#i title my shit like academic articles do not @ me

[lesbianredhoodedmercenary]

happy father's day i'm thinking about this outis line again

I always thought it was a bit out of pocket considering this isn't too long after the events of Canto III, even with how Outis was being harsher this Canto.

But I then I remembered that Outis' son is the same age as Sinclair.

Her son, who thinks that she died in the Smoke War (the in universe equivalent to the Trojan War as depicted in the Iliad and the Odyssey) because she hasn't been home in years. Her son who cannot cry out to her. And her son, who is currently in much the same position as Sinclair regarding his self-perception and ability to fight, as Telemachus refers to himself as "a weakling knowing nothing of valor" (Book 2 of the Odyssey, line number and exact wording depend on translation).

I think this line reflects more on Outis and her anxieties about her family thinking that she's dead, as well as a reference to Telemachus experiencing his own journey to manhood, much like Sinclair.

I think there's also things to be said for the parallels between Sinclair and Telemachus, even just the ones imagined by Outis. Hell's Chicken had her showing a very paternal worry over his diet (raise your hand if your dad has ever said you'll be short forever if you don't eat right). Overall, even though Sinclair and Telemachus only share the bones of a coming of age narrative, Outis is seeing connections there because she misses her family.

As with this one. Again, she's showing her hand more than she means to. Though she's talking to Dongrang, I think she's also talking to herself. Trying to reassure herself that home will always be waiting. Dongrang, however, decides not to return, but to pursue glory no matter who he hurts in the process. The Odyssey also contrasts the pursuit of glory with the desire to return home. Odysseus has to choose humility in order to return.

Outis has been keeping up a careful persona around us, but it's slipping. Her desire to return home is seeping through even as she tries to assert herself by clinging to the glory from a war that's long since ended.

[plor-bindery]

Bound: The Bucket List, by GallaPlacidia

This is actually a gift, but I'm taking a risk that my pal Lately isn't on Tumblr enough to know about this thing, lol. (Lately, if you see this: surprise? Merry Christmas?)

This is, of course, a bind of GallaPlacidia's fic The Bucket List. Galla's fic is no longer on AO3 but is available if you make a very small effort to locate it, which you should if you haven't already done so.

First off: huge thanks to @sits-bound who spotted me their typeset of the fic when mine was not behaving at all. I owe them thanks for this, for their choice for Draco's handwriting (which became quite a Theme for me as I went), and their help in figuring out toner-activated foil, which I used on the endpapers.

Secondly: the UK folks among you will, I hope, recognize this binding as an homage to the Oxford Black n' Red notebook. I wanted to create this binding to look as though it might be Draco's actual bucket list notebook, so I went with this theme in the colour choices and cover design, down to the name tag label (made from HTV) that I imagine Galla's Draco slapping on haphazardly as he frantically began his list.

I made Draco's version of the notebook just slightly different, of course -- with Galla's name in place of the text "black n' red", the name tag, and the little Aelfgifu crest in place of the Oxford one on the original.

(Aside: Aelfgifu is a bit of an inside joke with me and Lately, as we have spent a lot of time imagining a magical college within Cambridge called Aelfgifu College, as well as Draco and Harry's different academic journeys, their collegiate romance, etc., without ever writing more than a few hundred words of same, whoops. But! The college has a crest now! Maybe it'll get a story to go with it!)

This is a favorite, tip-top fic for Lately, and it's up there for me too. I don't think I need to dwell on Galla's brilliance as it's well-known in the fandom. But it was a treat to create my own typeset and bind for this fic. (I kept my first attempt as a personal copy, warts and all.)

More process under the cut.

Materials: Nothing extraordinary here except (as noted) the foiled endpapers. I used 1 mm board to create proper Bradel boards with a notch for the spine piece.

Process: A three-piece Bradel! My first!

I could have done a quarter bind (as the actual commercial notebook uses) but I wanted to learn a true Bradel three-piece bind for a non-fandom bind and this was my chance to try it out. Verdict: kinda neat, and handy when foiling directly to bookcloth (which I did not do here, but did for the non-fannish bind.) Endbands are machine-made and boring. (The actual commercial notebook has no endbands but I couldn't go that far.)

The typeset was fun. Galla's writing is very dialogue-driven, which means a lot of paragraph breaks, which leads to some interesting page break challenges, but in the end it came out nicely. I enjoyed setting Draco's letters, the Prophet article, and the Witch Weekly gossip column. And I had too much fun dropping random shit into the half-title page.

Re the endpapers: yes, I did comb through the fic and pull out all the numbered bucket list items, then all the non-numbered ones referred to in passing, which I then numbered and slotted into the list for the endpapers. I regret nothing. (Not pictured: for the back endpaper, the list is identical except I went through and struck out all the items Draco knocked off his list in the course of the story.)

I still don't own a colour printer! But I do own a little tiny photo printer (Canon Selphy) which is what I used to print the Aelfgifu crest, which I then just cut out and glued on. I like the shiny quality, even if it probably should be more like printed HTV in texture.

I'm quite delighted with the cover design. This one was so fun!

[morlock-holmes]

I recently found this article about Robin DiAngelo and it's really stuck in my head now. This woman is so instructive about the underlying psychological processes animating us in the early 20s, and it's totally unintentional, which makes her fascinating to me.

Partway through her presentation, DiAngelo asked us, “What are some of the ways your race has shaped your life?” She told us to give our answers to each other and added that if we were white and happened to be sitting beside someone of color, we were forbidden to ask the person of color to speak first. It might be good policy, mostly, for white people to do more listening than talking, but, she said with knowing humor, it could also be a subtle way to avoid blunders, maintain a mask of sensitivity and stay comfortable. She wanted the white audience members to feel as uncomfortable as possible.

In our group of three, Southern, who is white, went first. Like Woods, she was already steeped in DiAngelo’s ideas; Southern had led two church book groups in discussing “White Fragility.” She was fully persuaded that, as she said to me afterward, “we’re all racist in that we’re swimming in a culture that is racist,” and that “we don’t think, as white people, of white as a race that comes with all kinds of conditioning.” Yet, in the moment, in response to DiAngelo’s question, she struggled. She couldn’t articulate much of anything about how she’d been shaped by being white.

I went next. I, too, was ready for everything I heard from DiAngelo. In fact, I knew this very question was coming. Just the day before, I’d been to a session she ran for a fractious city department that agreed to let me watch as long as I didn’t describe the event; the department’s equity team had brought her in to spur white self-awareness. But I had failed to speak about my whiteness as formative. That is, I noted that my color gave me infinite advantages, but the words, while sincere, were passionless. I emphasized instead that three of my five nonfiction books were about race, that I thought about race constantly, that back in junior high my best friend was one of the few Black students in my school, part of an experimental busing program in the early ’70s, and that the way our friendship ended still haunted me, that I’d betrayed him badly.

At some point after our answers, DiAngelo poked fun at the myriad ways that white people “credential” themselves as not-racist. I winced. I hadn’t meant to imply that I was anywhere close to free of racism, yet was I “credentialing”? And today, after a quick disclaimer acknowledging the problem with what I was about to do, I heard myself offering up, again, these same nonracist bona fides and neglecting to speak about the effects of having been soaked, all my life, by racist rain. I was, DiAngelo would have said, slipping into the pattern she first termed “white fragility” in an academic article in 2011: the propensity of white people to fend off suggestions of racism, whether by absurd denials (“I don’t see color”) or by overly emotional displays of defensiveness or solidarity (DiAngelo’s book has a chapter titled “White Women’s Tears” and subtitled “But you are my sister, and I share your pain!”) or by varieties of the personal history I’d provided.

This is like some fucking 70s EST or scientology brainwashing shit.

Like, look at the list of responses to this question:

If you deny that being white shaped your life, that's White Fragility;

If you are too eager to show solidarity, that's White Fragility;

If you share personal history, that's White Fragility

If you talk about times when you were made aware of racism, that's White Fragility;

It seems like pretty much every single thing a white person could possibly say in response to that question is "White Fragility".

DiAngelo is clear that we're all inherently racist, but I want you to attend to the emotions that the author, Daniel Bergner expresses. He and his white colleague are eager to participate, and they know, and have heard, that their participation will be racist, but their primary emotions are anxiety and shame.

They are convinced that they have somehow shamefully failed at a very important task, despite the fact that DiAngelo is very, very clear that there is no way to succeed.

More than that, they feel shame at their desire to succeed, and anxiety at the idea of not trying to succeed.

Honestly as you keep track of the article watch how good DiAngelo is at subordinating people:

The surge of attention, DiAngelo told me, made her at once leery and hopeful. She worried that the posts were “performative,” the book “just a badge.” Yet, she said, “there’s a sense of scales falling from people’s eyes,” mostly because of the killings of Floyd and, before that, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, but also, she believed, because of the work she and her antiracism colleagues have been doing. She felt a similar mix about the ASAP emails from corporations. “The very urgency itself says you don’t have a very deep understanding of how hard this work is, and how long it takes and how ongoing it needs to be,” she said. “Racism is not going to go away by August, so how about we do it in August?”

Being too excited to start being antiracist is evidence of how bad you are at being antiracist!

This woman is a terrifying menace.

What struck me reading both White Fragility and this article is the way that this way of talking and thinking distracts extremely heavily from concrete action. Everything pulls into an increasingly subjective, and religious realm, and the question of what we're actually trying to do recedes back into the fog:

Singleton spoke along similar lines. I asked whether guiding administrators and teachers to put less value, in the classroom, on capacities like written communication and linear thinking might result in leaving Black kids less ready for college and competition in the labor market. “If you hold that white people are always going to be in charge of everything,” he said, “then that makes sense.” He invoked, instead, a journey toward “a new world, a world, first and foremost, where we have elevated the consciousness, where we pay attention to the human being.” The new world, he continued, would be a place where we aren’t “armed to distrust, to be isolated, to hate,” a place where we “actually love.”

Bergner, and basically everybody he interviews, have gotten so excited to tell us whether this is a good idea or a bad one that they have forgotten to explain what "this" actually is.

I want you to do something brave. For a moment, forget that you and I think that it is utterly asinine to devalue "written communication" and let's agree with Singleton, putting emphasis on it is an example of white supremacist thinking.

Let's also pretend that we are teachers. What are we doing differently?

What specific classroom policy are we putting into place?

Are we eliminating all written classroom material?

Are we allowing social studies students to choose whether they prefer to give reports orally or as a finished written document?

Are we doing exactly what we were doing yesterday but trying to keep in mind that we shouldn't assume that a student is stupid just because they struggle with reading?

You'll notice that the range of options goes from "Insane radical thing that the school will never do" to "Something so obvious that basically any sane person will agree that it's a good idea"

You'll also notice that it's like pulling teeth to get anybody to actually put things into concrete terms like that (None of the people interviewed for that article is capable of doing so).

Hell, you know what I didn't notice until just now?

During a training in January 2019 run by [Darnisa] Amante-Jackson , which Chislett recorded, Amante-Jackson...went on to present “some characteristics of whiteness,” prominent among them “an obsession with the written word. If it’s not written down, it doesn’t exist.”

During a later session a white employee causes a giant stir by... wait for it...

Refusing to write on a poster during a brain-storming session.

This is the powerful hypnosis these people are working; you and I can listen to them talk about "obsession with the written word" and it doesn't occur to them or us to ask why so much of their anti-racist workshop revolves around the written word, revolves around demands to use the written word, and grinds to a halt when people refuse.

[wellofdean]

Hello there! I've happened to read this post of yours and I just loved it! You've brilliantly articulated what I've been trying to explain about Supernatural, specifically about one of its most fascinating (at least to me) themes, that is the contrast between the nuclear and the queer family. In the post you've also mentioned "the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling" and I got super curious since I've been trying to find some resources about alternatives to this type of storytelling. I was wondering if you could be so kind and share the names of some authors, or even some books/papers/articles about this "backlash". I just thought to take my chance and ask you but if it's not okay by you by no means ignore my request :)

thank you anyway for sharing your thoughts on that post, again it was brilliant! Have a nice day ^_^

Hello! Thank you so much for the compliment on my post!

When I say 'backlash against the monomyth', I am talking about conversations in the film school, and with other students, but some of them, as I mentioned, have gone on to make films that set out to subvert the Hero's Journey model of storytelling.

I personally love this piece:

Film Crit Hulk has a bit of a schtick that he's doing and yes, he writes in ALL CAPS, but he's kind of brilliant, actually, writes for some very serious publications, and this is a pretty brilliant summary of the kinds of conversations I heard and had in my University days and just after with members of the Lit and Crit fandom (which is what academics really are) and my then-aspiring filmmaker friends, and with people who were actively involved in shaping careers in Hollywood storytelling.

This is also good:

This is also really worth a read, and talks about the way the monomyth "displays ethnocentric, sexist, heteronormative, and cisnormative biases and it encourages people to ignore the ways in which stories are fundamentally shaped by the cultures and time periods in which they are produced."

As for alternatives, I will now tell you about a book I absolutely love, and cannot recommend highly enough, and that is Jane Alison's book Meander, Spiral, Explode.

EXTREMELY worth the read. Absolutely wonderful.

I also really like Relating Narratives by Adriana Cavarero, which you can read online, here, which is about selfhood and narrative, and actually is not fully relevant, probably, but it's awesome, so I include it.:

Enjoy!

[canmom]

another night where i can't sleep...

it has long felt like, while in some respects certain things have come easy to me that most people find difficult, such as maths or computer shit or academic writing, in many other respects the rest of the world had a ten year head start on me. stuff like relating to other people, stuff like art and music, the basic activity of living. it's The Autism, and it's the habits I've accrued over the years.

head in the clouds, full of knowledge and theories and technical this and that, still that smoldering anger that's so abstract, aimed at the nature of the world and all the things that i don't know how to change. personally... i write and write and write on here, because i know how to write, i know how to talk about, i can expound and extemporise, but i feel like so often i don't know how to emerge from behind the scripts I've built up for navigating this or that situation, my ignorance of how I'm seen and what messages i give off, the idea of whatever it is people interpret me as (even those very close to me), and just... connect. see and be seen.

when i get the right kind of work of fiction, it feels like... at last, I've found someone who thinks in a way that i understand. this is what is so intoxicating about seth dickinson's books i think. the earnestness of the feelings that animate them, the way they construct people and motivations, the web of philosophical and scientific and emotional connections, the rhythm as they unfold into a desperate searching for the right question, the wicked humour and abrupt violence and the type of body horror imagery that they reach for. all of it feels like I've finally found someone who gets it. that's why i go crazy about it.

(and it means the world what seth has said about my articles - it feels like a mission.)

i don't know if i can expect anyone else to get what i get out of them. there are criticisms you can make - what i take as fearlessness you might call arrogance, overambition. my partner found it too sincere, too direct and 'mannered' in laying out what it's addressing. these are a matter of wanting different things, i suppose. it's not that i can't see why they say it, i just don't see any of it as a flaw.

but... because I've found that connection, because i want to reach back and say, i see what you're doing, i get it, i feel it too - i write the long exegesis articles, to hold it up to everyone and say look, see, this is how it works.

the last article in the series on The Tyrant Baru Cormorant was to be titled Replication, and it was supposed to attempt to ask how to draw out the spark that animated such books into existence. i had an outline in my mind, to talk about the fingerprints of sff culture of the 2010s and how it affected me and perhaps also seth - and about the determination to take the questions seriously, to push and push. the vulnerability to lay your soul bare.

but from there? i don't know what the answer is, only that i haven't managed to do it with any of the things I've created. what is my baru cormorant, my psycho nymph exile or serious weakness, my nier? what is the thing that only i can make, that will resonate with other souls in the dark? am i getting closer?

I'll keep searching.

I'm halfway through Exordia. i don't know how much I ought to say before the book comes out 'for real', but I'll definitely be writing a spoiler-light advance review. I'm so hooked. i can't sleep, even though i have to work tomorrow. it's 'just a book', but... it's what it's all about.

[rollercoasterwords]

I’m so genuinely intrigued and curious abt that post you made abt reaching out to the authors when you find a paper you want to read bc.. how are you finding these papers in the first place?? Do they show up on your tiktok fyp?? Do you just search up whatever topic you wanna read about on google scholar? I think that that’s really cool that you do that and I also would like to read about research that like actually interests me and not just papers assigned in class but I dunno where I would start looking for them. Sorry this ask is probably so random but do you have any tips?? lmao 😭

WHAT a fun question!!! of course i have tips!!!

first of all....free urself from the tiktok fyp i am begging u <3 like. ok i am sure there are people on there who are sharing academic articles and such but....more often with tiktok at least in my experience u just end up getting stuck in an endless scroll rather than actually following up on any interesting reading/research suggestions. also i think it is just like. a valuable and enriching skill to be able to think of things on ur own that u want to learn about and then go and find resources urself! like. approach tiktok w caution perhaps it could be helpful for some but i worry a bit that we are all becoming a little too reliant on algorithms to feed us Content, y'know?

anyway! as for how i find papers 2 read that interest me! most often it is a matter of finding something that sparks my interest + then going down a rabbit hole. and there are soooooo many ways to do this!! the internet is an amazing resource!!!! here is a list of some ways that i find interesting articles:

tumblr <3 lol i follow various blogs that post interesting stuff abt theory + academia every so often, and if i see a quote that interests me i'll go and try to find the article it came from! (you could also use tiktok this way if you've found some good people to follow! my main hesitation w tiktok is just that. it's an endless scroll + an algorithm which are both 2 things that i find distracting, and why i prefer tumblr)

substack - same kinda deal as tumblr; i subscribe to bloggers who write about topics that interest me and if they cite research in their posts i'll go try to find that research to read it myself

news articles/blog posts/essays that i come across online - again, if there's some interesting research cited, i'll go and try to find it

search by writer - if you keep hearing about an academic or someone suggests "oh read some so-and-so," go and look up so-and-so and see what they've written + what u can find online for free! most really famous/influential academics will have some free pdfs of their more influential work floating around online, and for smaller/niche academics--email them!

along the same lines - if u find an article or essay or speech by an academic and u like it, go find their biography page on the website of whatever school they teach at! schools will usually list professors' work, or at least a few examples, and you can find more stuff to read from that same person whose article you enjoyed. this is especially helpful if ur researching something kinda niche

wikipedia! people shit on wikipedia all the time as if it's not a "real source" but that's simply false! wikipedia is a great jumping-off point if you're interested in a broad topic but don't know where to start. go scroll through the wikipedia article about said topic and see what's cited there to get an idea of where you might be able to find some interesting articles/research to narrow ur focus!

look through the bibliography/citations on other research! if ur reading a book or article on an interesting topic + want to learn more, actually take a minute to scan through the citations and see if any titles catch ur eye!

ask people for recommendations! if u have an old/current professor or a friend or something who u know is interested in the same topic as u, ask if they have any reading recommendations!

if ur a university student--take advantage of that shit!!! look thru the papers on ur syllabus and scan the citations of the most interesting ones for further reading or go look up the writers u like best from the course to find more stuff they've written! look at the class listings for classes u aren't taking and if ur interested, ask those professors if they'd be willing to share their reading lists with you! keep an eye out for free lectures or events on new topics that interest you as a jumping-off point for finding new things to learn about! ask ur friends in other majors what they're learning about and go look it up if it interests you!

go to the library and look through the nonfiction section for topics ur interested in; check out books with cool titles! if they're boring, u can just return them

go to thrift stores or used bookstores and do the same thing! look for nonfiction books with interesting titles! i loooooooooove love love love looking through gender studies sections of bookstores for nonfiction--and then if i find a book i like, guess what that book's gonna cite?? more articles + books!!!!!! there is so much research + knowledge in the world just waiting to be shared!!!!

anyway. these are just some ways that i have found interesting new things to learn about! it sounds like u are currently a student--and like, trust me, i get that when ur constantly being assigned readings for classes it can just become a drag. but college is an AMAZING resource; i still go back and reference old notes from school to find research that i'm interested in, and some of my classes introduced me to articles that i still return to + cite today. research can be so so so fun + rewarding when ur just doing it for the joy of learning; the key really is to treat it like a little spiderweb. maybe most of ur assignments are boring, but this one article for class was really interesting and u actually find urself wanting to learn more--look at the research that article cited! google the names of the writers to see what else they've written! ask ur prof if they have any more suggestions similar to that article! the possibilities are endless!!

+ if ur a student, ur institution probably has access to a whole bunch of research databases where u can find articles + books for free, which is amaaaaaaaazing take advantage of that shit. but i am not currently a student, so my process for finding articles usually goes:

google + see if a free pdf magically pops up (happens more often than you'd think honestly)

failing that -- if it's a book, i check the online collection at my library + also on openlibrary and project gutenberg and zlibrary; for articles i usually check library genesis (sometimes i look for books here too) or sci-hub (usually works best if you search by doi)

failing that -- if it's an article, i go hunt down the email address of whoever wrote it and email them to ask for access! for books, if you really really want to read it you can usually put in a request at your local library for them to get it, but sometimes i do just have to give up if i can't find a book for free online anywhere :(

hopefully some of this was helpful !! and if ur looking for nonfiction book recs i have a post here with some stuff i've read over the past year or two and i also have a post here with like...some suggestions for intro gender studies/queer theory reading (mostly articles)!

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Sad part is a lot of the typing out I do now a days is on a phone because my computer is in storage. I also find it cringe that I'm expected to retain every title and author I've read for my entire life. Even then, I tried good faith at first until it was clear I was not being listened to. Kept asking me to answer questions that either should have been obvious or did the whole, "well a conservative said it so it must be false".

On top of straight shaming a man that's pretty respected who got pinned with shit that should have never left to him being tried. Specifically his hate boner for Dinesh D'Souza. A man that's very articulate and intelligent. In the same vein as Thomas Sowell, Larry Elder, and others. But as to the accusations of my lying. That's the funniest part. I don't have a reason to lie when I could just not engage ever. I could literally just post without responding to anyone. But when people reblog me, if they want a discussion I try to have one. Mind you if I don't remember something I don't remember it.

The reason I stopped responding to him and the chat bot was because it's typical leftist bullshit of. "If MSM or the Dems say it's true than it is. If they say it's a lie then I need 30 books a academic study and literal God to come down and tell me it's actually the case". While ignoring that these organizations lie. OFTEN. academics LIE often because they get funding for running with specific narratives. It's INFURIATING and then when you share an academic that doesn't agree, you get the, "well they aren't trustworthy". Really? So the liars on your said have been truthful? Then why hasn't the world literally exploded in the 70's? 80s? 90's? The world's been "gonna die" for almost 70 years. But if you go against "the narrative" you lose funding and get black listed. Because it's not about science or academia anymore. It's, "follow the script or else".

So yeah, the amount of voices that will speak out are limited. And they'll be pushed as, "not reputable". Because they are going against large machines meant to keep people in line. "Communism good/Capitalism=Greed=Fascism so it's bad". And even then, I retain some of what I've read over the years. Like the anger that stems from babs. He's insistent that fascism can't be left wing, despite the fact it's a collectivist ideology. And therefore needs several books saying exactly that. Meanwhile I've shared posts with videos talking about it. My last response to him proper being a very long, drawn out with lots of articles and videos. But no. None of that mattered. He needed Rachel Maddow to tell him otherwise. The golden God, Jake Tapper to bestow upon him a scroll with those words codified into law on them.

Structured, articulate reblogs could have gone a long way. Instead opting to rely on either an alt account that also uses FAULTY AI, or someone else that's just as smug and arrogant. I mean really? I never went to his blog and made fun of the shit he's into or attacked him for it. But here's we see the typical, often leftist, "wow you like anime what are you some coomer jerking it to anime girls. Wow sounds like a pedo to me". Same bullshit different person.

And it's why I've stopped arguing with a lot of people. Anything I post is, "that's not reputable and the God of the left didn't say it so it's false". So why bother at all? Though somehow, Capitalism and Analytics send to be able to just talk and be taken at face value. Which, no shade to the man, he's very articulate and knowledgeable at debunking socialist and communist morons.

Either way, I appreciate you taking the piss out of these people. Because between him and evil fact checker fuck targeting my follows and shitting on them and their views. It's insufferable.

you keep calling me stupid but on several occassions you have misunderstood what was being written, like most semi-literate weebs you reading comprehension is below par. this isn't about him 'insulting books', you moron. dora was calling other people stupid and uninformed saying that there are ENTIRE BOOKS that proved him right. when asked in a friendly manner by me and someone else which books he was referring to he just ignored us. when i pressed him he came out w/ ad hominem attacks instead of titles and authors. he "couldn't remember" as it had been 5 years already since he'd read them. THERE ARE NO SERIOUS BOOKS THAT CLAIM FASCISM IS A LEFTWING IDEOLOGY. look it up, fool. this is a guy who made several hours worth of videos on youtube whining about how people on tumblr should learn to think critically and that their opinions lack nuance while continually posting lies and reactionary shit takes. when called out on other things by other people the pattern repeats. "i'm more literate than you" he told the chatbot account, and "i've read marx". fucking lying poser. so, maybe now you can understand why i don't have any qualms about making him my lolcow. hope this wasn't too much text for you to process otaku, have fun jerking off to cartoon girls.

So for context, this gent has been harassing @yourtoradorasextendedwarranty for months now, and this is his explanation for why. I assumed it was something to do with Tora insulting books Babi liked, since Babi has thimble-dick opinions on other mediums, but somehow Babi wrote this whole thing and didn’t think for a second that it was more embarrassing than what I assumed. “An argument didn’t go well so I’m gonna be a schoolyard bully.” That’s how you know he’s a man of character.

The reason you wouldn’t have seen these exchanges is because Babi spends most of his time spamming replies so that people can’t make fun of him as easily. Of course, considering one of the few times Babi did reblog, he admitted he didn’t graduate high school and uses AI in arguments, I can see why he’d want to avoid embarrassing himself to whatever followers he has. I suspect he also has a side blog where he LARPs as a fact checker that uses AI to write posts, but I can’t verify that beyond Tora being a target of that blog as well.

Babi also has a hate boner for anime, which with previous evidence suggests he is perpetually stuck in high school. Though I did get a chuckle out of his ad hominem about me “jacking it to cartoon girls”. Yeah, THAT’S the vibe my blog gives off.

But anyway, this is a man who:

* happily admits to harassing people like a bully

* has a weird reverence for AI and is proud to use it

* hides in the replies and potentially side blogs because he lacks the confidence to have his material show on his blog most of the time

and yet:

* is desperate to convince people his ideology is the right, good, and smart one

It’s the epitome of a comedy of errors.

[after-witch]

Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You shouldn’t be this nervous about telling your boyfriend that you want to transfer to a college out of state. Ransom is nothing if not generous with you--so why is your stomach in knots?

Word Count: 3144

notes: yandere, sexism, emotional abuse

You shouldn’t be this nervous. Really. Ransom has been nothing but generous with you, and in turn you’ve been patient--maybe too patient, maybe too forgiving, sometimes--with him. It’s only fair that he extends that patience to you, especially with something as serious, as important, as your future.

So why does the thought of telling him about your plan to switch to a new college make you feel like you’re going to throw up?

You puff out your cheeks and stretch your arms across the breakfast table, leaning down and wishing you could ask someone else to tell him in person. But the thought is ridiculous, and you push it away in favor of rehearsing what you’re going to say for the millionth time since you made up your mind.

You will tell him about the need to change your degree if you want to ever be in the contending for a museum curator position in the future. You will tell him about the fact that the best place to get this specific degree, the one that will put you right in the open arms of the internship that leads to your dream curator field, is in California. You will tell him about the apartments you’ve already inspected. You will tell him about the fact that he can visit anytime, that you will visit him, that you can text and video call and vacation together. You will tell him that you love him and you want to make this work.

You will tell him all these things… and yet. Yet while you can rehearse the words, rehearse how you’ll push your printed out papers showing exactly what you need to do and why towards him so he can see you’re telling the exact truth, you can’t rehearse how Ransom will react. You try to imagine, but all that comes up is a blurry, grey blank.

Is he going to freak out? Get pissed? Or worse--not care at all? Maybe you’ve overestimated how much Ransom has invested in this relationship. Maybe he’d rather cut you loose than deal with a long distance relationship. Maybe the second you mention that you’ll be moving to California, he’ll be mentally checking a list for someone local to hook up with the minute you’re gone.

You’re not sure which reaction would scare you more.

But you don’t have much time to think about it, because you hear him padding down the stairs, hear the din of some video he’s still watching, probably whatever he put on while he was in the shower. You can’t bear to look up, and you thumb aimlessly, nervously around your phone’s apps while you listen to the sound of him scraping the eggs and bacon you’d cooked onto a plate.

He plops down in the seat across from you and you glance up. He catches your eye and gives a tight-lipped, tired smile. He was out late. But he’d texted you about staying out late earlier in the evening, so you didn’t feel you had the right to be mad--that’s the condition you’d given him, after all, when he’d accused you of being controlling. When he’d called you a nag and accused you of being jealous of other women, women he had no feelings for.

“I just want to know when you’re going to be out late so I don’t stay up half the night thinking you’re dead somewhere.” And so he did--let you know--and you swallowed down your feelings of suspicion at his late night adventures.

Maybe… maybe this is a bad time to tell him. Maybe you should wait for a day when he’s had more sleep. Maybe you should run your thoughts by someone else, get a second opinion. You’re focusing on the table, on the light from the phone screen, anything to avoid looking up and starting the dreaded conversation.

“What’re those papers for, babe?”

Shit.

Your hands tremble just a bit when you set the phone down, and the way it vibrates against the table mimics the way your stomach feels right now. You suck in a breath and look up, but you can’t make eye contact just yet and you push the words out, stumbling and breathy and rapid, without stopping to breathe until you’ve said your peace.

“Ransom this is really hard for me but we need to talk about something and I don’t want you to be mad but I need to change schools if I’m ever going to get a shot at a curator position and the best school for this is in California and I know it’s going to be hard but I love you--I love you and we can make long distance work if you want and if you don’t want well--well I don’t know what I’ll do then but I just wanted to let you know now because I’ve got to turn in my application next week and please please try to see this from my point of view because it’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”

You take a shaky breath and hold your hands together on top of the table, clasped and shaking from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through you. You look up at Ransom with trepidation, hoping that he’s not mad--or indifferent.

But he’s neither. He simply looks… confused.

He simply stares at you for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he processes all of the words that just came rapid-fire out of your mouth.

“California?” Is all he says, finally.

You take the opportunity to push the stack of printed papers towards him. “These are… it’s… well, emails from people in the industry, some important articles about getting positions at museums. About where you have to go. Oh, there’s apartment listings there, too.” You even printed out detailed information about the qualifications for acceptance, and put them in a neat little table next to your own academic and experience record. You were a shoo-in, and you didn’t feel the need to be humble about it.

He grabs the stack and starts thumbing through, not saying another word as he seemingly thoroughly reads everything you’ve printed out. Your stomach feel like floating lead, heavy and flipping. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling, and he’s not giving you anything but a concentrated look at he looks through the statements, the listings, the plan you’ve outlined so neatly.

He finally sets the stack back down and simply stares at it for a few moments. Taking it in. Taking his thoughts in. Finally, Ransom looks up at you and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t look mad. He looks--and you hate it--disappointed, sad even.

“Look…” He sighs, eyebrows lifting as his gaze drifts away before settling back on you. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m okay with this. I’m not. Jesus, babe. California? Four years?”

“It’s no--” you interrupt, but he holds up his hand and you stop.

“But. But, but,” he lightly pounds his fist on the stack of tables, an almost nervous gesture in your eyes. “It’s what you want? What you need for your career? There’s no other way for you to get this--” he waves his hands around, “museum gig you’re after?”

You nod, unable--no, afraid--to speak, in case your voice is too tight with emotion.

“Then I guess I can deal with it.”

“What?” You blurt the words out.  You expected… an argument. Or for him to blow you off, make it seem like you weren’t serious. Or, as you’d admitted to yourself earlier, for him to throw you away and find someone who wouldn’t make him wait around. Not… acceptance.

He laughs at your reaction and your stomach feels lighter, the tension in your body starting to fizzle away. “

“It’s not like I have to worry about getting the money to come visit, right? And hey,” he continues, “if you need someone to put in a good word to this school… maybe throw some cash at a dean or something…” He raises his eyebrows, wiggling them a little in a way that makes you snort.

You lean forward and nab one of the lukewarm pieces of scrambled eggs from his plate and pop it into your mouth. “Since you’re offering to help, I could use someone to check over my application…”

**

The envelope is too small. It’s way too small. Why did they make the envelope so damn small? Maybe the acceptance letter was sent on its own, and all of the other information--the giant packet telling you where to send payments and sign up for courses--would be sent to your email. But the thought of checking your email and seeing nothing makes you feel sick, so you keep your phone next to you on the table.

“You gotta open it,” Ransom says, soft and casual. He doesn’t move from his place beside you on the sofa, watching you with a neutral look. He probably knows why the envelope is too small, but he won’t say the words out loud--just like you won’t. If you say it out loud, then it’s true.

There's nothing else for you to do except confront the truth, and you rip open the envelope and pull out the folded paper with far too few printed words on the page.

Rejected. Outright. Completely. Not a fit for the school or the program.

If you weren’t sitting on the couch, you would have fallen over. As it is, ��you feel like the world is collapsing, like the sofa underneath you is melting into the floor and taking you with it.

“I don’t understand.” You can only manage to whisper, voice small--reflecting the way the rest of you feels. Small and falling and stupid.

Ransom takes the paper from your hand, and you don’t bother keeping a grip on it. You register the fact that he’s put an arm around your shoulders, but you can barely feel it through the numbness of rejection.

“What the fuck,” he says, voice louder next to your ear. It makes you shrink in more, even though his anger isn’t directed at you. “What the fuck.”

It’s you want to say, what you would say, if you had the strength. The energy. But the absolute, complete way that your future has suddenly become an unknown blank has left you stuck and heavy.

It doesn’t make sense. Your transcript was perfect--should have been perfect. You should have gotten in. You got top grades and references from professors and a list of relevant experiences that most students wouldn’t have until the end of their degree.

“I’m going to call them and find out what-the-fuck,” Ransom says suddenly, getting up with a jerking motion and walking towards the kitchen, where his phone rests on the counter. “No,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Better yet. I’ll call my grandfather. He’ll know how to convince this so-called top school that they made a big mistake.”

The thought makes your head spin. “Ransom, don’t.” You’re not a child. But you feel like one, like you just failed a math quiz and your dad is calling to find out why the teacher doesn’t know the quiz answers from his ass. “You can’t just call a school and make them accept someone.”

Your legs feel wobbly when you stand up, and Ransom practically swoops back to your side to hold you steady. He leads you back down on the sofa and you feel yourself accepting the loss, accepting that your dream is gone, or at least altered.

He squeezes an arm around you when you finally begin to cry, and for the moment you feel better, less worthless, less hopeless. It was just one rejection. One egg. You can’t put every egg in one basket, as they say.

You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh into it, enjoying the warmth and closeness. A feeling of luck pings at your heart. You’re really lucky to have a guy like Ransom. He’s not perfect, and sometimes you fight, and sometimes he does things that hurt you, but--are you perfect? Do you do things that hurt him, too? Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

With comfort comes clarity. The world isn’t ending. Your future isn’t blank. There are other options.

You feel almost perked up when you speak: “I guess I can apply to other schools. Maybe it won’t be the exact one I wanted but… there’s some in Chicago, even Michigan, that might work.”

Ransom’s arm tightens around you, slightly but firmly enough to notice.

“Babe, you’re not serious.”

You pull back enough to look up at his face.

“What do you mean?”

You can see Ransom fighting with his annoyed expression, trying to soften it up. You dimly recognize that you should be grateful--you know how snarky he can get with others when he’s not putting on a filter.

“Your transcript was fucking impeccable. I saw it! I sent it in for you! And you still didn’t get in. You think these other schools are going to accept you….” He trails off, leaning his head back, looking disappointed of all things. Disappointed in you? Or the school?  You can’t tell. All you know is that it makes you feel low again, like you’re nothing, falling into the floor with a sense of worthlessness.

“I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole,” he says, and there’s a flicker of doubt in your mind about the truth of that statement. “I’m just trying to be honest. I don’t want you to have to deal with getting rejected from all those other schools, too. You know what I mean?”

You swallow down against the tightness in your throat. “Their standards might not be as strict. I know they’re not as strict. I could get in.”

He looks down at you, the same intense gaze from the morning that you told him about your plan on his face. The gaze that let you know he believed in you and would do anything--even go long distance for almost half a decade--for you. A gaze that let you know he was serious, honest, giving you his thoughts with an open heart. “Keyword. Could.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Are you saying I’m too stupid to get in anywhere?” You start to pull away, but his arms don’t let up and so all you can do is turn your head away, cheeks hot with humiliation. “Don’t you support me?”

“Jesus, no--and Jesus, yes.” Annoyance is bleeding into his voice and you wish you’d just ripped up the envelope and avoided the entire conversation. You keep your eyes on the floor, humiliating tears blurring your vision as you stare at the sliver of a stain from soda that you never got out of the cream colored rug.

“You are the smartest chick I know,” he says, voice a little softer, now. At least he’s trying to stop being an ass. “Seriously, you are. Maybe you’re just a--a different kind of smart. A  kind of smart these schools don’t give a shit about. Do something here with that smartness, then. Stay where you’re at. Fuck, talk to the dean and tell them you want to to an independent degree or something. But don’t get your heart broken a million times when you could just make the most of what you’ve got here.” He squeezes, affectionate. “What we’ve got here.”

It’s not what you want. It’s not viable. You can’t get to where you want to be if you stay where you are. But he’s right--he’s right, isn’t he, because if you can’t get into a school with a nearly picture-perfect record and recommendations and experience oozing out of your ears, will there be any school that accepts you?

And if you stay here, Ransom is here, and you’re already in school here, and maybe you won’t get anywhere near a curator position (but you want to, it’s your dream, why give up on your dream?) but you can do something else, surely. Ransom will help you, like he always does. You might fight and argue and sometimes it gets intense but he always lends you a shoulder to cry on, doesn’t he? He’s always honest with you, even when it hurts. Even when it hurts like this, crushing and disappointing and sharp.

He pulls you closer to him, and this time you don’t fight as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“So?” He starts to gently stroke your hair, the way he knows you like it.

You nod, sniffling against the last of the tears, unable--afraid--to say anything. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, before gently flicking your forehead and reaching for his phone. “Hey, let’s go see a movie tonight. My treat.”

You nod against his shirt, unable to do more than mumble back, “Okay.” Okay, okay, okay. It’s a soft, unceremonious end to your California dreams.

[procrastinatorproject]

Picard Positivity: Dr Agnes P Jurati

I'm still working on the essay I meant to finish for Agnes's positivity day. I'm closer than I've ever come before, so this might actually happen!

In the meantime, however, I'm going to engage in a little bit of shameless self-promotion.

I loved Agnes from the moment we first saw her on screen. She's an academic, she's a quirky nerd, I really like her sense of humour, and she keeps laughing and finding moments of joy and connection even when she is in the depths of despair. I cannot tell you how much love I have for her, and it only got deeper as the season went on.

Despite her occasional nervousness and awkwardness, Dr Agnes P Jurati is actually incredibly strong, in her own way, and is a character who will Get Shit Done. I feel like that is a side of her that doesn't often get showcased, including by myself, and one of my goals for the next time I have the brainspace for more consistent writing is to give Agnes some stories in which she can really shine. I'm very curious to see what they do with her in season 2, I think there could be some very fascinating developments ahead.

But for now, here are a few of my takes on different aspects of Agnes Jurati, cyberneticist of my heart.

I wrote the majority of this one in one evening, when I was in a really bad place myself, thinking about trauma and dealing with regrets. One of the dynamics I absolutely adore in Picard fanfiction and that always helps me in these situations, is Emil (Sirena's EMH) acting as therapist for people, especially Agnes. Probably my absolute favourite fic in that context is Hisselpenny's Applied Ethics for Theoretical Cyberneticists, which inspired the story above.

Corset of Thorns a bit of a deep dive into Agnes's relationship with Bruce Maddox and her coming to terms with the fact that it was a really bad, no good idea. It's by far the angstiest and probably one of the most... poetic? things I've ever written. Please do take the content warnings seriously.

But even if you're not in the mood for angst, the notes at the end of the fic have a little rec list for Agnes-fic that I cannot praise highly enough, so go check that out if you're looking for something to read today!

I've been in academia for a good portion of my life now, and I like to think about academia in a Star Trek context (hence my wrighting a full-blown in-universe anthropological article that I will one day finish...). At one point last year, it occurred to me that the fact that Agnes more or less states she has never been off world has some interesting implications for her academic career and how academic conferences work in the Star Trek universe.

I come down pretty hard on the canon in this one, but I still like the bits of worldbuilding this fic, which started its life as a tumblr post, includes.

As a final offering, I have another bit of meta, this time about Agnes's relationship with Cris Rios. When a friend asked me if I could explain why I think their relationship works, I ended up writing an essay that I thought other people might enjoy as well, so I decided to share it.

The title is a reference to Your Light on Me, one of @regionalpancake's gorgeous drabbles from her Downtime collection, which explores the same themes I do just much more poetically and succinctly. And after I finished writing, I realized @smhalltheurlsaretaken had written a fic that essentially made the same argument I make here, except in beautiful prose in Love Comes Softly. (Which the multi-talented @thelaithlyworm turned into brilliant Podfic.)

[atlafan]

The Real Him - One Shot

a/n: I’m not sure where this came from...a lot of this is sort of how I feel about writing, and reading, and how my brain works???? Hope you enjoy cause it’s fun! Book Writer!Harry x Y/N (not proofread) 

Words: 9.6K

Warnings: Fluff, wee bit of angst, and smut

Books weren’t things Y/N found interesting. She hated reading the assigned books in high school for whatever English classes she had to take. She often would just read what she needed on Sparknotes, and that was enough. Then, in college, even if she wanted to read for leisure, she didn’t have the time. She had to read articles and academic journals constantly. By the time she was done for the day, the last thing she wanted to do was read.

Now, as a young adult living in the city, she noticed her anxiety was always worse at night. She lived alone in a little studio apartment, it had a wonderful view. She would watch TV or scroll on her phone until she fell asleep, but the screens were too much for her eyes. She knew it wasn’t good for her. Much to her friends’ shock, she texted them asking them for book recommendations. Y/N didn’t want to think too hard, she didn’t like scary stories, but she also liked a little bit of world building and romance. Fuck, if there was anything she loved, it was a good romance. Her friends told her about this young author they discovered whose stories were enthralling.

She took their word for it, and ordered one of his books off his website. He was self-published, which she found to be interesting. How good could he be if a major publication didn’t want him? She trusted her friends’ opinions though, so she went with it. He had this series called, The Unicorn in the Farmer’s Pool, that they raved about. She told herself she’d start with the first one and see how it goes. Sometimes Y/N had a hard time concentrating to even read a book, so she didn’t want to buy too many.

The title of the book itself was odd, but when she read the description she understood. Apparently, it was about this young woman, new to town, who was going for a walk with her younger sister, and one day they come across this beautiful old home and large farm. There was a pool in the back with one of those big unicorn floats, which they both found odd. They see the farmer outside, and the woman inquires about it. He explains that it’s his daughter’s. He and his wife were divorced, and she moved out to the city. Unfortunately, she passed away, so his little girl came home to live with him.

It was a certified slow burn, so when it came in the mail, Y/N couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. There was only one picture of the author, Harry Styles, on his website. The book, however, had a lovely picture of him on it. He even named his publication company after himself, trademarking HES Books. He was handsome, there was no denying that.

“Alright, let’s see how well this guy knows how to write thing from the perspective of a woman.” She says as she settles into her bed with the book.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N found a book that she just couldn’t put down. Sure, she passed out with it on her chest, but she’d get right back to it the next night. She was ripping through it. Her heart would race anytime the farmer and the woman had a scene together. She cried when he spoke about his divorce, and how he never slept knowing his daughter was so far away. He’d never wish his ex-wife ill, but he felt like it was fate to have his daughter home. He’d give her anything she wanted, even a giant unicorn float for the pool. Something she couldn’t have in the city. His daughter would paint his nails glittery colors, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought of it. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as the woman slowly fell for him. They became fast friends but it was clear they wanted more, but they were both so scared.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” She says to herself when she gets to the end of the book, it was a cliffhanger. They hadn’t even gotten together yet. They were caught in a rain storm, about to kiss, but they were interrupted. “Goddammit.” She groans and grabs her laptop to buy the rest of the series. “Welp, Mr. Styles, you now own my ass, I hope you’re happy.” She sticks her tongue out at his picture on his website.

By the time she finished the third book, she was inconsolable. It thrilling, but she knew it couldn’t be the end for the two who were now so in love with each other. She also couldn’t believe how well written their love scenes were, a little shocked there was a small dash of smut. She looked on his website and saw he was set to release the fourth and final book of the series soon, and there would be a big release for it. He would do a reading and signing. Y/N texted her friends and they all agreed they needed to go. They still couldn’t believe how much Y/N liked the series. It consumed her soul, she couldn’t get enough. She even bought his other standalone novels to read until the release.

Eliza: hey! HES just released the first book on audio, and he narrates it! Should hold us over until the release ;)  

Y/N: holy fucking shit! Literally about to go download it, thanks!!!

Now this was a way to fall asleep, she thought. She plugged her earbuds into her phone, turned her light off, and hit play. She gasps the second she hears his voice.

“He’s British?!” She says to herself. “Dear god.”

His voice was deep and sultry, and sounded incredibly crisp through the audio. Each night for the rest of that week, she fell asleep to the sound of Harry’s voice; it was euphoric. She felt sort of weird for becoming as big of a fan of him that she was. It was like she was in high school again having a crush on some unattainable celebrity. She couldn’t even talk about him to anyone at work. It was like this big secret between her and her friends. Instead of listening to music in her office, she started listening to interviews or podcasts he was involved in. Anything to just get a better understanding for who he was or how his mind worked. She found that he was incredibly private, only tweeting or posting on Instagram from promotional purposes. A PR person most likely running the sites for him.

“Okay, I think I’m obsessed with him, like, it’s bad.” She tells her friends at brunch one Saturday morning. They would all try their best to get together a couple times a month.

“Welcome to the dark side.” Eliza says.

“I knew if we didn’t push you that you’d come around at some point to ask us for a book rec.” Melinda says.

“You could have just showed me his picture, he’s so handsome! I can’t wait to go to the signing. I wonder what type of suit he’ll wear. Maybe all black?”

“I heard he’s into florals lately.” Eliza says. “I’m glad we got our tickets when we did, it’s going to be packed.”

“Yeah, like, at least we’ll have seats for the reading.” Melinda says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to hear his voice in person. That audio book? Oh my god.” She pretends to fan herself. “I’ve been enjoying his other novels too. He has such a way with words, I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed a book this much. Maybe The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?” She chuckles.

“Didn’t you read that in high school?!” Eliza laughs.

“Yeah!” Y/N laughs, and Melinda joins in. “I fucking hate reading. I wonder if he’ll ever sell the rights and have it turned into a movie or TV series.”

“People have been begging him. He said maybe once the fourth book has been out for a bit. He didn’t want to feel pressured, like, you know how with Game of Thrones the books didn’t come out fast enough for the series?” Melinda says.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I think a TV show would be good. Then they could take their time with it. The only thing is I can’t picture someone playing the farmer other than him.” Y/N sighs.

“Agreed.” Eliza says. “I can really only see him.”

“So, how are we dressing for the signing? I don’t wanna look desperate by dressing up too much.” Melinda says.

“Melinda…” Y/N starts chuckling. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m aware.” She swats a hand at Y/N. “But damn, Harry is too fine.”

//

Y/N curls the ends of her hair on the day of the signing. It was finally here, and she couldn’t be more excited. She found a cute yellow top to wear with some high waist jeans. She does some simple makeup, but makes sure to have her eyes pop. The rules were that people could only bring one book with them, so she grabs the first in the Unicorn series. She fully intended to buy the new book as well, and they said he would sign all new purchases too.

She meets Melinda and Eliza outside the bookstore where it would all be happening. They get in line to buy their new books, and head to their seats. They were able to snag tickets for the second row. He would be reading the first few chapters of the first book, and then would spend the rest of the time signing books.

“I’m so excited.” Y/N whispers to both of her friends.

A man comes out shortly to check the crowd of people waiting, and soon it’s announced that Harry would be coming out. Everyone stands up and claps for him. He was wearing a sleek black suit, and his hair was pushed back off his face. He looked bashful as he smiled out to everyone, and stood at the podium provided. Everyone sits back down as he clears his throat.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Whether you’re a new fan or if you’ve been with me for years, I appreciate your support. It feels surreal for this series to be over. I’ve loved these characters so much, and when I finished the final edits, it felt weird saying goodbye. I also want to say thanks for all the support with the first audio book. I fully intend to do one for the rest, it just takes a lot of time and editing, so hold tight for me, alright?” The crowd giggles, and his dimple grows deeper. He takes a sip of the water provided, and opens the book. “Let’s get started shall we?” He looks up at the audience who was waiting patiently. He makes eye contact with Y/N. It’s brief, but he looked at her…or at least she told herself he did.

His voice was just as smooth in person as it was on the audio. Y/N was swooning, barely paying attention to the words, but more so watching the way his lips moved. The way he’d lick his lips after getting a sip of water, and watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It all felt like a dream. He ended up reading five chapters instead of three, as a treat, until his manager came out to remind him to wrap it up.

“Right, well, I’ve been told I’m done speaking.” He chuckles. “I just need about ten minutes and I’ll be able to sign all your books. Thanks so much!”

He leaves as everyone claps for him again. Everyone gets in line and waits for him to return. There was a table waiting for him to sit at and a ton of markers.

“I wonder how long we’ll get with him. Like, a minute, right?” Eliza asks.

“Make every second count.” Y/N says.

“I’m gonna try to take a selfie.” Melinda says. “Then I’ll really remember it forever.”

As the girls got closer to the front of the line, Y/N felt herself getting nervous, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tries to wipe them on her jeans before she gets to him.

“Hello, love.” He smiles at her. “Whatcha bring f’me?”

“Huh?” She was so taken aback.

“Well, I know you didn’t come here to have me sign a body part…unless you did.” He shrugs. “Although, I don’t think my manager would appreciate that.” He winks at her and it makes her giggle.

“I have the first back, and the newest one.” She hands them both to him. “I have to say, I’m not really a big reader, but this really drew me in. I think I’ve fallen in love with reading for the first time in my life.”

“That’s like…I mean…wow, what a compliment, thanks.” He signs both of the books. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats as he continues to leave a nice note in both of her books. “You know pictures aren’t allowed, but if you turn around and happen to take a selfie they can’t stop you.” He points to the few guards.

Y/N turns around and takes a selfie with Harry. She turns back around and chuckles as she takes her books back.

“Thank you so much. I can’t wait for the next audio books.”

“You liked the first one?”

“Loved it.”

“So, it wasn’t weird listening to me for that long?”

“Not at all…” She starts blushing. “Your voice is sort of, um, soothing…I have a lot of anxiety at night, and, well, reading, and evening listening has helped me sleep a lot better. So, thanks again.” She smiles at him and he smiles back.

He wished he could hug her. He looks back at his manager, who just sighs at him and nods. Harry stands up from the table and walks around. Before she knew it, his arms were being wrapped around her. She got a whiff of his cologne, and she swore it was her new favorite smell in the world. She barely got a chance to put her hands on him before his manager said it was enough and Harry needed to get back to it.

“Sorry, that was just so endearing.” He lets go of her and sits back down. “Thanks for your support.”

Y/N steps aside and looks at her friends who were waiting for her to finish up. She looks back at Harry who was already talking to the next person. She sighs, knowing she was long forgotten already.

“Oh my god, I took a picture of him hugging you.” Eliza says. “What was it like? All he did was shake my hand.”

“He smelled so good.” Y/N whines. “Girls, let’s go out for drinks tonight. I need to get some energy out.”

“Great idea! We can drink and then dance the night away.” Melinda says. “What did he write in your books?”

“I don’t wanna look yet, I wanna save it.” Y/N smiles and holds her books close to her.

//

After grabbing dinner and dropping their books off at Y/N’s place, they all head to their favorite dance bar. They all get their drinks and stand near the bar to drink them. Y/N was happily sucking on her straw, swaying along to the fast beat of the music.

“Look, they actually roped off the VIP section.” Eliza points out. Y/N and Melinda turn to look.

“I wonder who’s here. Once in a while someone cool shows up.” Melinda says.

The group in the VIP section erupts into laughter, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. Harry was standing up from the booth, looking much more casual. He still had his dress pants and button up on, but his sleeves were pushed up, revealing his tattoos. He strides up to the bar as he shakes his head back at his friends. He brushes right by the girls, bumping into Y/N, causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, love.” He says to her, and then he looks her up and down. “Do I know you?” He slurs slightly.

“Um…we…we met earlier today. You signed my books.”

“I signed your what?!” The music was really loud, he must have thought she said something else.

“Books, books!” She really enunciates the k sound.

“Oh!” He bursts out laughing, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I was gonna say, that sorta thing isn’t really my style. What are you drinking, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s still plenty in here.”

“Don’t be silly, I feel terrible. In fact,” He looks at Melinda and Eliza, and then to the bar tender. “Their next round’s on me. I also need another bottle of Patron for my table.”

“Coming right up!”

“Lost a bet with ‘em.” He rolls his eyes. “So the next bottle’s on me.” He shrugs.

“We’ll bring it over to you.” The bar tender says as she puts up three new drinks for you and your friends.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“S’the least I can do. Your support is the only reason why I can afford what I have. I should buy your drinks all night.” He smirks.

“Y/N.” Melinds grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear. “Go for it, bitch, go for it. He’s hitting on you. We’ll be over there.”

She lets Y/N go and drags Eliza with her over to another part of the bar. Y/N grabs her drink and smiles at Harry.

“Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“You must have seen hundreds of people today, how’d you remember?”

“I’m really good with names.” He grins. “Do you want to join me and my friends?”

“What?!”

“Come on, seems like your friends are busy anyways.” He nods over to Melinda and Eliza where Melinda was working as a wing-man for Eliza. “They’re bringing over the Patron, you’ll love it.” He grabs her wrist and brings her over. One of the body guards raises his eyebrows. “I’m baacckk, let us in Mike.” Mike lifts the rope up and lets Harry and Y/N in. “Everyone this is Y/N, she’s got to be one of my biggest fans, so she’s joining us.” He pulls her down into the booth with him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

He was drunk, this was very clear. No one seemed bothered by her presence. Everyone was just happy to have refills for their drinks. Harry takes a shot of the Patron along with everyone else as Y/N sips on her drink. She felt bad, Eliza had to be a bigger fan of Harry, or at least she had been a fan longer…

“So, how’d you know he’d be here?” Harry’s manager, Jeff, asks.

“I didn’t.” She blushes. “My friends and I come here all the time.”

“Right, like we haven’t heard that one before.” Jeff smirks. “Some of you fangirls-“

“Oi! Don’t make fun, she’s cool.” Harry defends her.

“I can prove I’ve been here plenty of times.” Y/N takes her phone out and shows them her Facebook page. “There, you can see how many times I’ve checked in here. I only live a block away, so this tends to be the spot.”

“See, Jess, this is the spot.” Harry smirks, and knocks back another shot. “We’re being rude, here.” He slides a shot over to her. “Have as much as you like.”

“That’s okay, I have this.” She points to her glass.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, you’re so nice.” He pulls her a little closer to him. “But really, if you want any, you can have as much as you want, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Y/N sort of just sits there and tries to listen as each person talks, but the music was so loud, and she was itching to dance, especially now that she had a couple of drinks in her. She was drumming her fingers mindlessly on the table.

“Do you want to dance?” He whispers in her ear. A shiver goes up her spine. She looks up at him and nods. “Alright, let’s hit it then.”

She gets out of the booth and he quickly follows her out to the dance floor. At first it’s just light and playful, he keeps one hand in hers, but keeps a respectable distance. If Y/N was dancing with her friends right now she’d probably be popping her ass no problem. She sort of wished they were still around. She couldn’t remember the last time she danced with a guy. She looks at him and feels a little bold, so she hooks an arm around his neck and dances close to him. His hands move to her hips as she essentially grinds on his thigh. When the next song starts, she turns around to grind her ass against his pelvis. He presses forward against her and she can tell he’s very happy to be dancing with her.

“You said your place was only a block away?” He says into her ear, and she nods. “Wanna head there?”

She stops dancing and turns around to face him.

“Are you serious?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, too forward?”

“No…I just…um…yeah, let’s go back to mine.”

He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders. He looks over at Jeff who was still sitting with their friends. He waves off to him, and heads out side with Y/N. Harry whistles for a cab, and one pulls up almost right away. They both get into the backseat, and Y/N gives the driver her address. Harry rubs circles into her shoulder. She rests her hand on his knee, as her leg shakes with nerves.

“You alright, love?”

“Mhm, yeah.” She doesn’t look at him.

“No need to be nervous, babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looks up at him now and smiles. She wanted to do everything with him. It was like every fantasy she had was coming to life. She had dreams about this, but never thought it would come true. The cab pulls up in front of Y/N’s building and they both get out of the cab. She keys into the front door and she leads him to the elevator.

“I’m surprised you’re not exhausted, must be draining to meet so many people.”

“Caught a second wind.” He winks at her. She giggles as they get off at her floor.

She leads him inside as she flips the lights on.

“It’s just a studio.”

“It’s nice, just enough space. You’ve got a great view.” He says as he walks over to the window.

“Yeah, I got really lucky.”

“Mind if I pull the curtains?”

“Not at all.”

She watches the muscles in his back flex as he reaches to pull the curtains closed. He turns to face her and walks over to where she is. He cups one of her cheeks and she leans into his touch.

“I have to be honest, I don’t usually do this.” He says.

“Do what? Hook up with a girl from a bar?” She smirks.

“No, hook up with a fan…” He sighs. “But what you said to me earlier about your anxiety and how my books have helped you, it stuck with me all day. I’m really glad I ran back into you. I got kinda nervous when you didn’t message me.”

“What? Why would I have?”

“I wrote my number in your book.” He lets go of her and steps back. “You didn’t read my notes?”

“No, I…I was saving them for when I was feeling down.” She admits, a little embarrassed. “Why did you put your number in it?”

“In case you ever needed someone to talk to…if you ever got sick of listening to the same story over and over. It was a little impulsive, but no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“Usually people just tell me that they enjoyed it, or they try to flirt or something. It’s usually pretty hollow.” He shrugs. “But you…” He takes her hands in his. “Well…if you noticed, I didn’t really hug anyone else.”

“I did notice. You made me feel really special, Harry.”

“I’d like to keep making you feel that way…”

He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands slide up through his curls, and she gets up on her tip toes while his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brush over hers, and she pulls his face closer to hers to deepen the kiss. She smiles against his lips which makes him smile and pull back.

“What is it?”

“I just…I can’t believe this is happening…” She presses her hips closer to his.

“You’ve thought about this before, with me?”

She nods her head yes and he smirks.

“Is that weird?” She asks, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“Who am I to judge what helps someone fall asleep at night?” His voice was low now, eyes darker than they were moments before.

Maybe this wasn’t something either of them should be doing while inebriated. But from lack of better judgement they start kissing again. His hands slide down to cup her ass, and his large hands give her a squeeze. She groans into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to lick into her. Her tongue molds to his, and she starts pushing him to walk back towards her bed. He happily lets her lead the way.

The back of his calves hit the bed, and he almost loses his balance. He sits down and brings her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Lips only breaking for a moment to get some air until they’re on each other again. Her hands lace through his hair and he groans when she tugs on him. His lips move to her jaw and then to just under her ear. She gasps when she feels him suck on the tender skin. Her hips roll down over his, and he smirks against her. He licks over the spot he was sucking on, and goes back for more. She grinds herself against him, feeling his bulge press up against where she needs it most. His lips move back to hers so he can nip at her bottom lip before looking at her.

“You want this?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t have said yes to coming back here if I didn’t.”

“You could have changed your mind between the bar and now.” He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her hair. “I meant what I said earlier, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, do you?”

“I certainly didn’t change my mind.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss him again before getting off him. She reaches behind him quickly to snag one of her throw pillows to put on the floor. She sits up on her knees before him and reaches for his for the button on his dress pants. She looks up at him as he widens his legs for her. He wasn’t expecting a blow job, but he wasn’t one to turn it down. She pops the button and undoes his zipper. She reaches into his pants and palms him through his boxers first. His palms were flat on the bed, his arms keeping him up, but he can’t help but let his head fall back from her touch.

“Harry, look at me.”

He immediately does as she says so he can make eye contact with her.

“Is this okay? Can I take it out?”

“Yeah, please.”

She smiles and tugs his pants and boxers down slightly, he lifts his hips up to help her. He unbuttons his shirt while his dick slaps up against his lower stomach. She gazes up at him. Once his shirt is off, she can’t help but look over all his tattoos.

“You’re so…pretty.” She chuckles.

“Not as pretty as you.” He runs his hands through her hair, giving her a little encouragement to get started.

She blushes as her eyes fall to his hard cock, tip swollen and ready to go. She licks her right hand and gives him a few pumps first. He grunts as he watches her. She licks a stripe up from his base to his tip before she wraps her lips around him. His eyes flutter closed for a second, but he didn’t want to miss anything so he does his best to keep his eyes open to watch her work on him. She already had small droplets of spit rolling down her chin. Sloppy, he thinks to himself and he smirks. She sinks a little further down on him, testing herself to see how much she can take. He thrusts up slightly to meet her halfway and she gags on him, needing to pop off for a moment.

“Sorry, been a while.” She mumbles, and gets back on him.

“No worries, doing great, love.”

He helps keep her hair back as she starts to bob up and down on him. Her warm mouth felt so fucking good around him. She swallows around him before really hollowing her cheeks to suck on him. Her mouth moves up to his tip so she can lick away at his slit. She wraps a hand around him to pump him as she does this.

“Baby, baby, hold on.” He pants, and moves her face away from him. She looks up at him with big, innocent eyes that were slightly watery now. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” He sounded almost out of the breath. She nods and stands up. His hands grips her hips and then slide to the button on her own jeans. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says, taking off her shirt. He looks up at her and kisses on her chest as he undoes her pants.

He yanks them down her legs. He smiles at her mismatched set of underwear. She had worn a white bra with her yellow shirt, and a simple pair of blue panties with her jeans.

“I didn’t think, um, I would be…it was a girl’s night, and-“

“Do you really think I care about your underwear not matching?” He raises an eyebrow at her as he smirks.

She smiles and rests her hands on his shoulders as he kisses on her lower tummy. He stands up to kick his pants away, and lets her get on the bed. She lays on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. He crawls onto the bed and settles between her legs. His lips find hers as he grinds himself against her covered center. She bites her bottom lip, just wanting her underwear gone. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. After a few seconds of fumbling he gets it, and watches the bra loosen around her. She pushes it off her shoulders, and tosses it to the ground. His hands cup her full breasts immediately. He kneads them and tweaks her nipples. She grinds her hips up towards his as they continue to move against each other. He dips his head down to kiss on her chest, and he rolls a nipple between his teeth. He works his way down her body and slides her underwear down her legs, tossing them aside where he feels like. She parts her legs for him.

He dips his down and licks from her center to her clit. He does this slowly but with precision. Her hips buck up towards him, encouraging him to keep going, so he does. He licks all around her until his lips are around her throbbing clit. He nibbles and sucks and flicks his tongue while his fingers explore her folds. Her hands were in his hair. She kept thinking she was going to wake up. Any minute now she would snap out of her dream. She would pinch her eyes closed and expect to see the morning sun creeping through her windows, but not this time. When she opened her eyes there he was, head between her legs, lapping away at her. The clouds covering the moon and night sky. He had her whimpering and tugging at his hair. He wanted her to come, but not yet, just get her to the brink. She pouts at him when he lifts his head. He licks his lips and smiles at her.

“Got any rubbers?”

“Mhm, in the bathroom, I can-“

“I got it, just tell me where.”

“The box in the cabinet below the sink.”

He pecks her lips before going into her little bathroom. He smirked to himself wondering how he might shower the next morning. He was taller than the showerhead. He bends down to open up the cabinet and spots the box of condoms. It was opened, but not many were missing. Not the he was one to judge. Harry hooked up a lot. He grabs a couple, just in case they feel like getting frisky again later on, and heads back out. He rips the foil packet open and slides it on over his length. She bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Tell me something,” He starts as he gets back on the bed, between her legs, hovering over her body. “When you had me in your thoughts was it ever like this?”

He rubs his tip against her clit, getting her to moan out. He pushes into her entrance but doesn’t go much further until he gets his answer. His eyebrows were raised, looking at her.

“This is usually the part when I’d wake up.” She whispers. “Before anything good could really happen.” She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please.”

He kisses her as he pushes the rest of the way inside her. They both groan. She was so wet, even with the condom on, it still felt amazing. He was nice and snug inside her. He moves slowly at first to not hurt her. He hooks an arm under one of her legs to bring it up a little higher. He wanted to get in as deep as possible. She clutches at his shoulders as he drives it in.

“Oh my god.” She gasps as his tip brushes her g-spot. “Jesus Christ.” She grits her teeth.

“Ever had anyone like this before?” He says into her ear.

“Never this deep, shit.”

He sits up and puts both of her legs over his shoulders. His fingers press bruises into her thighs as he holds onto her. She looks up at him as her mouth falls open. He was ramming into her and it felt so good to fuck like this. She didn’t want to be treated delicately. What he was doing was amazing, but her clit was missing the friction, so her hand slides down to rub at it.

“Fuck.” He breathes as he watches her touch herself. He lets go of one of her thighs and moves her hand aside so he can rub it for her. Her head rolls back the second she feels his thumb on her.

“Just like that.” She pants. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts his response as he continues to fuck her. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he knew she was close. He rubs her a little faster, and watches as her body contorts under his.

“Let go, come on, show me how you do it, Y/N.”

That pushes her over the edge. She cries out as she comes around him. He rubs her still, but slows his pace to help her through it. She tightens around him again as she comes down from her bliss. He drops her legs and pulls out. He sits up against her headboard and pulls her into his lap. He doesn’t have her face him, though, he has her sit on him facing away. Her head rolls back against his shoulder once she sinks down on him. She uses her knees to push herself up and down on his cock. He bites down on her shoulder, licks up to just under her ear to suck on the tender skin again. His hands find her bouncing breasts, and he kneads them.

“Harry.” She groans.

“Feels good, love?”

“So good.” She turns her head and sticks her tongue out slightly so he’ll kiss her. His tongue meets hers and they practically slobber all over each other as her pace quickens on him.

His hands slide down to her hips to help her. He thrusts up into her to get into a rhythm. He could feel his orgasm bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, which makes her moan. She tightens around him. He wanted her to come again, to come with him, so he rubs her clit while she continues to bounce him.

“Shit, fuck, Harry!”

They come at the same time, both of them crying out form the intensity. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he lifts her off of him. She gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. He goes in after her to rid himself of the condom. She was about to throw on a t-shirt when he comes back out.

“Don’t bother.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll just come off again.”

“Oh.” She blushes and puts it back into her dresser.

He gets on the bed with her and pulls her close to his chest. His fingers run up and down her back lightly, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She rests one of her legs on top of his, and wraps her arm around his torso. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the energy to fuck him again so soon, especially when the rhythm of his heart beat was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes flutter closed. He looks down at her and smiles when he sees her lips parted. He kisses the top of her head, and slowly falls asleep himself.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up cozy, head stuffed into her pillow, blankets wrapped around her. It was darker than usual. Her eyes flutter open and see the rain falling down. She hears it tapping delicately against her windows. It was a normal Sunday morning, or it would have been if she hadn’t completely forgotten there was a warm body wrapped around her. She rolls over slowly not to disturb the stranger. She gasps to herself when she sees it really is Harry Styles, not just some guy that looked like him. She really took him home with her and she really fucked him. He pulls her closer to her and she sighs.

“Your bed’s comfy.” He mutters.

“Thanks, I’ve got one of those foam pads under the sheets. Makes a world of difference.”

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away slightly.

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all.” She smiles up at him. “If you don’t mind smelling like my fruity shampoo, that is.”

“You’re funny.” He chuckles again and stretches as he sits up. He rubs his eyes, and gets out of the bed. Y/N couldn’t help but ogle his naked body as he walks away. He pops his head out of the door frame to look at her. “Are you coming?”

“Oh…you wanted me to-“

“Obviously.” He scoffs. “Wouldn’t mind fucking you again, either.”

Normally she’d wrap herself in a blanket, but if he was going to be bold, then so was she. So she gets out of bed and struts over towards him. She brushes her teeth quickly as he uses some mouth wash. She gets the water in the shower going.

“Does that head detach? I don’t know if I can crouch for that long.” He laughs.

“Yeah, it comes right off, don’t worry.” She pulls back the curtain and they both get in.

She helps him wash up, scrubs her nails over his head as she washes out the shampoo, and once they’re both clean, he hoists her up against the wall, and kisses her. She was plenty wet for him, and he smiles against her as he slips a finger inside her.

“You were ready f’me, hm?”

“Guess so.” She nips at his bottom lip, which delights him.

“Mind if I just slip it in like this and pull out after?”

“That’s fine.” She smiles. “Wouldn’t mind actually being able to feel you.”

“Christ.” He groans, and then pushes his hard cock inside her. Her head rolls back against the tile as his lips attack to her throat.

It was a nice, passionate morning fuck. When they’re done she gets him a towel, and wraps one around herself. He watches as she runs around to make her bed back up. It was a small apartment, so any clutter just made it look even smaller. He grabs his phone out of his pants pocket, and sighs.

“Alright?” She asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. He comes to sit down next to her.

“Yeah, just a ton of missed calls and texts. Thought I made it pretty clear to Jeff I wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel last night.”

“Do you have a plane to catch or anything?”

“Not today, tomorrow though.”

She watches as he types away to respond to the dozen or so texts he had form various people.

“Would you like any coffee or anything? Juice?”

“Just a black coffee would be perfect if it’s not too much trouble, love.”

“Coming right up.”

His eyes flicker up to watch her bum and hips sway as she walks into the kitchen area. She fills up her Keurig to get his coffee going.

“No cream or sugar, just black?”

“Please.” He smiles. “Thanks.”

She nods and gets a mug down from her cabinet to place under the machine. She thinks he’s talking to her for a moment, but when she looks over she can see he’s on the phone.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m well aware, thanks.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m allowed to go out and have some fun.” He crosses a leg over the other so he can rest his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin up with his palm. “She’s making me a cup of coffee, is that alright? No, I don’t just carry those in my back pocket…” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Alright, bye.”

She comes over to him with a mug for him, and one for herself. She added a bit of cream to hers. She just couldn’t do black coffee.

“Thank you so much, feel like I’m about to get a headache.” He says, taking the mug from her, smacking his lips after he takes a sip.

“I have some aspirin if you need some.”

“Caffeine should work just fine, but thank you.”

“So, uh, not that I was listening in or anything, just, small space and all, but what don’t you carry around in your back pocket?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “An NDA, that’s all. Jeff’s gonna email one over to me any second I’m sure.”

“What do you need an NDA for?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”  She looks at him deeply confused. “I’m a very private person, and not that I think you’re the type to go around spouting your business, it’s just, well, you’re a fan and…”

“You need me to sign an NDA so I won’t tell anyone we fucked?”

“Basically, yeah. Sorry if that makes things a little awkward. It’s just to keep my personal life personal, that’s all.” He takes another sip of the coffee. “This is really good, what brand is this?”

“Green Mountain Coffee…it comes from Vermont.”

“It’s delicious, I’ll have to look into it.” He smiles, although she can tell she’s starting to feel uneasy. She’s painfully aware that this was just a drunk hookup, a one night stand. “Are you alright?” He puts a hand on her knee.

“M’fine, just a bit groggy.” She sips her own coffee.

“Well, I’m starved, you’ve gotta be too, right? What a good place to grab some breakfast around here?” He stands up and starts looking for his clothes.

“Um…there’s a place right down the street.”

“We’ll have to take a cab unless you have a really big umbrella.” He smirks as he pulls his boxers on.

“Do I have to sign an agreement saying I won’t talk about breakfast too, or?”

Harry sighs as he pulls his pants on. She looks at him as she sips her coffee.

“Guess I’ll find out when I read the fine print.” She stands up and walks back over to her kitchen area. He follows her there with his mug and sticks it in the sink.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s not, I just…I mean…what do you think I’m going to do? Go onto a blog and spill every detail about last night? As if I could remember every little thing.” She scoffs and rinses out her mug.

“You easily could. You have to understand, sometimes when stories slip or people feel like they know things about you, it’s harder to get deals or make business decisions. I want to be taken seriously, so I don’t post personal things on social media, and I have the people I hook up with sign NDA’s.”

“Well, maybe I should have you sign one for me then.” She says, crossing her arms. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How do I know our night together won’t be inspiration for your next love scenes? You’re quite descriptive in your works. You must take from real life when you’re writing those things.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll text Jeff and have him email me two, one for each of us. I won’t talk about you and you won’t talk about me. Now, can we please go get some breakfast?”

“Why do you even want to go anywhere with me if you’re so scared of people finding out?” She walks over to her dresser to pick out an outfit she wouldn’t mind getting wet in the rain.

“It’s one thing to be seen with someone at a diner, it’s another to have what you’re like in the bedroom aired out to millions of people.”

“It’ll be obvious we slept together. My neck is littered with kiss marks.” She taps over one of the spots. He watches as she wriggles a pair of panties up her legs, and then a pair of jeans. “You’re also wearing your clothes from last night.” She tosses him his button up.

“I don’t suppose you have a large t-shirt I could throw on?”

“I’m sure I could find one.” She find a bra and t-shirt of her own, and then rummages through her pajama drawer for one of her larger bed shirts. “Here.” She hands him the shirt. He puts it on and looks down at it.

“Cute.” He smiles. “You can keep mine, and I’ll keep this one, how’s that sound?”

“Guess I’m just glad that’s not my favorite one.” She grabs her raincoat and umbrella. She furrows her brows and then remembers where her rubber boots on. “Could you order an uber or something?”

“Sure.”

They get down to the street, and head into the car he ordered. The diner was busy when they got there, but since it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. Harry’s phone pings with the email from Jeff.

“So…I just need to digitally sign it?”

“Mhm.” He hands his phone over to her so she can read over everything. He rests his chin on his palm. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read over it so diligently before.”

“I’m a lawyer.” She mumbles.

“No shit.” He sits up, suddenly even more intrigued with her. “Good for you.”

“Well, I’m in law school, and I work as a para at a law firm, but I’m getting there.” She says as she uses her finger to sign her life away. “I’d like to read the one he sent to you for me.”

“Just swipe to the next email.”

She nods and looks it over. It was the same as her. She hands him back his phone and watches him sign it.

“I’d like both copies emailed over to me.”

“Alright, what’s your email?”

“I’ll put it in.” She takes his phone back and puts her information in, sending herself the copies. “There.” She crosses her arms. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually.”

A waitress comes over to them, and they both order scrambled eggs with bacon, potatoes, and toast. It’s quiet between them for a few moments. She looks out the window to watch the rain fall, and then looks back at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

“What am I doing here with you? You could have easily slipped out this morning, even last night…”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So…what is this, a consolation before we never see each other again?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?! I feel like I’m not even looking at a real person. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and I would have killed for the opportunity to sit down and have breakfast with you. I have so many questions about your work, and-“

“So, ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me all your questions. What can I answer that I haven’t already in an interview? You wanna know my thought process? Where and what I get inspired by? How long it takes me to write a book, a chapter even? I only have bullshit answers, to be honest. I keep notes on my phone for when I get inspired, and then when I’m able to be at my computer I’ll type for hours without stopping. It’s like I blackout or something. It feels like I didn’t even take a second to blink. I’ll work on multiple projects at the same time too. I have three other books I’m currently working, all with completely different topics and characters. I can’t shut my brain off, ever. I don’t know why I’m like this. Even when I go on a vacation to unplug, I have to keep a notebook with me to write things down. I started writing because I just needed to get everything out of my head. I feel a huge sense of relief when I’m done with a piece so I can just move on from it. I had to start my own publication because my content was going to be put in the same category as Fifty Shades, and I didn’t want that. Luckily, Jeff went to school for PR, and he helped me out, and now he’s my manager. He’s the best there is, but sometimes it would be nice to fuck a pretty girl and take her to breakfast without having to worry about every little thing.”

Before Y/N can respond their food is brought over. They both thank the waitress. She picks her for up and plays with her potatoes before looking at him.

“Not to mention, said pretty girl told me how much my work means to her, how it helps her sleep at night. Fuck, I mean, I thought I was going to melt into a fucking puddle right there. My anxiety gets bad at night too, I knew exactly where you were coming from, babe. I can’t tell you how many nights I try to go to sleep and can’t, so I just get up and go back to my computer until I pass out in my chair.” He blinks at her, as she still says nothing. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“I’m not sure what to say, I’m trying to take in everything you said and match it to the person you were yesterday at that signing. It’s an act, right? Your cool demeanor?”

“I have a stage presence for sure.” He sighs, and takes a bite of his bacon. “What am I gonna do, get up there and tell everyone that the fourth book took so long because I had to have surgery for carpal tunnel?”

“For someone who likes to be so private, you’re sure telling me a lot of personal things.”

“You signed something saying you wouldn’t discuss any of this, so I feel a little freer to explain myself. Have I totally ruined your perception of me? Is this a never meet your hero sort of moment?”

“Not at all.” She smiles. “You seem comfortable with me, which is nice. I like that I’m seeing this side of you, you’re more than just the suave guy I’ve seen in interviews, or listening to on podcasts. You’re a person, just like me.”

“Exactly, so you understand why I might want some privacy.”

“I do.” She nods and finally takes a bite of her food. “I’m sorry if I got a little pissy about it.”

“Don’t be, it’s always an awkward conversation to have.”

“So, how many women do you hook up with exactly? You’re making yourself sound like a player.” She chuckles.

“I mean…I’m a guy who has needs. I’m not gonna lie, I probably do it a little too much, but I don’t usually spend this much time with the person, or if I do…well…it’s not usually like this.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to actually have a conversation with you.” He shrugs. “You peaked my interest.”

“Clearly.” She smirks.

“At least I’ve never rubbed one out to the thought of a famous person.” He smirks back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you consider yourself famous?” She grins at him. “And I haven’t rubbed one out, it’s usually just a dream. Don’t flatter yourself, Harry.” She shakes her head.

“My bad, so I’ll just assume you get that wet for every guy you hook up with?”

Where was this conversation going, and why was it happening in such a public place? Was he trying to rile her up?

“I don’t think this is appropriate to talk about right now.” She whispers harshly.

He smirks and continues eating. They look at each other occasionally as they eat. The waitress comes over with the bill, and Harry throws some cash down on the table.

“Let me pay the tip at least.” She says, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t be silly, I put plenty down for the tip. I’ve got it.” He puts his hand over hers. “Seems like the rain’s stopped, wanna walk back?”

“Do you not need to be anywhere?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “Today’s my free day, isn’t that nice? I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and that’s all I have to worry about. So, I’m more than happy to walk you back home.”

She nods and follows him out of the diner.

“So, do I only get your email, or do I get your number too?”

“Why, so you can hit me up whenever you’re in the city?”

“Precisely.” He nudges her as she laughs. “Come on, I gave you mine.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even look…I would have been so embarrassed, you would have forgotten all about me. I don’t even know if I would have even had the courage to message you.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Did you manager know you just gave your number out like that?”

“God no, he’d murder me.” Harry chuckles. “Jeff’s great, but he’s way too serious.”

“So, maybe I’ll message you sometime.”

“I prefer chatting on the phone, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone can send a text, but a phone is, like, I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah, like, a phone is something you really need to make time for.”

She pouts at him and looks at him with big eyes. They stop once they’re in front of her building.

“I come back to the city in two weeks, I really would like to see you again.”

“What are you coming back for?”

“Another signing. This one sold out, and I felt bad. I think anyone who wants to see me should.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have anything that I do if it weren’t for the people who supported me.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, I guess we could see each other again.”

“Great, just make sure you call me, okay? Then I can call you, and we’ll just be two people calling each other sometimes.” He blushes.

“Why are you so romantic?” She laughs and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I wish I knew. It’s a blessing and a curse, I think.” He sighs and cups her cheeks. He leans in and kisses her, she happily kisses him back and pulls him closer.

“Do you, um, need to go back to your hotel now?”

“Not necessarily, what’d you have in mind?” He raises an eyebrow at her. She leans up and whispers in his ear, making his cheeks grow hotter. He looks at her, a little stunned. “I definitely have time for that.”

“I figured you would.” She winks at him and yanks him into her building.

She wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. Everything still felt like a dream, only better. Even when Harry had to go off to his next signing, she slept better than she ever had. She called him late one night, much to his surprise, and they spoke for hours. She didn’t have to listen to the same words over and over to fall asleep, she had him, the real him.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

okay its real good that i stumbled across this last night because i ended up finding more shit!!!!!!! and the craziest thing is i have no real, like conclusion??? i have no idea how reliable or credible this place is. i dont know anything about the other contributors. all i know is the very strange story of this one guy

so. dive with me

for those who dont know: the hidden suffering of the psychopath is an article about... i mean, it's in the title. it was written by willem h. j. martens, phd. remember this name; you're going to be seeing a LOT of it

so this all started because i quite liked that article, and wanted to see what else this guy has written. which led me to his researchgate page- and a lot of the papers were intriguing! the dude has written.... a lot

a lot.

of shit about psychopaths (for a note: i'm specifically using this term because it's what he uses, and a lot of these papers were written before the terms largely fell out of use outside of the psychopathy checklist- a lot of them were written back when psychopathic personality disorder was still a thing!!)

but, not a lot of them had full texts available on researchgate- and when researchgate doesnt have 'em, you're fucked.

so i go looking for some contact information- most academics will just give you their papers if you email and ask, and that's what i was intending on doing.

but... the most recent publication was hidden suffering, in.....

2014.

so i think, oh shit, did he... die? so i start poking around for any info. and then i see on the researchgate page, he's listed as being affiliated with the w. kahn institute of theoretical psychiatry and neuroscience. so back to google i went!! and...

their site looks like the 2000s barfed on it. because the 2000s did barf on it. because this site is from the 2000s. they have a guestbook, for christ's sake!

the site explains that its basically a bunch of people writing papers about a certain subset of things, aspd and psychopathy being one of those things. and there's quite a lengthy list of staff- one of them, dr. paul applebaum, is listed as being the former president of the APA- and he was! its like one of the first things on his wikipedia page!

so that's kind of insane lmao

i havent verified every single person on that list, like- i dont know if any of these people were truly associated with the institute. it could just be a list of random impressive-sounding people for all i know!! i could try and email them and ask but immmmmmmmmm shy. no really thats the reason. im too pussy. anyway-

i also have no clue where to find william kahn, the original founder, mainly because there are a LOT of professor william kahns. but martens is the current chair

remember the guestbook? yeah, i took a look at it- and someone mentioned finding the institute through sociopathworld. sociopathworld is a blog run by one m.e. thomas, the author of confessions of a sociopath, a memoir about her life as someone with aspd. so i wonder, what did she say about the institute?

i search and i find one blogpost from her, announcing the release of an ebook... by one willem martens.... called "the hidden suffering of the psychopath"

mothers and fuckers of the jury, that article was a BOOK at first!!! graphic design is... uh..... um. well. anyway, you'd think that's where it ended, no?

WRONG.

so, last night i was looking for a study that talked about aspd remission rates, just to double check if my information was sound. i pick a study that looks like it'll have the stats i need, and...

YOU!!!!!!

its paywalled. so i sigh, bid farewell to dr martens, and pick another study that looks promising. all im looking for is a study that looks like it mentions aspd remission rates. That's It. this was just another study on the first page, and....

ITS HIM!!! ITS ALWAYS HIM!!!!!!

i say fuck it and with a renewed interest, google his name

and i find.... a spotify????????

it's the same guy. i clocked the highly saturated album covers and knew instantly it was the same exact guy. and boom- one of the album covers mentions the institute on it. so okay, dude's got a hobby, and maybe the institute did some research regarding music and psychology. makes sense. okay

second thing i found: quora thread discussing the original hidden suffering article. one guy related to it, others derided it as narcissistic misinformation. i personally don't trust quora in the slightest wrt any discourse on... um. well. anything. for one, they say the original article was based on hare's psychopathy checklist and that the author clearly doesn't know it's controversial.

uh.

yeah i think he knows, guys.

someone also claimed that martens went on an anti-video games crusade and i.... couldn't find anything on that? i DID end up on verywellmind and i-

wym infamous??? what the fuck are people saying about this article in a professional sphere??? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

anyway THIRD THING I FOUND: a pr website that had a section on the institute. with two books.

and i finally, FINALLY found my answers to everything.

willem h j martens is not, in fact, dead- he's simply retired. he was a musician FIRST, then went back to school for psychiatric studies. wanna know why he focuses so much on psychopathy?

chat.... he is one.

he must've gotten diagnosed back when you still could be diagnosed with psychopathy on its own (remember, this was 20 years ago at the absolute least)

dude went back to school and started writing papers because he disliked the state of the research field regarding psychopathy and aspd in general. he published "the notebooks of a successful psychopath" as his last ebook before retiring from the field of psychiatry and going back to making music. his most recent album is from last year. he's still alive, and has active platforms in which he can be contacted. so in a sense i did fulfill my original goal (finding contact info,) and now im so much more confused than when i began.

what happened, in the early 2000s? how did this institute form? how did it dissolve? were any of these people actually involved? was it one guy desperately trying to feign legitimacy in order to get his voice heard? or was this a genuine operation that did everything right but was doomed to obscurity?

i have no idea. people seem to view his work negatively, but i don't- am i wrong, or are they? i don't like the aspd community on quora or reddit since they're both complete tar pits, but is the problem me? are they tar pits, or am i illegitimate? is it both??

i don't have a snappy conclusion that wraps everything up in a bow. i don't know if i should continue pursuing knowledge more aggressively, or just let the whole thing go.

all i have is one remaining question- where do i go from here?

and i don't have an answer.

hey did i ever tell you guys about the time i decided to look and see what else the "hidden suffering of the psychopath" guy has written and ended up going down a rabbit hole leading me to a 2000s era theoretical psychiatric research group mainly focused on aspd among other things, with a bunch of people affiliated with them and one of those people being the former CHAIRMAN OF THE FUCKING APA

DID I EVER MENTION THIS BEFORE???

[theonewiththefanfics]

At Arm’s Length (Part 5)

 Synopsys: Modern!AU

Bucky Barnes is the co-owner of ‘Barnes and Rogers’. The Reader is the secretary for Stark Industries. Both are childhood friends and madly in love. Things couldn’t be more perfect. But when something happens at Reader’s work, things might change and it will test to what lengths the pair is willing to go to find their happy ending.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing, mentions of accidents and hospitals and injuries

Word count: 2298

Italics are flashbacks

Bucky was halfway through throwing things in his suitcase and mentally trying to check everything off a list he might need in Spain, when the doorbell rang. The absolute want to telepathically punch whoever was on the other side of the door and taking away every precious minute was almost as unbearable as that time Y/N had made him try out sushi and he’d had to pretend not to hate it.

Practically running, Bucky got to the door and ripped it open only to be greeted by a bewildered Steve at his actions.

“What?” Bucky shook his head. “What do you want?”

“You in a hurry of some kind?”

“Actually yes.” He stepped away from the door and allowed Steve to come inside the loft, quickly shutting it and grabbing the dirty whiskey glass before placing it into the sink and washing it out. “I’m going to Barcelona.”

Steve blanked for a second. “Barcelona?”

“Yes, Barcelona. Just because you repeat it won’t change the name of the city.”

His friend scoffed, and Bucky threw him a dirty gaze, but Steve just bit down on his lip. There was only one reason Bucky would be in such a frenzy, and it wasn't a secret (not that he was trying to keep it that way). 

“I’m assuming you talked to Y/N," Steve more so stated rather than asked.

The brunet sighed and nodded.

“And I assume it didn’t go over too well…”

“Nope,” Bucky murmured and plopped onto the couch. “In fact, it’s probably the worst way everything could’ve gone, which is why I need to go and see her face-to-face.”

“How so?” 

“She admitted she loved me. But…” Bucky let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes like it would erase her words from existence. “Then she said it’s not enough.”

“Did she actually say she’s in love with you?” In all honesty, Steve was quite stunned. Yes, he knew Y/N was most definitely capable of love and loved the people in her life as fiercely as the sun burned in the sky, but actually saying those words… that was not something she took lightly. And especially in the context, Bucky made sure his words were heard.

“Well not exactly. But when she asked me for a reason not to move on, and I said because she loved me as I love her, she didn’t deny it… and that’s good enough for me.”

Steve looked at his friend, the determination on his face. There was no way he’d be able to stop him (not that he wanted to), but at the same time, it was his job as his partner to get that brain living in romance-land back into the real world as well. “Well before you go, I think you should know, that whatever happened last night, has become an absolute mess. More than it already was.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s a mess?”

Steve huffed. “This.”

From the inside of his jacket, Steve took out a roll of paper and unfolded it, placing it on the glass coffee table. In front of both men was a newspaper, a picture of Bucky’s face all over it, but not in a flattering sort of way. Especially with the title in big bold letters read ‘Is the fairytale already over? Bucky Barnes was seen cosying up to Tony Stark’s personal assistant Natalia Alianova Romanova minutes after professing his love on live TV to the recently promoted Stark Industries secretary Y/N Y/L/N.’

He threw the paper back onto the table, not even bothering to look at the full article. “This is bullshit," he gritted through his teeth. "It’s absolute bullshit. Look,” Bucky sighed placing a hand on his hip and running the prosthetic one through his already dishevelled hair. “I can't do this right now, I need to get to Y/N first. I’ll deal with it when I get back. I’m going to Barcelona.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “To do what – forcibly make Y/N come back?”

And that set off Bucky. “I can’t lose her! Not after everything that has happened! I can’t just sit on this fucking couch and wait until she is transferred back because guess what – that’s not happening! I’ve let life dictate everything too much, so it’s time I take it into my own hands.”

The desperation was laced in every single syllable of his words, as Steve understood what he meant.

***

Bucky had never been this close to death. Scratch that. The only other time Bucky had been this close to death was when he had tried to sneak out of his room in eleventh grade to go with Steve and Y/N to a midnight movie showing, after failing his math exam. His mom hadn’t been too happy about the results, to put it mildly, so when Winifred Barnes had seen her son try and climb through the window after she'd downgraded his curfew to nine PM… let’s just say, Bucky didn’t join for movie nights for a month.

But as the train violently swished off of the tracks, his body tossed around the inside like a ragdoll, Bucky truly thought he was going to die. The train rolled to the side and continued to skid along the way. A sharp pain shot down from his left shoulder to his abdomen and up to his head, and that’s when the darkness came.

It wasn’t all-encompassing darkness as Bucky thought death would be. It was warm, where he thought it would be cold, and soothing where he thought it would rip him apart. But all of that he could attribute to the fact that even after years of not seeing her, barely catching up with phone calls and texts as they had gone their separate academic ways, Y/N was the one that brought him peace.

She was there, in the blackness, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, and her gentle laughter filled the air around him, fueling Bucky with nothing but love. 

God, how he loved her. He’d been too scared to ruin their friendship and too scared to mess up the dynamic between him, her and Steve, but now he didn’t have to worry about that. 

Death was comfortable, it was as soft as Y/N’s hands and as gentle as the look in her eyes, and Bucky wasn’t even half-mad about going, as long as she led him through into the light.

But when he got to the end, the light was too bright and stung his eyes, and the soft palm that had slid in his had transformed into a rough and scratchy one, and Bucky’s blue eyes opened up to see a sterile room rather than what he thought would be heaven in the form of Y/N's old bedroom. 

Steve’s eyes were red as if he had been crying for days on end when their blue orbs met.

“I’m sorry,” his friend choked out, brain barely processing Bucky was awake, spewing out the first thing that came to it, the guilt eating at his insides. “They tried everything.”

“What?” Bucky slurred and tried to roll his head to the side when blearing hot pain shot through his side. That’s when the warmth he’d felt disappeared and the sharp reality set in, the horrid memories of what had happened coming back in painful waves. He didn't need to glance to his left to understand what he'd paid to stay alive. The bandages across his chest and the stump where his arm used to be said it all.

But even then, Bucky turned his head back to look at Steve and gave him a tight-lipped smile, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he desperately tried to keep it from wobbling to somehow comfort his friend.

“You gotta swear something to me, Steve." Bucky immediately stated, mind running a mile a minute. "Right now.”

“Anything,” he said through a hiccup. “You know I’d do anything for you, Buck.”

“We don’t tell Y/N about this shit.”

Steve was flabbergasted. They told Y/N everything. It was practically wired into all of their DNAs to share stuff with one another, so when Bucky demanded silence about the accident, Steve’s head didn’t compute the request.

“We can’t,” Bucky reiterated, squeezing Steve's palm with his remaining hand. “We can’t tell her.”

“And why the fuck not? She’s our friend! Our best friend!”

“Because she’s gonna flip.”

Steve scoffed. “As any normal person would. I can’t lie to her about something like this.”

“We’re not gonna be lying. We’re just not gonna say anything.”

“Why?”

Bucky bit down on his lip before looking up at the ceiling, attempting but ultimately failing to keep the tears at bay. “Because I don’t want her to look at me in any different way. I don’t want her to worry or stress.”

“Buck, she deserves to know.”

“He sighed looking back at his friend. “I know… but she deserves to finish her degree.”

Steve shook his head. “How does this factor into her getting her fucking education?”

“This is Y/N we’re talking about!” Bucky let out a teary chuckle.  “She’d drop anything and everything if she found out! Fuck, she’d run over after hearing that you got off scots free," and Bucky breathed out that statement with pure relief in his voice, as he gave Steve a once-over to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. "She'd do that just to see for herself that you’re alright. I can’t let her do that to her life.” Bucky finally looked at the stump that once was his left arm. “She deserves to grow and flourish before any of this shit baggage comes into her life. The recovery will be long, I'm not delusional. And she doesn’t need to see all of the crap that’s gonna happen.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair to Y/N?” Steve bit his lip. “She’d want to be here to support you.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed. “But I couldn’t handle seeing her in pain. In any amount of pain… so please, Steve… don’t tell her about any of this.”

And with a resigned sigh, he took hold of Bucky’s one remaining palm and squeezed it. “I won’t. I promise.”

Two years and a month later after the accident.

“I deserved to know!”

Bucky let out a terrified shudder. He took it back. The train wasn’t the closest he’d ever been to death. This, the moment he told it to Y/N, was. “I – I know, but –“

“What ‘but’?! There is no ‘but’! I deserved to fucking know! Bucky, I loved you! I still do! You’re my family as is Steve, and the thought of having potentially lost you…” She chocked back and sob and placed a hand over her mouth. She had to take a deep breath before she could continue. “The fact that you didn’t want me there for you, honestly hurts like shit. Did – do I mean so little to you?”

“Sweetheart, you’re my entire world! Please don’t ever think that I don’t trust you or love you. I do,” he whispered bringing her head to his chest, which she reluctantly placed there, hearing Bucky’s erratic heartbeat. “I love you more than you’ll ever be able to understand, but you didn’t deserve to see the shit I had to deal with. It was nasty and horrible and brutal, and I’d never want to put you through something like that," he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, kissing her head.

“I don’t care about that!” She sniffled grasping onto the back of his shirt. “I’d change your fucking diapers if I’d had to. I would’ve dropped everything to help you!”

Bucky pulled her face back, head cupped between his palms, a pained smile on his face. “Exactly! Because you’re amazing, and kind and sweet and care for others and their happiness more than you care for your own! I couldn’t let you do that! You were so close to getting your degree. I wasn’t about to ruin it.”

“Bucky, you’ve never ruined anything.”

“Even your tenth birthday celebration?”

And that’s when she let out a small chuckle, but it was like a symphony of angels to Bucky’s ears. His Y/N was back, the smile he'd fallen in love with once again on her face. “Okay, maybe just that one thing. But I don’t hold that against you. More so the bad leftover shrimp you had.” She placed her palm against his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “Please, don’t keep things from me. Especially something as big as that. I want to be there for you. Through thick and thin, I wanna be able to help.”

Bucky couldn’t help the tears that brimmed at his lower lash line. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” she mumbled pressing a small kiss to where his prosthetic connected to his shoulder. “Now let’s eat that pizza and watch ‘Friends’. You owe me. Big time.”

***

“And what are you gonna say? When you get to Barcelona?” Steve asked, finally realizing there was no way he could talk his friend out of what he had set his mind on. The blond would be lying if he said, he wasn’t at least somewhat excited that Bucky flying out could potentially get Y/N her head out of her ass and agree to at least try a long-distance thing. He'd been watching from the sidelines as his two friends loved the other from afar, and his heart ached for them.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “The same thing I told her before – that I love her, have for a while, and I’m not ready to give up on something that hasn’t even started yet.”

“And then?”

“And then… and then I can only hope she doesn’t make me leave.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​ @strangersstranger​

At Arm’s Length tags: @impalatobakerstreet​ @slender--spirit​ @janineabad @salty-buchanan @chrisevans1fan @dyanna-corona​ @chook007​ @lost-and-wandering-alone​ @goalie-love @nerdgirljen​ @jediviolet​ @fandomly-writings​ @densewaffle @hawkxyes @mizzzpink​ @nishanki1​ @misplacedorphan​ @dylan5573​ @onespideyboi @nerdygirlwithacrush​ @rumlow-barnes-kulina @wantonmeep​ @savemesteeb​ @hoe4sebastian @dreambutdontsleepx​ @marvelismysafezone​ @cap-just-said-language​

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane​ @its-nott-my-problem @emmalbg @hopeinahotbox​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

A/N: soooo, I guess I’m continuing this, although for whatever reason my fics won’t show up in the Bucky tags, so if you could reblog it please do so as it would greatly help :)

Also sometime on Friday I’ll make a masterpost of every tag list I have and everyone who’s tagged in what. I have loads of accounts I can’t seem to tag, and some of it might be due to the fact that these accounts have changed their names, and if you’re one of them and still would like to remain on the list I’d like it if you sent me a message with your old name so I can update it. If not I’ll just remove the untaggable name :)

P.S. hope you like this :)

P.S.S. please don’t plagiarise or repost my works on different platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc) without my specific written persmission.

[kakashibestie]

u posted about this in july but anyway,,, research tips? how do u research? any resources ?? /// bye i love researching but i want to get better at it!!

HII!!! omg anon thank u for this ask like truly, my fondness of research + my adhd literally go hand in hand and i have no idea of how i’d do it if i was neurotypical so that’s a good thing to take into account when using tips from other ppl, the learning process is just about as personal as it gets and you do have to tailor it to ur own needs in order for it to be effective...bc let’s face it research can be tedious and boring if not carried out properly so yeah, i’ll list what i feel are the most crucial things to pay attention to when doing research below:

find a topic and narrow it down. let’s say you want to learn about idk dog breeds. good starting point, but there’s a shit ton of information on dog breeds available out there so your topic needs to be narrowed down in order for ur research to be successful. think wh questions: where? (e.g. dog breeds in mexico) when? (this is mostly useful for research involving numbered amounts, e.g. gun violence related deaths in the us in 2019 or about past events e.g. popular dog breeds in the 1950s) how? qualifiers!!! (e.g. best dog breeds for children, or maybe most popular dog breeds in the world, or even top dog breeds in mexico) the entire point of this is to make your research easier. the more specific your questions, the more specific the answers you’ll get. 

give it purpose. this is like. the backbone of any good research imo. no matter how serious. asking yourself the following questions might help give purpose to your research: what do you want to learn about it? why do you want to learn about it? 

keywords are your best friends when googling. im literally having vivid flasbacks to the zillion times my mom would ask me to help her google stuff because she wasn’t finding what she wanted. she’d type in stuff like CUTE FACEBOOK POSTS ABOUT REFORESTATION or other rly long questions typed in as if she was actually speaking to someone when google is...a website. so if you have a question popping up in your head think of a way to word it using only keywords. if i googled “naruto episode where naruto and sasuke fight again” it’ll eventually show me the episode i want but if i googled “naruto vs sasuke second fight episode number” i bet my ass it’d show it right away!!! using keywords will save you both time and effort when conducting literally ANY type of research and it’ll most likely lead you to more accurate results, while also polishing ur summarizing/logical thinking skills!!!!

MIND YOUR SOURCES!!! this is to ensure the information you’re gathering is reliable. for academic research my prof would always recommend websites ending in .edu .org and .gov...newspapers are good sometimes but u do have to be aware of the particular newspaper’s background so as to identify any possible biased opinions that might affect the objectiveness of your research. 

CROSS CHECK YOUR INFORMATION. this one’s also viiiiiiital, and it goes hand in hand with getting ur info from reliable sources, esp. when carrying out important research or if your topic actually matters to you...you might look something up and find an article from a news outlet confirming it, but if you look it up again and not find any other sources talking about it then you should go back to ur base questions/main topic and figure out what to change in order to get the info you need, although most of the time, if only ONE outlet/website/paper’s talking about a particular topic or event it’s either incredibly recent or fake!

read read read, write write write. research will not only help you learn about various topics but it’ll also help you develop and nourish your comprehensive reading skills!!! this is particularly important in academic research because you’ll most likely encounter a GAZILLION papers/journals/articles about your topic of choice, and yes they’ll contain the information you need but it’s imperative u use ur reading comprehension skills to filter out things in order to get just what you need. the writing of course comes after the gathering, i often copy paste excerpts from sources i think might be useful later on, and even if i end up entirely rewriting the sentences, it’s still super helpful to have little passages handy in case i get lost along the way.

be mindful of ur time... if you’re at school/work and are given a deadline to meet, try ur best to organize yourself in a way that allows the process to be as smooth as possible, or else you’ll end up like me throughout most of my hs years up all night doing research at like 3am and finishing ur paper literally minutes before the deadline when you had...days or even WEEKS to do it the right way. self imposed deadlines for non-academic/professional research DO NOT WORK for me but you might find out they work for you so i’d say go ahead and give it a try!

HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the most important point of it All. there’s always a way to have fun while conducting research...put on your favorite music while googling shit...add fun little colors to your google doc titles before formatting it to turn it in...of course it’s easier to have fun doing research when said research is about a FUN topic...but ive done research on literally The Most Boring shit imaginable and i can tell you i’ve found a way to make it at least bearable...hell...even fun.

i hope this was helpful and if any mutuals/followers have any additions u think might be useful dont hesitate to send em in or add them to this answer!!! much love <3

[plush-anon]

Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! Review

Muahahhhahahhahahaha! Thanks to the Walmart tradition of stocking movies for sale weeks before the intended release date, I have myself a copy of what claims to be Scooby Doo’s FIRST Halloween adventure!

…in spite of movies like Witch’s Ghost and Goblin King, holiday specials like WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween (which had a haunted Scarecrow too…), BCSD’s EL Bandito (for Dia de los Muertos - obvs not the same, but most companies act like it) and Halloween, The NSDM’s Halloween Hassle at Dracula’s Castle, and the DTV short film Scooby Doo and the Spooky Scarecrow (which, ironically enough, did NOT take the opportunity to feature Dr. Jonathan Crane). 

So let us take a look now at Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! and see whether this film will be a graveyard smash of a treat, or a black licorice bomb of disappointment.

Full review (and SPOILERS TO GO WITH IT) are below the cut in my new review format; if all goes smoothly, I’ll go with this for future Scooby films.

WARNING: This review is very long.

One minor note before we begin: the Special Features actually include BCSD’s Halloween, WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween, and PNSD’s Ghost Who’s Coming to Dinner

...so they were AWARE this was not the first Halloween adventure of the Scooby gang, and yet still use that tag line. Hm. 

Still, kudos for including them - this’ll help boost the reasons to keep this movie, if it turns out to be a real Milk Dud of a movie *ba-dum tish* :D

-----------

The movie starts off rather abruptly, actually - no slow pan over the setting, just WB Animation credit and BOOM, we’ve cut to a Halloween parade and Elvira is talking. 

I’m of a mixed opinion including Elvira on top of having Bill Nye and a Batman Rogue - while she most certainly fits the Scooby aesthetic, it doesn’t feel as grand an impact after her weird little cameo in Return to Zombie Island (ugh) and I’m not sure how well the movie will balance her in wait a minute

wait just a

WAIT A MINUTE

Did - did that parade float skeleton just sing Crystal Cove as the town’s name?

oh no. 

Oh No.

....also their song is terrible and they should feel terrible.

-------

Fred: We got him! Banh Mi Shop, second floor!

me: the heck is a Banh Mi Shop? *mild googling noises*

So I guess Jonathan Crane really had a craving for a Vietnamese sandwich before he enacted his Halloween scheme.

...you think he’s a lemongrass chicken type of guy or a BBQ pork guy? It’s always hard to guess at these things, esp when coffee and pumpkin spice aren’t on the table (as per fanon, of course)

-----

Velma: We have a flawless track record!

So I guess WB is just gonna ignore the past few DTV retcons established in 13 Ghosts and Return to Zombie Island?

I mean that rather defeats the purpose of them existing at all, but fcuk YEAH I can get behind throwing that retcon garbage out of canon!

And STAY OUT!!

------

Shaggy, talking about ghosts being real: I’m like the boy who cried wolf - I keep warning you but like, you won’t believe me until I finally get eaten!

Yet again, Warner Bros makes a wolf reference to Shaggy. Yet again, I am torn asunder between wanting werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property, and fearing for the appearance of werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property. 

-------

Velma: Point is, being afraid is a waste of time!

Scarecrow, LITERALLY EXPLODING THROUGH A BRICK WALL three buildings away:

------

He’s floating through the air and t-posing to assert his dominance 🤣🤣🤣

Gods bless animation 😁

------

Daphne @ Shag and Scoob locking themselves in the van: Are you serial?

Me: wait, SERIAL? *re-reads captions* yup, that says “serial”.  

Is this an editing mistake? I don’t think that works here…unless that’s supposed to be a joke on how they always do this. But then why would that be an irritating surprise, they literally do this EVERY episode 🙄

-------

Oh hey, Red Herring’s Party Screams truck has Red Herring running out of it

Could this be a hint to how the story goes? The villain appearing on a literal Red Herring?

Naaaaaah, WB’s not THAT smart

-------

So if we take @captainbaddecisions​​ crack theory on Jonathan Crane being Shaggy’s uncle seriously, does this mean that Jonathan is using magic to fly, float fear toxin orbs around himself, and making things explode, a la the family trait of Crack Theory A? 

Logically he’s probs using wires or magnets or some shit, but it’s a fun thought to entertain 😁

------

Welp, we finally get the opening credits! … with Jonathan Crane smashing through the Mystery Machine’s windshield, set to a slow poppy song straight from the 60s, and spewing the title of the film out in glittery pink mist.

All the while Scooby and Shaggy throw candy at each other, deliberately obtuse to the cloud of fear toxin enveloping their friends and the townsfolk, the steady destruction of the Mystery Machine they’re laying in as multiple cars crash into it and send it spiraling, and the general mayhem and destruction that Scarecrow is causing

Never change, guys, never change

--------

I just choked on my lemonade

There’s an article plastered to the roof of the Mystery Machine titled “Talking Dog Confounds, Ignites Ethics Debate Over Dog Labor”

ahahahahaha

-------

Annnnnnnnd there goes the Mystery Machine, tumbling in the air and over the roads with Shaggy and Scooby still inside without seat belts. Will they perish in this horrible road accident? Will Death finally come to claim them at last?

Of course not. This is Shaggy and Scooby we’re talking about - I’m almost positive they can survive anything up to and including a nuclear bomb. This is child’s play to them.

-------

So they “capture” Scarecrow… by pinning his cape to a tree with crossbow bolts. 

And they do not try to at least tie up his arms or his hands in ANY capacity. 

JUST the cape. 

...you know, Velma, for a team with a “flawless” track record, you guys are making a hecking TON of mistakes in facing against one of Batman’s ROGUES GALLERY, ESPECIALLY with no Batman in sight, good freakin’ grief. 😩

------

Yaaaaaaaaas, this Scarecrow design is LUSH

He’s got the lank, the height, the BTAS costume colors, the elongated face with beaky nose and pointed chin and angular cheekbones, the eyebags like Gucci, the furrowed brow… honestly the only thing missing is the more reddish color hair, and even that isn’t mandatory. I love 😍

Not to mention the HOT DAYUM voice he has - low and velvet rough and so godsdamned particular in a way that could either tie in to obscuring a southern accent as in fanon or just as a stringent academic, oh my yes. He’s voiced by someone called Dwight Schultz, who’s most well known for playing Captain ‘Howling Mad’ Murdock in the OG A-Team show, and someone called Reginald Barclay in Star Trek TNG and Voyager, if any of y’all know that character in particular. 

And of course, the first line he says is a delightfully wry “Oh, but I AM getting away with it,” with the sort of smirk that absolutely lends credence to why he’s a threat to Batman, and not some simpering wimp that can be defeated with some crossbow bolts in a tree.

I think I’m going to enjoy this movie at least somewhat, so long as we get to see him 🥰🥰🥰

(tho on a side note: Daphne why on EARTH are you trying to film Crane saying the meddling kids line? Do you have a video compilation of past villains who’ve done that, and you hope to add his to it? Was your phone damaged when you went up against the Riddler a few DTVs ago and you want a second shot at recording a Gotham Rogue saying it? Bc I don’t think a Gotham Rogue would be too pleased with seeing himself as a Mystery Meme on the Youtubes, you get what I’m saying?)

-------

Okay, so the floating orb things are explained away as fear toxin bomb drones somehow… despite looking nothing like the other drones and being much smaller with no visible propulsion, while also flying unassisted through and around objects to explode against places once flung…

(tho interesting note, none of them are aimed directly at the crowds, just behind them - odd, that)

But how did he heckin’ FLY at the beginning?

Yeah, they show him wearing wrist-mounted grappling hooks at the end of the intro song sequence, but they are NOWHERE IN SIGHT at the beginning - and I do mean in sight, since he emerges against a backdrop of flames. There was nothing there (see the T-pose above for further evidence), and nothing there when he FLEW THROUGH THE MYSTERY MACHINE’S WINDSHIELD AND FLEW BACK OUT AGAIN. And these things are pale silver, which stands out like crazy against the darker backgrounds, so no hand-wavy ‘they were always being used’ bullcrap we’ve seen in other movies. 

Hmmm *scribbles in notepad* note to self, add notation concerning Crack Theory A on magic!Shaggy to “Uncle Crane” theory files - evidence denotes that Crane is able to fly (or at least hover in mid-air unassisted) for terrorization purposes. May boost strength of CTA by family association, lending credence to magic inheritance along the bloodline...

------

“Avocado Toast Generation”? Crane, I honestly don’t know if you really mean that, or if you understand just how much that phrase gets under any Millennial/Gen Z kid’s skin. Having seen multiple variations of your character, it really could swing either way (tho kudos on the dead switch idea - very nice 👍🏻) 

Although this does lead to an interesting stand-off: Fred, upon seeing the town threatened with 3 days worth of fear toxin, immediately moves to let Crane go, while Velma stops him and refuses to consider compromising if it means Crane escapes.  They both look legitimately frustrated at the other for taking the stance they do. 

Fascinating~

------

Hmmm

Crane honey, I don’t know if your drones are made of flash paper and hope, or if Scooby and Shaggy are using the reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaally old candy (the stuff made about ~3 years ago most neighborhoods give out to the teenagers that knock around midnight on Halloween) to shoot them down, but either way you may wish to speak with the manufacturer about this

Then again, this IS Shaggy and Scooby - they probably could’ve spat marshmallows at the drones and brought them down with equal success and explosions 

(and good on them for shooting those down! Atta boy 👍🏻)

-------

Aw dang it

1. They still have Crane captured and now in handcuffs (despite having… you know… NOT been bound by anything except cross bolts in his curtain cape thing)

2. Dwight Schultz has decided to pitch his voice higher and more nasally than what he has. Hopefully this is more of an incredulous sort of pitch than something that sticks for the rest of the movie, ugh.

Also, I think they’re framing the movie to be more Velma-centric this time around - she’s the one explaining to Crane how they tracked him down, apparently through a piece of fan mail he sent Elvira (is that the only reason she’s there? Also why was Velma examining random pieces of fan mail for toxins, Elvira probs gets hundreds a week irl) and it looks like they’re framing something up on how fear isn’t something you can pretend isn’t there. neat!

------

whajit

53rd? 

53rd?!?!

ONLY 53rd?!?!?!?!

Boooo, Scarecrow’s WAY more popular than that! I call foul

---

Okay why is Daphne’s schtick so far to spit laaaaaaame slang after every sentence Velma says

I would rather this not be her schtick

Actually could she go back to filming mystery stuff, bc at least I can pretend it’ll build into the OG Zombie Island Daphne

----

Phew, his voice has returned to its low, raspy goodness

also, Crane needs to learn about personal space, good grief

(interesting clue brought up tho - Crane only steals tech that CAN’T leak his toxin, ergo it can’t be tracked until he releases it. Sensible use, given that Batman probs tracks it if it does.)

----

Velma: I’m not afraid of you, Crane. Fear is an illogical reaction to an imagined threat. 

Crane:

-----

Crane: Fearless, then. Intelligent. Proud and stubborn. You remind me very much of the one person in this world I care about. 

uhhhhhh

Yourself? Harley? Edward Nygma? Ichabod the raven? Idk, I’m honestly curious as to where this thread will go 🤔🤔🤔

-----

Fred, leaning against the Mystery Machine: Guys, it’s gonna be okay. She told me!

O_o

Fred? Honey? Are you sure you weren’t supposed to join Crane in the transport vehicle back to Arkham? 

----

OH SWEET JESUS SHAGGY GREW YAOI HANDS

WHAT THE HECK 

THAT’S WAY MORE UNNERVING THEN YOU GUYS NOT BEING AFRAID ANYMORE

(although the fact that they’re both unsettled by NOT constantly shaking or having their heart racing is honestly kind of heartbreaking. Y’all need therapy, good grief)

----

Shaggy and Scooby just chewed up candy (wrapper and all) to make themselves a Halloween costume of… what looks like barfed-up candy (ew)

Before then proceeding to dance so well that everyone around them also starts dancing in a 60s-70s era rainbow light show and giving them candy

I worry for these two sometimes - that kind of power seems to be getting to their head 😬😬😬

---

Oh hey, acid green toxic waste is spilling from an 18-wheeler onto the Fear Toxin drones and emitting a purple pink haze that envelops a pumpkin patch! That won’t do anything suspicious at all I bet!

(wait is Poison Ivy going to come into this at some point)

(also major kudos to the music here - very 80s horror synth, I like)

----

So the Pumpkins have grown faces, limbs, consciousness, the ability to fly and a lust for human flesh

And they appear to be led by the Pumpkin King of the Pumpkin Patch mentioned in the Charlie Brown Halloween special

He’s not as friendly as I pictured him being, sadly 😕

---

Why is this random ass cop coming up to FD&V to say that they’re in over their heads… AFTER the mystery’s been solved?

Like dude, you’re only making yourself suspicious at this point, go home

----

Huh, interesting - the gang are being interviewed for a tv news network while they’re considered the town heroes

Why am I getting bad vibes from this…

Eh, it’s probably nothing

----

Velma: {Shaggy and Scooby} are, um… REALLY into the Halloween spirit. 

Shaggy: THIS ISN’T COSPLAY, VELMA!

I’m dying 😂

------

Holy Shit

Velma just snapped and went off on Shaggy and Scooby for acting scared and doing nothing to help wrap up the mystery

(even though these guys are the ONLY reason that the gang didn’t have to choose between setting Scarecrow free and poisoning the entire town for 3 days straight, but hey, what do I know - I’m just writing an in-depth reaction post to this movie and taking note of details like this, clearly I know nothing *eye roll*)

Last time I saw Velma critique the guys’ usual mystery solving shenanigans, it was much more low-key and without knowing they were nearby

But I’m sure that’s just a coincidence

------

What the

Bills?

Bills?!?!

Fred just mentioned that fixing the Mystery Machine was going to leave a hefty bill and that they may need to get dishwashing jobs to earn money

Which is more of a job you might expect a high schooler to get on the go and yet

They actually have to pay bills 

How old are they here??!

------

wait a tic

THIS is how they introduce Bill Nye?

He just calls up Velma with no explanation other than Velma saying “Oh hey, it’s Bill Nye!”

I just - what?!?!

How do you know him so well that he can just pull up your number and call you, and then geT YOU A NEW FREAKING CAR LIKE

WHAT?!?!?!?

Was there a Scooby episode with him in the past two years where the fcuk did this come from

------

Also the car is dressed like Bill Nye

And he can talk to the gang directly as the car

So that he can solve mysteries with them whenever he wants

This… this was not what I was expecting to come about from the Bill Nye cameo 

(alas, poor predictions of being Crane’s roommate, you will not come to pass this day) 😔

-------

Ooooo, purple haze throbbing on the horizon! That’s always a good sign of things to come! 😀

------

 And now Daphne’s… asking Elvira to mentor her fashion wise. And Elvira’s taking her on as her unpaid intern/personal assistant.

Yooo, movie, can you pick a direction and stick with it for Daphne? You’ve gone from her spewing outdated slang to wanting a costume for trick-or-treating, and now this. 

-------

Welp, now I can say I saw a giant pumpkin dog vore an old woman

I didn’t WANT to see that mind, but I guess I can say it now 😐

------

OH SHIT NO

IT TURNED HER INTO A FLYING PUMPKIN SHAPED LIKE HER FACE

ABSOLUTELY UNSETTLING, 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND

-------

At least we get a nice scene of Daphne kicking the pumpkins’ collective butt

Something normal

------

Elvira: WOW! You’re a regular Mary Sue!

*falls over cackling*

------

And now there’s a giant purple fissure opening up in the concrete to swallow the town of Crystal Cove whole 

(good, i whisper softly into the darkness of my living room. Let it fall)

--------

Man, I feel so bad for this single father right now

He’s gotten wrapped up in all of this nonsense with his daughter, and he is just Distraught at being chased by Jackal Lanterns, having the town collapsing under his feet, and having to gorge jump in his sedan to get away from the worst of it

It’s okay, Mike Dad - we would feel the same way in your shoes

-------

Hologram Bill Nye is wearing Cat ears and cat whiskers/nose, and is cleaning his hands like a cat cleans its paws

Why was this the movie we found out Bill Nye was a furry

Why Warner Bros 

Why would you inflict this upon us in a Scooby Doo-Scarecrow mystery

-------

Hey, can Jonathan Crane return now? The movie needs its dignity back. 

------

A clue on the whys here - the town was built on top of a MASSIVE lithium deposit, with the talks to mine it being scrapped due to environmental concerns. That’s actually a decent lead in for why some 

-------

Welp

The Jackal Lanterns just went full Mad Max with the Halloween Parade floats and cars

No, I don’t have any idea why either, just roll with it

-------

Nice, they confirmed that Fred’s full name is still Frederick Herman Jones XD

Also a great little action sequence with Daphne - while there’s not much movement, they frame the scene dynamically, with some good quick wordplay. Very nice. 

--------

Velma has a mind palace

Aight

--------

Velma: Shaggy, I could kiss you!

Oh, to hear this as a child, when I still hardcore shipped Shelma *sigh*

------

Oh thank gods we’re going back to Scarecrow again

------

Shaggy ate some Scooby Snacks, leapt out of a moving vehicle, and onto the backs of two flying pumpkins that he promptly reined in to fly to Crane’s prison transport

...yet again, I am amazed at the sentences I am led to type for Scooby Doo DTVs

------

Ah, how very Hannibal Lector of you, Jon 

Man, he actually looks very meek in normal clothes - red long-sleeved shirt and grey slacks

-----

Hmmm

So Crane ISN’T behind the Jackal Lanterns - in fact he’s outright befuddled by them. This means his whole spiel to Velma earlier about both of them being caught in the same trap was… metaphorical? The breakdown doesn’t actually go into WHY he thinks they’re in the same trap - Crane’s whole schtick is tied to accepting fear, not denying it, so why would they be the same?

Either way, someone is using both him and Mystery Inc to do something to Crystal Cove (please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring)

Actually, that reference at the beginning really WAS a red herring - they framed it as being Jon the whole time when it wasn’t. Kudos!

Additional kudos to having Jon be seen more out of mask than in - he is a looker, and I aim to look as much as I can ;)

-------

Annnnd Daphne’s now trying to convince Elvira to switch clothes with her

I don’t get it - how on earth did we get from Daphne trying to find a good costume for trick-or-treating to asking Elvira to switch oh there it is nevermind.

-----

There is literally a scene where a giant buzzsaw is slicing towards Crane

and he just

stares at it

going “huh, that’s different”

And I LOVE IT

------

And here we have another fascinating scene: Velma going to free Crane from his cell, as Daphne tells her to just leave him to die by pumpkin

I’m wondering if they meant to draw a parallel between the two here - Velma starts by reciting a nursery rhyme, then overcoming her fears in order to release madness to take control. It’s not done very cleanly - mainly bc we barely have any time with Crane in this movie - but I wonder if they meant to insinuate that Crane was like Velma once, where he refused to acknowledge he was afraid, which caused him to lose focus on his initial goals

Idk, ignore my ramblings

---

Crane, smirking: I’ll need my personal effects - extenuating circumstances.

Me, fanning myself: I’ll need you to remove yours first

(i am not even kidding, Crane is an absolute DILF in this movie and it flusters me. Stupid sexy animation)

---

YAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS

SCARECROW TO THE MOTHERFCUKING RESCUE BABY, SCYTHE AND FCUKING ALL!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

----

FCUK YEAH THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

HE HAS A DANCE LIKE QUALITY WITH SOME OF HIS FIGHTING MOVES

VIOLENT DANCING BRINGS THE GIANT JACKAL LANTERN DOWN BABY

THEN HE BACKFLIPS AND GYMNASTIC SWINGS INTO THE VAN

ROCK IT SCARECROW FCUKING ROCK IT

(minor note here, but the subtitles show Dr. Crane instead of Scarecrow - unsure if that’s more that the movie calls him Dr Crane or if it indicates he’s acting more heroic than villainous)

---

GODDAMNIT

THE GIANT PUMPKIN SNUCK VINES INTO THE VAN AND STOLE HIM BACK 

WHEN CRANE WAS... wearing a seatbelt before, but isn’t now.

...

BOOOOO

---

Yet again, we find a Scooby movie that attempts character development, but with Velma

Unlike Shaggy’s Showdown however, I’m mixed on how successful it is.

For starters, Velma hasn’t been this cocksure in other DTVs we’ve seen, so it’s a bit odd to see it now. While not 100% out of place - after all, the gang DID capture one of Batman’s Rogues Gallery on their own - it still feels a touch forced. Compare that to Shaggy’s Showdown, where Shaggy has ALWAYS been a coward (one that, in more recent years, writers have had willing to abandon his friends for safety), so the character development there feels more natural. 

The progression of events with Velma actually work somewhat okay - but again, here’s where past DTVs come to bite them in the ass. The past handful have had the gang be wrong, have had them fail, or catch the wrong guy. This makes Velma’s attitude here at odds with the other films, something that sticks more due to a character that’s appeared in the past few films as a minor inconvenience - a Sheriff who keeps telling the gang not to interfere, they’re doing things wrong, etc. If this had been a character who was completely wrong in the past AND SHOWN TO BE WRONG FOR HIS OPINIONS, while the gang never guessed wrong, this would work much better. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and here we are. 

I think it would have flowed better if Velma’s cockiness came solely from catching Crane on their own. Have a random cop character or reporter or whatever (just not the recurring cop), insinuate that the gang is in too deep with Scarecrow, that he should be handled by the adults or professionals or whatever. Velma could bristle, overcompensate, and THEN fall from her pedestal like we see, reach out to the gang and commiserate over feeling scared, and grow. Again, it’s not too far to reach for, but they handle it poorly; as a result, the outcome feels a little more shoehorned in. 

It’s an honest shame, bc we haven’t had a Velma centered story since Frankencreepy, and we all remember what a hideous fcuking mess THAT was *shudders*. Still, it somewhat gets its point across, I guess.

---

Fred why did you rip your shirt off

Actually better question why do you not have nipples

--- 

Awwwwwww

Velma just apologized to Shag and Scoob for snapping at them earlier, and admits how she doesn’t appreciate how much they make Mystery Inc what it is

Also she eats a Scooby Snack with them and admits they taste pretty good

----

Huh

Velma’s mind palace is the Mystery Machine driving through space

Also Shaggy and Scooby are able to telepathically follow her in and communicate with her

Literally, they actually followed her into her head telepathically, and show her their memories of things she hasn’t gotten to see tonight (while also possibly enhancing her ability to remember things, given how much DETAIL she captures perfectly of things that she would maybe have glimpsed in a millisecond AT MOST)

...another tally for Crack Theory A of magic! Shaggy and Scooby *scribbles*

-------

Fred, be very very thankful that there are no people operating those pumpkins in person cause uhhhh

Those traps would be spraying red instead of orange

------

Another weird music choice - the gang goes up to fight the Jackal Lanterns, but the music is the same 60s bubble we heard earlier 

Not terribly atmospheric, really

(wouldn’t a Smashing Pumpkins cover of Scooby Doo be more appropriate, or did you guys spend all your money on hiring Elvira and Bill Nye?)

------

Dang

Velma just admitted her fears and jumped into the mouth of the Mega Pumpkin, before getting Fred to use the app from earlier to shut it down, revealing it to be a giant drone surrounded by smaller pumpkin drones

This feels… counterintuitive, but I’ll try to explain at the end

---

Okay

I’ll admit it

The Whodunnit is actually pretty decent in concept

There was a sprinkling of tidbits that could be assembled for the final conclusion and still make a decent amount of sense, all to find the sheriff doing it 

Only he isn’t a sheriff

He’s a former Tech CEO who was also busted by the gang years ago in a case the Sheriff kept bringing up throughout the movie - due to his prison sentence, he lost more than half his wealth and the opportunity to expand it further with the Crystal Cove Lithium deposits

He was also someone who sold tech to Crane for his fear toxin distribution, where he got the idea to frame him for it

(tho on a side note, Crane is an absolute dork and a terrible liar - just look at the email he sent XD and that profile pic, my gods)

He deliberately picked at the gang for the past few DTVs (specifically 2: Return to Zombie Island and Curse of the 13th Ghost) to fracture their confidence, undermine them, etc - all so that in one fell swoop, he could retake his fortune, frighten everyone in town away from the mines so they couldn’t interfere, frighten away the gang (while also ruining their reputation as mystery solvers), and take Crane off the docket so he couldn’t identify the CEO when he pretended to be the sheriff

This… is actually a pretty damn good plan, for a Scooby villain. He was patient, manipulative, and clever, learning how best to tie up loose ends and win back what he lost. A clever revenge story that came so close to coming to fruition, and could have honestly been sold convincingly… 

...if it hadn’t been done so much better in Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed. 

Yeeeaaaah, this movie basically lifts the rough framework up from that one - past mystery villain comes back to attack the gang and ruin their reputation (tho this one decides to also make his fortune back and tie up loose ends with former criminal contacts, a la Crane). Gang is embarrassed in front of the news folk, another villain is framed for it (like Old Man Wickles of the Black Knight fame), and the gang must reconcile to foil the villain for good.

Although it also??? Merges elements of Frankencreepy in it?? The movie is focused on Velma, who is struggling to admit when she’s wrong (which ties into her fear, somehow… I’ll think on that point a little) and things purportedly go haywire when she won’t bend. This… isn’t illustrated as well here, since there’s very little direct cause-and-effect from Velma’s actions that would prove this point - that insisting her way is the right, best, and therefore only way to go ends up making things worse.  

As much as I despised Frankencreepy (and I DESPISED IT), it did do that part well - showing that refusing to budge on something can lead to you hurting your friends (literally, in that one), and that admitting you were wrong and need help isn’t the end of the world. 

(that movie also had former villains returning to gain vengeance upon the gang using psychological warfare, hm - may need to go over that one again, unfortunately).

It’s a shame, too -  the basic elements for this plot are all here, they just need to be polished and reworked a bit to make a really fascinating movie. 

------

Anyways, back to the asshat CEO who just… faked being a sheriff. Because white people can get away with that so long as they have the outfit and the car *throws up hands* (the sad part is this is probably something that actually happens)

As he drives away we see a familiar silhouette looming in the cornfields, watching him approach

Velma had Bill Nye on speaker, so he could record the entire confession for the federal officers nearby (who were taking Scarecrow back to Arkham), and track the phone signal to his exact location

And right as his holographic call cuts out, we see the shadow of a Scarecrow looming over him, causing him to scream.

When the feds arrive at his final location, both his body and the money have vanished. The car still sits, engine running, before the crows leering over him from the field vanish into the sky. 

-------

Now that he’s dead, the gang walks and finds themselves at a Halloween party, with friendly faces and good food. The mystery is solved, though the culprit may never be found again. 

Then Daphne admits to NOT trying to steal Elvira’s costume for Halloween, but instead trying to steal Elvira’s identity and replace her. 

Something that she’s apparently nearly gotten away with on past mysteries working with Phillis Diller

*sighs* movie, why couldn’t you just stick to the costume schtick? This is just… so much worse. 

-----

From there, Elvira walks off to wrap things up, reveal the monster face on the back of her head sans wig (which was also a monkey), and start the credits, where we see the gang working to bring the Mystery Machine back to its former glory a la Frankenstein pastiche. 

This movie… this movie is a hot mess, but at least it’s an OKAY hot mess. 

It really does feel like someone started writing a decent Velma-focused movie concerning the Scarecrow and a past Mystery Inc villain interfering, but was bogged down by notes from higher-ups: Wait! Write in Elvira! Also write in Bill Nye! Hey, let’s have a Mad Max car chase with the Jackal Lanterns! And have Daphne obsessed with literally becoming Elvira! Also make reference to things that we’ll insist be explained this way instead of a way that makes sense! Great!

(seriously tho, we never find out who Crane cares about most that reminds him of Velma, what the heck?)

It’s like two or three different scripts were smooshed together without being cleaned up - stuff is said that doesn’t get resolved, the celebrity guests don’t get to breathe much and feel squished together, and the build-up for the villain feels… less impactful, even knowing that he’s been in the past two films. 

It might have worked if he’d been in… let’s say like 5 or 6 DTVs in a row, speaking roles for dissing the gang growing in each (ex start with “Good job kids! But maybe next time, leave it to the professionals, okay?” and growing more bitter from there), but only 2 feels kind of meh. Still, I do appreciate the clues we got to collect together, and they all work in the final breakdown of the scheme - some DTVs can feel like they pull stuff completely out of nowhere, so kudos there. 

I appreciate what they wanted to do with Velma - give her a character development arc similar to Shaggy’s in Shaggy’s Showdown. Unfortunately, it wasn’t set up quite so neatly: they blended her ‘refusal to admit fear’ with her overconfidence that she was always right, and it led to a weird conclusion. To face her fears, she leapt into the Giant Pumpkin, which… proved that she was right all along about it being fake, and that solves things somehow. It doesn’t address how she can get something wrong sometimes, it doesn’t really address what she’s afraid of (which is honestly quite good: she’s afraid of failing in a way that allows bad guys to escape justice and in a way that hurts her friends), it’s just a bit of a mess. Points for aiming the focus the right way (and in a way that DOESN’T sexualize the underage teenage girl, unlike some DTVs cough cough Frankencreepy cough cough), but it’s very very messy how it goes about it. 

The movie actually balanced pretty well for the whole gang - no excessive focus on one leaving the rest in the dust (too much at least - Fred was a touch underdeveloped, but nowhere near as annoying as past iterations have been. Shaggy and Scooby were kind of meh in some places but great in others, while Daphne was just odd. I think they were trying to recapture the BCSD Daphne characterization, but they failed. Still, she did spend some good time kicking ass with the pumpkins, so that was fun.

Now for the Rogue, Jonathan Crane. If you like Crane, this movie gives you: maniacal Scarecrow, calm and creepy Crane, a brief glimpse at fanboy!Crane (he admits in his own awkward way that he’s a fan of Elvira, and later tells her he loves her work - it’s fun), and (best of all for me) a heroic Crane - one who helps the protagonists and ends up kicking ass pretty damn well, brief as it was. And while DILF Crane is always a treat, he feels underutilized in this. In comparison, Scooby Doo/Batman Brave and the Bold really utilized a lot of different aspects of Riddler, to the point he actually does feel pretty menacing by the third act. It’s a shame we don’t quite get that with Crane, but I do love seeing him 1. More out of mask, and 2. Acting as a good guy (in his own way), so he’s enjoyable on the whole. 

I kind of wish that the whole movie was spent more with Crane, but again, the script is a bit of a mess on this part - the fact that he’s not completely screwed over is a goddamn miracle. 

Elvira was… okay. She didn’t have much of a purpose beyond getting the plot started and giving Daphne some hooks to play off of. Bill Nye (abrupt as his introduction was) did provide some necessary elements to the mystery, as well as the tech; he wasn’t too bad by the end. (still a touch bitter we didn’t get ex roommate Nye, but hey, what can you do)

Humor was… mixed. Some good, some meh, but very few long enough to feel painful. Some bits felt extraneous at times, but they did help to build to the conclusion, so points for effort.

At the end of the day though, I’m probably keeping this more for Jonathan Crane than anyone else. It does have a lot of fanfic potential tho 🤔🤔🤔

That’s all from me tonight, folks! Hope you enjoyed my own little breakdown of the movie. 

[rametarin]

Little note hider. Or, alternative title: “Ante up for arguments.”

So a few days ago I made a post about the tactics I remember from my youth.

Actual disruption and propagandists that filled little girls’ heads with emotionally charged political shit and encouraged them to, “stawt convuhsayshuns uwu” to, “change society.” And we’re talking kids being emotionally blackmailed to accept many of these subjective things as truth.

Taught to argue with other children, the age where they weren’t even really clued in on how to read or argue with academic buffoonery or emotionally charged appeals to authority.

I remember quite well the interactions.

Babby Radfem: “Our society is racist.”

Me: “No it isn’t. Societies can’t be racist, only the people in them.”

Babby Radfem starts citing known examples of racism talking about slavery.

Me: “Yes I know you can talk about things that happened, that doesn’t mean society is racist, it means there are racists in it.”

Babby Radfem: “Proof? You have any proof? :^) Because I have proof of what I’m saying! So YOU have proof for what you’re saying?”

And you have to understand; these little socio-politically programmed children didn’t just waltz into a library and grab up some Feminist Book of Statistics. They were coached, they were groomed, they were armed with bogus academia huffandpuff and then set loose to go after kids who’d never even heard of these issues before.

In my case, I learned what the concept of rape was because a baby radical feminist informed me because I was a boy, and, “epidemic societal rape” was a thing, that she could never wholly trust me of be comfortable around me, because, “men in our society are so violent and rape women.” Not really an appropriate mindset for a girl under the age of 7. Or a boy, for that matter.

It’s at that point they’d put on this big performance with that smug, disgusting expression on their face, setting up a bunch of articles and examples of things that’d happened in the past and examples of singular racist assholes operating, conflating that deliberately with, “a racist society.” Because you know, if one member of the hivemind super colony acts bad, I guess to socialists that’s, “proof” that “society” didn’t do its job in programming them right, or something.

And it’s at this point that no matter what you say, they aren’t looking for a reasonable discussion where you respect one another’s positions and perspectives, they’re looking for a show trial, and they think they’re being clever by trying to make you defend the actions of actual racists, since in their minds, you’re denying their actions ever happened.

No matter what you say, like broken interfaces, they’ll just sit there smugly reminding you, “you aren’t proving society isn’t racist yet! Do you even have an argument? Do you have proof? Any actual PROOF, not emotionally charged denials? Still not seeing any proof of what you’re saying. Guess you don’t have an argument. I’m sorry, I don’t accept crybabying nuh-uhs, I’m a rational person with a scientific mind :^)”

I say again, this shit, these big blowhard guns, were brought out and used on me. I was fucking 5, at the time. It’s not like I was going to stand up, shout, “Foucult was a boy toucher and a monster!” and show the 10 page report with bibliographed citations. You can’t spur of the moment refute someone handed a book wwwwaay about their age range just to tell you bogus statistics like women only make 50-75% of what a white man makes, “for the same job,” that demands you also spur of the moment disprove what they’re saying in order to dispute or disregard it at all.

Then plays to the peers around you like your outrage over the things you’re being accused of by proxy of being a boy, is just because you don’t like, “hearing the truth.”

And you know what this behavior influenced? Yeah. Annoying Youtube Atheists of the 00s. I’m an atheist, but the difference between me and An Annoying Youtube Atheist, is I don’t make not participating in an organized religion or believing in supernatural creators. While the other considers themselves an intellectual for arguing with probably the easiest arguments to disprove and discredit you can possibly engage.

So when I talk about shit like this that I witnessed and observed happening in the fucking late 80s, early 90s, of course I’m not going to have “proof.” Who the hell happens to have examples of such a random a sporadic thing in the wild? The odds are literally a million times better now than they were when our communication and interactions were in person, without internet, with only access to the information resources in the books you had in your local library or in your house.

The, 1.) Inflammatory Statement 2.) Whipping out a book that may as well have been written by Jordan Peterson or Ben Shapiro for all the bias it has 3.) “Here’s my proof. You have proof? Any proof to source your beliefs, or do you just have feefees? :^)” approach, predates on people being both unfamiliar with the subject matter, as well as not having the resources to effectively dispute the claims.

It’s predatory, it’s deceptive, and it is used to socially browbeat women into their corners, whom them become like enablers and believers and supports in the pew after their cryfests, powwows and ‘come to socialist Jesus’ moment.

But no, I don’t currently possess any proof of this phenomenon or effect, and the mercurial social nature of young girls means catching this interaction in the wild is very unlikely. Which is exactly why that disingenuous request for, “Proof? :^)” is so disgusting.

Even when you HAD proof, the next step after isn’t to concede they’re wrong. It usually went in a number of ways.

1.) The person requesting proof goes dead inside and ignores what you’re saying, and if they respond at all, it’s simply to speak as if you hadn’t just shown them the proof, still arguing as if it wasn’t shown. I guess in a silly attempt to socially override the new information from the discussion and give the speaker the burden of proof to try and make it stick to their denial filled, teflon minds.

2.) They meet all the effort taken to argue with stupid shit that wastes your time and energy. Replying to a thorough rebuttal that rebukes and dismantles the things they are saying with, “KUNG POW PENIS, *GIGGLE*” or just going “DURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!” and giggling to show they don’t actually care what you have to say and won’t take you seriously. This one is done alone or only when they have other supporters there that won’t accept opposition as legit or genuine, proof or not.

3.) They’ll simply retreat and then scream if you follow them. If they retreat, the conversation effectively ends, and they won’t hear any more of it since it threatens to challenge them, OR they simply wanted to convince people to take what they have to say as fact and it’s a waste of their time to sell lies to people that know they’re lies. But they will scream and make the priority that you’re apparently following or harassing them, when they see argument is futile.

4.) They’ll nod along and pretend you’ve corrected them when you demonstrate you aren’t going to believe what they say, because you have both proof and conviction that their argument is weak, they don’t have a leg to stand on, or you throw in their face you know what they are. But, they won’t retract their stance, they’ll simply go on to, “stawt that convuhsayshun” with someone else, to try and convince them of their politically charged talking point.

5.) They’ll start crying or looking like a kid with their hands caught in a cookie jar, and admit, “I was just twying to stawt a... convuhsayshun..” Which is code that means, “I was trying to propagandize and make you think this thing was true, and make you mad about it as if it was the truth.” This typically happened when I called them out in front of adults that also didn’t agree with the things she was saying, had been programmed to say, and was around adults that could cite proof that what they were saying was false.

It happened so often I realized that at some point it might be in my best interests, to at least THINK about how to prove arguments to random strangers.

In the past, being sidewound by baby radical feminists that, “just started conversations” around the water cooler, axes to grind disguised as random conversations, was a thing. They were like social guerillas or velociraptors. But they were always tangentially rooted in whatever thing they’d been handed to read in order to sound smart.

So, if you knew the contemporary radical feminist talking points, had the time, literacy and resources to research and understand the holes in their claims, where they substituted for integrity, you could unravel them. Or could critique things like sample size or the likelihood they arrived at their conclusion and worked backwards to meet the result they were looking for, or started with a faulty premise.

And when they tried to stretch and flex and get believers and followers, presenting these, “facts” (that were not facts, but lies, subjective talking points, or just feelings) trying to use the trust bonds of friendship to get people to accept them as true for risk of hurting the relationship and their friend’s feelings (an exploitation of people, by the way) you could dispute them.

But they really do not like that, and once you reveal yourself as someone capable of shooting holes in what they say, they’ll only bring out their talking points to your mutual friends when you, ye that has identified yourself as capable of disputing what they say, aren’t around to dispute them.

Pre-internet, pre-cell phone, this was the methodology by which radical feminist zealotry was reproduced among young girls and young women. And drove them absolutely fucking nuts for a few years, until they resolved it and came back to reality. For one reason or another.

But do I have proof of this? Not on hand.

[lgcmax]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 : tell your parents you’re a failure.

max presses search. it takes him to some bogus article about accepting your flaws and how to let your parents hear your point of view from a fresh perspective

but you aren’t getting the point, max complains as he closes the tab. they don’t listen.

as far as his parents are concerned, there’s a 3-step track to success. respect your parents, go to college, and get a good job. well, there were flaws in all those if you asked him. first off - his mom commanded respect, which made the idea seem a lot less like a conscious choice and more so a compulsive obligation. second, he hated every minute he spent in college, and it had only held him back when practicing as a trainee. third of all, max knew more people with stable jobs who weren’t happy than who were, and he's definitely a passion over profit type of guy.

so why was he breaking his back to attend class when it was only bringing him down ? 

max looks down at the list in front of him. there, in messy handwriting and in bullet points laid a list titled -

why i need to leave college before i make my brain explode and i can’t rap anymore. 

i have to walk to school

it makes me tired during practice

mom will want me to stop being a rapper

dad will want me to be a business guy like him

i hate school

i have no college friends

i hate going to class

i sleep in class

i hate school ( again )

mom will want me to stop being a rapper ( again )

 the idea of growing old, wearing a suit, and making people who weren’t as wealthy as him feel bad about himself made him feel sick. he wanted power, but ... a different kind. the better kind. the power to say “ jump ” and have the crowd ask “ how high, ” to have his intro play and make the crowd go wild, to forever imprint the entertainment industry with the name max choi. but there’s just one problem. max looks to the other list he’s created.

why i can’t leave college before i make my brain explode and i can’t rap anymore.

mom and dad

well really, his mother. he knows his dad took a gap year before starting university, which is something his mom hated for him to mention, despite being the truth. his mom had pushed him since birth to attend a school in the ivy league, and had irreversibly disappointed her when news of him moving to korea broke. fine then, plan b - attend one of the sky schools, the holy trinity of korean universities. max had opted out for a more local, and less competitive option.  if it seemed he couldn’t make it any worse, being alone in a country without any guidance meant max could flunk classes to his heart’s content, his parent’s given tuition money being the only thing truly on the line. but even his dad, far less restrictive than his mother, put a certain emphasis on school for the social and economic status it “ inevitably ” gave you, in his words. moral of the story ? dropping out wasn’t an option.

well if that was the case, it seems max has once again danced to the beat of his very own, rebellious drum. because above the two lists lied another paper with the haunting words- acknowledgement of academic termination. in simpler terms, though ? holy shit. almost teasingly, they provided both an english and korean translation, just in case he wanted to break the news to his parents in his native tongue. how convenient. the notice acknowledged his decision to drop out, and informed him a notice would be sent within 24 hours for tuition financial options following the leaving of the university. his parents, paying his tuition, were inevitably going to find out.

the haunting word “ mom ” glows from his screen as he swallows his nerves. before he can do anything, he presses call. it’s now or never.

“ max, didn’t you get my call earlier ? ” she asks him, already notably irritated.

“mm, i did. i couldn’t pick up though. practice. ” he answers, a hushed whisper as to prevent anyone nearby from hearing. 

“ you don’t practice at this tim- ”

“ i do now, mom. i have to do more now that future dreams is - ”

“ maxwell choi, don’t you dare interrupt me when i’m speaking. why did you call ? your dad’s still at work. ” ironic. and it’s max, for the hundreth time in my life.

“ mom i ... i ... ” he expects to feel nervous, scared, sad. and then, it hits him. this is a good thing. this means more time with his friends and his girlfriend, more time to practice, to explore the world around him without any restraints. this is what he wants. the list of why versus why not is so much bigger, so why should he feel afraid ? suddenly, he feels ... defiant. the type of defiance that always makes him feel good. he grins, and speaks as if he’s told her some great secret.

“ i dropped out. ”

“ of legacy ? thank god, i told you it wouldn’t work out. those trainees are all the same, delusional and not - ”

“ no, mom. ” the light that just emerged starts to dim. “ i dropped out ... of school. ”

silence. so much silence that max feels as if he’s not even in the room.

“ ... mom ? ” 

he hears her breathing. 

“ maxwell choi. ” her voice sounds like an engine, revving itself up. “ you have five minutes to beg them to re-enroll you in your classes as soon as possible, or tell me this is a joke. if you think i’m kidding, i swear to god, i’ll have your card frozen and number blocked before you can blink. and i’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of that training program, too. you won’t be considered a son of mine as a dropout, i swear to god. i dare you to test me. ”

holy shit.

beep. call dropped.

 max looks to his phone, which has turned black. he feels like he’s going to pass out at any minute. he wishes he could say she had overreacted, that she never would think of doing something like that. but he knows his mom, and her tone is one that oozes with sincerity and threats. the idea of her following through makes him sick. 

and yet ? five, ten, fifteen agonizing minutes pass, and he doesn’t do a single thing. he’s a daredevil by nature, but this is his first act of defiance amongst his true challenge - his mother.