mina swinging open the door to your office and announcing your presence with her seemingly always excited, high pitched voice. 

“Oh, my God! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, it’s just— uhm,” she was stammering awkwardly, and speaking way too quickly, “Yn, you uhm… have a client. She’s waiting for you.” 

You gave her a quick nod, letting her know that you’d be out in just a minute as you wiped at the mascara running under your eyes. 

“Call me later?” you asked, finally breaking away from your ex lover’s hold, “We have a lot more to talk about.” 

“Sure thing.” 

As you turned to exit the room, you stood up on the tips of your toes and placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder before allowing your lips to peck a kiss to his cheek. 

“Get home safe, Kook.” 

⇠ masterlist ⇢

a/n: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! thanks for reading!

tag list: @ppersonna @taetaewonderland @preciouschimine @agaassi @honeyoongles @jinhitwhore @alterlovess @dontaskshhhhh @bonobonoya2001 @fan-ati–c @diorhobii @athenakyle @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @ashleyjoyx @sadgalsadpal @shaktibhardwaj @jeonsbananamilk @bat-shark-repellant @jkhey97 @sterynlis @aizuwusho @krystle1990 @crazylittlemay @betysotelo18 @cypheruby @deadleaves278 @awesomekpoptrashblogposts @styxdagger @kookoo-kachoo @jungkooksseuphoria @imluckybitches @ayasanuwu @sugaminh @kisskoos @tae165 @themyscirarey @janetgordyx3 @mini-coop25 @out-of-jams @sugalarity @yoongissugarmommy @missseoulite @amoreguk @meesheru @namugguk @guksweet @55west81st @barbikatherine @ilyeuphoria @jeon-joker

if you aren’t tagged, it’s because tumblr won’t let me tag certain people for some reason. so sorry! :(

[dreaminginvelaris]

sorting acotar characters into hogwarts houses

idk why i decided to make this post but it was fun sooo...

lmk if y'all agree or disagree. Also please no hate, sometimes a post is just for fun and i don't need any negativity. UNLESS its hate for elain which by all means go ahead ;) (because of ppls sensitivity, this joke isnt an invitaion to go on a full blown elain hate rant just offer a few jabs, especially if you agree on the elain section and move on, if you wanna go on a rant, message me or submit a post and i'll response, all the love <3)

Slytherin: Ambition, Cunning, Leadership, and Resourcefulness

Rhysand: of course Rhys is Slytherin, the man screams Slytherin. We all know he's cunning, often coming up with plans to get what he wants, leader well duh, he's a high lord and loves it and is great at it, he's ambitious, he's a dreamer, so of course, he wants more, and he's resourceful, always being able to think on the spot. Rhysands second house would be Ravenclaw for sure though.

Eris: uhhh do I even have to explain? wants to be Highlord, boom ambitious. seems to be the one in charge of his brothers and has many responsibilities, boom leader. being able to achieve what he wants, boom cunning. resourcefulness...yeah I don't got an example for that one, anyways 3/4.

Azriel: daddy az is a Slytherin, I mean obviously this is the best house (is it obvious yet that I'm a Slytherin ;) but fr, I debated sorting him into Ravenclaw, but even though yes he shows Ravenclaw traits it's not the ones we see the most of or the ones that really shine through Azriel's reserved personality. The main traits azzy boo here has from Slytherin are Cunning and Resourcefulness, and imo these are the ones we see from him every page.

Amren: im putting amren here too, she's literally both!

Gryffindor: Brave, Courage, Daring, Chivalrous

Cassian: this one is self-explanatory, how many times has he put others before himself, how many times has he endangered his own life to save others. that's a Gryffindor soul he has. he always tried to do the right thing, he's brave as hell and reckless at times it seems from the little snide comments we've gotten from the books, he would have been a marauder no doubt.

Tamlin: I hate to do this I do because I love my lions, but I had to put this piece of shit somewhere and since he reminds me of peter Pettigrew bc of his cowardness, I'm sorting him in here. I'm so sorry guys ;(

Morrigan: helloooo, the house colors are red and gold??? obviously mor would demand this house, yes demand. but not just that she's crazy brave, at only what 18? i think, she stood up to her family, making a decision she knew could have her ending up in a horrible situation. but she always is brave, shes gotta when her evil family is still in her life.

Hufflepuff: Loyal, Kind, Patient, Hardworking

Gwyn: i choose my girl gwyn for Hufflepuff bc let's face it, she is the embodiment of Hufflepuff. She's loyal to her new friends, emerie and Nesta, and the priestesses. She's kind as we can see when she first met Nesta and when emerie and Nesta shared their stories. She's very patient never snaps at that bitchy priestess who idk the name of as well as patient when it comes to her and Azriel's tender new friendship and hardworking, always doing her job, running around the library, for her work, always researching more ways to help the Valkyries. i debated putting her in Ravenclaw, because of her intelligence, but i think she's a Hufflepuff through and through.

Elain: IT HURTS MY HEART PUTTING PLAIN ELAIN IN THIS HOUSE. but I gotta, the only trait this plant sniffer has out of all the houses is "kind and patient" EVEN THOUGH SHE'S NOT REALLY LMFAO. I've made a post on explaining why this dirt lover isn't as kind as the books make her out to be, and I would argue she isn't actually patient at all, I mean did we miss how she was basically frustrated Nesta wasn't getting better even though it had been like what 2 weeks, LMFAO. but yeah I mean she's not loyal unless you have food and money then oh yeah she'll be loyal and she's not hardworking bc I mean she never did jack shit and still doesn't, sorry to do this to y'all.

Note: some of yall are so soft. this is not an anti elain post. sorry i insulted her but hey its my post, and i have commentary on each character to explain why i feel they belong in a certain house. sorry i happened to insult your fav. but this isnt an anti elain post, just like its not anti tamlin or anti eris. its just a post about all the characters period, which is why i inculded all of them in the tags. hey, i even insulted Nesta a little bit, but I'm not gonna tag anti-Nesta bc it's not a fucking hate post. get off this post if it comes across you and you don't like what I say, it's not hard to literally just scroll, trust me I've done it multiple times especially when it's a hate post on my beloved characters and they didn't use the anti tags. it's not fucking hard, grow up.

Ravenclaw: Wisdom, Wit, Individuality, Intelligence

Feyre: I debated putting queen feyre into Slytherin, I mean she shows the traits for sure, but it's not really if she shows the traits it's what shines the most in her. Ravenclaws are known for their creativity (bae luna Lovegood <3) and feyres an artist, even in her darkest times she remained an artist, always seeing portraits in her mind, always admiring the beautiful colors of the world. We know she's intelligent, picking up reading and writing quickly, and we also see it when she's strategizing, with the inner circle. Feyre is so wise, she had to be, she had to grow up quickly, you often see her in the books giving advice, because even though she's only 21, she's lived a lifetime. and the whole book of acomaf can show you how witty she is, I mean its what made us fall in love with feysand.

Amren: tiny snowball amren is literally a slytherclaw, she has all the traits from both. but because of how well she is with coding languages and how she always reads and does puzzles i think she'd enjoy being a Ravenclaw.

Nesta: I thought about this for a while, really looking into where she would thrive, Ravenclaw is for her no doubt. She's herself, always has been even when that wasn't such a good thing... but she's witty too if you make sure to not count the "the book is about...a book" I'm sorry that line makes me laugh every single time. we haven't really seen much of her intelligence but I'm guessing she is. but really she would love to be in a house where ppl are themselves and read, i can already imagine her creating a book club where people can be themselves and enjoy smutty books like her.

Lucien: originally I was going to sort him into Hufflepuff but then I remembered how intelligent he is, how witty, and I remembered in acowar he talked about how being the youngest of what 7 heirs? he had the chance to really educate himself which he loved to do, to really learn about his court, idk this man just screams intelligence to me.

I left out emerie bc i honestly don't know where to sort her, i feel like i just don't know her too well or understand her enough to sort her, so feel free to lmk where she would belong :)

[frobin]

Okey serious question here. How much do you actually believe that Oda ships Frobin? Like do you think he actually have like doodles/sketchs of them in a pairing kind of way? like for the strong world film riding the motorbug? (Personally i would love it to be true but he has stated one piece isn't about romance in that way)

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for your question and I hope I can answer it seriously enough. Also once more sorry for the late response. I felt like a question like that needs some research and that is what I did these last few days.

So... I think I'll start with the tl;dr because that way people can read that and ignore the rest.

So, long answer short: I 100% believe that Oda has one or more sketchbooks with drawings of his characters that are absolutely self-indulgent. I am 98% sure that he has drawn Franky and Robin in a romantic way at least once (and supported the ship). I am 80% sure he still is shipping FRobin.

Little disclaimer: I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I pull everything in my arguments out of my own experiences and knowledge and since I'm not a 46 year old Japanese Mangaka my perspective might be WAY OFF.

argument - reason- example - conclusion... behind the cut (or in the google doc)

So, why do I think that Oda has a secret sketchbook?

Simple answer is that he is an artist. He is drawing a lot and no artist will publish everything. That can have multiple reasons like imposter syndrome or because the artist thinks it’s not good or interesting enough or they just forget. There are even more reasons I forget and every person has their own.

For Oda I can imagine two big reasons as to why he would keep secret sketchbooks.

First: He is a horndog. You can skip this part if you don’t want to read about it, to the second reason.

Anyway, we know thanks to answers in the SBS, the way he likes to draw big-breasted women and how some of his characters are classified as perverts that he can be considered one too.

Let me show you a few of a few lewd SBS questions he likes to answer in a funny way:

Chapter 228, Page 46

D: How are ya, Odacchi? I know how much you like getting butt-naked, so this must be a favourite season for you. <3

O: Yes, yes. I just LOVE getting completely naked. In the summertime, after I take a bath I just run STRAIGHT OUTSIDE!! And when the girls' softball team running on the sidewalk looks over at me, they say, "Yup, it's really summer now!!" ... AS IF!! I'D GET ARRESTED!!!

(x)

Chapter 433, Page 68

D: If Lady Robin can use her Hana Hana Powers to make any part of her body sprout somewhere else, does that mean she can do it with her ample bosom as well? "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Boy, I'd like to take a hit from that sometime... P.N. Ero Ero no Mi Devil Fruit User.

O: "Ichirin-zaki" (Single Sprout) "Nirin-zaki" (Double Sprout) "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Very clever!! NO IT'S NOT!! STOP THAT!! I'm sure she CAN do it though ♡

(x)

Chapter 798, Page 64

D: Oddachi, I'll give you a pornographic book, so please answer my question. Sanji won't allow anyone to waste food, but what will he do if a woman does so? P.N. Smoker's Cigar

O: I think he would grab the plate and eat it up. Now please give me the pornographic book.

(x)

Nowadays I’m sure there is a focus on those lewder questions compared to the beginning because that is what 13 year old boys laugh about and we all know that is Oda's main demographic (of course).

I think a very good picture of that is given by Tekking101 in his breakdown video of SBS Volume 100.

“Let’s get diving into these questions (...) now, this is a huge moment. I mean, not many Manga manage to reach 100 Volumes, Okay? Now I know Oda usually starts these off with questions relating to boobs and things that don’t really… you know, aren’t really relevant but you know, this is a big celebration so we’re gonna dive right into it. I bet the most important things that we need to know about the One Piece Story are right here in these pages, okay? I printed them out. That is how important this is. So let’s start off, shall we? Epic voice, Barry!

‘Mister Oda, there is a UFO over there with huge big-breasted beauties on it. That memorable 100 Volume of the SBS is about to begin.’

[pause] Yeah, like the first five of these are all related to boobs in some way. You know what Oda? Sticking true to your guns! Godspeed, Sir Oda. Godspeed.”

(end at around 2:30)

So, Oda is a man who likes beautiful women and who draws.

Coming to the conclusion that he will draw his own characters in suggestive poses, naked and even doing adult stuff is not hard.

Obviously he would not show these sketches just around. He would probably keep them in a secret sketchbook that he keeps at a safe location. Maybe his wife and some close friends know about it? Maybe it is his and only his little secret.

I don’t think it would be unlikely to learn about this years into the future, maybe the next generation of Anime Fans will hear about this.

And it would not be the first time that something like this happened.

Not that long ago the daughter of Osamu Tezuka - groundbreaking Mangaka, known for his works of “Astro Boy”, “Kimba the white lion” and many more - found his adult Furry art. Source; Japanese article;

It’s a fact that many Mangaka did indeed start their career with art of the more risque kind and/or as doujinshi artists.

So again, I have no doubt that Oda, a known pervert, has one or more secret sketchbooks with „the p0rnography“ in it. Is there only hot stuff in there? Not necessarily.

The second reason to keep a secret sketchbook would be to collect information in there, that could be considered canon but he is not willing to use it in the Manga. Maybe they are not important enough or will be used later.

What am I imagining here? Anything that could be considered too weird for the normal sketchbook but isn‘t too risque. Funny things that might still not be „appropriate.“

Like a sketch of the male Strawhat ding-dongs with the sizes beside it. All the lewd jokes the fans did about Luffy's stretching qualities? I’m sure Oda thought about them too and drew that in the past if he had the time and it made him laugh enough.

But also maybe there are scenes in there that never made it in the Manga. The Strawhats interacting with each other in their daily lives, ideas for colorspreads and maybe chapter-titles. Oda probably has noted/sketched down a lot of unofficial stuff somewhere.

Another example, even an artist like Oda himself would have needed to exercise drawing two people kissing. Why not use Characters he thinks that might work out together?

Why not Franky and Robin? I would imagine he sketched up a few panels of Franky and Robin having a romantic date, going shopping together in Dressrosa, having a conversation that we never got to see because it was too on the nose.

Which brings us to the second point of me being very sure that Oda had drawn FrankyXRobin at one point.

I’m sure in those sketchbooks there is at least one drawing of them doing anything couple-related together. Again it does not have to be downright nasty but it could be them holding hands, kissing or even just Robin leaning onto Franky while reading, like all those fanarts that exist out there.

It’s not hard to imagine. Even for other Characters I think that is possible

And there might even be proof for that idea. The sketch of the Strong World movie you also mentioned, anon. The one movie that can be considered canon is Strong World. It was basically written/directed by Oda. Shiki the antagonist had an appearance in the Manga.

This sketch is drawn by Oda. Robin is holding onto Franky.

Can it be read as romantic? Yes. Can it be read as Robin holding onto Franky because there is nothing else to hold onto? Also Yes. But couldn't she just have used her power to keep herself secured on the bike without holding onto Franky? WELL YES. Could Oda never have thought in these circles like I do right now? I hope he did not because I hate it and I don’t wish it upon him.

In the movie Robin is NOT holding onto Franky. Now the really interesting thing - that is neither proof pro nor anti FRobin - is that we can see the sketch provided by Oda as a “between the scenes”.

In the movie Strong World the old trio is collecting information at the Pirate assembly. The next time we see them they use the Batta GT-7000 to slowly approach the destroyed village, which had been ravaged by the animals, and start to look for their friends. No need to hold onto Franky and no need for Brook to lean back. They are looking around.

The sketch is clearly not the same scene as the one we see in the movie.

In conclusion the drawing is indeed a between the scenes drawing. And yes if there exists one, who is to say there aren’t more?

Talking about Animal-Bikes...

Is there any meaning about the fact that in the opening scene (that is part of the talked intro after the opening ‘We Go’ - a huge thanks to antiherofangirl, ccb0nnet, JFL_Estudios and Maems, over at twitter!) Franky and Robin build another grasshopper-based vehicle? Maybe not but I still feel like it’s quite a callback.

Where did the idea to put this in the beginning come from? a) an editor had the idea inspired by Strong World; b) maybe it’s another sketch that Oda provided.

Neither seems very far-fetched in my opinion.

So yes, I am very sure that Oda has drawn things that we would consider FRobin.

Now to the last point (the first being Oda having a secret sketchbook, the second me arguing that Oda might have drawn FRobin).

As I said in the beginning I’m very sure that at one point Oda did and kinda that he still does ship Franky and Robin. Because even though every Interaction of two characters can be depicted as romantic or platonic, Oda used ROMANTIC TROPES with Franky and Robin.

They have never kissed on screen but we had

finishing each other's sentences

coordinated clothes

one using the others lap as pillow

hand on cheek caressing

and we can’t forget that Robin had answered Franky's invitation to ride on another animal-themed bike with a heart.

Edit: I didn‘t say anything about „no romance in OP“ so ask again if you want me to talk a bit about that. Sorry!

Those are things an author of Oda's level would not write or draw without being aware about how teasing this is. He has to be aware that every single line he draws will be analyzed to the end of the universe and back. People earn money by saying their opinion and interpretations about the Manga on Youtube.

These interactions are not something outlandish like “There was once an Anime Scene in which Robin was wearing something blue and exactly 28 episodes later Franky was wearing something violet and then 39 episodes later they both stood beside each other for exactly 69 seconds.”

Whenever I think about these facts, things that are not about interpreting but are factual, black ink on white paper but also about the little things, about how Frank and Robin help each other to become better, how they support each other… I want to say YES! ODA IS 100% on board! While in reality I’m 80% sure and 20% of me is wondering if I’m not actually analyzing too much into it. If maybe he really is abandoning ship. Maybe I will become the person who will curse his name and throw my Mangas and fanfictions in an active volcano?

I don’t know and it’s impossible to say what is going to happen.

And with that I've concluded this answer, and it only took me around 2k words and four days.

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 12: café

Character A is stuck working in coffee shop on Christmas Day and Character B is the lonely soul spending their whole day there,, percabeth

Annabeth never thought she’d be the type of person to end up working on Christmas, thousands of miles away from home. She imagined herself at this point in her live with her friends and family, huddled near a fire on Christmas Day.

Instead, this is what she gets.

She gets an uncomfortable table in the corner of a coffee shop, stuck in the middle of a New York winter.

It’s the first time in her life that she didn’t get a warm Christmas, and it’s... different. Not bad, but she misses home. So she supposes this is her attempt to make herself feel better, sitting in a cafe by herself typing away at her computer.

Annabeth sighs, fingers pausing. She honestly doesn’t even know what she’s typing at this point. She’s too distracted by the absence of people around her and wishing that she were anywhere but here.

She doesn’t notice the person behind the counter staring at her until there’s a drink sliding in front of her face. Annabeth looks up in confusion, unaware that they had been so close to her, and is met with a kind smile.

“A drink,” he says, pushing it towards her a little bit more.

She still doesn’t say anything, instead looking back to the drink. It’s a pretty drink, almost too perfect to actually consume. It’s peppermint, no doubt, with the flawless white and red swirls inside the clear cup and steaming out the top.

“You don’t have to pay for it;” he assures her. She drags her eyes back to his, sees him leaning on the counter in patience, a subtle smile still on his face. His eyes surprise her, a vibrant green. “It’s on me.”

She lets herself break. “Thank you,” she says, pulling it towards her. She brings the cup to her lips and takes the runway sip. The second the taste hits her tongue, she is in love. A small, disbelieving laugh bubbles out of her throat in astonishment.

“Secret recipe,” he tells her, winking. She decides then that she really likes his smile that’s warm and welcoming. His eyes light up brighter than the lights strewn around the cafe, and his body language screams that he’s truly a beautiful soul. There’s a Christmas apron tied around his waist, and his name tag that reads Percy has a reindeer haphazardly drawn on it. It’s cute, and it doesn’t look like he’s the one that drew it.

“Thank you, Percy.”

“Aw, that’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

She pauses. “What is?”

“You’re calling me by my name, yet I don’t even know yours.”

She wouldn’t normally tell a stranger her name. She’s careful about those types of things as a girl living alone in a big city, so she doesn’t know what prompts her to answer.

“I’m Annabeth.”

“Annabeth. Huh. That’s a cute name.”

“So is Percy.”

“Please. Percy is the weirdest name you’ve ever heard.”

She laughs, lifting and pinching her fingers close together. “Only a little bit.”

“I blame my mom.” Percy moves to put a few of the things around him away. He’s not looking at her as he asks, “What are you doing here on Christmas, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“What are you doing working here on Christmas?” she counters, but not unkindly.

“You answer a question with a question?”

“You just did the same thing.”

Percy’s hand shoot playfully in surrender. “You got me there.”

Annabeth glances down to get away from his eyes that feel as though they bore down into her soul. “I didn’t have anywhere to go,” she says truthfully.

“No family?”

“California. Couldn’t afford to go this year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Nothing I can do now.”

He pauses in front of her again. “I’ll be your Christmas buddy then, so you’re not all alone.”

Annabeth looks around. Not a single other person is in the shop. She looks back at him, doubtful. “You’re obligated to do that. You work here.”

“I am being one-hundred percent honest when I say I would not care if I got fired from this job,” he says, making her choke slightly. “But you’re wrong. I would have talked to you anyways, even if I was another customer. You looked like you could use someone to talk to.”

“I look lonely,” she summarizes.

“Lonely isn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s getting me your pity points.”

“It really isn’t a bad thing,” he insists. “I want to be talking to you. If I didn’t want to talk, then I wouldn’t have. Besides, I’m in the same boat as you. Family’s a bit far, and I had to work.”

“I’m sorry for making you work then.”

“I’m talking to you at work, not for work. There’s a difference,” he says, eyes gleaming.

She leans forwards. She’s caught onto his game, and she chooses to play along. “So tell me then, Percy, why are you talking to me at work?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“You wanted to be my special person?”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“So you made me a drink to win me over, yeah?”

“You got it.”

It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for her. She wonders if she’s imaging it all. There’s no way someone like this exists. He’s too pure for the world, and she can see it from a mile away with the way he smiles, laughs, and pushes festive drinks in front of strangers because he thinks they deserve so much more than sitting in a lonely coffee shop.

“Do you think you have to work right now?” Annabeth asks, hoping he’ll sit beside her.

Percy looks around the shop. “I don’t know. It’s pretty busy in here.”

She rolls her eyes fondly, patting the stool next to her. “Come. If you’re going to be my Christmas buddy, you have to sit next to me while I work.”

“Not working and sitting next to a pretty girl? Sounds like a win to me.” He comes around the counter and sits next to her. He peers at her computer, and she can tell that he expects her to start typing away. Instead, she shuts the top and rests her hand on her curled-up fist, choosing to talk to him instead.

“Do you have a kid?” she asks, now focused on his nametag again, and the terribly drawn Rudolph.

Percy snorts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your nametag,” she says. “It looks like a toddler did it.”

“Oh. I don’t like you anymore. You insulted my art skills.”

“You actually drew that?”

“No, but what if I did? You could have just destroyed the aspiring artist in me.”

“If you had drawn that, it would’ve stayed as an aspiring artist.”

“That one was good,” he praises, humored. “But in my defense, a toddler did draw it. It just wasn’t my kid because I am twenty-one and have no interest in being a father.”

“No kids?”

“I mean, not now. In the future maybe, with the right person. But not now.”

Annabeth’s heart stutters. She feels like there’s static in the air, thrumming inside her body. “And you haven’t met that right person?”

Percy locks eyes with her and tilts his head earnestly. “I’m still trying to find out.”

And, oh, it makes her feel warm. This isn’t her, but she’s so far in that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t know him, but she is determined to change that because there is just something about him that she needs to figure out. She likes logic and clues, and he is littered with them. There is an equation, and she thinks that just maybe, together they are the solution.

“You’re trying to figure it out about who?” she asks.

Percy must catch her lie because he smirks at her, and she is compelled to kiss the smirk away. “It’s this girl. I haven’t known her long, but she really likes coffee. She’s also so determined, wanting to build a future. I mean, she works on Christmas alone in a café. A lot of people would find it weird, but she’s lucky I find it cute.”

“She sounds familiar. Do I know her?”

Percy hums. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Bummer.” A silence settles between them, but it’s not awkward. She uses the time to look over him shamelessly. He lets her, and returns the favor himself, making her feel beautiful with every agonizing trace of his eyes against her. “What would the girl need to do to get a chance with you?” “Here’s the thing. I like this girl very much. She’d probably think it was weird how much I liked her, but I’ve actually seen her in the shop a million times before, which is probably weirder now that I think about it. But I have her order memorized and have been trying to figure out how to ask her out for the past few weeks. I didn’t get to ask her out until recently though.”

“What did she say?”

Percy bites his bottom lip, a teasing smile, and hands the reigns to her. “You tell me.”

“But her answer would depend on where you want to take her!”

“I thought a cute first date would be on Christmas, actually. I have a small group of friends coming over, maybe two or three, and we’re going to watch movies all night and eat candy. Everyone will be in sweaters and sweatpants, and there will be lots of snuggles. There’s just one thing.”

Annabeth has to force her breathing to calm because this game is going to drive her insane. “And what is that?”

“Do you think she’ll think that’s coming on too strong?”

“Not at all,” she whispers. “She’ll probably say that sounds like the best date she could ever dream of.”

“Then I guess I have to take this girl on a date,” he says.

“I guess you do.”

“Do you think it would be okay if I kissed this girl too? Even if I’ve only known her for around half an hour?”

“That depends on if she believes in love at first sight.” “Does she?”

“She didn’t,” she answers honestly, “until now.”

“So she believes in love at first sight?”

“Let’s call it a Christmas miracle.”

“And she wants me to kiss her?”

“She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

Percy’s eyes are full of every emotion, gorgeous and loving. “Then I guess I have to fulfil.”

And when he pulls her closer to him, settling his lips on hers, she feels content. He’s warm and soft and beautiful and perfect, and she could linger in this moment forever. He pulls away but she follows, desperate to prolong the moment, and he complies.

By the time he pulls away, they’re both breathless. Percy’s breaths hit her lips with every inhale. His eyes are closed, his forehead against hers, and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face.

“When can they go on that date?” she whispers.

“Why not now?”

Her heart flutters. “Now’s good.”

It takes a few minutes for him to close before they’re finally walking out of the store. She thinks he’s going to take her to his apartment but surprises her instead when they end up inside of a cheesy Christmas store. The shelves are lined with Christmas pajamas and socks, and he makes her pick some out.

“It’s not Christmas if you don’t look like a candy cane!”

“I don’t like candy canes.”

Percy frowns before spotting a matching pair of socks and pulling them up. “These are perfect! You’d look so cute!”

And yeah, Annabeth thinks she’s falling in love.

There’s something in the air that tells her she’s going to marry this man.

It’s not until three Christmases later that Annabeth is back inside that shop, and Percy is behind the counter. He slides the peppermint mocha in front of her face, and she looks up from her computer long enough to give him a quick kiss. When he comes around the counter, she expects him to sit on the stool next to her.

Instead, he gets down on one knee.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

1. He what now?

Genre: Yoongi x OC

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Synopsis: The first time Cara Richie sets foot on the Graham Norton show she’s confronted with questions that have less to do with her upcoming film “Young Rising”, and much more to do with BTS. More specifically with one of their rappers, Suga. Cara is an open supporter and fan of the band, however when Min Yoongi is shipped with the bilingual up-and-coming actress after mentioning her in an interview, things start to get out of hand. Fanart, twitter trends, and stalkers ensue, leaving Cara’s career up to an unknown fate. Then comes the moment the world didn’t even realize it was waiting for: a solo track from Agust D that raises more questions than answers, especially for Cara. 

I would recommend the Graham Norton show to anybody purely based off the quality of their couches. 

 It’s our five minute call when Sebastian Stan, my co-star and annoyingly close friend, shakes me out of my half-asleep daze. 

 “Hey, we’re about to be called up. Ready?” He helps me to sit up, laughing at the state of my hair. No doubt it looks like a bird’s nest. He motions for one of the crew to help me out, a petite makeup artist appearing out of nowhere and touching up my hair.

“Yeah, I’m excited I swear. I just wish I wasn’t so tired.” Sebastian and I rolled in from where we were shooting in the Democratic Republic of the Congo at about ten o’clock this morning. I have yet to recover from the long trip. Unfortunately, our interview was scheduled for tonight, and we stand to begin our course of promoting the movie for the foreseeable future. It’ll still be a few hours before I can crawl into a bed.

“At least it’s only an hour time difference, right?” Sebastian stands me up, instructing me to do some stretching.

“At least we finally have service. I haven’t spoken to my family in three months, they probably think you killed me and left me there in the middle of the jungle.”

One of the perks of our on location shooting was the fact that we only had a couple of satellite phones. No contact with the outside world for nearly three months. I grew way too attached to it, although the one downside was not getting to know how my family and friends were. A lot can happen in three months. I’ve been so rushed to get ready and get over here to the show that I’ve hardly had any time to even glance at my phone besides a cursory text to my group chat with my family letting them know that I’m still alive and back in civilization. 

 “Tempting, but too many witnesses.” Sebastian winks at me, coming to attention when we’re motioned over by one of the staff. Glancing at the TV in the waiting room I can see Graham Norton beginning to introduce us. 

 “Our next guests have just re-entered into civilization, so do excuse them if they’re a little off. Please welcome the dashing Sebastian Stan and lovely Cara Richie!”

Sebastian motions for me to go first, and I jump out into the bright lights. Even though I’ve been on a few shows by now, it never gets old. Granted, I’ve only had one successful blockbuster. Maybe I won’t feel the same once that number starts to climb. 

 I greet Graham before settling down on the couch beside Billie Eilish, the musical guest of the day. I’ve met Billie before, we actually became fast friends. I was invited to a music awards show (I found out that actors are often invited to them for some reason), and we decided to ditch the after party and settle for pizza and a movie instead. 

 “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, glad to know you’re still alive.” Billie mumbles. 

 “Barely,” I whisper back. Sebastian sits down on the other side of me, waving to a few people in the audience. There are a group of girls near the front row that scream even louder when I look their way, and I smile at them. Sebastian sure does have an affect on people.

“Well, well. Glad to see you’ve made it. Didn’t you two just fly in this morning?” Sebastian jumps in to answer. I appreciate him taking the lead, he definitely has a lot more experience than me. 

 “Sure did. I think you’re trying to kill us, Graham.” Graham gasps, every bit the entertaining host. 

 “Now, Cara,” I smile at the man, hopefully masking my exhaustion. I’m a huge fan of him, and I want to leave a good impression. “This is your second major film. How are you feeling with all of the attention you’ve received? Because really, you came out of nowhere.”

I nod, reminding myself not to depend on Sebastian. “That’s true, I kind of did. It’s been amazing though. I think they sent me off to the middle of nowhere so it wouldn’t go to my head.” Graham laughs, the audience joining in. I sit up a little straighter because of it. 

 “That’s probably smart on their part. Really, from what I’ve seen of the previews for this film, it’s called ‘Young Rising’, correct?” We nod. “Right. It looks quite intense. But you two, you two are lovers in this.”

 I shoot Sebastian a look that tells him we are anything but. “Yeah,” I draw out the word. “You could say that.”

“I really don’t know what they were thinking, putting the two of us together.”

“You mean to say that you don’t like each other at all?” Graham asks, feigning concern.

I shake my head. “I loathe him. But he won’t leave me alone, can you believe it?”

Graham nods. “Actually, I can. After all, you were recently named among the ‘most wanted’ stars in the world.”

I look at Billie completely surprised. “I was?” I ask her. She nods, shrugging her shoulders. 

 “Most wanted? That makes me sound like a criminal!”

“Isn’t that the point?” Sebastian taunts. 

 We continue bickering for a while. “I had no idea, but really I have no clue what’s happened over the past three months.”

Graham hums, shuffling through his papers before coming upon what he was looking for. “Really? Well I find that quite interesting, because something happened just last week on this show.” Suddenly the girls up front start screaming again, hardly able to contain themselves. 

I look at Sebastian. “What did you do?” I whisper. He shakes his head at me, mouthing ‘nothing’. 

 “Alright, calm down you three. I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell her yet, you’re going to spoil the surprise!” WIth great effort the girls pipe down. Graham swivels back to me, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“Oh no, what surprise?” I groan. 

Billie pats my knee. “I know what this is about, it’s been all over twitter. This is what I’m thinking of, right?” Billie asks, shooting me a close-lipped smile. 

“All over twitter? I haven’t had a chance to check twitter.” To be honest, I was putting off checking the hot mess that is social media. Three months of peace and quiet have been so nice, I’m clinging to it before I have to dive back in. 

“Last week, we had a very special musical guest. You’re a fan of BTS, aren’t you?”I nod, furrowing my eyebrows. Where is he going with any of this? 

“Yeah, I love them. We were just listening to them in the car, actually.” I gesture between Sebastian and I. Graham studies us like a textbook, nodding along. 

“That’s perfect! They came on the show last week, it was amazing. Wasn’t it?” The audience cheers and claps in response. “We got to have a little chat before they performed. A nice little heart to heart if you will. Somehow, I have no idea how, we got onto the topic of their love lives.”

We all give him a complimentary laugh, knowing full well how they got onto that topic. Any successful interviewer knows their way around questions to make even the most composed celebrity fidget in their seat until they slip up. 

“Oh did you?” Sebastian prompts Graham on. I know him well enough that he’s just wanting to move on at this point. We’re here to talk about our movie, not BTS. Heaven knows they’re famous enough already.

“Yes. You’ve heard of Suga?” I nod. I know who each of the members are, I really do like them a lot. “Well, he said something quite interesting, er, about you.”

My eyebrows flit up. “About me? He knows who I am?”The audience laughs, the girls in the front are practically causing an earthquake with how much jumping around they’re doing. 

“He most certainly does. In fact, when I asked the boys if there was anyone they had their eye on, they all immediately turned to him! It was difficult to get it out of him, to say the least, but I found out that he’s a big fan of yours. And not just from a professional standpoint, if you know what I mean.” Graham winks at me even as my mouth falls open.

Me?

“You’ll have to watch the clip,” Billie says, nudging me. “It’s been all anyone can talk about all week. It’s been so annoying, I see your name everywhere now.” She laughs, and I pull myself together enough to laugh along with her. I look around, reminding myself that I’m on international television, and word will get around quick if I look like a high schooler that just got asked to the prom by her long-time crush.

Even though that’s exactly what I feel like.

The rest of the interview passes in a blur, Graham even going to far as to show me a couple of tweets with the hashtag, #CaraBTS. I’m just relieved there isn’t some weird couple name trending...yet. 

“Oh, look at this one! You’ll love it.” Graham holds his paper up to the light, reading off of it. “‘This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill. Cara and Yoongi are finally happening. I’ve been pushing for this since I found out she went to school in Seoul!’ It would appear this has been a long time coming for some fans. There are others that aren’t quite as excited though, as you can imagine.” 

Shuffling his papers he pulls out another tweet. “Here we are, ‘I’m telling you if Cara Richie lays a single finger on my lil meow meow I’m suing.’ Well isn’t that lovely?”

We finally move on, Sebastian telling a funny story from our time filming in the Congo. I add in whatever tidbits I can, but I remain so focused on looking normal and unbothered by this new information that I nearly miss Billie getting up to sing. It’s during her performance, when the lights are down low and our mics are turned off that Sebastian nudges me, whispering something under his breath. 

He makes it look like he’s pointing something out on stage, “Hey, you alright?”

I nod along, looking for all the world like we’re chatting about the lighting. It’s true that it looks striking, the dark greens and blues cut across the stage, highlighting Billie’s haunting voice. 

“I think I will be. Is this going to be a disaster? Now all anybody will want to talk about is my love life.”

“Which we both know is nonexistent.”

“Exact-hey!” I shove my friend before turning my attention back to the performance. I still can’t quite relax, but I feel a little better. At least I have Sebastian by my side. He certainly knows how to remain low-key when it comes to the press. 

Once the interview ends the three girls at the front squeal until I look at Sebastian who gives me a shrug.

“I don’t think it’s for me,” he gestures to them. “Look at their sign.”

Sneaking a glance over there my eyes widen and I struggle to keep my mouth from hanging open. One of the girls holds up a little poster that I didn’t see before. She probably wasn’t allowed to hold it up during the show because she would block other people’s view. 

There, written in big bold miss that only a blind man could miss it reads:

                Cara x Yoongi nation

Graham notices my attention from where he’s saying goodbye to Billie and makes his way over to me. He gives me a pat on the back. 

“That,” he points out the sign that is now burned into my eyelids. “Is only the beginning, love.”

🌙

By the time Sebastian and I make it back to the hotel where the rest of the cast and director/producers are staying, I want to lock my door and throw something. 

Sebastian told me not to check twitter, but I ignored him. Curiosity did kill the cat, folks. News flash. 

If I wasn’t known before, I certainly am now. Twitter is a mess of supportive fans, those fans who are heartbroken but happy for Suga, and the fans that are out for blood. Like, real blood. I’ve read the words “better watch out” so many times that I can’t help but look over my shoulder every few minutes. 

I do appreciate the fans that claim that only true ARMY will support the boys’ decisions. Nevertheless, I decide to hold off any kind of presence on social media until further notice. A glance at the official BTS twitter shows them doing the same thing, apparently. I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or worried about that.

“I told you not to,” Sebastian chides once we enter the hotel. “Now you’re all depressed.”

“I’m not depressed,” I defend myself. “Just nervous. I’m not sure what this means for my whole acting career. I don’t like knowing that I have no control over it.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around my shoulders as we enter the elevator. “Not to worry, I’m sure the PR team is on it. Stacey is good with these kinds of things. Trust me, I’ve put her through enough near disasters that this will be a piece of cake.”

Sebastian and I share managers, PR reps, and many more things. We’re strange friends, thrown together through a series of random events, but I’m so grateful for him. I would be so lost without all the resources he’s provided me with. 

I give a dry laugh, slumping against my friend as the thought of being so close to a bed only serves to make me more tired. “She’s probably glad that it’s not you for a change.”

“Yeah, probably.”Sebastian bids me goodnight, heading down to his room on the other end of the hall. I can hear our director and a couple of the producers talking, but it’s too muffled to make out much more than their voices. I’m too tired anyways, so I opt to head straight to my room and get into bed before anyone can ask me any questions. I barely make it into my pajamas before I hit the mattress, sighing as I sink into the covers. 

“Ah, finally. Goodnight world,” I mumble, turning to flip my phone on silent. The moment I go to grab my phone, it lights up with a notification. Groaning, I pick it up, squinting at the light. 

“He...he what now?”

Next

Taglist is open! Lemme know if you wanna join.

What do you guys think Yoongi did?? 

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @eusticenatalie​

[louistomlinsoncouk]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, and his girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time to see his four-year-old son, Freddie, whom he shares with his ex Briana Jungwirth, a stylist. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

[meyeselph]

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

--

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

--

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

--

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

--

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

--

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

[commandtower-solring-go]

Let’s talk about NFTs, what they are and why they’re bad.

So tumblr did this

And its like 90% a joke. However, I’ve noticed a lot of misconceptions about NFTs and in the interest of overcoming my own ignorance on the subject, I wanted to do some research and talk about what they are and why people think they’re bad. I'm sharing this because I completely misunderstood why they were bad. I believed that they were in and of themselves, conceptually, an unethical thing, but I was wrong. So let’s explore the work of crypto-art, crypto-currency, blockchains and the ever compounding list of new vocabulary I’ve waited too long to learn.

What is an NFT?

An NFT is what’s called a non-fungible token. Fungibility is a term used in economics to refer to the replaceability of a thing of value. For example, a dollar bill is fungible, because the value of that dollar is retained if it is replaced with another dollar. However, a piece of high art is considered non-fungible as, if it were replaced with a copy, the replacement wouldn’t have the same value as the original and would likely be considered a forgery. A music album is fungible, but a master copy is non-fungible etc.

NFTs are a generated tag which, when paired with a piece of art, can be used to verify the owner of that art. This attributes non-fungibility to a piece of strictly digital art.

What? How?

NFTs are tracked using Ethereum, a blockchain. Blockchains are a form of database which have the ability to track their changes over time as a fundamental part of how data is stored. When data is added to a blockchain, it is added as a block that becomes chained to the previous block. This chain of blocks serves as a linear history of changes made to the database and can be used to verify each and every transaction made through it.

In the case of Bitcoin, all transactions made with bitcoin are tracked using a blockchain database. This allows for transactions to take place within a purely digital space because every transaction is tracked and verified using the blockchain technology.

That doesn’t seem any more secure than traditional databases. I don’t get it.

The benefit of systems like Bitcoin or Ethereum is that they are decentralised. They achieve this by storing a copy of the entire blockchain on multiple devices around the world, rather than a single server. If a transaction is made, every device on the network checks to make sure that that transaction is legit and that the person making the transaction is the owner of that bitcoin/NFT.

This is why people see cryptocurrency as so revolutionary. By putting the verification of the currency in the hands of the people using it, you get to take the power back from big banks. You create a currency whose value is verified and validated by the people in the system.

The creation of new bitcoin or NFTs is a process called ‘minting. It is the process of completing complex mathematical problems to find and use new and valid bitcoin and NFT tags. Not only do the problems need to be solved, but each new solution need to be verified as previously unused by comparing the new tag to one used previously in the blockchain. Mining computers are used for both this and the verification of transactions.

This is why it gets harder to mine or mint more of these things over time.

Wait? That doesn’t seem so bad. Why are these bad?

The problem comes from crypto-mining and the verification process of blockchains. There is an enormous ecological toll taken by the use of blockchains. With each transaction in the database being verified by hundreds or thousands of machines simultaneously, the cost of security becomes power usage and environmental impact. Moreover, the more machines are simultaneously mining and minting tags, the more power is being consumed. And these things don’t just consume power in small amounts. Each one could have the cumulative power input for several gaming computers and are often running non-stop. Moreover, the more of these tags that are found and the more miners there are, the harder it is for any one person to make money doing it. This requires yet more computing power. One person only makes money from mining based on how much of the overall pool of miners they represent. This means that an arms race will no doubt take place as the pool becomes diluted by both more people entering it with more powerful machines and as more tags are found.

Weird

It is indeed very weird, but to me, that’s not the weirdest part. For me, the attribution of value to a piece of art through NFTs is nonsense. At the end of the day, all digital art is still just as fungible as it has ever been and NFTs haven’t made it any more illegal for someone to copy and share things on the internet. Instead, NFTs apply value to the idea of owning a piece of art by pairing something with the NFT. This value then only exists to people who want the thing. Its glorified bragging writes. Its not like saying you own the Mona Lisa, but that you own the only NFT attributed to the Mona Lisa.

So not only does it have a massive environmental impact, but the existence and value they generate exists only within the world of people who care about them.

Anyway, yeah. So, like, artists who are attributing NFTs to their artwork are only problematic in so far as they encourage other folk to get into, trade, mine and mint NFTs. Otherwise, its just another source of income for them and artists finding a way to diversify their income is… its fine. I don’t care. The real problem is miners and minters.

Sources

https://www.investopedia.com/tech/how-does-bitcoin-mining-work/

https://memoakten.medium.com/the-unreasonable-ecological-cost-of-cryptoart-2221d3eb2053

https://www.investopedia.com/terms/b/blockchain.asp

[lilmissbacon]

Why Jelsa is Ridiculously Stupid

Let me start off by saying that the idea of this ship was cute at first, I have nothing against it. In fact I have a few ships myself that have nothing to back them up. I am not making this to convince people to be anti, stop the ship itself, or spread any form of hate what so ever.

But this Jelsa fandom has gone too far. And when I say "jelsa shippers," of course I don't mean ALL of them, just about 80% of them.

In fact, I'm very appreciative of the few jelsa shippers who don't go around harassing others because "jelsa is life."

Also, allow me to correct you in saying that I'm not a jelsa hater, I'm a jelsa loather. There's a difference. Most jelsa haters, hate jelsa for the sake of hating it.

I genuinely hate it.

And don't go commenting about, "how do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?" Because you see, that's where you're wrong. I did used to ship it, when I was 11. I was a child, I was new to the internet, I didn't know better. But I do now!

I am writing this so that some who may not know, will now understand why jelsa is bad and because I need to get all of this out of my system. I am slowly dieing inside.

First; I'm gonna go into how all the excuses to ship this are pointless. Next, I'll talk about just how these two would never work out as a couple. Then, will be what the toxicity has done to not just to the ship itself, but to the big four as well. And finally, I'll go into how uncreative the shippers are and just what horrible/stupid things they've done and are still doing.

1) Excuses are Pointless

Excuse #1: They have the same powers.

...Yeah, that's like saying you ship Lavagirl (Sharboy and Lavagirl) and Bolin (LoK) because they can both control lava. That's not a valid reason to ship anyone. There needs to be actual substance and I'll only say that once because that sentence applies to every excuse here.

Excuse #2: They look alike

🤦🤦🤦 First of all: that's also like saying you ship Tiana (Princess and the Frog) and Frozone (The Incredibles) because they're both black. Second of all: no they don't. It may be because I'm an artist so I notice small details, but here's how it is; Jack's hair is white, Elsa's is platinum blonde. Jack has a square chin, Elsa has a round face. Jack is much paler! THEIR EYES AREN'T EVEN THE SAME SHADE OF BLUE!!! Your excuse is null and void. Even so, if characters do look alike, then they're most likely to be related. Especially in animation.

Excuse #3: Jack can teach Elsa to have fun and Elsa can teach Jack to be serious

This clearly proves the point that jelsa shippers don't know these characters. The job of teaching Elsa how to be social and have fun is already taken by Anna. So if anything, Elsa will see Jack as a younger brother. And Jack wouldn't have been chosen to take on such a responsibility of guardianship if he didn't know when to quit. I don't know what it is about playful characters that make people think they're obnoxious. Jack is an immortal teenager with the heart of a child, that's what makes him a good guardian. But he's been alive for over 300 years, he bound to have the mind capacity of an adult and he does know better. He doesn't play when he's in battle, he's dead serious.

Excuse #4: They understand each other because they were both isolated for a long time

I don't know where you come from but people don't really "bond" over their trauma. Infact, if anything, that would make the relationship more unstable. Plus, Elsa isolated herself for 13 years because she was afraid of her powers. Jack was forced into isolation for 300 years! He has never been afraid of his powers and Elsa could still be seen throughout the day by parents and servants. They would never be able understand what the other went through.

Excuse #5: They both have a sister they love

SO WHAT?! At least half of the population have sisters. Simple as that. It's a horrible excuse.

Excuse #6: They both have an enemy in fear

Bruh, almost every fictional character has to deal with their fears, literal or mental. It's not at all unique to these two.

Excuse #7: Jack can teach Elsa to control her powers

She already has control of them by the end of the movie. And even if you mean prier to that, the reason she couldn't control them was because she feared them. I doubt that even if she could see him and if he showed her his powers, she's be irrational, believing that their powers were different.

Excuse #8: William Joyce says he ships it

Really, you're going to base the possibility of a ship because the writer of the 'books' that "inspired" rotg says he likes it. First: the books and movie are not the same worlds. Two: he most likely stated this in order for jelsa shippers to shut up to him about it. And three: his own canon with the books is a mess as it is. With him adding a bunch on random/unnecessary details on twitter that have no relevance or reference in the books. Even if he does ship it, everything that's going on with Jack's character in the books is weird enough as it is. Plus he's physically 14 in the books. I know age doesn't really matter but Elsa would definitely feel weird about dating someone who looks so young when she's currently 24 by the second movie.

Excuse #9: They could've met before the events of rotg

Not a reason to ship them but whatever 🙄 Even if their stories were based in the same world (which it isn't), Elsa never would've believed in fairy tales. Having to grow up so soon and all. She believes in magic, of course, but you need to believe in the individuals themselves in order to see them. Plus it is very clear in rotg that Jamie is Jack's first believer.

Excuse #10: Now that Frozen 2 is out, they are both spirits who followed the memories of their loved ones. They can live forever together!

Once AGAIN, how does this factor to them being a good couple? Plus the title of spirit is different in the Frozen-verse than the Guardian-verse. Guardian-verse; they are un-aging beings who keep the entire world in balance. Frozen-verse; never confirmed to be immortal (especially since 3 out of 5 spirits are inanimate objects), magical things that keep a single forest secure. The only reason the elements needed a fifth spirit was most likely because the one before Elsa died of old age. Plus the idea of Elsa outliving Anna goes against the theme of sisterly love that both movies strive on. This can be changed in fanfiction but I hate how people lie about her mortality for an excuse to ship.

Excuse #11: They're both single

So what? People ship characters who aren't single with other characters all the time. That's not a reason to ship them. Especially since your statement is false because Tooth is Jack's canon love interest.

It is true that jelsa haters will give reasons to not ship that I necessarily don't agree with.

•Like the age gap — Jack has the mental capacity of an adult, as I've said before. He's smart enough to make his own choices.

•Elsa not being immortal — that doesn't mean they can't still date, even if he outlives her. Plus you can change that in fanfiction.

•They come from different studios and will never be canon — Again, this is fanfiction, we can do whatever we want.

•Elsa is independent and shipping her with someone takes her independence away — for one: most of the world is bound to find love at some point in time. I would imagine that Elsa would want to find love like her sister. Two: Mulan, Pocahontas and Jasmine are very independent and they all still ended up with men. Three: she's not that independent to begin with. Independence isn't relationship status, it's your ability to make it on your own and Elsa is clearly, very dependant on Anna and her safety. Which is actually what pushes her to being a bad sister in Frozen 2. In fact it is because they made her more 'independant' in the sequel that Elsa clearly, no longer loves Anna as much as Anna loves her (you can check out Watso Videos' video on YouTube about how Elsa is a bad sister bc I'm not gonna go into it here).

My god that was ALL just part one. This is gonna take forever 😰

2) How they would never work out

For Elsa, she needs someone who is calm and collected. A rock for her to stand on when she's being irrational. Possibly even someone who is very stoic and straight to the point but with enough sense of humor to lighten the mood. And now that I'm thinking about it, Honeymaren fits that description to a tee. I'm not one to push LGBT+ in anyone's face, but I'm not gonna judge ships on characters assumed sexualities either. Even though Honeymaren didn't have much screen time, her personality still showed through and Elsamaren could very well work.

Jack on the other hand needs someone who would be able to keep up with his playful nature as well as be a rock for him to stand on when he's emotional. Tooth is a good suitor even though I don't really ship it myself. Hiccup, Merida and Rapunzel could also fit in this description.

They don't have the ability to be each other's rocks. They can't be stable if they both need someone to keep them so. If they were to date, the relationship would crumble before it even began.

Plus Jack has to be a guardian and there are a lot of fanfics that go into this idea of Jack being the king of Arendalle? First off: I'm fairly certain that you can't marry into royalty to become king. At least in the real world. Second: Jack wouldn't be able to handle that responsibility with him already being a guardian. And he can't just leave guardianship either, it was what he always was and was ment to be. And Elsa has the responsibility of keeping a magical forest in check, she can't leave to become a guardian.

3) The Toxicity

Oh my God! The fanfiction! As I usually say, you can do whatever you want in fanfiction. But if you have to butcher all the characters so much in EVERY fanfic in order to make the ship work, then there's clearly something wrong here! In every fanfic I've ever seen, the characters are so out of character it's insane. Not just Jack and Elsa, every character.

Olaf for example, is practically in love with Jack first meeting, in every fanfic. If he were to actually meet Jack, he would be apprehensive of him.

It's horrifying in not only that, but jelsa shippers will add Rapunzel a lot, just in spite of Jackunzel. They turn Rapunzel into a needy ex-girlfriend of Jack's when in reality, she's a very sweet and kind soul. Even if she and Jack had dated, they would've split on good terms and stayed friends after. There have also been cases where they do the same but with Tooth. Sometimes even both and it's honestly sick.

And let's talk about the sexism as well HAHA! I swear to God, they will rewrite Frozen but where Jack will save Elsa instead of Anna. They write Elsa as a hormonal teenage girl who falls in love with Jack within seconds.

This is from an actual jelsa shipper, my dude. WTF!!! They make Jack super dominant as well as a douche who cheats on Elsa half the time. Jack is not that dominant, he's a very emotional guy. And he'd be the most faithful boyfriend on the planet. He was alone for 300 years! If anything, he'd be clingy but not too clingy because he also understands personal space.

And if you like angsty fanfiction where a character cheats on the other, there are literally no fanfics where Elsa cheats on Jack. As if a woman couldn't possibly cheat. This is very sexist towards men and women and is toxic as hell.

If anything, Elsa would cheat on Jack, she's not exactly trustworthy in keeping promises or being loyal.

I swear, half of the jelsa shippers has never even seen rotg and just go by what they read in others fanfiction.

Jelsa shippers have gotten so bad about this ship that they've low-key harassed people for not shipping it, as well as start shipping wars within the big four fandom. That's the reason the fandom truly shrunk after 2013. I've seen posts about people admitting to leaving the fandom because it got so bad.

4) The Shippers

Jelsa shippers have literally threatened lives, not just to other fans but even to the creators of the movies. Literally threatening them into making the ship canon. They've made patitions to make it canon as if that would work. They've even harassed a lot of recent shippers to Elsamaren because "jelsa is canon."

Oh look at that, they're homophobic too...

...

...

...

... That's great 🙃

Isn't it a bigger sin to love a celestial being though? Therefore the fact that you –as a toxic christian– ship Elsa with a spirit it worse.

THEY'RE DELUSIONAL!!! So many of them have shipped jelsa so long that legit think it's canon!

Not only all that mess but there are literally more jelsa games on the internet then there are Merida games. I'm specifying this for personal reasons (aka Merida is my fave Disney princess)

And let's continue on with what really aggravates me as an artist. Jelsa shippers, stealing artwork, mostly from Jackunzel. This is not just a rumor, it's very much real.

And it doesn't help when all of their actual original fanart is just them taking scenes from Frozen and adding Jack. Then to add more salt on the wound is that almost all the fanfiction is the same, whether it'd be based during Frozen, rotg or in a highschool au.

There's literally nothing original about or going on with this ship, even after Frozen 2 came out, the shippers and fanfiction haven't changed. If anything it made the shippers spike up again.

The only thing that could say is original about jelsa is the frost daughter fanon. Oh boy! What we have to unpack here.

This is something that I recently heard about...

...

I am mortified.

Frost daughters is this little thing that jelsa shippers came up with, believing Jack and Elsa (if they could get pregnant) would have nothing but girls. What's scary about it is they're designs. Like they're trying to be original... But it's not really going great.

Most of them are just young!Elsa copies, some are edits of Elsa with Jack's hair color.

For example:

This is fine, this follows genetrical rules. I'm fine with this.

But what has me low-key petrified are some of the other designs.

Like... WTF IS ALL OF THIS!!! Where are this colors coming from?!! I don't understand 😭 You can see in the screen shots that these are literally titled as daughters of jelsa.

The white haired ones are fine. The ginger is understandable. Got it from Elsa's dad's genes. That's okay. A few are wearing pink? They can wear what ever they want. But wtf I'd going on with Nevada? Why is she black? Jack and Elsa the pastiest of white! And you cannot tell me that she got it from Elsa's mom because this was made BEFORE Frozen 2 and her mother is still white as an adult.

Where tf does the blue and pink hair come from? None of these make sense!

I want to kill myself, just looking at these!

That's gonna be the end of this rant

Now I'll say it again, I really have nothing against the ship itself. I too have casual ships that make no sense. But with ALL the fanfiction and fanart being so unoriginal and most jelsa shippers low-key being dangerous, it's hard for me respect people's opinions about it.

I try, trust me, I do! But it's become so murky in my brain that I can't tell the difference anymore and I'm also just not a fan of Elsa's character in general. And I like ships that actually make sense.

And being that I'm an equalist... it's really hard for me to look at this stuff and not get pissed off. I'm sorry if all of this comes off as aggressive because it kinda is.

I'm just very passionate, okay?

I hope you understand where I'm coming from. None of the pictures I used are mine. And I hope you have a good day?

[hlupdate]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, [...].

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, [...] “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 17 - Big Brother

Title: Irreverent Pt. 17 - Big Brother Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: T (Teen) Words: 2050

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Things had gone back to normal - or as normal as they ever got when you caught serial killers for a living. Cases at work had picked up with Hotch back in the driver's seat, and you were all starting to heal.

The team had successfully wrapped up a case in Kansas City involving missing children, so needless to say spirits were high. You drove back to the airport with Hotch, Spencer, and Garcia, with the others in another car behind you. Garcia had tagged along since the Unsub had been known to hack into home alarm systems and it would be good to have her on the ground with the rest of the team.

"What does everyone have going on for the weekend?" Penelope had obviously bored of listening to Spencer's lecture on quantum physics he'd been telling her about for the past 20 minutes. You and Hotch had conveniently tuned out, choosing instead to argue over your taste in music. You had been doing your best to introduce him to new artists instead of listening to The Beatles for the millionth time, and currently you were making a good case for Hozier.

"Jack's away at the lake with his cousins, so I have a free weekend for once," Hotch revealed. You were happy for him to be getting a break - he'd been working himself ragged trying to be Super Agent and Super Dad - a break was definitely a good call.

Before you could answer Penelope, your phone rang, distracting you and leaving Spencer to tell Penelope about his upcoming weekend of hustling with Emily in Atlantic City. The two of them made a dynamite duo in scheming drunk guys out of their money and had turned it into an annual tradition.

You quickly pulled your phone out of your pocket and saw - for possibly the fiftieth time that week - the name Dominic flash on your caller ID. Your brother had been pestering you for a few weeks now, trying to get in touch. No doubt he was doing your father's bidding. Being rid of him entirely had been too much to ask for.

You quickly dismissed the call, catching Hotch's glance in your direction. You shook your head at him, mouthing, "Later." He nodded in understanding, before tuning in to the conversation in the back once again.

"What about you, sugar?" Penelope asked, looking at you eagerly, awaiting your answer.

You thought for a second - what did you have planned for the weekend? With Jack away and Emily and Spencer off to Sin City, you didn't really have much to do. I should really get friends besides people I work with and their children. "Nothing planned," you said, turning in your seat to look at Penelope.

"Oh come on, Y/N! You're young! Vibrant! You should have plans. Men courting you." Penelope had been the most disappointed when you'd ended things with Cedric during the peak of the Foyet case. You had had more important things to worry about and between both of your busy schedules, actually seeing one another was becoming impossible. That was when you'd started to understand how hard it must have been for Hotch with Haley. He loved the job and he loved her, but she'd asked for him to leave it and in the end he hadn't been able to. While you sympathized with Haley, you got why Hotch had chosen the job. It would have killed him not to.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes good naturedly. "When would I meet men, Pen? The only men I meet are serial killers."

"Actually, statistically speaking, you run into at least fourteen eligible mates every time you step outside," Spencer rattled off in his all knowing voice. "Plus, you're a female of above average attractiveness, so it is actually closer to twenty for you."

"And yet, somehow, I'm single," you retorted. "I must be chasing them away with my attitude." You heard Hotch chuckle from next to you. He should laugh more. It makes him look younger.

*------------*

Penelope had talked everyone into going out once again, using the excuse that Hotch was free and didn't have Jack. You could tell he wasn't thrilled about being used as the excuse - he was so bad about enjoying bar type settings. However, he'd agreed under the agreement that everyone turned in their report to him before they left for their weekend activities. Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and Rossi had gone ahead, having quickly rushed through their reports. Hotch wouldn't leave until everyone had turned theirs in, and you didn't want him to be waiting alone, so you were sitting in his office keeping him company while waiting for Emily and Derek to wrap up as well.

When you'd brought your report up and then turned and sat on his couch instead of leaving, Hotch had quirked an eyebrow at you in question. "Can I help you?"

"Nope!" you said flouncing down on his couch. "I'm just waiting up here to make sure you can't just bail."

He rolled his eyes at you, but then fixed you with a contemplative look.

"What?"

"It's later now."

You looked at him, confused. "Yes…"

"The phone calls. You got them all week. Don't think I didn't notice."

"Right." Nothing ever really got past Hotch. "Dominic has been calling me, incessantly," you admitted.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. I think my father put him up to it, and as he and I are no longer on speaking terms, I don't want to open any doors to communication."

"You know," he said quietly, as he walked up from his desk to come sit on the couch by you. "You don't ever talk about your mother."

"Well," you began slowly, focusing on a spot on the opposite wall as you spoke, "she wasn't really much of a mother, I suppose. My parents were that couple that should've separated a long time ago. Pretty sure I was the save-the-marriage-baby." You expected to see some pity on his face, but he simply sat and nodded, so you continued. "But, when it didn't work my mom sort of went away, always in her own world. Say what you will about my dad, but at least he was around, as much as he could be. She could've been there all the time - she just chose not to be."

Hotch had a way of making you want to talk to him. You'd tell him something awful, and sometimes he'd try to help. More often he'd just listen.

This time, he chose to speak, in his deep comforting voice. "You know, you should be proud. It's kind of amazing that you came out the way you did, given everything."  

You felt a warm glow surround you as you looked up at him, sincerity radiating off of him. "Thanks, I think," you laughed.

Derek's voice cut through the moment, "Hey, let's go you two! I've got mine and Prentiss's report here," he said, striding in and placing two files on Hotch's desk.

You saw Hotch get up, undoubtedly to check their work, but you were done waiting. "Nope, that's for Monday. Come on!" And against his protests, you grabbed his jacket and led him out the door.

The four of you drove over to the bar and found a spot a couple of blocks down. As you started walking towards the bar together, you heard a voice calling you from behind, causing you to tense up immediately.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!"

You turned to see a large dark figure moving towards the four of you, and as it got closer you recognized your brother's face. Hotch and Derek were both instantly on alert as well, ready to come between you and the man hurrying towards you.

He looked much the same as he had the last time you saw him. He stood as tall and broad as Derek, looking even more intimidatingly large in his dark suit. "Dominic! What're you doing? Following me?" You were pissed.

"I need to speak with you," your brother said, moving as if to usher you away from the others.

You took a step backwards to avoid him and instead bumped into Hotch. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say it in front of them. But remember, they're federal agents, so I'd watch my words if I were you."

He glowered at you for a moment, before accepting that he wouldn't be able to catch you by yourself. "Father has a message for you," he announced.

"Oh yeah? Still playing dad's lapdog, are you?"

"You need to go man," Derek came to stand by your side, intimidatingly.

"You're being ridiculous!" Dominic seethed ignoring him, "You're disgracing yourself and everything we've been taught."

"What's the message?" You tried to remain calm, knowing it would rile him up more to see you unaffected by his old bullying tactics. Maybe then he'd just leave.

"Come home. The family needs you." He repeated what were obviously words fed to him by your father.  

"Tell father to leave me alone, Dom. I won't be his pawn anymore." You tried to do an about face and move the others along with you, grabbing Derek's arm with you.

"You're Emily Prentiss, aren't you?" You'd thought he was done, but his words towards Emily gave you all pause. "I've got a message for you as well…Valhalla says hello."

As you watched Emily's face lose all color, your brother turned around and vanished back into the shadows from where he'd come.

The mood sufficiently ruined, you all ended up back at the office so that Emily could fill you in on whatever or whoever Valhalla was.

As Emily explained her undercover role playing the IRA terrorist's girlfriend - Ian Doyle, codename Valhalla - you started to realize that you never truly know a person. Not that it changed how you looked at Emily per se, but that there are parts to people and their histories that you might never know, despite feeling as close as sisters to them.

"So, if Dominic L/N has a message from Valhalla, then that means that L/N Sr. knows Valhalla too, right?"

"Yes, most likely. I'm going to have my contacts at Interpol look into this," Emily said, in response to Derek's question.

Hotch had been pretty quiet, so the three of you turned to him to see what he was thinking. Noticing all eyes on himself, he looked at the three of you and then more specifically at just you, before sighing and pushing up from the table. Hotch spoke, carefully choosing his words, not quite meeting your eyes. "For some time now I've suspected that the CIA has a case open on Mr. L/N, and I think this pretty much confirms those suspicions."

"Wait, what? Why would you think that?" you asked, unsure of why this was the first time you were hearing about this.

Hotch sighed again, unsure of how to tell you. Slowly, he explained, "To be honest Y/N, I've suspected it since you told us about your dad. Your rejection from the CIA  never sat right with me. After your dad was here the last time and the case with Dawson, it made sense that your rejection was tied to some conflict of interest they would have with you being part of the agency and not anything to do with you personally."

You swallowed, trying to process what Hotch had said. If you were honest with yourself, a small part of you knew he was right. It had never sat right with you either, but at the time you hadn't been feeling confident and had assumed your year of partying had somehow been to blame.

"You really believe that, don't you?" You looked up at him as he stood with one hand tucked into his pocket and a furrowed brow.

"Yes, I do."

"Well then, I think a visit to the CIA is also part of knowledge gathering before we can more forward and assess the full threat." Emily's past as a rogue was definitely showing here as she drew herself into commanding position. The rest of you agreed to defer to her experience, deciding that she would get in touch with Interpol and visit the CIA alongside Hotch.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What type of kids do you think the ikevamp guys would be if they went to high school?

Oh boy HERE WE GO

(Under a cut bc this post is a Long Boi^TM)

Napoleon. Would prbly be that kid that’s like somehow bafflingly in the top ten of his class but nobody ever sees him??? Like he’s always late to school or napping in the quietest places on campus (they found him in a locker once and the school was laughing about it for WEEKS bc he insisted he was just chillin, and it wasn’t like a bullying incident he just wanted to sleep LMAO). Surprisingly amiable? A lot of people are afraid of him at first but he’s just so casual and direct, he gains quite a few friends (and a good number of girls have a crush on him--he always diverts the attention of skeevy guys). Good friends with Jeanne because they fence together a lot, and people are always baffled at how easily they chat

Mozart. Where do I begin. Number one in his class, perfectionist prick. That one kid that’s a known prodigy and that everyone hates for his impeccable grades and musical talent. Always gets the solos and conducting roles in the school performances. He knows how to play a crowd--will always be sweet and cherubic in front of teachers. But when it’s just the students? All gloves are off. Frigid and incendiary, will not take any shit and will tear you apart with words in milliseconds. Do not cross. He will end your entire life and self-esteem, it’s not worth it. Has a few friends, and they often experience the disdain of jealous students--but they’re all steadfast about defending him. And Mozart will not tolerate it if people are mistreating his friends, he’s an iron wall of defense; to be his friend means to always have someone looking out for you, make no mistake. He and Jeanne often grab food together after practice and ask about each others day, they hella close but never really show it while school’s on--their class schedules are worlds apart bc of their grades, and at lunch they’re usually practicing/doing hw. When they hug it out at graduation and pat each other on the back everyone nearly falls the fuck out of their chair LMFAO

Leonardo. That kid that 100% could probably be in the top fifty of his class but just can’t be bothered to give a damn. Always argues points with his teachers and plays devil’s advocate until they are inches from exploding at him. Always the one to mercifully make class feel shorter with his absolute distraction-heavy shitfuckery (and sometimes you really learn something because of his line of thinking). He's a dumbass but like harmless, essentially. Used to be the perfect student^TM and then decided the system was bullshit and he wanted no part of it, thinks public education can kiss his ass. Nobody knows it since he asks people not to talk about it, but he tutors kids after school for hours--has brought kids from Ds to Bs. He always dodges nosy people, never goes to parties, and finds ways to intervene around kids that are struggling with smth (with ninja stealth of course). Despite how easily he laughs and chats with just about anyone, he’s...actually surprisingly v much a lone wolf. Only ever consistently hangs out with the heartthrob rich kid, but nobody understands why???? And they’re always roasting each other wtf, are they even friends????

Comte. Pretty boy genius, always in the top five of his class though doesn’t seem too worried about it or obsessed with rank as students often are. It’s more that his parents have high expectations for his future as their heir, so he tends to fall in line with it. Born into money but somehow....not an asshole??? He doesn’t really like showing off, tries to be quiet about his accomplishments but his parents won’t really allow it--and he’s the star of the soccer team so it can be hard to hide. Most often the one at a party trying to help people sober up (always designated driver) or hearing his friends out when they have a problem. Has never publicly tried to bust heads, but some of the guys in the school insist he’s got a dark side--probably because he threatened them (passive aggressively) within an inch of their lives for being disgusting to girls. But nobody believes them bc...I mean look at him, does that look like a threat?? He just bought that kid’s lunch for christ’s sake. TONS of girls ask him out and confess their feelings, and he always lets them down as gently as he can--conceivably doesn’t like anyone himself, as far as the student body knows. Like Leonardo he’s v amiable, but also manages to reveal nothing personal while getting close. Leonardo’s the only one that’s managed to scratch the surface, and the kid won’t leave him alone for some godforsaken reason. And yet, he seems to enjoy their minutes of banter more than the hours of time spent with “friends”

Arthur. Oh boy. Good lord. Well. He used to be a sweetheart that would always seek out the mousier students and bring them into discussion/involve them on the playground. But alas, Teenage Jadedness^TM hit him like a train and now he’s an incorrigible flirt and believes no single person can be good deep down (somebody get this bitch some eyeliner). Believes the world will always be a cruel and unfeeling place where victims are never heard, so he just kind of goes full skeptical and bitter (think Sylvain for those of you that are FE fans). Has fun with every girl he sees (usually dating several girls at once) and doesn’t much care for his grades, but somehow has perfect scores in English?? He insists it’s because he needs to keep his seduction game on par with the voices of older legends before him, but some of the girls that see him in the library from time to time--v serious--are struck by how attractive he is in such deep focus, entirely uncharacteristic of his nosy and boisterous behavior in the halls (can often be seen whirling around Isaac like a bird of prey while our little baby robin Isaac stiffly tries to get away from him, and Dazai often joins to make things even more chaotic bc why not? In reality they just love this feisty kid that never gives up on what’s right, even though they’ve both given up trying themselves)

Dazai. He’s one of those kids that like does weed regularly but is also like...alarmingly insightful?? Like those kids I was always told to avoid, but now and again I would have conversations with out of necessity and was just...kinda shook. I mean granted he’s a little weird but he’s fairly harmless?? He’s like a class clown but on a massive scale--there’s nobody in the place that doesn’t know who he is, that haven’t heard tales of his exploits (he always comes in through the windows and gets detention for it a lot, and he even brought a chicken with him to school once????) nobody gets what he’s doing at any moment (don’t even know if he does really, chaotic mofo) and honestly nobody wants to know they just do the side eye meme when he appears or laughs. The teachers lament his untapped potential or just hate him for making their lives an even bigger headache than usual, and his grades are...yeah let’s not look at those. Organized the senior prank with absolute GLEE, and it was talked about for ages after he was gone--an inspiration chaotic bastards everywhere

Theodorus. (I hate.......that I pictured him in those like Vineyard Vine white boy clothes.......for the record its mostly bc his parents force him to wear them). All business. This kid doesn’t have time for your bullshit, will absolutely walk away if you’re boring him or seeking social clout. Popular because he’s hot and has a mean streak a mile wide, all the girls that didn’t like Mozart for being ethereal and effeminate boomeranged to find Theo ready to fulfill their hopes and dreams. They only grow more feral when rumors of him actually being fairly nice one on one--and telling creeps to fuck off of vulnerable girls at parties--start to circulate. (If he isn’t with Vincent, Arthur is probably near. Nobody understands how the two are brothers????) Van Gogh name apparently is just “I can be your angel or i can be your devil” and no one understands how... Grades are average and he’s plenty capable, most of his time is spent working after school because his parents refuse to provide Vincent with any artistic materials (canvas, paints, etc). They ask him to go to parties more, but he only goes to piss his parents off (he’s v lowkey punk and it’s understandably sexy of him). Will literally only listen to Vincent, and got in a looooot of trouble after getting into a fistfight with Shakespeare. Only stopped because his parents blamed Vincent for the incident, and Vincent apologized and went quiet for days ;-;

Vincent. Always been quiet and shy, but he doesn’t dislike ppl--he just has a hard time speaking up now and again. His parents always talk over him and tell him nothing he has to say has any real value, so he tends to struggle with a lot of self-doubt. Not isolated because he’s not likeable, it’s more because people tend to take advantage of his mild and earnest nature--until Theo runs them off. He’s on amiable terms with most people but has no real, true friends and it makes him feel lonely a lot. Mostly copes with the emotional turmoil by painting as much as he can. His grades are average, he does reliably well but can often be found daydreaming or distracted. Theo tends to escort him everywhere because of his propensity to attract danger (namely Shakespeare) or walk into things cuz he’s in his head a lot. A few of the artsier girls and the quiet academic girls have HUGE crushes on him (he’s softspoken, sweet, and calm; come on now), but he’s so distant--and honestly nice to everyone in equal measure--that they don’t have much hope of it coming to fruition. This kid deadass doesn’t think a single girl would ever like him that way so he’s just c:???????? when Theo talks about “those nosy harpies coming after my brother”

Jeanne. EDGY MCEDGE. Isn’t amazing in the academic department, but he’s a killer fencer--the rallying cry of the entire team. He became leader his sophomore year and he’s pretty much the only reason they keep destroying at tournaments throughout the year. Despite the pervasive interest in him he intimidates most people away with his swift intensity and ironclad stoicism. Silent as a grave and very still, people are convinced he’s the Grim Reaper reincarnated (listen he’s juST A DUTIFUL BABIE N O). If he isn’t fencing or practicing, Isaac often offers him help in the library after school hours in one of the study rooms (can’t be seen who’s inside from the outside). The two develop a kind of uncanny bond; they’re both so...bad at human-ing that they find a lot of comfort in the atmosphere they create. There’s none of the bullshit grandstanding or clout obsession, just them genuinely trying to help each other (yes Jeanne absolutely teaches Isaac self-defense moves in order to crush the kids that pick on him, and Jeanne often either glares or outright threatens those students when Isaac isn’t looking). Only ever smiles or feels understood when he’s hanging out with Mozart, so he cherishes the time Mozart offers him to hang (he knows the kid is busy up to his eyeballs and under a ton of pressure by comparison, his parents don’t care much as long as they can brag about his fencing records)

Isaac. Mega nerd that just...does not know how to interact. Only understands math and DESTROYS in competitive math club, but otherwise is always alone at lunch or just in the library. A little bean pole because he doesn’t look after himself very well (neglects to eat a lot) and can sometimes be found asleep on his books. If approached he will be very thorny, doesn’t have any friends to speak of and trusts everyone about as far as he can throw them. Yells at Arthur and Dazai a lot when they flock around him, and has gotten into his fair share of fights. Never starts fights, but will finish them. People are surprised he can hold his own, and he comes away with blood that ain’t his. There are a few girls that are curious about him, but its mostly the ones that have seen his awkward thoughtfulness in club--or the girls that are sick of the assholes and appreciate how stalwart he is. He really just wants to be left in peace (his parents never show up to his meets or when he wins academic awards, and the few teachers that notice are pretty concerned abt his reactivity and complete lack of social savvy...) Leonardo always helps him sneak in at night to look at the stars on the school roof

Shakespeare is p much the like “kid most anticipated to be in jail as soon as they’re out of high school” He just. Has that like...serial killer vibe??? Idk if I’m explaining this well but he was that guy that would always cling to genuinely compassionate girls just trying to be nice like a LEECH, and would never fucking shut up if he did or didn’t get attention. You just can't win with this kid. Probably wanted to kill the kids that made fun of him or at the very least wanted to lash out against the confident/popular/nice kids. Only liked you if he didn’t deem you a threat, or if you didn’t make him insecure, or if you tolerated him (aka Vincent. Vincent PLEASE stop trying to reach out to dangerous ppl....I love you too much to watch this shit...) He admitted as much to Theo and the kid went livid with rage and pummeled him into the ground, though most of the rest of the student body doesn’t know quite what happened. (Theo refuses to explain to anyone, and just walks away if asked). Shakespeare will just change the subject endlessly and make passive aggressive threats until the person leaves if they try to bring it up. The only time the entire class has EVER seen Leonardo mad is when Shakespeare kept tailing this girl that wanted no part of him

Sebastian. Nerdy like Isaac, but is more of the silent observer type. Like Theo, doesn't want any part of the bullshit but won't be as blunt or outspoken about it, he's only open about it if pressed or pissed off. Doesn't have much patience for the clique-driven nature of high school and tends to take an interest in the people who stand out beyond the mind-numbing drama. Also is in the top fifty but studies like a lunatic, and can often be seen asking Comte for tips now and again. Has tried talking to Mozart and admires his talents, but Mozart gives a cold shoulder that would put Antarctica to shame. (Leonardo tries to ninja him into taking breaks but never succeeds). Has a great deal of disdain for the troublemakers (Arthur and Dazai) but doesn't intervene, just watches shit go down and sighs. Probably the most normal(?) one of the bunch, just does his best and keeps his head down

[45paperplates]

About Olivia Rodrigo

It is a sign of a deep lack of self-esteem in our American monoculture that when Olivia Rodrigo so recently became the biggest pop musician of the moment most writers tasked to interpret said phenomenon were by default so cynical about the music they live to represent to the world that they seemed totally unaware of the most obvious explanation, one so obvious that it's almost childishly democratic: that she is simply the most naturally compelling new artist working in pop today.

Instead, they have cited elements of the music that are actually quite detrimental to its quality. Most pop-punk was weak, whiny, and obnoxiously self-involved when it was popular, and the fact that one of Olivia’s songs (“good 4 u”) sounds an awful lot like the good stuff (“Misery Business”) is indeed a sign of creative bankruptcy. That the album often sounds so much like Lorde, Taylor Swift, or Billie Eilish is only evidence of the pop machine’s greed-driven need for familiarity and the moments where these influences are truly overwhelming are the album’s least original and most incongruous. The truly teenage moments, despite their popularity with millennials and real teenagers alike, are out of touch and uninspired. I am a thirty-two year old man who also cannot parallel park, but I will never be able to relate to this kind of quirkiness in song if the singer is a rich teenager who claims in interviews that she pays for valet parking in order to avoid it.

Her relationship with Taylor Swift, whose influence is indeed all over every song on the album, seems destined to be tense, and Olivia performs best when her own creativity manages to escape it. “favorite crime” is essentially a Taylor Swift album track, imitative of Swift’s least incisive creative tendencies. “And I watched as you fled the scene / Doe-eyed as you buried me / One heart broke, four hands bloody,” writes Olivia, in the kind of mildly clever figurative imagery that makes the listener’s brain work to uncover a meaning that was already obvious, the kind of line Taylor writes in her weakest moments. The song’s apparent antecedent, “Victim,” performed live on Instagram in June of 2020, doesn’t sound like Taylor at all:

Let me be the victim of your perfect crime Bathe in my blood so I’m not the bad guy Yeah, I messed up so that you’ll mess up too I really want the blame to be on you So drive the knife in deep Make the victim bleed  

“Make the victim bleed.” It’s both unpretentiously direct and painfully deep. The imagery is vibrant and even specific enough to evoke centuries of high Catholic masochism without being at all complicated. Olivia’s best lyrics are indeed never detailed for their own sake, but calmly symbolic, referential of cultural archetypes, serving in the makeup of some more abstracted, weightier conceptual design.

Guilt, particularly of the religious kind, would seem to be her true creative center, a counterintuitive thought, given that so many of her songs officially released are so especially accusatory, to an empowering extent. But she always admits her doubt: “'Cause let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same / Another actress / I hate to think that I was just your type” she says of her ex’s new girlfriend. Indeed every song on the album that is explicitly about heartbreak goes out of its way to acquit the criminal in one way or another, either implicitly or directly, describing situations that are as emotionally painful as they are understandable from both sides.

She knows, in other words, that her anger at the boy is both valid and unjustified, that her sadness is real but not at all unique. Her pain transcends by its lack of an honest target, and this is what makes her music relatable to all ages. Without quite saying it, through a contradictory combination of dedicated vulnerability and self-awareness she asks the universe--or God even--rather than the boy, why did this happen? Why does this happen and is it my fault? "Did I do something wrong?"

More than anywhere else, you can hear it in her voice. Though lots of different things can get in the way, this transcendent guilt sits in her voice as a sustained emotional power, shifting between a dull pain somewhere deep in her chest and a lump in her throat, lending sincere force and tragic significance to subject matter that most have interpreted as specifically teenaged and delightfully naive. Bruce Springsteen famously said that the first time he heard “Like a Rolling Stone,” Bob Dylan’s voice “sounded somehow simultaneously young and adult.” This is the kind of compliment disallowed to teenage girls by the use of the “you’re mature for your age” trope by predatory old men, which is a shame, because if anyone deserves to be called mature it's a teenager who takes guilt seriously before they’ve really had a chance to even do anything wrong.

Maybe she has had her marvelously unanimous success because this pained emotional high is heavily tempered on SOUR, particularly in its singles, two of which drown it out in the bridge (“drivers license”, “deja vu”), and the third of which filters it through talk-singing and distorted yelling (“good 4 u”). Maybe this is why she switched out “Victim,” a song where she sings of her “guilty Catholic heart,” and pleads “make the victim me,” for “favorite crime.” It does seem almost too heavy for American pop, and maybe a little dab of it is all the industry’s recipe requires because America doesn’t know how to process a mature teenage girl in a healthy way. But it is the passion at the source of her talent and, although her album is not at all perfect, shines through like the burning sun at every opportunity.