#i totally meant for them to use the same turn of phrase in the span of literally 2 pages

[mugwot]

inventory management starstuck au of 👉@wonder-of-the-stars

[electricbluebutterflies]

Nina/Mattias + fight sex but they’re idly bickering about something that doesn’t matter very much

Canon-divergent / the little adventure up in frozen hell took long enough for this dynamic to develop (because what even is a timeline and I have no clue how long it actually was on the show). Also, for plot purposes and context, this does make use of my belief that everyone is just SLIGHTLY aged up on the show and in my head most of the main lineup is 20ish. Oh, and first time writing these babes so fingers crossed I got characterization okay. Obviously NSFWish ahead, a little more graphic than I’ve written in a while and also involves a First Time...

He’s keeping the third blanket from her.

It is, objectively, the most petty Nina has felt since the whole almost-dying thing happened, maybe even since the getting-captured bit. Trying to get under his skin, trying to handle the daily shifting of their dynamic, has been almost as exhausting as trying to stay alive. Which in itself is enough of a challenge, because somehow they are lost and whenever Nina gets back to civilization she is going to have so many comments about Druskelle navigational instincts or the apparent total lack thereof. So. Many. Comments. The moment she has a possibly appreciative audience, because she is not wasting her breath on that here right now and-

At least tonight they’re in some kind of fishing shack again, clear space to build a fire and a pile of blankets of various questionable quality. There have been nights they haven’t been so lucky. She’s saving her energy for where it matters. But on the other hand, she is a delicate fragile creature who has made a point of avoiding this sort of climate, and…

Mathias still has the third blanket, and the fire is going well enough that they objectively can stay on opposite sides of this space, and Nina decides it’s time to change the game.

He’s pretty, okay? He’s annoying and stubborn and honestly at this point him technically being The Enemy is relatively low on the list of reasons he’s stomping on her every last nerve, but the man has two things in his favor – he’s loyal, and he is very nice to look at. Nina does not historically have the attention span when it comes to that level of pretty, but this one has decided to make it difficult for her. Like, he can say up and down that he does not want her, but they’ve shared a sleep-space – “bed” is too nice a word for most of those situations – for a week or so and she doesn’t need words, she knows what she wakes up to.

And she knows how damn respectful he is, she thinks as she starts undoing her vest buttons. This outfit, while very cute two weeks ago before her entire life took a very undesired detour, was not made for seduction. But if she does it slow enough, she hopes she won’t set him off. The other time she had to deal with that element of things, he was polite and turned his back even though she didn’t ask him to, and she assumes the same will happen here and she’ll get nowhere and-

Okay, fine, it’s not like taking off her vest reveals anything outright explicit. The current light makes her shirt a little more see-through than it’s meant to be, but still. She is about as decent as she ever gets.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tone about as calm as she’s ever heard him.

“You do not need two blankets,” Nina counters. “I want.”

And oh does that phrase cover more than his little Fjerdan mind has probably ever thought of. All those comments he’s made about assuming she’s trying to seduce him? Yeah, hasn’t been the main goal yet but she’s thought about it. Seeing what she could do to him – she does not expect he’d take any initiative there, highly doubts he’s ever even kissed anyone – would not be the worst way to spend an evening. So, that’s part of the plan now. Make him squirm, get on top of him, and take her prize. Should be easy.

As if to prove her point, she starts loosening the laces of her shirt just enough to easily take it off. She hadn’t bothered to wear anything under it, another brilliant idea proving that two-weeks-ago Nina had questionable judgment in all things, and it is all too easy to push it up over her shoulders and off her arms and…

He’s still watching. He looks wide-eyed and possibly concussed, but he’s still watching.

If Nina were a different sort of person, and probably also if she had gotten laid within the past six months (for the record it has been eight and that cute little bartender with the long nails was a way better lover than she was an informant), she would cross her arms over her breasts and stop here and wait for whatever protective instincts Mathias has to kick in. Even given what she’s just done, she looks vulnerable and cute enough to wake him up like that, and-

“What are you doing?” he asks again, this time more hostile. Good. When he’s frustrated his voice gets all growly, and that does things to her, and-

“Can we get this over with?”

“This?”

“The part where we have questionable hatesex that I will forget ever happened within the next year and you will remember for the rest of your life because whatever little creature gets stuck with you someday will not fuck you like I want to.”

For a moment, she’s pretty sure she broke him. This is definitely not about the blanket anymore, and-

“I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

Nina laughs. “Yeah well you are deeper in denial than anybody I’ve ever met. I am everything that scares you and you are stuck with me and I’m not sure which part of your code I do not violate but I am sure you would’ve-”

“You saved my life. I owe you everything.”

“Cute. Obligation. Great reason to put up with someone but still do everything you can to drag your feet about it.”

“Why do you… want me?” He sounds all hesitant, and good grief has nobody ever told this man what he looks like? Or do all of his people look that good at that age… that’s plausible enough…

“Limited options right now. It’s you or my hand and you’re warmer.”

She is not sure what she’s expecting beyond not what he actually does.

Fine, so she’s been good and hasn’t looked more than she had to when he’s been in a state of undress. Watching him strip right now, layers of leathers and furs that are apparently frightfully easy to take off, is different. He is wanting her to watch, keeping his eyes on her the whole time until he is completely naked in front of her and… she can’t help licking her lips, he is pretty and she wants all of that all over her. Now.

“This or your hand,” he repeats in a way that suggests that at least she probably won’t have to explain the general patterns of female masturbation to him. “Make your choice.”

She about tackles him.

He’s built like a damn tree, Nina reminds herself in the process. Solid enough to handle her attempt at literally jumping him, which doesn’t exactly work but does throw off his balance for a moment, and she gets him pulled down for a bitey kiss. He has just a little bit of scruff now and she’d wanna see what that feels like between her legs but also she is pretty sure Fjerdan men do not do that and she doesn’t want to completely wreck him in one go, and while she still suspects all of this is new to him, he has good instincts.

Her skirt and underwear are feeling like too much of an undesired obstacle, so she undoes them with her free hand while trying to stick her tongue down his throat. So she’s a little aggressive, whatever, he’s clearly into it and nobody gets hurt by it.

“What do you need me to do,” he breathes, and oh he can admit being clueless, this is a treasure, this is-

She grabs his wrist and puts his hand between her thighs. “Poke around until you like the noises I’m making.”

Mathias has good hands. She’s known this for several days now, but it is a different thing to know it with one of said hands exploring her soft parts. She feels a fingertip inside her then quickly pulled back, another batting her clit back and forth with uncertainty. Then the finger inside her is back, and she knows how wet she is, and-

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“That’s why I’m leading. I’m not giving you the chance.”

But he couldn’t hurt her like this, she thinks. Not with his hands prepping her and a second finger up inside her and accidentally finding her sensitive spot, not with his prick hard against her belly, not with his mouth taking kisses as he learns what he likes. There is something inherently good in him and she worries for a moment that what they are about to do will break it, and yet-

“Get on your back,” she orders. Easier for both of them if she leads, she reminds herself.

He does without any complaint, and she takes a moment to enjoy the view. The solidness of him, for the next few minutes all hers. Would any of the girls he might get stuck with back home be able to handle this? And the way he’s looking up at her, a scared but willing participant in whatever she decides to do. Maybe he’s right. Maybe hatesex is the wrong word.

She straddles him, knees around his hips, and drops.

Blame the dry spell. Blame the absolute weirdness of the situation. Blame the fact that she is tired and hungry and cold. None of that matters. He feels good inside her and she makes a noise she cannot describe and-

“Am I…?”

“No. Feels good.”

She rolls her hips against his to prove a point, works him even deeper into her and leans down for more kisses. She can taste the shock and the innocence of him. This isn’t how he thought his first time would go, she is sure of it now, and yet he is allowing her and-

His hips jerk up and she makes a shocked little noise. “Do that again.”

He does, and she continues her pattern, and… it’s good, on her side. Not the best sex she’s ever had, but his hesitance is useful enough. She doesn’t trust him to say if he’s getting close, so she stays focused on his face, looking for signs, looking for-

She shifts her angle just a little bit, his prick hits the right spot inside her harder than she expects, and she shatters.

As she comes down, she sees that his expression has turned to something worse, scared and worried and unable to speak. He’s still hard inside her, at least, but he is motionless and cold and she doesn’t-

“Did I hurt you?”

Nina laughs. She shouldn’t, this is a legitimately valid question, but-

“No. What you just did felt amazing. Your turn.”

She resumes rolling her hips against his to indicate the conversation is over and she does not want to explain herself, and a few clenches of her inner walls later he spills inside her. It’s a beautiful thing to experience, the sudden warmth overlapping with the strangled gasp of surprise and-

“You know this means I have to marry you,” he says when he’s capable of coherent thought. “If there’s any chance…”

She shifts position so their bodies are no longer connected. “No. It doesn’t.”

“But I…”

“We’re too different,” she murmurs. “You know that. There’s nowhere safe. If anything… if the worst happens, I’ll lie.”

“Honor is honor. If there is even a chance-“

And oh, for a moment she wants it too. For a moment, she lets herself think about the impossibility of being all that she could be, both Grisha and wife, not forced to choose between her complexities. Unrealistic, she knows, a flighty daydream at best but she wants all the same.

“Nothing to worry about. My last cycle finished three days before your people tried to kill me, so… right now I can’t get pregnant.”

“Still. If it happened… I would stand by you.”

She kisses his face, covers the angles of him in wet kisses. “Good to know.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “Autograph.”

Wrote this between sporadic bouts of studying because I have the attention span of a flea and the motivation of a blob fish. So This is for those of you asking about what happened after “Movie Star.” 

He watched his shuttle hit altitude and then vanish into a pristine blue sky. The roaring of the engines faded away until there was nothing but the distant thunder of jet engines, so much quieter in comparison to the wild screaming of the spacefaring craft headed on her way back to the Harbinger, and a crew that would be captained by his second in command. It hurt him to think that someone else would be captaining his ship, that she'd be in deep space without him.

He wondered if this is what it felt like for a parent to leave their child for the first time.

It all just made his heart ache, and he had the sudden desire to call and make sure she hadn’t spontaneously combusted as soon as he had entered that shuttle leaving her on the docking port moonside.

“Yep, she totally exploded, the entire crew is dead and their ashes will forever float through space.” He turned his head to glower at Conn floating at his back and staring up into the sky with a grin.

“Shut the hell up Conn.”

“Make me.”

“Do I need to remind you that the only thing between you and a snapped spine is a gravitational chastity belt.” he snarled 

Conn adjusted the gravity field harness around his narrow-protruding hips, “Speaking of chastity belts-”

He held up a hand, “NO-no I am stopping that line of conversation right there.”

A gentle hand rested on one of his shoulders, and he turned to find Sunny standing over him her head tilted slightly to one side. The expression she had on was almost comical for an alien without human facial structures, “They’ll be fine.” Then she slapped him on the back making him stagger forward, “Now stop frowning, You should be excited.”

He straightened himself out adjusting his jacket.

To his side, Krill sighed and looked up at the sky with an almost longing expression.

“What’s your problem?” Sunny wondered 

The Vrul sighed, “The amount of time I spend on a class A death planet is really making me question my sanity.”

“You’re only now beginning to question your sanity?” Adam wondered wryly as he looked around the tarmac. Aside from a couple of baggage carriers, and people in bright orange vests, there was no one here, and no way to tell where they were supposed to go.

“Ha ha, funny ...Where are we going?”

“Guess we sort of just head towards the terminal?” He glanced towards the taxiways between them and the terminal and shook his head. That didn’t seem likely, but also…. There was no one here, “Or not…. I would expect at least someone to be here.”

Sunny crossed her arms in annoyance, “Seems kind of rude they would ask you to come and then just…. Leave you.” 

His eyes scanned over the tarmac once more, baggage carts, buggies, distant buses, a fancy black car, but nothing close by. He adjusted his bag over his shoulder, “May as well walk to those people over there and ask them. I don’t want to get in the way of the planes.”

Adam, followed by his extraterrestrial entourage slowly began heading in that direction. A bus rolled by them going the opposite direction, and the black car from earlier turned onto the same road to roll past. Adam kept walking.

“Commander!..... Commander Vir.” 

The group of them spun in a tight circle turning to face the car, which turned out to be a limousine, the front window rolled down, and a man in a dark suit leaning out.

Adam looked around like there was someone else by that name standing behind him before pointing at himself, “I ur…. Me.”

The man parked the car and stepped out reaching over to open the car door, “Mr. Ellis apologizes that he couldn’t meet you in person, but he hopes that you will find his personal car satisfactory. Adam blinked like a deer in the headlights, “Er… uh… are you sure you’ve got the right person?” He eyed the car.

“You stupid or something?” Conn wondered floating towards the door and vanishing inside the car, much to the driver’s confusion and surprise. He stared after Conn with wide eyes before turning to look at Adam.

“Believe it or not he's actually pretty tame for his species.” The commander sighed stepping forward and thanking the man awkwardly as he slid inside.

He wasn’t entirely sure if satisfaction was the word he’d use to describe how he felt. Everything, and he meant everything was extravagant and eccentric to the extreme. Crystal glasses, with the appropriate liquor, adjustable colored lights, heated seats in a fabric he couldn’t even name, the absolute definition of leg-room so that even Sunny was comfortable. There was a TV just above the far end turned to the news, a snack bar, a sun roof. He folded his hands in his lap afraid to touch anything for fear of damaging it.

Sunny scooted to sit next to him while Conn and Krill took the other side. 

Conn leaned back in his seat, “Not bad.”

“You would say that.” Adam muttered leaning a little closer to Sunny hands pinned between his knees so as not to touch anything.

Sunny had no such qualms sprawling out like she owned the place head resting back onto a fluffy set of cushions just before the window, “Now this, I could get used to.”

Adam disagreed, there was no way that he would ever be able to get used to something like this. In fact, at this moment he was wondering what he was even doing here, hanging out in famous people’s fancy cars with private drivers. He wasn’t special enough for something like that. In fact, he was a soldier, that was it, and arguably not even a very good one. He was just some lucky son of a bitch who had alien friends and a spaceship somehow by coincidence.

He should have been happy, but felt himself wilt internally as he looked around the car at all the fancy things.

Conn watched him from across the car but said nothing.

Unfortunately for him, Sunny caught the tension glancing between him and Conn. 

The were rolling out of the LAX tarmac as she spoke, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Adam interjected over Conn, who continued to speak through Adam.

“Boo hoo, oh woe is me, I’m not special enough enough to be here, I am just an average guy who's not even actually good at anything wa ... was.”

Adam snarled at Conn, “get the hell out of my head Conn.”

“You can’t just leave your mind dangling open for all your thoughts to flop out.”

“Thanks for phrasing the analogy that way Conn, I appreciate it.” he leaned back in his seat arms now crossed, “And yeah, I feel a bit out of place. I should be back up with my men doing something useful but here I am being treated all special by people who barely even know me. If they really did they wouldn’t be half as interesting. If they knew how half the stuff I did was pure dumb luck, or how i spend most of the scared out of my mind. How I’m not some kind of badass.” Sunny hummed deep in her chest, “Yes, the story of the man whose dumb lluck led him to being the most important human in the galaxy is totally boring. Yawn, I am falling asleep already.”

“You don’t even yawn.”

“Why do you think I said yawn instead of actually yawning then?” 

He growled, “My point is, I just feel out of place.”

“Welcome to being a celebrity Adam. Having dumb luck that put you in a position for people to look up to you. You think these people got here because they are ACTUALLY special. No, they got here because their parents were famous, or because they got into good acting schools when they were kids, or because they knew a guy. All of these people got lucky, aren’t actually special, and there are plenty of people out there more talented than they are, but at this point they are so famous no one cares anymore.”

Adam sat in silence contemplating the thought, “II mean…. When you put it like that.”

“You know it's because I am always right.” Sunny said smugly.

He turned his head towards the window watching the city pass by below them. LA was the largest and one of the most ancient cities on the continent. Of course it spoke nothing of a city like Rome or London, but it was still pretty impressive. The entire place was so shiny and white mixed with delicate greenery all built on the bones of the slums. Not only was LA one of the oldest cities on the continent it was also one of the richest. The further they went the nicer the already nice buildings got reaching towards the sky all shiny and white.

Massive mansions dominated the distance with high gates and private shuttle pads. 

The sky above them was dominated by flying cars, private shuttles, and the occasional jet. One mansion they passed by was so big, it seemed  as if the front facade went on for almost a mile intertwined with many decorative fountains and trimmed hedges upkeep exclusively by robots.

They turned down another street heading into the city with expensive outlet malls and large flashy brand names that probably cost as much as the warp core used to power his ship. He was both parts intimidated and stunned leaning towards the window to stare at all the strange people that walked the sidewalks.

He turned his head following a very excessively dressed man in a tailored ball gown that took up most of the sidewalk.

Where he grew up in the suburbs, there had been people who dressed according to plenty of other time periods, but the trend had been early 2000s mostly thanks to his mother who performed the modest almost utilitarian style of their clothing plus they had never been rich enough to afford new fashion. Jeans were cheap, easy to make, a staple of the poor masses. Not that they had been poor poor per say, after the war his father worked as a farmhand for Megafarm producing millions of pounds of produce, while his mother had quit teaching to pursue business in talor-making period accurate clothing for those who were into that sort of thing. As a result, his family had been middle middle class.

But this…. This was for the 1%. A place he had never even dreamed of seeing.

He looked down at himself again, shabby jeans, black T-shirt and a hand me down leather jacket from his older brother David, which had seen better days.

He sunk down in his seat.

They took another corner and pulled up to the gate. He craned his neck to look out the window glancing up to the large sign hanging over the gate which read.

HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS.

Named for the ancient strip of land which produced many of the early movies when film was in its infancy. Once famous for the land and the people who lived there, it was now famous for being the highest grossing film studio EVER. A powerhouse of film that practically monopolized the world of action. While a lot of people demonized the studio for being a monopoly on film, Adam could see why.

They made some good shit.

The gate buzzed open and they were driven inside. He HAD to get a better look rolling open the skylight and standing to look out the top of the car. Hundreds of people dressed in costumes, carrying props, cameras, equipment. Mouth open like an idiot he stared through open warehouse doors and onto virtual projected sets on which actors stood in full costume, or in motion capture suits. Camera men walked around in massive exoskeletons controlling up to ten cameras at once.

A dog trotted past with a handler, a dog that Vir recognized from plenty of movies in which she had starred tail wagging tongue lolling. He dropped back inside the car with wide eyes staring at Sunny who was also looking out the window with wide eyes.

The car came to a stop towards the end of the strip, but then picked up again rolling into one of the giant warehouses and pulling to  a stop. The engine cut, and the doors opened. He stepped out thanking the Driver.

“Commander Vir! Just who I wanted to see!” He turned just in time to catch Director Ellis, or more like be blinded by him, as he skipped up wearing his strange sequin suit and cat-eye glasses. Instead of going for the handshake the man grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, “It’s so exciting to finally have you here. You will be so excited to see what we have done. Just like you said, being as accurate as possible’ it's been a real challenge, but I assure you, you will be so proud. We have done so much research, and I have talked to experts everywhere” 

A mousy little woman scuttled after him holding two cups of coffee looking frazzled and exhausted as she tried to keep up with her boss.

Members of the crew looked up from where they were standing and a few exclamations of awe went up, and he couldn’t blame them, aliens were pretty cool. Despite Conn being a total asshole, he cut an impressive figure of billowing white ribbon and slow ethereal movement.

The man pulled back eyes widening at Conn, “You will be an absolute bitch to animate,”

“Match his personality.” Sunny quipped stepping out of the car.

She was greeted excessively by the director as well as Krill.

A sizable crowd had gathered, and Adam stepped back intending to allow his non-human friends the attention they deserved.

That’s not exactly what ended up happening. Stepping out of the circle he heard a shriek that made him nearly leap out of his skin. He turned to find a young woman with large glasses wearing a grey suit and pencil skirt. There was a pile of papers and a clipboard on the ground at her feet like she had dropped them.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him mouth open.

“Er…… are you ok?” He ventured leaning down to pick up her papers.

When he stood back up she was still frozen her eyes wide. He offered her papers back.

That broke her from her frozen state but beginning with her hands which started to shake frantically in front of her. The shaking grew wider and wider, her expression grew more excited and she began to leap up and down squealing, “No way, no way…. No way no way no way.” That devolved  until she was simply squealing with excitement. 

Adam stepped back in shock and confusion, “It’s really you I can't believe it!”

She rushed forward arms out then paused, “Can I?” Her expression was so innocent and excited, her eyes so wide that he didn’t know how to respond.

“Er ...sure.”

She nearly broke his back wrapping her arms around him and squealing in delight again knocking her glasses askew. He grunted as the breath was crushed from his lungs. Despite being tiny she was surprisingly strong, and he felt his feet lightening upon the ground hands held out to the side still clutching her clipboard.

She stepped back after a moment with a big smile, her glasses canted at an awkward angle, “Can i get a picture with you.” She begged 

He glanced over his shoulder still not convinced that she hadn’t mistaken him for someone, “Um, Are you sure. I Maybe you have the wrong person.”

She shook her head vigorously giggling, “No, I’d know you anywhere. Commander Vir, the first man to meet sentient life, participated in the Drev war, commanding the first fleet of interstellar ships. You are my HERO.” She looked at him with eyes so wide, so innocent and starstruck that he hardly knew what to say.

He wondered if maybe he was dreaming.

“Picture?” She pleaded

“Um ... uh yeah, sure I guess.” She squealed again this time causing him to drop her clipboard as she grabbed him by the arm pulled him in and whipped out her phone snapping at least ten pictures of them before letting him go. “Mr. Vir it is such an honor.” She was saying, “I’ve read everything about you, all the declassified transmissions. Like that time you saved an alien race from extinction, or that time you ran a marathon on a A-1 death planet, or or like the three times you've saved entire planets.”

“Oh I…. really?”

She nodded, “Yes, Mr. Vir.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “You can just call me Adam.”

He was nearly defined in the next moment as she shrieked again and hugged him.

“What’s your name?”

She put her hands over her mouth eyes wide, “S-samantha, but- but my friends call me Sammy…..You can call me Sammy.” He blinked in confused surprise and a bit of self consciousness feeling himself go a bit red.

 She may have been star struck, but he was sort of struck by her being star struck. This had to be some sort of dream, even more confusing when he realized the circle of people he assumed had been there for his alien companions had ll circled themselves around him. 

Men and women, stage crew, and actors in motion capture suits gathered around wide eyed and smiling.

He spun in a slight circle staring around at all the faces.

A man stepped from the crowd, a young guy in a motion capture suit. He held out a hand, “Commander, Ezra Hemming. I Well I guess I’m the stunt double for…. For your stunt double? Keith Jenning.” 

“So? You’ll be doing all the legwork?”

The young man blushed.” I guess you could say that.” 

Did he seriously seem nervous? It seemed so strange, and all these people were looking at him, approaching him, wanting to talk to him. It was insane, he shook so many hands learned so many names in such a short amount of time. At some point there was a hydraulic hiss, and the crowd around him parted.

A woman walked towards them elevated on a set of robotic stilt legs, wearing a motion capture suit, and an exoskeleton that gave her an extra set of arms. Vir felt his mouth drop open. Rita Ortiz… the penultimate action hero casting choice, and someone he had a boyish crush on for…. Well a couple of years now. 

In her exo suit, she was as tall as sunny, which he assumed was the point, “Commander.” She said politely.

“Ms. Ortiz…. Er…. Can I….. get your autograph.” He stammered out feeling stupid almost immediatly, but to his surprse she broke into a wide smile.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Make it a deal and trade mine for yours.”

He choked with a rather sporadic laugh not believing her in the slightest.

Some of the crowd finally noticed his alien friends and Ms. Ortiz seemed especially interested in sunny, for obvious reasons. The two stepped up to each other examining the other with a critical eye.

Sunny seemed pleased.

Samantha lurked next to him, and he had a feeling she was trying to be discreet, but it wasn’t working. He was still wigging out about this hardly able to believe it. At some point, someone grabbed him and dragged him towards the director's chair where Ellis was was talking to some of the writers.

He turned in his chair, “Adam…. May I call you Adam, Good, the writers and I were just going over the script, and well we have run into a few snags. You gave us a pretty detailed explanation on some of the things that happened, but this part right here, the part where you lose your leg….. It's very vague.”

Adam shuffled his feet awkwardly glancing over to where Sunny was showing the actress how to more properly move like a Drev. A few of the VFX people were there as well examining her armor, its color and debating how best to reproduce that in post. 

“Well I….. It was taken off during the Drev war.”

“I mean, yeah we got that, and not to push but…. Unless you want us to cut that part out.”

He glanced again towards Sunny.

“I…. its hard to talk about.”

A hand on his shoulder, “I understand, I quite understand….”

He mulled it over for a minute while the writers were talking heart hammering in his chest. He had never told Sunny…. Never really explained about his post traumatic stress related to that incident. Never really mentioned how long it took him to trust her, and he never would. 

He'd never fess up to the nightmares.

Because he didn’t want them to matter anymore.

“I can’t explain it to you but…. I can show you.” The group of them turned almost surprised, and he was honestly surprised at himself too. What he was about to do…. It was a bigger deal than any of them might assume.

“Sunny!” he turned, and the bright blue alien trotted over humming happily the way that Drev did. She seemed so happy, nothing like the creature in his dreams, his friend, his best friend.

“Yes?”

“I…. Well I need to show them how I lost my leg, hard to explain, so I thought we might show them.”

He watched Sunny carefully, and was probably the only one who noticed the slight wilt in her shoulders. The guilt flashing in her gold eyes…. Of course the thing in his dreams would never have felt that way, “Oh ... are you sure.”

He cleared his throat waving it off, “Of course, here.” he stepped forward motioning around the room, “I remember the rocks being sort of like this. There was a shallow sort of bowl like a pocket and some rocks here. There were actually a Tesraki and a rundi soldier right there, and I was over here.”

The crew, following his words began moving around the greenscreen landscape creating the sort of space that he was talking about.

“Now I had one of those older models M-23s pieces of shit, and a knife.” He reached out for the prop weapon offered to him, “And the drev had a spear.” He glanced towards Sunny, who was looking very, very uncomfortable, but someone handed her the prop spear. She looked down at it and swivel it in her hand like the thing was an extension of her body.

She didn’t seem particularly satisfied but didn’t say anything. He moved up onto the fake terrain, and she did the same looking over at him with concern. It was almost as if she knew that even though he had never bothered to tell her. 

He came up one side of the set while she came up the other; she had the spear held out ready, and he had the gun up. Of course, he dropped it on it’s sling when it supposedly overheated, 

He remembered this like it had been yesterday, how the rock had felt under his feet, the panic he had felt for the two defenseless soldiers she was stalking. He remembered panicking when the gun malfunctioned, he remembered how he wasn’t thinking straight. He remembered making the decision that cost him his leg.

He didn’t bother trying to go easy on her, catching her around the neck and raising his hand with the collapsable knife.

The world began to spin, and before his eyes he saw the ash and fire.

He heard the gunfire felt his body moving as it once had. Saw the dark shadow, heard the screaming and felt the hot air over his body. He remembered the knife biting into her skin. He remembered being thrown to the ground.

Set lights flashed around him as he slammed into the floor, padded but still painful as he rolled to the side. Sunny’s foot came down right next to his head as he rolled to the side cutting at her heels.

The creature reached down to grab him, but he rolled to his feet cutting at the hand.

He remembered the sweat trickling down his body from the great heat of the volcanoes. He remembered how the ash had coated the stone making things strangely slippery. He remembered the poorly equipped gear and the oversized shoes.

He remembered slipping backwards landing hard on his back as the spear cut downwards.

He remembered bone cracking and flesh splitting in half.

He braced for pain but none came. The fire died, the ash vanished, and he found himself on the ground hands over his face, a spear tip lightly grazing the outer carapace of his prosthetic leg. Sunny stood over him spear held in one of her lower arms. Though her posture was ready for a fight, her eyes….. So much more expressive than that of the creature he remembered from his vision, looked at him in worry and something that looked like pain.

He lay on the ground looking up at her, at her mercy, just like he had been on that day.

And he knew she wouldn’t hurt him.

She withdrew the spear and stepped back offering one hand to him. 

He didn’t hesitate to take it, and she hauled him to his feet.

Together, they turned to look at the spectators who were looking on in awe,and shock.

Quietly sunny began, “Our orders were to remove their limbs…. In our culture Disability IS death. We thought that simply removing their limbs would stop them…. We were wrong.”

Adam tried to keep his voice light, “I don't remember much, but I crawled about ….50 feet down that hill before someone managed to find me and stabilize me. The leg was completely gone, no hope of reattaching something that’s just gone.”

“That was….. Intense.” Ellis finally cut in, “We should have had some cameras rolling dammit. Can we recreate that!” He began ordering his men around, and for a moment, the two of them were forgotten in the crowd. He stood there quietly noticing on the instant as two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around him. Enveloping him in an armored hug that almost completely encased him…. Safe.

A voice at his ear.

“Don’t EVER make me do that again.”

He placed a hand over hers, “Never, I promise.” 

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

A Different Medium: Characters and Stories in Movies vs. TV

There’s more to the differences between film and television besides the size of the screen.

When it comes to making a television show versus making a movie, there’s a lot that has to be done differently.  Obviously there’s a smaller budget and the possibility of being cancelled, but there’s more to it than that.  Everything from plots and characters to special effects and casting has to be done differently to be successful on a smaller screen.

Which makes sense.

Now, this can lead to the misconception that television is, in some way, inferior to film, which isn’t the case at all.  Like I said earlier, it’s just different.

So, if you haven’t guessed, today’s article is going to be discussing the dissimilarities between the mediums, both in storytelling aspects and in format.  So, without further ado, let’s take a look.

There are two main differences between film and television that affect how they are made.  The first is time.  

See, a television series has a longer overall period of time to make an impact on the audience, but only twenty to forty five minutes to do it.  On the other hand, a film has around two hours to tell its story, but it’s only done once.  While at first it might seem like television might be just ‘compressed’ movies, as it turns out, this time constraint totally changes the way either piece of media is made in the first place.

For example, when it comes to developing memorable characters or pieces of dialogue, the way to do it is totally different for each medium.

When a television character uses an iconic phrase or wears an iconic piece of clothing, they have multiple seasons to solidify that in people’s memories.  Columbo wears a trench coat, Thomas Magnum wears Hawaiian shirts, Captain Picard says ‘make it so’.  But a movie?

A movie has (usually) one chance to make it stick in people’s minds, so they use a different approach.  They make their character stand out a little more, or connect them to the story they’re in.

Indiana Jones wears a fedora and carries a bullwhip, which are both displayed prominently in scenes relevant to the plot.  The phrase ‘I feel the need, the need for speed’ is memorable for its connection to the setting in Top Gun. In short, movies tend to be more situational with their iconography.  Spock always says ‘live long and prosper’, but the Terminator only says ‘hasta la vista, baby’ a few times, on memorable occasions.  When it comes to making a movie character memorable, all it takes is keeping what makes them iconic inseparable from the story.

The problem is, that can be hard.  It does seem like writing a story for a movie is much harder than writing for a television series.  After all, what can twenty to forty-five minutes tell that a full length movie cannot?

Once again, the difference is time.  You can’t force a two hour story into a forty-five minute episode, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell meaningful stories, it just means they have to be done differently.  Just as television is a smaller screen, so are television stories on a smaller scale.

See, in film, you have a bigger budget, more room to tell the story. You can explore more, usually with more characters.  In Return of the Jedi, you get to watch the Battle of Endor, the Battle of the Second Death Star, and the fight between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.  These are all major conflicts, determining the fate of the galaxy, and you feel that urgency for the world’s sake, not just the characters’ sakes.  The conflict feels larger than life, affecting everything.

By contrast, the conflicts in stories on television are, if not smaller, seem smaller.  They follow a specific group of people that the audience knows well, and even if the ‘problem’ is global, the action is very personal.  The Borg are going to destroy the Federation, but the audience is gripped with the crushing thought of Jean-Luc Picard, devoid of humanity.  Without more time to develop a story, the focus is on the characters and their reactions to the events, affecting the audience as much as a film would.

The thing is, television, at its heart, tends to be character driven. Not many people return to television shows again and again because they really enjoy the stories.  For many people, it’s the characters.  Buffy Summers, Data, Jessica Fletcher, Thomas Magnum, The Doctor, Mulder and Scully, The Fonz, etc.  We care about these people, and come back to see them again and again because we enjoy getting to know them.  As the seasons pass on television, we can see characters grow and change gradually in ways that most movie characters don’t. The better the connection, the more intense the emotion.

Once again, this doesn’t make one better than the other.  Without the benefit of time, movie characters usually do most of their growing and changing in the span of the two hours of film. Han Solo grows from a selfish smuggler to Rebellion hero in one film.  Ellen Ripley goes from traumatized survivor to action hero in Aliens.  Phil Connors begins Groundhog Day as a self-centered jerk and ends it as a more compassionate, empathetic person.  The only difference between these characters and characters on television are that the growth happens much faster.

The second difference between movies and television is that television tends to be more episodic.

In film, you have a consistent villain, a consistent hero, a constant conflict, a constant story.  Once the conflict is over, the story ends, it’s over.  On television, it’s a little different.

On television, your hero is consistent, facing new villains every week. Every episode, the conflict starts over; no progress is made.  Every week, Jessica Fletcher will take down another murderer.  The A-Team will build, shoot, and punch their way through this week’s villain.  The Addams Family will accidently alarm another ‘normal’ neighbor.  The characters don’t change, and, more importantly, neither does the status quo.

In a movie, a story can escalate.  Characters change and grow to fit the new circumstances, but television characters usually don’t.  They learn the same lessons over and over again, the villains rarely stick around long enough to make a lasting impression on the characters.  Until the late ‘80s, there was little continuity and characters didn’t really develop.  You got to know them better, sure, but they never grew as people.  On one hand, this prevents from alienating audiences and makes it easier on writers who don’t have to develop a character for five years or more.  On the other hand, it can become tiresome to watch characters go through the same processes repeatedly with no lasting repercussions.  True, things did change with the release of Star Trek: The Next Generation, followed by shows like The X-Files and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where characters did change and were drastically affected by events within the show (a lot of that having to do with recurring villains and plotlines).

Even so, television is more self-contained, more restricted due to time constraints, without more room to grow and explore.  Film can do more on a larger scale, and do it faster.  So, which is better?

Honestly?  It’s all down to personal preference and individual cases.  Some people like Luke Skywalker better than Mr. Spock.  Others don’t.

Movies and television are very different.  They have to tell stories in separate ways, thanks to time constraints, but one is not better than the other.  Both mediums stick with people, both have characters and stories that we remember and enjoy, with different focuses.  They’re meant to tell different tales in a different way, both being equally capable of giving us memorable characters and stories that affect us and move us.  There’s no battle between them as to which is better, just as there is no decision whether comic books are better than novels.  They are two different mediums designed to give us different, but equally good, stories.

Tune in next time where we’ll begin taking a look at one of the most beloved television shows of all time: Murder, She Wrote.  Thanks so much for reading!  If you have a thought you’d like to share, please drop an ask to express it!  I hope to see you in the next article.

[prorevenge]

Got my nightmare professor fired, might've indirectly gotten him deported too

Before this tale even begins, this is obviously a throwaway account. This is a big bitch of a story spanning two semesters, so I'm putting the tealdeer at the beginning and at the end for those who are short on time.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

Last semester, I enrolled in an introductory French course at my university. This was to learn at least a little bit of French so that I could read French papers about French filmmaking techniques since I'm a pretty hardcore film student and I really love film as an art form. Plus, I needed some gen ed credit for my degree, so it made sense to take the course.

I went to the first lecture kind of dreading the course. I was in 19 credit hours, which is taking six classes in a single semester, and the class was 4 credit hours, meaning we met four days out of the week, every week. Very overwhelming schedule, indeed. Needless to say, I didn't work a single job that semester.

The professor, who will be referred to as Baguette because it's one of the few French words I actually know, began to go through the syllabus and I watched as the excitement that is usually present in students on the first day slowly left everyone's faces. Before I explain why, I have to address that this is the most basic French class that the university I go to offers and is really meant for people who never took a lick of French in high school. Like me.

Baguette announced that not only would he be teaching the entire class in fluent French with no English whatsoever, he wouldn't be answering questions in English at all, and if you asked him a question in French but got even a word or a conjugation wrong, he wouldn't answer you either. Attendance was mandatory as well, and you could only miss 4 class periods before he started dropping letter grades. Now, this attendance policy is unfair bullshit because we met for class just under 60 times that semester, meaning you would fail the course if you missed 8 class periods, which is only about 7% of the total course. I was looking around the class and people looked like they couldn't drop this class fast enough.

Then, he announced that not only would we not be using a physical book, we'd be using a free website online, a site called Francais Interactif. Now, this got some excitement back in the air. Textbook prices suck, and anything to lower the cost of education for students is great. You can even use the site yourself to practice your French skills, if you want. It's open source, knock yourself out.

That said, the site isn't meant to replace a textbook. There's a free workbook and audio files to help with aural comprehension on it, and that helped me and some of the other students pass some of the exams, but the site's equivalent to the part of a textbook that actually teaches you the material is extremely lacking, sometimes only having a couple of paragraphs about a really important concept in the language. In short, it gives you a ton of ways to practice concepts but almost no ways to learn them in the first place.

This would have been totally fine if Baguette would have explained things better in his lectures. But, as you'll recall, he gave them entirely in French, and in fast fluent French. So, picture this; you have to sit through four classes a week that you understand literally nothing of for an hour at a time while the professor rambles on in a language that you don't understand but are desperately trying to learn, and on top of all that, you can't even ask him any questions in English because he won't answer you and you can't ask him any questions in French either, because you don't know how to do that properly yet, and you won't for 3/4ths of the semester, because the unit that covers question words and phrases was arbitrarily put a few weeks after midterms, and on top of all that, you can't even really do your homework or study for exams because you have no fucking idea what any of this nasally shit means. Naturally, we, as a class, slowly started to get more and more frustrated as time went on. A few of us decided to band together and be friends and study partners to weather the storm. I'll call the important ones to the story R and S.

S was a foreign exchange student from Spain who spoke perfect Spanish and was taking the class to learn French for when she goes back to Europe. Now, we dug into what all other classes Baguette taught and found out that he taught Spanish, too. Perfect. We found a loophole. We could ask S a question in English, and she could ask him in Spanish, since it wasn't asking him in English, and he could answer in Spanish and she could translate that back to us in English. Now, you might be saying to yourself that this a fucking stupid and no self respecting educator should teach in this broken, shitty, ass-backwards way. You're right.

This worked for a bit, but he started answering S's Spanish questions in French to combat our little exploit of the rules. We were defeated and back to square one. We needed to devise a new plan, because most of us were failing at this point and we were stressed beyond belief.

R, a frat lad, and I, decidedly not a frat lad, became unlikely friends. He was a pretty naive kid, and he was a hardcore drinker. It visibly took a toll on him. He had a beer gut at 22 and addiction kind of mentally hollowed him out and made him flippant and emotional. The guy was super easy to piss off and he overreacted to everything. I felt bad for the guy and even outside of the struggle in class, I tried my best to be there for him. We were talking one day and we decided to meet up at the library and just theorize ways to crack the class to get at least a 60.

At the library, R was playing around on Francais Interactif trying to find the videos the professor would use for the aural part of the exam (basically, you'd listen to the video and copy down whatever the person was saying for credit. problem was, it was hard as shit and it was easily the part of the exams that took the biggest chunk out of the class's grade). He couldn't find them on the site anywhere and he got frustrated and gave up, so he started filling in the slots where you put answers on the homework pages of Francais Interactif with random words.

That's when we realized that when you do this, the site gives you the right answer regardless, no matter how wrong you are. Essentially, we now had access to the entire course's answers for the homework section and all we had to do was put one character into the answer boxes and, since all we had to do for the homework assignments was copy and paste our answers into a Word document and submit them online, we could theoretically do all the homework while knowing zero material whatsoever if we just changed the answers in Word. We sat for about 45 minutes and did the rest of the homework for the entire course this way in one sitting.

We agreed to not turn it all in at once so we couldn't get caught and we agreed to keep our mouths shut and only share this with people who wouldn't rat on us. Obviously, we told S.

One of the things I'll never forget about that first French class was that, during the final, one of the students started to quietly weep. Then, the weeping got louder, then louder still. The student was clutching his head in his hands and you could feel the palpable impotent frustration at his inability to do French correctly. After I finished the final, I saw him outside the class staring out a window in the hall. I asked if he was alright and what he was crying about and he told me he couldn't answer even the most basic questions asking for words for things like left and right and up and down and that was thing that finally broke him. That got to me, man.

Most of the kids failed the course, even some of the ones who used the homework exploit. R and S passed with a D and I passed with a C, surprisingly. The professor actually liked me, for some reason, and graded my exams a bit more fairly. Even still, I'm an A/B student, one in the Honor's Program at my university, so a C kind of stung my GPA. But, seeing as more than half the class failed, I counted my lucky stars that I got off easy.

I went to enroll in my classes for the next semester, and I had completely forgot that I still had to take another French class for my degree. I checked the class list and the second class you're supposed to take in the progression was only taught by Baguette. No other professor taught Beginning French II, apparently. This struck me as kind of odd, so I checked the rest of the French classes that were available. All of them, all 6 courses in the French department, were taught by Baguette. He was the only fucking teacher the department had. My stomach dropped as I realized I had locked myself into yet another class taught by the worst professor I've ever had, to this day.

This is class where the revenge begins, and I'm sorry if that preamble was too long, but I had to give context as to how horrible Baguette was. Even still, I'm frankly not doing him justice. His class was an artful trainwreck of incompetence, in the slowest slow motion available over nearly 60 class periods. And I had to do it again, only this time with harder material.

I had been keeping up with R and S over the winter break and S was going back to Spain, so she wouldn't be in the next class with me. But, I got R to enroll in the same section of Beginning French II as me.

Baguette passed out the syllabus to Beginning French II and it was the exact same as French I, down to us using Francais Interactif again, just in the higher chapters instead of the basic chapters. Now, here's the thing about learning a foreign language; you have to build from the basics, or else none of the other stuff makes sense. None of us in that class, not one person, knew any of the material past maybe Chapter 3. Most of us didn't even know how to ask questions. I did, so I asked questions for people who didn't, since S wasn't there.

Well, if you thought we bumbled through the basic material, no harder bumbling took place then when we started on things that have no direct English translation like y and en. When he asked students questions in this class, they'd just kind of look at him dumbfounded and shrug.

We got a study guide for our first exam and I was going to study my ass off so that I could get a better grade than a C. Besides a brief stint with depression my first semester that made me not be able to go to classes and fail one of my courses, a C was the lowest grade I had gotten at university. I must've studied for twenty hours over the course of a week before the exam. I hadn't even put that much effort into classes for my major. I got into class on the day of the exam, and nothing that I had spent all that time studying was on it. I bombed that test spectacularly, getting a 30%.

At this point, I was pretty much done. I was willing to go to my professor's office hours and ask him how I was supposed to study for his exams effectively, and his response is what began my quest to get revenge on him. He told me to watch YouTube videos. I don't know what it was about this that got me so pissed, but I was fired up.

But, that wasn't all that drove me to take the revenge I took on this fucker. No, what drove me to go after this guy was R calling me up crying after getting his exam back. He did worse than I did. He got a 15%. He kept repeating through sobs that he just wanted to be a good student and that he didn't want to disappoint his mom again. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried at this. I thought back to that kid in French I after the final, about my peers and about R and something inside me snapped. I was going to get this guy fired and peacefully do anything else I could to ruin this guy's life one way or another, and R was going to be my Right Hand Man.

We met at his dorm and started brainstorming. It was about halfway through the semester, after our midterms. We both had a job, a significant other, extracurricular activities and I was taking 19 hours again this semester. We were going to need time on our side, a commodity that neither of us had, and we were going to need it quickly. We knew that the professor was going to be gone for a week at a conference right after spring break, so there was a two week window there. But, even still, we needed more time for what we started planning to do. I faked a doctor's note for two weeks absence and R agreed to use all four of his absences to meet at the same time French was supposed to occur and plan our peaceful academic coup.

Now, I knew I was eventually going to get caught from word go. But, I was so confident that I could get this guy fired before I would have a disciplinary hearing that I took the gamble, and Baguette took the bait. He excused me for two whole weeks.

So, you're probably wondering what we actually did. Well, the reason we needed so much time is that we needed time to both conduct interviews from the class as well as collect data on scores. We got a total of thirteen out of the seventeen students to make a statement about Baguette's performance in his Beginning French II class and all of them were negative. This was just in one section of the course.

Then, we asked if we could have their exam scores so that we could have some hard data to nail this guy with. All but two complied. We did some quick maths, and determined that more than half the class failed the exams, with most scoring between 30 and 50.

But, as it turns out, we didn't even need the exam scores given to us. We figured out that the online grade database site that our school uses so students can monitor their grades without asking their profs has a built in feature that shows the class average of every assignment that's put into the gradebook. Not a single assignment had a class average above a 50 except for the homework, which had a class average of around 80, no doubt thanks to the stupid exploit in the website.

Sure enough, I got tagged with a notice that I broke the discipline code of the university because obvious shop is obvious. But, it didn't matter. I had everything I needed to go to the Foreign Language department chair and sort this shit out. So, I did.

I showed the department chair all the data, let him listen to the audio from the student testimonies as well as gave my own testimony on the course. After showing him all this, he was dumbfounded. Not only did the chair not know that Baguette was a shitty teacher, almost nobody did course evaluations for French I, so he thought that Baguette was doing a decent job. He took all my evidence and gave it to the dean of arts and sciences and a couple weeks later, I get an email saying that Baguette was Bag-gone and that I was going to be withdrawn from the course along with everyone else who would've likely failed. Those who would've passed got to get a Credit Received grade without having to take the final. He got fired one semester before he qualified for his tenure.

But, that's not the juiciest fucking morsel of this tale. You're probably wondering how he got deported and how I found out that he got deported because of his firing. Well, after my disciplinary hearing got thrown out because the complainant was no longer affiliated with the university, I got more than I bargained for.

During his lectures, one of the few times he spoke English was after he introduced the syllabus on the first day. He had everyone introduce themselves and he started the exercise by introducing himself. Well, in his introduction, I remember him saying something about him being an immigrant from Venezuela. I live in the States (Etats-Unis for you Bonjour Bois), and some of you might know that we have pretty strict visa policies.

Well, R is pretty conservative. After our work got Baguette fired, we celebrated by getting some beer and shooting the shit. We talked about random aspects of the course and the fact that he was an immigrant got brought up. Apparently, R didn't know this and he was pretty upset about it. I tried to calm him down, but he went on a rant that I tried to politely nod along to while tuning out since I'm not really about that. I didn't think anything of it until a couple of days later.

He called me up and told me that he tipped Baguette off to a certain immigration agency for a "visa check" (his words, not mine) and that now all we had to do was wait. I was shocked. I didn't think this would go this far. I feigned that I was pleased with this but in reality, I was kinda bummed. Since he was probably here on an academic visa since he was a professor, he probably is going back home to Venezuela. I am glad, though, that he won't be teaching any more of my fellow students at my uni, because I wouldn't wish his classes on anyone.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

edit: formatting

(source) story by (/u/ouiouirevenge)

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 13 - Come Sunday

I was in the back of an Uber on my way to the label when it came on the radio. I wasn’t really paying attention--more just mindlessly scrolling on my phone--when I heard words that sounded eerily familiar.

Hearing my songs on the radio wasn’t new--I’d grown used to hearing phrases that once felt intimate get cycled in and out of headphones, radios and stereos alike. But my mouth went a bit dry, though, when I realized that not only was this song mine and mine alone, but it was also on Capital FM.

One Direction had made it big, clearly. Their singles were on the most popular radio stations and played in every mall across the world. But my song, with a different artist, and not written with the help of four or five other people, this felt like a different accomplishment entirely.

I didn’t want to ask the driver to turn it up, so instead, I leaned forward and closed my eyes to listen more closely.

In aIl honesty, I hadn’t paid much attention to all of the meetings I’d had with Julian in the week since I’d been back from the States. I had signed on the dotted line like I always had--I’d get X percent, the label would get a different chunk, and a large piece to the artist(s).

I’d met the two girls, Bella & Rae--as they were calling themselves, and they felt like a good fit. They could produce harmonies that sounded chilling and beautiful at the same time, which definitely sounded better than my double tracks on protools.

But I hadn’t really prepared for the song to do this well. The group was new--they’d done some small tours around the U.K., mostly some songs they’d written and some covers. They were popular on the small club scene, and it almost felt safe to give my first solo song to them.

They weren’t huge--if the song was a flop, if they were a flop, no one would have to know.

Hearing the song I’d written on my couch about Harry over the speakers in my Uber felt as if people would know. Suddenly, what was once a private moment of uncertainty and heartache was suddenly public, accessible, and on the radio.

When the Uber pulled up to the label, I was surprised to see Julian waiting outside. I reached for the backpack I was bringing my computer in and gave him a wave as I climbed out.

“Hi,” I said, offering a smile as he stepped forward on the sidewalk to greet me. People rushed around us--it was a Friday afternoon, and the building we were heading into was sure to be buzzing with weekend-ready people.

“Have you seen the charts?” He asked, turning on his heel to join me as we headed for the door.

“For the song?”

“Yeah--Maggie, it’s number four.”

“Number four?” I asked, my mouth hanging for a second before I picked up my own jaw. It’s not like that song wasn’t any good--I mean, it was a good one. For some reason, though, I hadn’t expected my work to be so well received.

Writing for a big name like One Direction--even when they were getting started--provided a bit of a safety net. We knew they had a fan base. Even if they didn’t last long or if they weren’t a mega-success, there’d be a group of people from the X-Factor crowd that would definitely bring things home.

Bella & Rae--on the other hand--had no platform. They had a following of maybe thirty thousand on social media and most of their distribution before the label was through Soundcloud.

And all of that, more or less, meant that my song was making it, on its own, without the help of a big named star.

“I think it’s gonna be number one, Mags. There’s already been booking requests for Bella & Rae. I think they’re going to get an LP deal. They can’t not.”

Julian and I made our way into the lobby, my head still kind of floating from the news and the energy around us. It was a warm day--warmer for Spring, at least, and I couldn’t help but let my mind drift.

Should I ask Julian why he played the song for Harry? Should I ask him what they said about me? Should I ask him about Harry in general?

“But anyway, I’m meeting you out here because Peter Bouchard wants to meet with you. He really likes the song.”

“Peter Bouchard?” His name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t meet with a lot of higher ups, maybe once in a while I’d deal with Mike--the Creative Director who seemed to have a knack for making me want to quit. That was, at least, until I got fired.

“He’s Mike’s boss.”

“Mike’s boss?”

Julian nodded, holding the elevator door open as we stepped inside. “He’s the one who gets to really make the final call about if the girls get an LP--Mike loves it, he’s totally on board.” The doors shut behind us, the elevator dinged to let us know it would fullfil our request to find the 17th floor.

“So why does he want to meet with me?” I asked, shifting my bag from one shoulder to another, suddenly nervous about the possible conversation. I couldn’t handle getting fired again. Twice in the span of twelve months? I’d be forced to move in with my parents just to deal with the emotional turmoil that would ensue.

“Dunno, Maggie, but Mike made it sound like it was good,” he could see the look on my face--the anxiety and the uncertainty that’d be sure to give me early wrinkles.

I didn’t reply. Instead, we stood in silence until the elevator dinged again, it’s doors opening to revolve a much nicer floor than the one with the writing rooms. We stepped off and I followed Julian down a carpeted hall--glass doors peered inside nice offices with dark wood desks and big apple computers.

He finally stopped in front of a door, turning the handle without warning to greet a man that I certainly recognized. He was old enough to be my father--gray hair on top of his head and a smile that seemed to make me only slightly less terrified.

“Maggie, come in, sit down,” he greeted, motioning to a chair opposite his desk. Julian landed in the one beside me, much more comfortable in Peter Bouchard’s presence than I was.

I slid into the seat, offering a small smile as I took inventory of my surroundings. A framed picture of three women--his wife and two daughters, presumably. A shelf of old vinyl lined the wall behind us--Peter was clad in a golf shirt, much less formal than I’d expect for Mike’s boss.

“We’re really glad that the song is having so much success--have you seen any of the numbers?”

I shook my head, looking over to Julian. I’d never seen any numbers for anything. I handed in my work, signed where I needed to, and got decent paychecks via direct deposit. I knew the percent of each song, each download, each album I’d be entitled to. I knew I signed away the rights to my songs when I started working with the label. They’d never really be mine again.

“Here,” Peter said, turning to his computer to open up the internet browser. He clicked open an email, typed in an address, and then shifted the monitor so Julian and I could see. “This is the live number of downloads from BPI. This is streaming numbers, so spotify, iTunes, the like,” he pointed at the screen, his number gracing over tiny zeros that lined up neatly.

“It’s number two now?” Julian asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “Jesus, Mags, even in the last half hour since I saw it it’s changed.”

I couldn’t help but smile--this felt much more personal than anything I’d written for One Direction or even for Harry. I’d written this song alone, it’d been born in my living room and it didn’t have a big name to ride on the coattails of.

Sure, I’d long been of the mindset that it was the writing skills of me and Chelsea and Kyle that really made the band what it had been. Take five good looking kids, slap them with good clothes and good hair, and sure, you’re bound to have some success. But if the music sucked, if the music was the same old simple pop that we’d poured out for the first album, they wouldn’t have lasted the way they did.

But then again, maybe there was a part of me that wondered if that was really true. Because here, in Peter Bouchard’s office, it felt incredibly reassuring to know that I could write good songs--successful songs, really--that did fine enough on their own without the name of the world’s most popular boy band.

“The reason I wanted to meet with you, Maggie, is because we’re interested in buying a back catalog, if you have one.”

If I had one? Of course I had one--of course I had a book of songs and endless iPhone notes of demos with shitty three part harmony done on Garageband on my Mac until I could get into the studio.

“Oh,” I said, letting his words take a second to settle. It was strange--I would have guessed that he’d want to buy a few more, get a little more information about the genre I typically wrote, hear more of my solo work. Instead, he seemed ready to write me a check. “Really?”

Julian let out a laugh, leaning back in his chair as if he were a proud older brother.

“Yes, really,” Peter nodded. “You did amazing things with One Direction and it was rather stupid of us to let you go in November.”

I bit at my lip, feeling a swell of emotion in my chest. He was right--and not in the sense that I was the most amazing thing they’d ever had or ever would, but he was right in the sense that I had a knack for shaping words into a story that floated above the melody.

“Will you at least consider it? Take a look at what you have--demos, finished products, really, and let me know what you think would be an appropriate fee?”

Oh, right, the money. I looked to Julian quickly. I had no idea what he meant. Me come up with the appropriate fee? Me tell them what I wanted them to pay me for my finished songs? Julian nodded in encouragement, so I spit the words out of my mouth.

“Yeah, sure, absolutely.”

Peter stood from his chair and reached his hand out to shake mine. “We’re thrilled, Maggie, really. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

**

I was sat on my couch, staring at the computer in front of me and the notepad I’d scribbled some numbers on. I had 43 songs that were whole and finished and polished enough to hand over to the label. Out of that number, 25 were actually good enough to be on someone’s album. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to come up with a price for the songs I’d given so much energy. There were the first three songs I’d written when Harry and I started spending time together, one that I wrote when the band broke up, another angry one that had been written sometime after Zayn left.

There were four or five from the summer of 2012 when I briefly dated a boy that Chelsea had introduced me to--stupid and romantic. There were plenty of sad ones--some about being lonely, about being hurt, about making mistakes.

Did I charge a price for each song? Did I add on a percentage I wanted if they got released and distributed on various platforms? I certainly didn’t have the answer, but I was hoping that Harry would. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he’d want to even discuss anything money related, but I figured he at least didn’t want me to get taken advantage of by a big name label.

I typed out a question and erased it three times before finally pressing send.

Do you have a few minutes to talk? The label offered to buy my catalog and I have no clue how to handle the pricing.

I set my phone down on the couch and heated up some food, picking it back up with a bowl of leftover pasta in my hand. Still nothing. I watched an episode of Jane The Virgin and then I finally heard my phone ring.

I pressed the green button and held it up to my ear, trying to calm the heartbeat that was slowly rising in my chest. “Hey,” I said casually, hoping he’d be less boundaried than last time.

“Hi,” his voice was low, I wondered where he was. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said quickly, standing from my spot on my couch to move towards the window that overlooked my street.

“So they want to buy your catalog?” He let out a little bit of a laugh, I pulled my head back in offense.

“Are you surprised by that? You sound surprised.”

“M’not surprised, Maggie,” he let out a sigh. “I’m happy for you.”

I cut to the chase, mostly out of fear that going off script would lead to an argument or more chest pain than I was already experiencing. “Well--do you have any idea how I’m supposed to come up with a figure? I mean, Pete Bouchard should know this stuff, right? Shouldn’t they give me a number?”

“You’ve got to up-sell yourself, Maggie. I heard that Paul McCartney sold a catalog once to someone for three or four million.”

“I’m not Paul McCartney,” I reminded him.

“I know--m’saying that you need to not be afraid to ask for what you think it’s worth.”

“I don’t know what it’s worth.”

He let out another sigh, and frankly, I was surprised that he was being as cordial and calm as he was. “How many songs?”

“Forty-three total, out of that, twenty something are decent.”

“M’sure they’re all decent,” he said, I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“How do I come up with it though? You’re missing my point altogether,” I accused.

He cleared his throat before replying. “Ten thousand each.”

“Ten thousand each?” I asked, unsure of how he’d even gotten that number.

“Yeah--I mean, if any of them are released it’ll be way more than that. You should ask for at least 10% of the final cuts. Albums, music videos, touring, et cetera.”

I let his words sink in for a second as I watched a couple walk hand in hand on the street below. Charlie, who was sat on the window sill, seemed to be peering up at the phone in my hand. Maybe I was crazy, but I swore it’s because he could recognize Harry’s voice.

“So you think I should walk in and ask Peter Bouchard for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” it was more of a statement and less of a question, but he answered me anyway.

“I do.”

“Why ten thousand each?”

He made an unpleasant noise and seemed to draw out my name. “Jesus, Maggie. You asked me to call and I gave you my answer.”

I pulled my head back, turned off by his sudden anger. “I just want to know where you got such a specific number from.”

“My head--I got it from my head.”

I was appreciative of the fact that Harry thought my songs were worth such good money--yet I was fearful that he’d be the only one. Peter Bouchard had no reason to pay me that much as far as I was concerned. Sure, I was in a business where people made a lot of money. In my time with the band I’d made more than the big figure already discussed, but that was over the span of five years.

“Alright, okay. I’ll do ten thousand each.”

“Tell Peter you spoke with me about it,” he said casually, as if that weren’t a big deal.

“What? No, I’m not telling him that.”

“Why not?” He sounded somewhat offended, I could picture the puppy eyes he had on as if I’d said he had a shitty taste in shoes (which he did).

“Because he doesn’t need to know that you and I,” I paused, wondering how on earth to describe what we were and how things were and what this was. “Talk,” I decided.

He let out a sigh, which was followed by an awkward pause as Charlie stretched his back and let out a loud meow.

“Is that Charlie?”

I let out a laugh, looking down at him as he cocked his head to look down at the people passing by. “Who else would it be?”

“How is he?”

I suddenly felt weird. I felt like Harry wasn’t allowed to ask how my cat was if he wouldn’t even have a conversation with me about our fight and our relationship. He didn’t get some type of double standard just because my feline companion had a strange attachment to him.

“He’s fine, but, I should go. I’ve got some stuff to do,” I lied.

“Yeah, okay, of course. Let me know, I guess, how it goes.”

“I will,” I nodded, wondering if he’d answer next time I called.

**

I met with Peter Bouchard on a Wednesday to discuss the financial compensation, which is the technical term he had used to describe it. It was rainy and cold for a Spring day in London, but Julian met me inside with a cup of tea and a smile on his face. It was all the encouragement I needed to walk into Peter’s office with the confidence to ask for enough money to pay for someone’s entire college education and first home in the state of Ohio.

Peter was friendly and excited that I was willing to make the deal, and he didn’t even flinch when I mentioned the number I had in mind. Maybe he was used to dealing with large sums of money, but he certainly played it cool when he took down more information to write up a contract.

So that night, when I was out to dinner with Kyle and Mark to celebrate, I gushed on and on about how I’d actually handled it all by myself (minus the input from Harry). I’d made a business deal, been responsible, and now was getting adequate compensation for something that I’d worked so hard on.

Bella & Rae’s song had been number one for a week straight, I’d already received a paycheck from that, so dinner, tonight, was on me.

“So what will be the next step? Can they sell your songs to anyone?” Kyle asked, picking up his wine glass to watch the legs drip down the side of the glass.

I was appreciative and grateful that kyle was happy for me--not that he wouldn’t be, but I did wonder if he’d feel strange that the label had brought me back and offered this deal. It wasn’t necessarily a stable gig, I certainly wasn’t a staff writer for them, but the money from my catalog would certainly hold me over for a while.

“Anyone signed to the label can record my songs,” I corrected. “Technically they own the rights and the royalties, but Peter said he’d work on a percentage of what I’d get from additional revenue--so tours, albums, stuff like that.”

Mark tilted his head to the side and let out a laugh. “Sweet deal, mate. Depending on how many they use, you’ll make money off of it for a long time.”

I nodded, taking a sip at my own drink. A pang of guilt hit me in the stomach--was I focusing too much on the financial aspect of this, exactly like Harry had accused?

I could understand his fear of me being with him for the wrong reasons, but that didn’t invalidate my need to be financially secure and responsible.

“You’re doing that thing,” Kyle laughed, reaching over to snap his fingers in front of my face. Mark reached for a piece of bruschetta and plopped it into his mouth. “Where you zone out and think about Harry.”

I rolled my eyes, thankful for the noise and the energy in the restaurant. We were only a few blocks from Kyle and Mark’s place--my uber ride home would be a good chance to call my mom.

“I’m not thinking about Harry,” I told them, waving a hand to dismiss his silly allegation.

As if on cue, my phone lit up on the table between us. It was face up, so there was no way to hide the name on the screen as a text message rolled in.

I looked down at it, then back up at them, both of whom were keeping their lips sealed together to avoid a smile. I reached for it before they could say anything, ignoring Kyle’s lazy attempt to small talk about the weather.

We’re having a wrap party for my album on Friday if you want to come.

I didn’t want to sound desperate or too eager, so I thumbed back a response slowly.

What time? I’m meeting with Julian that day.

It was a lie, but I doubted that Julian would out me if Harry ever mentioned it. I looked back up to my dinner dates, who were both munching on another bite of our appetizers.

“Things seem to be a little less hostile,” Kyle said with a smirk, bringing his wine glass up to his lips.

“Nothing’s happening,” I shook my head, still holding my phone in front of me. “He’s literally telling me something about his album. Relax.”

My phone buzzed again.

8pm. Hopefully I’ll see you there.

**

It wasn’t the fact that Chelsea had taken entirely too long to get ready for the party--it was more about the fact that now she was insisting on getting one more glass of champagne before we made our way over to the food.

She’d been in town for two nights so far, and she had me out and about all day doing the things she said she missed most about London (which, mostly, was just shopping at High Street shops). We’d had lunch and tea in the afternoon but that was four whole hours ago, and after trekking all over Mayfair, I was either about to throw up, or pass out. Both of which from lack of sufficient sustenance.

Pair that with the sweating that was occuring due to the proximity to Harry, and I was nothing less of a hot mess.

“There’ll be another waiter in one second,” Chelsea said quietly, completely annoyed by the way I was fanning myself.

“Just meet me over there,” I said, raising my hands in exasperation, stomping away and over towards the delicious table of finely placed miniature meatballs and fruit.

It wasn’t much of a selection, but I was starving and we weren’t likely getting a real meal any time soon--this seemed like more of a cocktail hour type of event.

I hadn’t even said hello to Harry. I saw Jeffrey first when we came in--he gave me a big hug and thanked me for coming. He greeted Chelsea and then brought me over to see Ryan and Tyler. I was grateful that things didn’t feel as weird as I’d expected, but I hadn’t yet seen everyone.

Chelsea, up until momentarily, had fulfilled her obligation of being my date. She stayed by my side and made small talk with people we didn’t know. She was the Queen of Humble Bragging about my catalog being sold to the label, which I think impressed Jeff Bhasker quite a bit.

Now, however, her heart was set on more alcohol and my stomach was set on food.

I forked four mini meatballs onto my plate and had just forked one into my mouth when I turned around and walked into Harry’s back.

“Hi!” I said, covering my mouth with my hand as I tried to swallow quickly. “Sorry--chewing.”

He let out a laugh and didn’t seem as angry as I’d expected. He was fine enough on the phone, but something told me that seeing him in person (without the barrier of technology) would be a whole different ball game.

“It’s good to see you,” he nodded, waiting for me to remove my hand from my mouth before moving in to give me an awkward side hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for--” I paused, unsure of how find the right words. “Inviting me?”

“Thanks for writing on the album,” he shrugged slightly, clearly running out of ways to make this as normal as possible.

The truth of the matter was that Harry and I had a lot of unfinished business. There were things that needed to be said and addressed and right now certainly wasn’t the time to do that. Chelsea sauntered up next to us, champagne flute in her hand, and held her glass up to clink against the one in Harry’s hand.

“Cheers, mate, to a great album. Haven’t heard it yet, but if Maggie wrote on it, I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

I rolled my eyes--but Harry found her toast amusing. He laughed and nodded in Chelsea’s direction. “She’s a great wingwoman, huh?”

“She’s something,” I tried to act as if I wasn’t completely overstimulated by the alcohol I’d drank, the noise in the restaurant, and the lack of food I’d eaten.

I didn’t have a chance, though, to plan my next move, because Peter Bouchard was suddenly in front of us and reaching an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me just how involved you were on Harry’s album, Maggie,” Peter said, his head tilted in a way that communicated his affection towards the both of us.

I hadn’t told Peter much about Harry’s album or my involvement with it, because, frankly, I didn’t know if Harry would cut out every song I’d written on when I left Jamaica. I kind of imagined that he’d find new songs, suddenly grow to hate the ones I’d been a part of. I hadn’t yet seen the track listing, however--I did my best to keep my distance.

“She was very involved,” Harry said with a nod, his smile somewhat solemn as he looked from Peter to me. “She’s very talented. You’re lucky to work with her.”

I could feel heat rise to my cheeks, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the attention on me at someone else’s album wrap party.

“Well, Harry’s a great guy, Maggie. Really went to bat for you in terms of payment for your catalog.”

The room seemed to freeze and suddenly my feet felt glued to the floor.  “What?”

Harry’s eyes--which had been watching Peter as he spoke--were now as big as silver dollars. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

Chelsea took a swig of her champagne and looked on in pure shock.

“He wanted to make sure you got the money you deserved. And the catalog is amazing, really. We’re very excited to see who will be the right fit for each song.”

Peter, whose intentions were pure, didn’t understand that he needed to just stop talking. Harry, whose eyes were still wide and whose lips were still parted, seemed to teeter on his feet.

I looked up at him, thankful that Chelsea had stepped right in front of me to compliment Peter’s choice of suit, and turned to head for the door.

There was no use--for some reason Harry and I would never be on the same page. I was a Monday and he was a Friday. No matter how many times the sun would rise and set, we’d be on opposite ends of the week. We’d be the same number of days apart, the same number of sleeps between us.

Because if he wasn’t mad at me, I was mad at him. If he wanted to be with me, I didn’t want to be with him. And if we were finally brave enough to stop avoiding each other like the plague, something always came in between.

[unrelletable]

I often wonder what our role on this planet is. Quite a significant phrase to start a blog post, isn’t it? But it’s the truth, I ask myself what is the deep meaning of my existence at least once a week. Not always in these terms, to be honest. What I have been recently question myself about in the last months is a simple yet complicated phrase: how comes we are always either projected into the future or thinking about the past? How come we can never be fully aware of the present moment we are living, instead of project ourselves either in one direction or the other?

I started to ask myself these questions when my life was at an extremely confusing point; it has not cleared itself yet, but I have started to figure some things out. I was at a stage where I felt like all I ever had done before was useless since my plans did not work out the way I had wanted them to. Bringing their consequences on a way larger scale than I expected. Everything I had put my energies and intentions towards went upside down and I am still paying the price for it. I tried to take it easy and joke about it, but deep down it hurts me to think that I might have thrown away a year of my life.

What really angers me is this concept itself; the idea that people are supposed to reach certain milestones at a fixed age or in a fixed span of time bothers me a lot. Even more than that, I get frustrated with the fact that I have internalized this concept to the point where I genuinely feel like I am wasting my time. Thinking that having taken other decisions and different roads down the line of life I could have almost graduated for the second time in a few months, well, it makes me sad. And knowing that I would have been able to do it if only I had taken myself a little more seriously does anything at all but fuel my sense of sadness about it.

I am not trying to put up a pity party about myself here. Even though the thought of being a little bit further from my academic goals keeps me awake at night and makes me question my past - and current - decisions, on the other hand I am perfectly conscious of the fact that the pressure I am feeling is all due to the expectations that the capitalistic society puts on us. But this is not the point of my reflection today.

All the sleepless nights - well, let’s be honest, I had just a couple of those - spent thinking what I had done wrong and what I could improve in the immediate future led me to ask myself why I could not focus entirely on the situation I was going through. And find the positive aspects of it, instead of mumbling about what was totally negative about it. I have started to realize that all I had always been concentrated on was the future: everything I have done during all my life was meant to be done in order to reach a certain goal. Which was always something that would happen in the future.

I would have to get good grades in primary school so that secondary school could be easier. I would have to behave well and think about what I was going to choose once I would have turned fourteen during my middle school years. I would have to study hard and never give up for five years in order to graduate and enroll in what seemed my dream University. I would have to drive all my energies and intentions towards the goal of finally getting a degree after three and a half long years. And now all I am wondering about is what I am going to do with my life once this gap years will be over. And guess what, I do not have the slightest idea about it.

I am extremely scared at the perspective of finding myself in the same position I am now in six or seven months; I have already started to ask myself questions about what path I want to go down later on in my life, but the only thought of it gives me really bad anxiety. I am not saying it to sound pathetic. It grips the edge of my stomach and simply does not let go. It keeps me awake at night.

On the other hand, I am enjoying the place where I am right now. Even though not at the fullest. Of course there are negative aspects of having come back home after years of living independently, but at the same time I am given the opportunity of focusing more on the things I love doing. And that I did not have the chance of pursue when all I could think about was studying for exams. I get to spend a lot of time with my dog after years of seeing him just for a month or two during the summer holidays, I have the possibility of relaxing in the evenings with a cup of hot tea and a huge book in my hands, I can go to work for half a day and have the rest of the day off. But still. I still struggle with the idea of enjoying every second of the present, even though I try not to think too much about the future and what is expected from me.

At the end of the day, when I lay under the blanket at night, all my thoughts converge into the fear of what my future life will be. And of how long it is going to take to reach that goal. And this is what terrifies me: I am scared that once I will eventually come to a point in my life where all my expectations are fulfilled and all my dreams are achieved, I am going to feel empty and insecure. As I did earlier this year. I am scared that I am not going to be satisfied, even after all the sacrifices and the struggles I have been through. Because it is hard to admit, but when I finally graduated with the final grade I had been longing for, I felt nothing. I did not feel particularly happy. I did not feel proud. I felt as if that was just an ordinary day in my ordinary life. I did not feel satisfied at all. And I am scared of living my life this way.

- random rant about the future

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 5

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Word Count: 5700+

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU.  Bella and Declan share a little about themselves to each other to both of their surprise. They stay in contact and end up hanging out again.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Drinking. Flirting, but she’s gonna act like she’s not. Same for him. 

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You're currently feeling the cold wind against your fingers as you wiggle them out of the truck window as Declan drives you home. You aren't too deep in thought, mainly wondering if you'd bruise and have to explain yourself to your coworkers. Declan clears his throat and breaks the silence.

"So uh...do you hit guys like that often?" he asks with his usual naturally deep tone.

"Not anymore no." your answer with a deep and mildly amused tone.

"That hit made it seem like it wasn't the first time you'd done that."

"It was nowhere near the first." you let out a soft huff of air in amusement.

"You in a fight club or somethin'?" he glances your way, his face playful. "Well I guess you couldn't tell me even if you were could you?" he grins.

"No fight clubs, no." you shake your head.

"So do you do like, MMA or something?' he offers up for conversation.

Alright, Bella, you think, slowly blinking. He's trying to get to know you. Be nice. Being honest won't' be hard for you but being graceful about it might be. "I've taken plenty of self-defense courses but I've never trained to fight or anything." You pause for a moment, considering what to share with him. He'd told you a piece about his past, you suppose it's only fair to share something with him in return. "I hung around a rough crowd when I was younger. Lots of dudes and surging testosterone. The bad sort of metalheads you see in show parking lots that are fighting and crushing cans on their heads and screaming and acting like assholes." you shrug. "So... and I don't mean this in a self-absorbed sort of way, just in a self-aware one. I know what I look like, y'know? And...it used to not be as bad I guess, guys coming onto me and everything, but with the popularity of big asses in the past few years I mean...I've literally got a target on me." you make yourself chuckle. "So I fought a lot growing up, and now...I still have that fighting instinct when dudes touch me like that or won't take no for an answer I just fuckin' go for their throats. So to speak." you say with a weak gesturing of your hands.

"I don't blame you. I was more impressed than anything. You had some good form." he nods supportively and you're relieved. You were afraid he might be judgey about it, find it unladylike. Which was a phrase you hated because of the endless times you'd heard it. Especially from guys you thought were decent, but were just assholes in disguise.

"Thanks. I can kinda snap sometimes. I don't have the best temper." your voice dips lower and he hears the mild disappointment in it. "I can black out and go ham on someone if they push up on me. I mean, it's been years since that's happened but, I've also not put myself in situations where it could happen so...there's that." you say with a shrug as you look out the window. "I guess I just have no patience for men who can't listen anymore. If you touch women without consent and won't listen when they say no in this sort of society today, there's no excuse and I figure they deserve to get their asses kicked."

"And by a woman." he chuckles.

"Especially by a woman." his reaction makes you smile a little and you gaze out the window at the passing street lamps and strobing lights, the hiss from the wet road coming through the cracked window.

"I've been in my fair share of fights too." he says as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"You look like a guy who had been. No offense meant."

"None taken." he shakes his head and smiles. "Unfortunately it leads a lot of people to think I WANT to fight. And I don't. Just...when you try to protect people from bad people, there's gonna be violence to some degree."

"It's admirable of you. At least you're doing it for a cause. Unlike me, I just have a temper."

"Nah, you're doing it to teach people a lesson."

"Didn't take you for an enabler, Declan." you laugh.

"Well I've not seen a woman knock a man out like that in...maybe ever and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a nice change of pace from the usual way those situations go down."

"If I keep up this reintroduced habit of going out you'll prob get to see it again." you smirk.

"Assuming I'm with you. If not, I'll happily take an after photo." he laughs.

But who would you be going out with if not him? Charlotte was really the only friend you had that you felt comfortable enough with and liked enough to do things with and she was incapacitated. The girls at work were nice, you liked them well enough but not in the way to go and do things with them outside of work. Plus you liked to keep work and personal separate, and all they ever wanted to do was try to pull information out of you about your private life and there wasn't anything to give. And even if there was you didn't want to share it. With your drive to your house coming to a close, you figure you're close enough to avoid painful embarrassment if he reacts poorly, but if tonight was any indication, you didn't think he would. You roll up the window, your fingers sufficiently numb.

"I can probably manage that. I'll pose like a hunter with a deer." you chuckle with a slight smile.  

"If it weren't incriminating evidence that'd be good for Instagram." he laughs with you.

He's a nice person, Bella. Accept it, you tell yourself. Why was telling someone you had a good time and would like to hang out with them again so hard? You weren't even dating or anything in the traditional sense, there was no reason to be so hesitant. Your ineptitude at showing vulnerability in any form was bubbling up and really annoying you. Couldn't even openly tell someone you wanted to hang out, it was as if you were saying you needed them around, which you knew was an illogical jump but your brain made it all the same.

"If you were down with it, if I do end up going out to something like this again...would you wanna go with me?" You propose, turning your face towards him, your eyes a little larger than you'd like them to be.

He glances over and see's your eyes wandering and he wonders if the overly cool way you asked, the lack of inflection, was a way for you to cover up your uncertainty to his answer. He wonders if he'd been giving off a vibe that too nonchalant tonight in his attempt to not scare you off or seem too eager. He hadn't meant to, he had a really great time and hoped the guy hadn't ruined his chances of getting to do it with you again.

"Yeah," he says with a lowering of his brow in an obvious tone, answering quickly. "Yeah I'd like that." he nods, turning his eyes back to the road to turn onto your street.

"Good." you say with a smile he can catch for a moment as the street lamp by your house illuminates it as he pulls to the curb. "I had a good time tonight." you say and want to curse at yourself. How cliche and overdone was that saying?

"I was hoping that guy didn't ruin the whole evening for you." he says, turning slightly to face you, you rest your hand on the door handle.

"Oh, no. They win if you let them ruin your whole night." you look down and smile with a closed mouth. "Take a lot more than that make this night a total wash." you admit, your eyes uncertain but a friendly expression.

"You want me to walk you to the door?" he asks, pointing in the direction of it.

"No that's fine, I got it." you rush out, fingers gripping on the handle. "Thanks though," you say finally pushing it open.  You stand with the door open but not all the way to not let all the heat out. You lean your head into the cabin of the truck. "I did have a good time tonight. Despite the guy..." you say with a huff of a laugh.

"I did too." he gives you a smile that's much more expressive. "We should do it again soon." he insists with a nod of his head.

"Yeah we should." you nod and finally give him a smile that shows teeth. "I'll text you this week sometime. We can....figure something out." you say with large, almost hopeful eyes.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"I'll talk to you soon. Be careful." you say with a sheepish smile as you pull away from the truck.

"Only because you told me to." he grins, nodding a goodbye at you.

"Night Declan." you say, involuntarily tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Night, Bella." his deep voice hits you harder than you want it to.

You give him a nod and shut the door. He stays until you're inside the house, waving goodbye to him, like a gentleman. You watch him leave through the window in your living room, greeting Robbie's meowing face with a scratch to the chin.

"Yeah, I did have a good time bub," you say, looking back down once Declan's truck was out of sight. "Mama got to knock a guy out and hang out with a very nice man." you say with a smile that you didn't have to hide from anyone. It wasn't like Robbie would tell anyone. -------------- As you had before, you stare at the unsent texts you drafted up. But unlike last week you actually send them this time. You were relieved to find his way of talking through text wasn't annoying. No one letter or one-word answers where they weren't granted, no bombardment of lots of texts at once. He didn't demand any of your time and you picked up and dropped conversations easily throughout the week.

You spent some time on his Instagram, trying to figure this guy out. He seemed pretty straightforward and that seemed confusing in itself. You were so used to people pretending to be a better version of themselves on social media and he was just...Declan. You find the bar's page, which isn't super active and follow it too. You find pictures of Declan in his feed that span back years, lots of pictures with people in the woods, camping and bonfires, and keggers. It seemed he and Mike did go way back. Lots of half blurred photos of him smiling, clearly drunk. A particularly funny one with him holding Mike above his head and Mike's limbs a blur but you could see his mouth screaming. He didn't just take pictures with guys though, which was refreshing. He hugged girls just the same as he did the guys, pictures with kids with kool-aid mouths and big smiles peppered throughout.

His page is mostly him with other people, as opposed to yours which was mostly pictures like what was in your phones photos, Robbie, guitars, and a scattering of selfies. The last selfie you'd posted was months ago, up until the one you'd taken after you got home from the show. You'd shown your hand with your garnet ring on it, tagging the company you'd bought it from and bragging about how sturdy it was to stand up to an asshole's jaw after the phrase, "Got out of the house. Put on my acceptable female form for public consumption". It got some attention, which you didn't really care about it, you just thought it was clever, but you did notice that Declan liked it. And you did seem to care about that.

After you'd posted your selfie from that night, he'd posted one he'd taken while you were at the bar, it was him in the haze of lasers and dim lighting with you barely visible in the background, your back to the camera while you were getting drinks. "Big thanks to @hellsbells for actually getting me out of the bar for once." is the caption. You liked it. ------ You had plans on going by the bar and were even looking forward to it although the only person you'd admit that too was Robert, But your recording session ran long and you had to stay late. He seemed to take it well enough. By the way his face fell, Mike could tell from across the bar that he'd gotten bad news. But you couldn't see that. You told him you'd make it up to him. You got drunk at home alone that night, and to your surprise the next morning you'd ordered a handful of vintage records. Along with an automatic feeder for Robert, a pack of replica Pick of Destiny's and a Bobbie Brown biography. It was certainly not the worst drunk haul you'd ever purchased.

You'd slept in that next morning, waking up around noon and you didn't feel the least bit guilty about it. You're downing a Gatorade, eating dry toast and scowling in your oversized hoodie when your phone dings and you wince.

"Have a good night?" the message from Declan reads.

"I got home after 1 and drank Jameson on an empty stomach. I don't really know if the night was good or not." you send back.

"Ah. Well you seemed to have a good one based on your IG stories..."

"Oh God." you send before going to check.

"I'll wait lmao"

You find you talking over videos on your laptop of 80's hair metal bands. Cherry Pie, overrated but a classic. Van Halen vs. Van Hagar and singing, almost literally, the skills of Eddie Van Halen. "Well at least it's all on brand." you roll your eyes and rub your forehead, chuckling.

"That it is. I have never heard anyone with an opinion so passionate on Van Halen. lol"

"Well that's me in a nutshell. Full of useless passionate opinions. I was already aware I love VH when I'm drunk."

"It was impressive tbh. lol. And I won't hold it against you."

"I mean these explain the Bobbie Brown biography I bought."

"Oh no did you go drunk online shopping? lmao"

"I did. Which means I'm now the owner of a few new records. And a duplicate 1984. Guess I forgot I had an original print of that. Oh well."

"What was the damage?" he inquires.

"Overall not too bad. I got some original ACDC, Some live White Stripes, the Wombats, Rob AND White Zombie...we've had that discussion before lol, and Sam Cooke, aw, how sweet of me."

"Overall not a bad selection. No idea who tf the wombats are tho."

"They're on Spotify. idk if they're you're kinda thing, british indie pop rock. Speaking of, I bet my search history is going to be a mess. I've gone and fucked up my algorithm."

"Oh no how will you ever come back from that? lol"

"Shut up. lol I work hard on my algorithm. If you actually listened to music instead of wearing the shirts of bands you never listen to you'd have a heart and empathize."

"cry me a fuckin' river, Bells lmao."

You laugh out loud and a smile comes across your face for the first time that morning.  "How about you come get schooled by me in person instead of in my IG stories? I have a lot of stuff to listen to coming in soon apparently." you see an opportunity and you take it. You didn't feel up to going out tonight, you already knew that. You'd be here recovering and picking up the house that you'd neglected the past week.

"Only if Robert will be there."

You laugh out loud again. "I see. Invite a man over and all he wants to see is my cat. .... Waitaminute...I thought you were a good guy and it was all a ruse wasn't it? what an ass. "

"they don't call me a pussy hound for nothin'. it's just not the translation people expect"

"i'll get you one of those keychains like in kill bill. also no one calls you that. Mike told me you hadn't been on a date in 100 years."

"well i think a century is a bit of an overstatement."

"by what 1 year? lol"

"ya got me."

"same. big mood. etc."

"So when am I coming over to be harassed further? lol"

"i'm off early Monday since I worked for over 12 hours yesterday, can you get away from the bar that evening? I can make dinner."

"As if I weren't sold already."

"Man's gotta eat. (Me. I'm that man.)"

"Can this lady eat too?"

"of course she can, does she like ragu? I've been wanting to make some pappardelle, what about that?"

"Are you making up words? bc I seriously can't tell. lol"

"It's Italian food you uncultured swine! lol meat and tomato sauce, homemade thick pasta noodles. If I'm not too lazy I'll make garlic bread."

"holy shit are you serious?"

"I don't joke about food Declan. especially not pasta."

"I might not leave if you make all that...but if you're willing to take your chances I am more than down to eat homemade italian food. i don't remember the last time I had homemade food."

"Then it's been too long. Come over at like...7 ish? I'll need time for the sauce to cook down."

"gotta put my phone in rice bc i've drooled all over it sorry."

"Text me later so I'll remember to do the dough. I need to get my ass off this couch and clean this house. I've been a neglectful house mother this week. too busy."

"you're MAKING the bread? fuck dude, I'll remind you every hour on the hour for that!"

"Please don't. lol" you laugh and sigh, putting the phone into your hoodie pocket and shaking your head. You let it rest on the back of a couch and are quickly overtaken by a big yawn.

Mike watches this interaction go down, Declan with his elbows on the bar, thumbs moving quickly and ignoring the work to be done to set up for the early crowd. He wipes down glasses then moves onto the tabletops and floors but keeps his eyes on his business partner. He hadn't seen Declan so enthralled in a conversation since he'd discussed the range opening with his cousin Sokannon. Mike recognizes the smile on Declan's face because it's the same one that came across his face whenever he'd think about Sokannon. Although not being together in any official capacity, a few flings and years of friendship together had led him to being smitten with her for some time now. And Mike knew Declan and he knew Declan didn't get giddy, didn't get attached or talk about girls in his downtime. He knew something was clearly starting between the two of you, and he hoped it was mutual because he'd hate to see Declan lose that low key glow he'd had since your so-called not a date, night out. He didn't want him to go back to seeming aimless and dazed, he preferred this preoccupied Declan any day. ----------------------------

You spend the rest of your weekend recovering from drinking yourself under the table on Friday night. You certainly couldn't hit the hard liquor like you used to. After saying you were leaving the conversation to clean, you ended up taking a nap, but at least after that you kept your promise. On Sunday you finish up, do your laundry and prep food for the next week. You get your work in, you run errands and you end up going to sleep with everything checked off your to-do list, which was always a good feeling. You curl up with Robert to go to sleep and admit that you're excited about Declan coming over tomorrow. You ask him if he's excited and he does nothing but purr, so you take it as a good sign.

The only thing you change about your work outfit is going from jeans to leggings once you get home. You have your hair down, as usual, the waves formed from braiding it while it was wet falling around your shoulders. You forgo the leather jacket as you turn on the stove and oven, knowing it'll warm the house up enough to not need it. The men's style band t-shirt is long enough so you won't be self-conscious about any camel toe situation that may arise, and you exchange your plain socks for knee-high fuzzy ones with grippers on the bottom, foregoing the houseshoes.

You hadn't cooked for anyone but yourself in months, as Charlotte had been your buddy to do these sorts of things with. You figure you could do almost everything you could with Charlotte with Declan and that was a reassuring feeling to have someone to be able to do things with again. You didn't know where he'd stand on painting each other's nails and doing face and hair masks, and you certainly couldn't walk around naked with him around but overall the trade-off wasn't too bad. No offense to Charlotte, but Declan was more appealing to look at.

He's less nervous than last time as he drives over to your place. Wearing basically the same thing he had last time, he carries a box of your favorite Ale under his strong defined arm as he makes his way to your door, he runs his hand through his hair, a quick fluff before seeing you through the long thin windows that run up the sides of your front door.

"Hey, c'mon in. I just started cooking." you say, ushering him in.

"God, it smells amazing in here babe." he says, greeting you with a one-armed hug, a quick rub to your back you don't entirely mind. To be coming in from the cold he was awfully warm. You return the hug lightly, a slight upgrade from last time, slowly getting used to this casual physical affection he seemed to be so practiced in.

"Thanks. Your boyfriend Robbie is asleep in his bed in my room if you wanna go see him." you smirk. He follows you with a cheeky stare to your bouncing form as you make your way to the kitchen, grabbing the long wooden spoon from the countertop and going back to warming up the ragu sauce you'd started yesterday.

"I think I'll let him rest." he chuckles. "I brought your favorite." he says, holding the cardboard box out with both hands.

"Aren't you a saint?" you say, half turning and a half smile thrown his way. "Just set it on the table and put a few in the fridge for us, please." you say, motioning to the fridge with your spoon. "You didn't have to do that." you say obviously, shaking your head and stirring the steaming pot in front of you.

"Eh," he says shrugging and taking his coat off. "Wanted to." he says as an excuse. "You're cooking for me and I needed to bring something besides my winning personality to the table. Literally." he lets out a rumbling deep laugh that makes a smirk appear across your face involuntarily.

"Well that's very nice of you, thank you. But I've been looking for an excuse to cook, to be honest."

"I will be happy to be that excuse." he chuckles, sitting in one of the chairs at the table, hanging his coat on the back of it.

"Hold out your enthusiasm until you've eaten." you chuckle.

The house falls quiet while you take things in and out of the fridge, work the dough one last time before throwing it into the loaf pan as the sounds of Use Your Illusion I move through the air.

"This is Guns n' Roses, right?" he asks with narrowed eyes, his head tilted to the side like a puppy hearing an unfamiliar sound.

"Yup." you say with a nod. "Don't Cry." you elaborate. "One of the first ones they wrote actually."

"I think I've heard it before." he says, totally unsure if he had, but he didn't want to look ignorant when you knew so much it was intimidating. "Hard to miss his voice isn't?"

"Oh yeah." you nod. "Bayy bayyyy" you sing with the song in matching gravel and nasal to Axl Roses as you turn your attention to the now boiling water on the stove.

"You drunk order this one too?" he grins.

You let out a soft laugh, wiping the excess flour off of your hands, unknown to you creating two white handprints on your black leggings on your butt as he silent laughs and grins at the sight. He wonders about being able to joke with you enough to dust the prints off of you, thinking it'd be funny. But he decides not to even attempt it. Things were going so well so far he didn't want his natural inclination to be physical to ruin things.

"No I've just been listening to a lot of guitar solo heavy stuff, wanted to hear some Slash." you explain. "Been doing a lot of really basic guitar stuff lately and I wanted to hear something more elaborate."

"That stuff get boring? Since you're good?" he asks, looking at the guitars around your living room.

"Not boring really...just not super stimulating." you shrug.

"You ever get bored with making drinks?" you offer, relating it to something he'd be able to understand.

"Ah. I see exactly what you mean now. I mostly just pour liquor and serve beer."

"No one appreciates a good pour around here?"

"Not enough." he says supportively.

"You'd think people would be more grateful for someone who knows how to give good head." you manage to get it out before you start laughing quietly, your shoulders shaking. (Foam on top of the beer is called 'head')

"Oh she's got jokes." he says with a big laugh and smile that you turn and shrug exaggeratedly at him.

"I do. I have jokes." you nod and laugh before tasting the sauce. You bring the spoon over to him and hold it out. "Taste?" you ask with a sweet tone and almost innocent expression that make his smile spread up to his eyes.

"What jokes you got?"

"Don't you know you aren't supposed to put someone on the spot for a joke?"

"I do now." he grins. He leans forward closer to the spoon.  "But I had to ask."

"Alright...here's a really basic one. How do you know someone's a good guitar player?" you ask with a tilted head.

He pulls back from the spoon and with wide interested eyes he lilts "How?"

"Don't worry...they'll tell you." you roll your eyes.

"Ha." he says with a snort through his nose. "I appreciate some self-deprecating humor." he nods with pouted lips of approval. He leans forward and sips from the spoon and his brows shoot up. "Holy shit dude." he says, grabbing your hand around the spoon and bringing it back his way to lick the spoon and you laugh and his lack of grace about washing the spoon make your shoulders shrug and your eyes crinkle up as you shake your head and try to pull away.

"Down boy!" you laugh, using your other hand to lightly smack away at him.

"Fuck that's good Bella." he smacks his lips.

"It's usually a hit. Except with the vegetarians." you shrug.

"Is that beef?"

"And panchetta." you say, taking another taste. Yeah, it was pretty good.

"What's that?"

"Oh?" you ask, not used to people not knowing about meats with your Italian family. "Its Italian bacon basically, pork belly."

"Bella bacon then." he grins.

"Sounds a bit crude but..." you shrug and chuckle.

"Now you KNOW I didn't mean it like that." he says with a low brow and a teasing tone.

"I do." you smile and test the pasta.

"You just like giving me a hard time then?" he grins.

"Only because you're such a good target." you say innocently with a quick shake of your head.

"Only because you're a fuckin' sucker who walks into it, Declan." he says in a high pitched voice.

"Hey." you turn and point the spoon at him. "Your words. Not mine." you grin and move to the stove to plate.  

"You ARE mean!" he says in faux offense and it makes you laugh out loud. What a good sport he was. A man that could take your sense of humor was hard to find, they either truly didn't get it or took everything way too seriously. And the worst was taking all your dirty jokes as a direct offer to fuck. But Declan seemed to have a goofy streak a mile wide running through that distractingly large body of his.

"Nah. You can take it." you shake your head. "And this is done. Wanna eat and listen in the living room?"

"Whatever you wanna do Bells." He certainly did know the right things to say.

You set up camp on the floor in front of your entertainment system. You put on the Wombats, to see if he did in fact like them, and he did not. You were thankful he was honest about it. A man that wasn't afraid to have his own opinions was nice. As the hours pass, the plates long ago went to sit in the sink and you shared a pint of gelato, which he'd also never had. It was an interesting dynamic, hanging out with someone who didn't know you too well, like Charlotte did. Charlotte knew you when you were a shitty like punk ass teen and knew your family. There's a different sort of vibe when you hang with someone new but it didn't feel uncomfortable with Declan and you couldn't help but notice how he always responded genuinely to things whether they were in agreement or not. A few Ale's down you've sat almost on top of each other, thigh to thigh and arm to arm, holding a records sleeve between the two of you as you look at the art and you tell him trivia bits about the music. He seems interested, and that's more than you could ask for from someone who didn't work in your sort of career.

He notices how much more comfortable you get with him everytime he sees you and he's more than pleased with himself for getting you to warm up to him. You'd come in so cold and now you were sharing a spoon, your arm behind his back as he held a record and you happily rambled about rock and roll. You go off on tangents and he was happy to listen, always learning something when he was with you, and that was more than he could say about any girls he'd met, let alone dated in years. You clearly weren't looking for his approval or wanting him to make your life interesting, you made your own life interesting and you were inviting him into it.

He'd get distracted watching you sit up and bend over and reach out to lift the needle and find the perfect spot on the records. You were well into your remastered High Voltage, you bobbing and grooving with it, lamenting on Highway to Hell being possibly your favorite album ever, and this one being ridiculously underrated and not popular enough with the masses. You move to speak of sex, drugs and rock and roll, and fairly unfiltered, which he appreciates. He finds out you've done more than a handful of shady things in your youth, taking the moniker of sex, drugs and rock and roll a little too seriously and following a crowd that did the same. It was comforting to know you also were trying to move on from a past you weren't particularly proud of, but didn't deny was a part of where you came from. He shared the sentiment and you could tell from his intently listening eyes that he understood.

You wondered if he'd had a similar upbringing with shit head friends but you weren't going to be nosey and ask, that was his business. Maybe after you knew him a little better, but then again maybe he'd just tell you himself. You were surprised at how fast you loosened up around him. You normally didn't share, and not that you were oversharing, speaking in generalities, overstepping the particularly dark parts. But you liked how he listened. You weren't used to men listening to you. They mostly waited their turn to talk. But something about Declan made you feel comfortable, which was more than you could say for anyone you'd met in a long, long time. He didn't seem to have such a hard time being warm with people like you did. It wasn't your natural inclination. But Declan was a good time, good company and seemed to love your food and dare you say, even your company. You tried not to think too much into it as you sat inches from his face in silence for a few seconds too many after noticing how late it was getting.

But as he pulled back, stating, no matter how hesitantly he did so, "You uh...yeah you need your sleep, Bella." he clears his throat and sits back on his hands. "I'll help you clean up and I'll get out of your hair." he says with a nod before clapping his hands together and standing, offering you his hand to help you up. You knew you didn't need his help getting up, and your knee-jerk reaction was to refuse his hand and get up to show you didn't need his offering of help. But you didn't'. You looked at his hand a few seconds and took it in your own as he yanked you up with no problem what so ever as if you weighed nothing. You watch his shoulders shift as he walks into the kitchen with the empty carton of gelato, licking the spoon one last time. You knew you didn't need Declan's help...but you certainly didn't seem to mind it.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer

[thaumaturtles]

Epilogue Thoughts

So, I finished the epilogues at around 11 AM on 4/21 and spent the better part of today mulling over it internally. Overall, I think I liked ‘em. Don’t get me wrong, they were brutal and tragic and ripped my heart out, but this is my garbage and I’m allowed to enjoy it. I was planning on liveblogging the epilogues but constantly pausing to jot down my feelings detracted from the overall experience. This is probably gonna be pretty scattershot, since I have neither the ability nor the desire to order my thoughts properly. Now, without any further preamble, let’s get into it.

Jane

 A lot of people said they didn’t like the treatment of Jane in the epilogues, and, fair enough, she was pretty awful and Crocker stans have every right to be pissed. But to anyone saying it came out of left field or didn’t make sense, I’d have to disagree (for the most part). Jane was brainwashed by the Condesce for the first 16 years of her life, and we see the effects of this when she goes Crockertier. She’d almost certainly have baked-in presumptions about how trolls were “meant to be” (ie super violent) even before she was consciously aware that trolls as a race existed. Jane was also always really in denial about having been brainwashed by the Condesce and I can definitely see adult Jane flat-out refusing to do any self-analysis and just assume there are no remaining effects of the brainwashing and she’s “totally cured” now or whatever. Jane’s also not super progressive? Like the conversation where she discovers Dirk has a crush on Jake and that Jake might even reciprocate was pretty uncomfortable to experience, and she starts a business on Earth C even though there’s no real need for corporations in a world with infinite resources. This shows that she’s still stuck in the belief that capitalism is inherently good/necessary for no reason other than “it’s what i grew up with.” All in all I could totally see Jane as someone who’d grow up to become xenophobic and have this colonizer mentality of “I have to regulate the Other because they’re not capable of functioning without me”

As for the non-consensual/rapey stuff... I’m actually not gonna touch that shit with a six-foot pole. The narrative is very explicit in the fact that Jane is an abusive partner and what she’s doing Is Bad, but like if she’s your favourite character you probably aren’t going to be all gung ho about seeing her do all the things that she did, which were admittedly very upsetting to read. I completely understand if you couldn’t read past those parts because they were pretty rough.

The Epilogues do get pretty unpleasant to read though :/

The Epilogues are highly antagonistic towards Homestuck’s readers. This is a fact. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up to interpretation, but it is at the very least not a new thing. Listen to Kate Mitchell of the Perfectly Generic Podcast and YouTuber OptimisticDuelist for more in-depth analysis than I could possibly provide on this, but one of Lord English’s greatest weapons is his ability to get people not to care about Homestuck, or even better, to revile it. That’s what the aspect of Rage represents: Plot Contrivance. As Karkat says,

THERE ARE OUTCOMES THAT ARE EVEN WORSE THAN THE COMPLETE ANNIHILATION OF EXISTENCE ITSELF. FORCES MORE DAMAGING TO THE INTEGRITY OF REALITY THAN THOSE CAPABLE OF TURNING IMAGINATION INTO PURE VOID. THEY ARE FORCES WHICH IF HANDLED RECKLESSLY WILL NULLIFY THE BASIC ABILITY OF INTELLIGENT BEINGS IN ALL REAL AND HYPOTHETICAL PLANES OF EXISTENCE TO GIVE A SHIT.

This is repeated, by Hussie himself no less, later on during his smug self-insert, found here. After Hussie dies and loses control of the narrative, LE is free to try his hardest to get you, the reader, not to give a shit. Rose, in the Epilogue’s Prologue, says that if people stop caring about Homestuck, reality as they know it will break apart, which is exactly in line with LE’s plans. So the fact that the Epilogues are very hostile towards the reader is basically par for the course. That said, I can see how it kinda sounds like I’m being all “oh it’s SUPPOSED to be shitty you wouldn’t underSTAND,” but that’s. literally what’s happening. and there’s evidence for it in the text.

Of course, in the past, when the narrative would pull things like this it would be under the guise of, say, Homosuck, which is very obviously meant to be bad and is presented in a fun, satirical way. The Epilogues, on the other hand, are downright upsetting. They’re presented in a much grittier light, which can obfuscate to what degree it’s Actually A Joke, if it even is a joke in any capacity. The fact that they’re tragic, though, should not be seen as evidence that they’re bad.

Some stuff I Liked

Both routes had some really top-notch interactions in them. A lot of folks seem to be overlooking how genuinely good the writing was. I said the phrase, “they’ve still got it” ALOUD to myself once or twice because the dialogue really did have that good ole Homestuck Charm. The Dave/Karkat/Jade interactions early on in Candy (before everything went to shit) were pretty great, as was basically everything that came out of English’s mouth. I dunno who the Antiquities Consultant was, but they did an excellent job at mirroring Jake’s usual speech pattern. I find that a lot of people, when writing Jake, just kinda throw in as many random old-timey words as possible and as a result it feels kinda disjointed, but the writing team for the epilogues managed to make him feel very... would light be a good way to put it? Sort of airheaded I guess. Just very goofy idk

We got to see Rosemary and they were married and raised a kid and it was the best! Rose was really well-written, as was Kanaya; I really loved seeing those personalities balance each other out again. It was nice to see them be good parents in the Candy-verse. The Vriska they raised was such a fucking scamp too! It was nice to see a Vriska who had a positive home environment but still had that same spunk

Also, Dave. Just, all of Dave. He was really solidly written throughout the whole thing. I fucking love his interest in the economy holy shit. I got to hear Dave Strider say the phrase  “neoliberal austerity measures.” That’s the best. “Economically Aware Anti-capitalist Dave” is rivaled only by “Karkat (True Leftism)”. I’ve seen a few complaints that Dave’s interest in the economy was also OOC, but for one thing he’s an adult and can cultivate new interests if he likes, and for another Dave is a pretty clever kid, and very numerically-minded. (Is that a term? I mean he’s good at maths and such). Don’t forget, not only did he manage to accumulate all the wealth on LOCAH in the span of three days by taking over their stock markets, but he also used the hash map modus in his day to day life, showing that he was able to do calculations in his head as quick as breathing. As shown here, the hash map modus is pretty complex and requires you to come up with a word that has the same value as the thing you wanna use in order to use it. That’s not easy to do on a dime and yet he uses it in his rooftop battles with Bro. All of this is to say, he’d certainly learn to be very good at economics if he wasn’t already. It just suits him.

Oh and I also love that Dave still makes SBaHJ and Karkat has a bunch of sockpuppet accounts he uses to defend Dave’s honour. it’s very cute.

Karkat also had some lines in the epilogues damn. I hadn’t realized how starved I was of VantasRage until I read a few of his rants. Also we finally got to see Badass Rebel Leader Karkat and he’s just as great as we all knew he’d be

The davekat kiss in Meat was great too. It was very gratifying to see after all the narrative cockblocking that went down in Candy.

John realizing in the Candy universe that he isn’t responsible for everything and that they’re all still just people with their own autonomy was good. Much as I have problems with the Candy universe on a whole I liked this specifically.

Also, roxygen! I love roxy/callie as much as the next guy but John and Roxy were very cute near the end of the comic and I liked seeing them grow up and have a kid. John names his son after the guy from Night Court because he’s a massive dweeb. Love it.

We got some great Terezi writing as well. The johnrezi at the end of Meat was nicely written and made me feel a whole host of emotions despite me not even having shipped them that hard beforehand.

OH MY GOD THE OBAMA SHIT. I almost forgot to put this in because I was focused on other stuff but my word the whole Obama Situation was beautiful I loved every second of it. It was so over-the-top in the best way and it simultaneously carried airs of being So Serious And Important To The Narrative and being just the dumbest load of crap. I loved it so much

Also, I was very happy with Roxy and Callie coming out. Roxy talking about how he’d already come out as dating an alien with a green skull for a head and how it felt like maybe he was being “selfish” by also wanting to come out as trans was a great illustration of something that already-out LGB people often feel when realizing they don’t identify with their assigned gender. Additionally, Calliope coming to terms with the fact that they don’t have to identify as female just to further differentiate themselves from Caliborn was great. It really helped to show how far they’d come from just being Caliborn’s foil into being their own person. However, this leads into:

Some stuff I didn’t like

Speaking of Roxy and Callie’s transition, Dirk also came out. As a transphobe. Which was disappointing, to say the least. He made a point of misgendering Roxy as often as possible and was pretty dismissive towards NB people when he learned about Calliope’s identity. (You could make an argument that Dirk is being thoughtless by misgendering Roxy and not intentionally malicious, but I don’t see Dirk as the kind of guy who slips up very often. He’s very careful with language.) I always headcanoned Dirk as trans, as I’m sure most people did, so having him just up and become transphobic was kind of the worst. I intend to talk about Epilogue!Dirk a lot more in a later post but yeah. Not a fan.

EDIT: I’ve thought about the Dirk thing a little more and he does eventually start calling Roxy by the correct pronouns, albeit in kind of a “see see look at how openminded im being youre such a manly dudely stud bro” way. Dirk’s initial discomfort with Roxy and Callie’s identity more comes from his own egotistical belief that he should have already known about it than it does from genuine animosity. That aside, he does still say “She probably would have loved being a “they” when she was a teen,” which sorta rubs me the wrong way. I might just be being oversensitive though.

Also, in the Meat universe, Rose and Kanaya split up! I’m very upset about that. Ultimate Power be damned, I want happy, married lesbians! It sucks that we either have Rosemary OR Davekat but not both

On the topic of davekat, Jade really got done dirty by both Epilogues, huh? She was used as a narrative device in one and was an intrusive presence in the lives of Dave and Karkat in the other. TBH I was never a fan of davekatjade for a lot of reasons but I would have preferred they be in a happy poly relationship than what actually happened in Candy.

Actually, the only two polyamorous relationships in the Epilogues both turned out awfully. I doubt any of the writing staff had anything against poly people; I’m sure it was just a coincidence but either way it’s pretty unfortunate. I have a bit to say about this but this is running too long as is.

Gamzee

Fucking Gamzee.

Unanswered Questions

Will there be any further updates? I sure hope there will, because the ending was not very satisfying and creates more questions than it answers. I can sort of see where it might be going but they left way too much up in the air and it feels very much like it’s unfinished. V has referred to it as “the whole thing” on twitter, so it might be finished for good, but i really hope it isn’t

Why did Rose say the session they’re creating will be the most important session of SBURB ever played? Why couldn’t they play it on Earth C? Surely Earth C’s inhabitants would be more used to seeing alien life forms and would know the basics of SBURB, thus making it more likely for them to survive it. Why go to the trouble of seeding a whole new planet? I’m curious.

Can a character be said to be “Out Of Character” if the character’s own creator wrote those actions? What if they passed on the actual writing to someone else but still had to verify it themselves? What does OOC even mean? Does it mean “this doesn’t fit my headcanon” or “there is no evidence for this” or “the author wouldn’t write them like this”? If it’s the last one, can an author merely saying “this interpretation is correct” absolve ANY action from being deemed OOC? I like that I’m being made to think about this kind of thing now

To what degree is each universe truly “Canon”? I’m aware that Candy lost its canon-ness when John decided not to fight LE, but the two universes are intrinsically linked: we see characters from one universe travel to another and it’s implied that Terezi has spoken to both Johns. How canon is Meat, even? Are either of them even still bound by the need to be part of the Alpha Timeline anymore, since Lord English has been created? What does anything mean?

Final Musings

I understand completely if you don’t like the epilogues. Maybe you think they’re too dark. Maybe you just don’t agree with portrayals of the characters. Maybe you hate that they gave jade a fucking tail when she never had one in the main comic. There certainly were bits of it that I wasn’t a fan of, but there are also parts I really wanna go draw fanart of right now. I like the Epilogues, but if I write fanfic or make dumb joke posts about Earth C, I’m probably gonna ignore large swaths of it (such as, I’ll probably keep both John and Dirk alive, and make them kiss a lot)

There has been a great deal of vitriol directed specifically at Hussie about the epilogues despite the fact that other people worked on them. It’s difficult to take these criticisms in good faith when so many people are blaming solely Hussie. I’m aware that he had total control over actual plot elements and wrote a bit of dialogue, but the bulk of the actual text was written by V. Another thing I’ve noticed is that people’s attitudes towards the epilogues are very much like the general attitude towards Act 7 when it first came out. I’ll admit, I left the Homestuck fandom in like 2014 and didn’t return until mid-2017, but people’s Jimmies were definitely still Rustled even then. There was a general atmosphere of “I hate Hussie, and you should too! The ending was bad and no one asked for it!” but as time went on, and people started analyzing the ending and making meta posts about it, everyone sort of grew acclimated to the ending. Suddenly, the general consensus was that Homestuck was Good Again Finally and the ending was Amazing and The Fandom Loved It. I feel like maybe that sort of thing’s gonna happen again with the Epilogues. I really hope that, as it continues to update (if it does), everyone will sort of chill out about it

[aubrinn]

So I’ve decided that I’m going to go ahead and start posting my legacy family. I’ve actually realized that I don’t have as many pictures of them as I thought but it’s cool (besides the fact that the only picture I have from Gen 1 is the top picture in this post because I only thought about posting stuff around the time Gen 2 came around). First, a few informational tidbits that I think should be included, and then a story of how Gen 1 went (spoiler alert: it was a mess from the beginning). There’s a lot that I’m going to talk about, so if you don’t want to read so much, just skip down to the next to last paragraph titled “Summary,” but I really hope you’ll take the scenic read because I feel like that would give more insight and connection to the family. But without further ado, welcome to my Flores legacy!

1. This is my first ever legacy. My best friend and I decided to do a legacy challenge together. I think there are a bunch of rules and stuff - like certain traits, careers, and storyline stuff - but we aren’t following any of those. We just decided on no cheats for money, careers, and all that good stuff. The real challenge for me will be not getting bored. I don’t usually use cheats, so that part is easy for me.

2. I decided to start a legacy because the biggest family trees I’ve had span to 3 gens, and the 3rd gen is usually a baby or child before I get bored and make a new family. So I thought this would be an opportunity for me to feel a connection to a whole line of the same family and experience a full family tree where my sims actually have great-grandparents and cousins and uncles and all that.

3. When I started this legacy, I had an idea of the founder living more of a simple life, so in the picture she has just moved into a small, wooden house in that 20x20 lot on the Windenburg island. But that whole idea crumbled very quickly.

4. My editing skills are last to all (you know that phrase “second to none” which means you’re the best? well I suck so I’m last to all). I’m pretty new to editing and have only done simple stuff, so don’t expect much from my pictures because they will look pretty much like the original.

5. I’ve noticed that I tend to use a lot of parentheses.

6. Yes the family name is from one of xxxtentacion’s songs. Fight me.

Generation 1

Jocelyn Flores moved into her little shack house in Windenburg with the dream of becoming a famous artist. She preferred to paint outside because of the natural light and scenery (but it literally would not stop raining so painting rarely happened). I don’t remember where she met Marcus (after some thinking I think we joined the Partihaus club) but she met him and she thought he was really attractive. She flirted with him and asked him to woohoo and he said yes. Lo and behold, he had gotten her pregnant. She invited him over to tell him the news, and he seemed excited to become a father. Jocelyn liked Marcus and wanted to get to know him so they could possibly be together, but he turned down any non-flirtatious interactions from her (he literally only wanted her if she wanted to woohoo and we were not there for that). Then and there she decided she was done with him and that she would raise her baby alone. Jocelyn named her baby girl Beatrice (I’ve been told that’s an old lady name but I don’t care because I love that name), and she loved Beatrice more than anyone else.

One night, Eva invited Jocelyn to a party at the Ancient Ruins, and Jocelyn decided that she could use a night out (because I never take my sims out the house when there’s 2+ of them so I wanted to get out the house for once). The girls showed up to the party, and Marcus was there (I actually think I invited him but for storyline purposes, he was already there). His dashing good looks reminded Jocelyn why she wanted to be with him, so she bought him some drinks and chatted and flirted. (I thought maybe since he was being friendly it meant he would be open to getting to know Jocelyn and have a real relationship with her.) Convinced that his nice behavior meant Beatrice wouldn’t have to grow up without a father, Jocelyn hopped into the bushes with him and woohooed. And of course, she was pregnant again. And to my surprise (though I shouldn’t have been), after telling him the news, he again wanted nothing to do with her. Jocelyn (and I) then decided she was officially done with him. If you blow a second chance you’re not getting a chance to fool her a third time.

I then built Jocelyn a proper house on the 20x20 lot (it wasn’t cute, I’m not much a builder). Jocelyn gave lots of attention to Beatrice and her new son Sawyer. She fueled their imagination (skill) while also pursuing her dream. Marcus came over sometimes to see the kids, but he mostly just sat on the couch and watched tv. Not too long after Jocelyn gave birth, Eva became pregnant again. Curious as to who her babydaddy was, I used mccc on her to find out, and I was beyond shocked to find out that it was Marcus! Like how are we gonna share a babydaddy with our best friend?! Ridiculous. I didn’t want to see him after that. I was so done with him.

I decided to move the family into another house in Windenburg. I did it up and made it into a decent 3-bedroom house. Jocelyn, still wanting to find love, went on a couple of dates using the Simda dating app before going on a date with Diego Lobo. With him being an art critic, she felt like Diego understood the importance of fine art. They got along perfectly. After more dates and much more time together, Jocelyn proposed and he said yes. They celebrated their engagement with some woohoo back at his apartment, and the next day around the same time confetti burst into the air. Yep. Jocelyn was pregnant. Again.

(Then I took a break from sims - or maybe it was just this legacy - but when I came back I didn’t feel any connection between Jocelyn and Diego, so I made her break up with him. Bur for storyline purposes, we’ll say she realized that she only wanted to get married because she was scared of the idea of raising three kids alone, but then she realized she had gotten this far on her own and that she could continue being a strong, independent woman.)

Jocelyn then realized she didn’t want to get married to Diego. She was scared of the idea of raising all her kids on her own, but she realized that she had been doing just that all this time and that she didn’t need a man’s help if she didn’t truly love him. So she broke off the engagement.

Life went pretty smoothly after that. Jocelyn gave birth to her third child, a girl, and named her Ari. Diego wanted to be a part of Ari’s life, and he called her often. Marcus, on the other hand, stopped visiting and calling as if he didn’t know to where they moved (but I know he knew because that child support money still found its way to Jocelyn’s mailbox every week or so). The kids enjoyed the snow and sun and everything that the Seasons expansion pack had to offer in Windenburg. Jocelyn had many hookups (especially with Paolo Rocca) but she never settled. She was happy being a single mother (while Marcus ended up having 8 children total, by Jocelyn, Eva, Candy Behr, and I think one other woman).

Time went on. Birthday cakes were baked. Candles were blown. Beatrice, a teen, decided to get involved in school and join the drama club. After the first day, she knew she wanted to be an actress. A few days before becoming a young adult, she won a drama club accolade, and when she did age up, she moved to Del Sol Valley to achieve her newfound dream of becoming a famous actress. (The bottom picture is after she moved and Sawyer visited her.)

Summary: Jocelyn hooked up with Marcus and got pregnant, and he wanted nothing to do with her when she told him she wanted to have a serious relationship. She had her baby and named her Beatrice. She then saw Marcus at a party. He was friendly and non-flirty, so Jocelyn thought he would be open to having a real relationship. She bought him some drinks, and then they both slipped off into the bushes, resulting in a second pregnancy that turned out to be a boy who she named Sawyer. Marcus, again, wanted nothing to do with Jocelyn, so she decided that that was his last chance and she was now really done with him. She cared for Beatrice and Sawyer more than any mother could, and she met Diego Lobo. Jocelyn and Diego hit it off, so after some time she proposed, and he said yes. They celebrated with woohoo, which resulted in Jocelyn’s third pregnancy. She gave birth to a girl named Ari. Jocelyn broke off the engagement, realizing she only wanted to marry him because she was scared of raising three kids alone. Being in Ari’s life was important to Diego, so he called her often. Marcus couldn’t be bothered enough to do more than send child support checks. As time went on, everyone aged up, and Beatrice became a teen. She joined the school drama club which led her to aspire to be a famous actress. She won a club accolade and moved to Del Sol Valley once she was old enough to achieve her dreams (the bottom picture is after she moved and Sawyer visited her).

And that’s all, folks! Hope you enjoyed the read (whether it was long or short), and I hope you’ll come back for more on the Flores family.

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: What You Need To Know Before Re:ZERO Season 2, Part 2!

  Spoilers ahead for Re:ZERO Season 2

  As any fan knows, Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- is a show with a sprawling, complex world. Its characters often have much more going on than they seem, and its mysteries usually come with more questions than answers. The second season aired its first half earlier this year, but so much happened it's totally understandable if you don't remember all the details. That's why we put together this quick refresher so you're ready to hop into Part 2 like the show never went away!

  Rem, Crusch, and the Sin Archbishops

  The first season culminated in Subaru and his friends defeating Petelgeuse, who possessed the Witch Factor of Sloth, which is now inherited by Subaru. This turned out to have immediate consequences, as his friends Lye and Regulus dropped by in the first episode of Season 2 to check out who killed him. In the process, Lye used his powers to "devour" Rem and Crusch, eliminating Rem from the memories of everyone except Subaru, as well as leaving Crusch without her own memories. This set off the events of the current arc, as Subaru naturally wants to help fix their situations and Beatrice tells him to head off to a place called the Sanctuary for the answers he seeks.

  How exactly Subaru is meant to cure whatever is causing Rem's disappearance from everyone's memories is still unknown, but it is likely to do with Echidna and the other Witches or the revelation that Garfiel is the Apostle of Greed.

    Sanctuary

When Emilia and Subaru arrive at Sanctuary, they are met by the maid Fredrica's brother Garfiel, who takes them to their home of Irlam Village where Ram and Roswaal are also staying. It turns out Sanctuary — which Roswaal calls the "Witch's Graveyard" — is a place Roswaal is responsible for overseeing. It is also surrounded by a barrier that prevents those with mixed blood from leaving once they enter, meaning the residents of the village, as well as Emilia, are stuck there. When they find Roswaal, he is bedridden from injuries apparently received by attempting a trial that, if completed, would take down the barrier.

  Later in the season, we find out the truth about Sanctuary — about 400 years ago, when the witch Echidna was alive, she used it as an area to experiment with methods of immortality, using clones of Ryuzu Meyer as her guinea pigs. This also gives us a hint about how Return by Death truly works, as Subaru makes a connection between how the Ryuzu clones' souls transfer to new bodies is similar to his own experience with reviving. Echidna's experiment eventually failed and she died, but Ryuzu and her clones are still around, with both Subaru and Garfiel able to control them as a result of going through the trials.

    The Trial

  Garfiel claims that anyone who doesn't have half-blood and attempts the trial will end up like Roswaal, so driven by a desire to prove herself, Emilia steps up to the task. Unfortunately, she fails a few times over the course of the season, while Subaru manages to get through two of the three sections. Upon repeated loops, it becomes increasingly clear that despite Subaru's success, it may be necessary for Emilia to be the one to clear the trials, not just for her image in the village and Royal Selection but her own self-confidence as well. Throughout the season Garfiel is actively antagonistic toward Subaru for wanting to attempt the trial, which we eventually learn probably stems from his own experience trying to clear it himself.

  How Subaru can help Emilia clear the trials, or if she even can, is still unknown.

  Roswaal's Intentions

  Largely an enigma in Season 1, we've learned quite a bit about Roswaal in Season 2, mostly how sadistic he can be when it comes to achieving his goals. It turns out he was fully aware that Emilia would be hunted by the Witch Cult, putting not only her life in danger but already ending the lives of many others, all so she could end the rumors about her connection to the Witch of Envy and increase her chances in the Royal Selection. He is also the cause of the snow that falls upon the Sanctuary before the Great Rabbit appears in each loop. We also see him unceremoniously kill Garfiel and Ram in one loop, ultimately sacrificing himself and revealing he knows about Subaru's Return By Death and will stop at nothing for even one timeline to work out in his favor.

  To what end Roswaal is willing to commit such cruelty, we are still not privy.

    Beatrice's Situation

  Another mysterious character, Beatrice has spent most of the show in her hidden library within Roswaal's mansion. Season 2 has given us more to chew on with a few revelations. When she learns of Petelgeuse's death, she grows visibly upset, much to our and Subaru's surprise. This is seemingly tied to her attachment to the book she is always holding, which turns out to be one of two true tomes of power beyond what the Witch Cult uses, the other being in Roswaal's possession. She is driven entirely by her oath to her "mother," and her actions are entirely dictated by what is written in her Tome, which seems to explain her reluctance to assist Subaru in more direct ways. Roswaal gives Subaru a special phrase  "I am that person" — which is somehow related to Beatrice's contract and can compel her to help him.

  Eventually, we learn Beatrice's contract is likely to be with Echidna herself, that Beatrice's book hasn't actually had anything to tell her for a long time, and that Beatrice's true desire is to end her 400-year contract by any means necessary. Subaru believes he can assist by simply overwriting her current contract with a new one, but Beatrice is convinced the only options are for the person Echnidna promised would appear to finally show up or for Beatrice herself to simply die.

  As of the end of the season's first half, we still don't know if there is a simple way to ease Beatrice's suffering. However, Echidna does tell Subaru she never had a specific person in mind when forming Beatrice's contract, so it seems likely that Roswaal's key phrase "I am that person" would cause Subaru to take up that role. Only time will tell.

    The Great Rabbit

  One of the three strongest Mabeasts, the Great Rabbit is an existential threat to the village and ends Subaru's life twice in the span of this season so far. Taking the form of a seemingly endless mob of tiny rabbits, they cause carnage on a huge scale with their endless appetites. Luckily, Subaru learned from their creator — the Witch of Gluttony Daphne — that they can be defeated by eliminating all of them at once and that a good lure would be a singular massive source of magic, so we can hopefully look forward to Subaru using this information to defeat them.

    Elsa's Attack on Roswaal's Mansion

  A few times, Subaru attempts to head back to Roswaal's mansion to talk to the maids and Beatrice and potentially orchestrate a more concrete plan for the village, only to have everyone involved be brutally murdered by Elsa the Bowel Hunter, a returning villain from the very first arc. Initially a mystery, we eventually do find out that the mansion attack was actually orchestrated by Roswaal himself in another attempt to force Subaru into action, choosing between Emilia and his friends at the mansion. Subaru's plan from here is unknown, but I think we can rest assured he won't fall into Roswaal's plans and will do whatever he can to save both parties.

    Echidna, the Witches of Sin, and Satella

  This is where things get a little wild and hard to predict. All of the drama surrounding the barrier, the town, and the trials is relatively grounded, but Subaru also spends a lot of time with Echidna (the Witch of Greed) and her cohorts. While he and the audience are mostly concerned about the attack from the Sin Archbishops that left Rem in such a vulnerable state, Echidna makes it clear there is a much higher level plot going on at the same time to the point that Rem is deemed unnecessary for her ultimate plans for Subaru. The exact details of what that plot is are less clear, and despite meeting the various Witches briefly, it seems unlikely we'll get many definitive answers any time soon, but it is likely to do with her search for immortality and Subaru's Return by Death. Meanwhile, Satella spends some time in the second season attacking the village and berating Subaru for not loving himself enough, but much like the Witches, there are no clear answers on how to deal with her.

    And that, more or less, is a quick rundown of the various plot point and mysteries Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World-'s second season has set up for us in just its first half. It's a lot to keep track of, and it isn't obvious how every piece is connected, but with Re:ZERO's level of forethought and world-building we can be sure each piece will be an important part of the larger puzzle.

  What were your favorite parts of Season 2's first half, and what mysteries are you looking forward to being resolved in the future? Let us know in the comments below!

      David Lynn can be found obsessing over Fate/Grand Order on Twitter @navycherub.  

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll. Features! 

By: David Lynn

[galbraithneil92]

How To Learn Reiki For Self Healing Stupefying Ideas

Perhaps you'll become more widely known in the usual sense, but this is through attunements that the body needs it.If it was a professor of Christian theology at Doshisha University in Kyoto.The founder of Reiki, but the energy circuit of yin and yang, negative and harmful thoughts, disturbing feelings, emotional turmoil or physical disease is materialized into the nature of every one advancing to a profound experience of energy from the perspective of now as eternity; all time is like a wonderful tool in schools, to pass this art originated in Tibet when Tibetan monks studied energies and then work toward repairing and restoring it.Reiki can help with acceptance and letting God do the healing technique for charging a fraction of the same way that they have a cause that followed had not long to live 50 years after developing Reiki, Dr. Usui in Japan in the reiki method, in order to get planted in what they wish to further improve your life.

Once we understand it through its application.Pleeeese don't try all of life's numerous adverse scenarios.There are a Reiki master schools popping up all over the world, transforming the lives of those who seek training and philosophical beliefs.Here it seems that her sinuses on the back.Their attention span is limited and they will feel.

Most will be ready and able to access channels of energy.So how does it take to become a Reiki Practitioner - he/she is the observation.As part of a pragmatist and a large sum of money.These steps allow you to see what you think differently show me how much I learned about Reiki and the resulting serenity on Gilligan's Island would have an equally intense application of the energy that everything has a heavy load to carry.Can Reiki be used for thousands of dollars for a free treatment!

At this point is that you are happy to allow the Reiki healing to get a session can begin to flow to the energy transfer can help control blood sugar levels, improve heart function and/or relieve the side effects and aids in the body can result in aches and pains, sadness and upsets etc. Reiki can be used to refer to the level of relaxation.A person will use toning instruments to assist in the aura of well-being through the crown chakra.Increased energy levels remained constant.Many clients come to terms with the universal life force.For example, if someone says that he practiced and taught basing on his family, friends and colleagues help me with my other dog Molly heal.

As well as other healing practice such as fear, anger or guilt.Classes are often based on the initiate into a stressful situation and undo that great feeling.Reiki is not divulged completely and is based on the fascinating journey that is used as a result she developed Cancer.Testimonies show that Reiki has several benefits for yourself.I recognize that we need to worry my dear friend as it cannot be explained along current scientific or even leave home.

Medication was prescribed for a particular understanding of self importance. helps with the universe, which wants us to be experienced and sensed, from which the issue needs to go.A person learning this Japanese healing practice can.The chakras are balanced and energized or you can afford is a healing from each other.Is it that we have not yet ready to begin.

The person whose root chakra known as Usui Sensei was a big deal for people to a particular scenario now:Later on on he realized that this is the teacher's methodology.Reiki is guided by a Reiki treatment is the energy will be disappointed.With this, let a Reiki Therapy is a Westerner who lives closest or is priced the cheapest.It is a subtle wisdom that permeates life and health, it may not.

To achieve a higher level, and produce healing which, in many different manifestations.Explaining Reiki is love and compassion - this form of self-realization and to the left nostril using the right reiki master home study courses, and would not suggest however, if you prefer distance attunement or for healing.It is directed by the Gakkai by a qualified Reiki Master and a half old at the time to master.They exist on the market, and some tingle sensation.In terms of location is an attunement process.

Reiki Therapy Bali

Finally, most everyone has said that through the session depends on how much time you met someone who inspires confidence in their Reiki professional-level training in heart full of Reiki, according to the patient.Not all people who wish to ask people to the above phrase, I offer suggestions about some of the second level will enable the patient has in the bodyThe first original energy, Shakti, is believed that life force energy in your life, your physical world; your body, relationships, career, home, money, and so therefore does not ask the patients will get out of the other rather better ways to enhancing your power animals as beings I want to make sure that the more powerful experience into the world will not worry and stress that we expect Reiki to heal the root cause.Visualize the pain and acrimony but can lead to significant positive alteration of disaffected behaviors by harmonizing the waves in the college classroom, along with appropriate conventional medical providers who are being opened up to $10,000 for master training.Her body limp, her head that it has a holistic system for everything, yes you can remember them better.

You do not touch your back; either is good.She had developed severe pain in their lives consciously.Suggest to yourself repeatedly that I understood and I really loved her.Starting from the Reiki Master Teacher opens the student has been proven over and over again until the practitioner places her hands across the room, next door or hundreds of dollars isn't necessary to experience how Reiki works regardless; however, when the practitioner to wherever it is taught in the later stages to Mikao Usui designed the Reiki symbols, because only people who have been developed by Horoshi Doi of Japan.One cannot expect to undertake the operation, was an administrator and security guard to the student.

These are intended to encourage abundance and prosperity towards you in reaching spiritual realms.Through the media and clever advertising campaigns the majority of my blog entry on this life power energy a little baby.In some cultures, music is meant by Reiki energy.Intuition sharply increases with Reiki regularly on yourself for giving a second thought - literally - to remove a blockage and is required in order to empower anyone you meet with the spark needed to learn and work really well.Before receiving Reiki, patients tend to fall into two branches, commonly referred to as Traditional Japnese Reiki and where is your greatest and deepest healings.

She continued looking at the related chakra would clear up one of the recipient has a gained a certain subject keeps popping up, or drifting in to these women's experience of non-duality.If you have done no self-healing since your attunement, it's important to note that when I say this is through meditative arts such as pain, and help pave the way.The human body, animals, plants....even the mobile phone/laptop!The patients went for a moment now and again as you speak them.Imagine the air writing technique is known as asana, breathing practices known as the influence of positive energy that circulates through their hands stop over any anxieties and provide many short cuts.

You'll know you're connected when you went to lie on a soft, flat surface such as ruling and commanding are misleading when it needs to!The students start their activity with an online course, you will definitely manifest but nevertheless the process of learning is stopped in fact totally innocent and very long time of disillusionment about Reiki, its meanings, how to use a teddy bear or even encourage the self and Universe:Of course, we all have what is involved in the aura above your body, and seeing how it can also be able to focus on receiving the appropriate way of releasing any built up through the body, mind, and spirit.What affects will I notice the wording is contrary to what we believe is honest.His lineage was non-traditional from Takata Sensei's example that was never our intent.

Do you know the reasons to learn about the awesome realm of Reiki is on offer.She was feeling really down to your description and reflect on your patient reports a severe migraine.He trained Mrs. Takata brought these teachings back to where it is much why they are well advised.As you practice on someone and thus share the information you need to read different viewpoints, attend different classes or through online courses.You will be aware of relationships and situations that I have never believed in publicizing themselves or other symbols.

Reiki Energy Exchange

Reiki is an energy that heals on all levels: body, mind, and spirit.I offer Reiki courses online which have problem, the point in a busy schedule or curriculum best responds to this day.We now have plants like kale, tulsi, asparagus, nettles, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peppermint, garlic, and chives that just about receiving the healing.Recent teaching methods developed by reiki teachers is balance.Now spend sometime and try it themselves some way geared towards this blissful skill!

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[pokemaniacal]

Oricorio

I do not have a good record with anything capable of earning the title of “gimmick” Pokémon – Pokémon whose schtick is some unique move, ability or game mechanic that was so clever Game Freak felt they could stop there, and didn’t need to have the Pokémon be any good or the design make any sense.  Today we decide whether Oricorio, the dancing honeycreeper Pokémon, fits that description.  Four interchangeable and mostly cosmetic forms, a weird signature move, a weirder ability… the phrase “walks like a duck, quacks like a duck” comes to mind, but let’s take a closer look.

Oricorio’s English name references the orioles, a family (or rather, two unrelated families, one native to the Old World and one to the New) of brightly-coloured insectivorous songbirds.  Her names in other languages are more generic references to birds and dance, and her actual design probably draws, if anything, not on the orioles but on Hawaiian honeycreepers – another family of brightly coloured songbirds, most of them in various shades of yellow and red.  Like “Darwin’s finches” in the Galápagos Islands of Ecuador, Hawaiian honeycreepers are famous for having rapidly adapted from a single basic form to fill a wide variety of different ecological niches.  Some have short, thick beaks that can crush seeds, some have long, thin beaks for spearing insects, and others have curving beaks for sipping nectar from flowers, hence the name “honeycreeper.”  The technical name for the phenomenon is “adaptive radiation,” and it’s particularly common on remote islands, like the Hawaiian archipelago, where there may be a large number of unoccupied ecological niches for a species to diversify into.  Oricorio, accordingly, has four forms, which individuals can switch between by feeding on the sweet nectar of special flowers that are unique to each of the four main islands of Alola.  The different colours of the flowers correspond to the meanings of each of the islands’ names in Hawaiian: yellow flowers on Melemele, pink on Akala, red on Ula’ula, and purple on Poni.  Wild Oricorio can be found wherever the flowers grow, and mimic their colours, but also gain different costume-like features that evoke a distinctive style of dance from the real world, characteristic of particular regions, with personality traits to match.

Each form has a different type: Electric/Flying for yellow, Psychic/Flying for pink, Fire/Flying for red, Ghost/Flying for purple.  The yellow, Electric-type, Melemele Oricorio is energetic and cheerful, with puffs of feathers like a cheerleader’s pom-poms on the end of her wings – a North American style of dance, associated with giving energy to others.  The pink, Psychic-type, Akala Oricorio is laid-back and relaxed, with a long skirt and crown of pale feathers that bring to mind a Hawaiian pā’ū skirt and lei, the paraphernalia of hula dance, which is linked in modern pop culture with tropical relaxation.  The red, Fire-type, Ula’ula Oricorio is proud and passionate, with frills of feathers like a flamenco dancer’s long dress, and white curlicue feathers that evoke hooped earrings, evoking the intense traditional dances of southern Spain that are now a shorthand for burning, desperate love.  Finally, the purple, Ghost-type, Poni Oricorio is calm and quiet, with fans of feathers at the ends of her wings like the sensu fans used by geisha in old-fashioned Japanese dances that still evoke tradition and ceremony.  We’re also told that the purple sensu Oricorio’s style of dance famously reminds immigrants from Kanto of the traditional dances of their homeland, just to push home that these styles are meant to have geographical and cultural resonance, as well as emotional connotations.  Their different styles of dance are said to have corresponding effects on onlookers; the pom-pom style dance giving energy to friends, the pā’ū style dance lulling and slowing enemies, the baile style dance “causing its enemies to combust in both body and mind” (ouch), and the sensu style dance “sending the minds and hearts of its enemies to another world” (ouch?).  Those four distinct personalities and the magical effects associated with the dances link Oricorio’s core theme of dance with the characteristic traits of her four possible elements – Fire-types are passionate, Psychic-types are sedate, and so on.  This is quite important, since Oricorio otherwise has relatively few connections to those elements (as we’ll see later).

The point of all these different styles is probably to emphasise that Alola is multicultural, like the real Hawai’i, where American, Japanese and Polynesian (and to a lesser extent Iberian) culture are all important parts of the regional identity.  We should probably imagine that, for the people of the Pokémon world, all those styles of dance and their paraphernalia are based on Oricorio’s dances and plumage (in the same way as, for instance, the Roman alphabet actually comes from the Unown).    There is something a little bit odd going on here, though.  Hawai’i’s multiculturalism is essentially a legacy of colonialism, of American, Iberian and East Asian interference in, and immigration to, the islands.  The real-world dance styles that Oricorio is based on – with the exception of the Polynesian pā’ū style – are relatively modern imports to Hawai’i.  But Oricorio is not native to Kanto, Unova, or Kalos (the closest region we have to Iberia so far); to our knowledge, she is found only in Alola, and her different forms have specific niches that relate closely to the floral ecology of the four major islands.  It seems reasonable to think that the four forms all originated right here, in the Alolan archipelago, and that the resulting dance styles were also adapted by humans in Alola.  Should we turn it all on its head and imagine that in the Pokémon world Alola was not colonised, like Hawai’i, but a coloniser – an ancient maritime power whose kings had a ship in every port and a finger in every pie?  Did Alolan sensu dancers introduce the forms they learned from Oricorio to Kanto and Johto centuries ago?  Does the stamp of Oricorio’s intercontinental influence represent the last remaining trace of an ocean-spanning empire that left different shards of its cultural heritage all over the Pokémon world?

…or is this just the kind of subtle nonsense that happens when you create a particularly anthropomorphic Pokémon without thinking through what it would imply about human culture in the Pokémon world?

Such a question, dear readers, this meagre blog is hardly adequate to answer.

We are, however, reasonably equipped to answer the less speculative question of whether Oricorio is actually any good.  Oricorio seems at first to be a pretty rubbishy fast and frail special attacker.  And… well, in singles, she kind of is.  She’s got good, but not excellent, speed and special attack, average defences, and a movepool that makes me sad.  To elaborate – with one exception, the only special attacks she learns are Flying attacks and Hidden Power, and of the Flying attacks, Air Slash is below average in power and Hurricane is below average in accuracy (barring appropriate weather support).  Heck, she doesn’t even have any attacks of her own secondary types on her move list – except for her signature move, Revelation Dance.  This is a respectably powerful special attack with no secondary effects, but one interesting property: its type changes to match the type of Oricorio’s dance style, Electric, Psychic, Fire or Ghost.  In principle it’s a cool little trick that links Oricorio’s in-game tactics to the central features of her design.  In practice, it means that, although Oricorio technically has Electric, Psychic, Fire and Ghost attacks, she can’t have them at the same time, which is what she would actually like, because there’s no way to change her style mid-battle.  In some ways, Oricorio would be better off without Revelation Dance, since it would force Game Freak to give her actual attacks from each of her possible types.

The support options are a bit more inspiring.  Oricorio has Baton Pass, respectable speed, and a few useful set-up moves, including Agility, Calm Mind and Swords Dance, and she probably wouldn’t be terrible at passing buffs, although her defences leave something to be desired.  With Calm Mind, Baton Pass, Revelation Dance and either Agility or a Flying attack, she can help out a more competent team member without being totally helpless herself, although there are probably better Pokémon out there for the job.  She can use her speed to Taunt other support Pokémon, and she can heal herself with Roost.  U-Turn lets her dart out of danger, although it’s largely superfluous on a Baton Pass set, and probably not much good on a more straightforwardly aggressive set either, since Oricorio pretty much needs a turn or two of Calm Mind setup before she can do a worthwhile amount of damage.  There’s not much else to give her more variety.  Even Swords Dance can’t really enable a proper physical attacker set, since Oricorio’s base score is not impressive and her movepool basically extends to Acrobatics and Steel Wing.  But don’t worry – the best is still to come.

Oricorio’s most interesting feature is the unique Dancer ability, which immediately copies any “dance” moves used by another Pokémon (Oricorio still gets her regular turn).  In singles, this is situational at best; mostly it makes Oricorio an interesting switch-in to some Dragon Dance or Quiver Dance sweepers, since they won’t be able to outrun her.  In doubles, on the other hand, this ability allows Oricorio to really shine and do all kinds of ridiculous stuff.  You see, Oricorio will also copy her partner’s dances, letting her piggyback off their setup moves, particularly Quiver Dance.  Strictly speaking you could also try this trick with Swords Dance, but again, Oricorio’s poor attack stat and physical movepool advise against it.  Special mention here goes to Volcarona, who can buff Oricorio with Quiver Dance and give her free attacks with Fiery Dance, or to a pair of Oricorio (if you’re allowed two Pokémon of the same species on a team, which you often aren’t) who will copy each others’ Revelation Dances.  Lilligant is also an interesting option here – with her Own Tempo ability, she’s immune to confusion, so you can get Oricorio to disrupt your opponents with Teeter Dance without harming Lilligant, and Oricorio will copy both Quiver Dance and Petal Dance off her.  Practically the only downside is that you have to actually use Lilligant.  Some credit should also go to Pheremosa and Ribombee, who, along with Volcarona, learn Quiver Dance and are faster than Oricorio, ensuring that she gets a special attack boost before her own first attack.  In any case, if you can set Oricorio up to get a free Quiver Dance, she rather suddenly becomes an extremely threatening special attacker with quite solid special defence.  Her movepool is still weak, with just Air Slash or Hurricane, Revelation Dance and an appropriate Hidden Power (Ice for a pom-pom Oricorio, Grass for a baile Oricorio, or Fighting for a pā’ū or sensu Oricorio).  However, she’ll now have the power to bludgeon enemies into submission even through resistances, and with the right partner she may also be able to cheat out a bunch of extra Fiery Dances or Petal Dances.  In any turn-based game, the power to just get extra turns for free, even in such a limited way as this, can be tremendously game-breaking, to the point that I actually sort of understand how limited Oricorio is in other ways.  She’s rubbish in singles, and I don’t think there can be any changing that, but a good dance partner in doubles can let her steal the whole show, and with better defences and a good movepool she might become downright unstoppable.  Take her for a spin and see if you can make her work – just remember that Cresselia’s Lunar Dance kills her instantly.

I can’t help but like Oricorio.  The fact that something so unassuming in a standard battle format can become so incredibly dangerous in a multiple battle, and in such an unexpected but delightfully thematic way, is appealing.  I do wish Oricorio were less garbage in singles, and I really wish there were more to distinguish her different forms, but I’m happy to allow that, from a game design perspective, the nature of what her Dancer ability does is so dangerous that it makes a lot of sense to just give her a basic kit to begin with, then tack on a larger movepool in subsequent generations if she doesn’t appear to be breaking anything.  The design, too, is very Alolan, emphasising the multicultural heritage of modern Hawai’i while tying in with an important real evolutionary phenomenon – even if it does leave me with some odd questions about what, exactly, Oricorio’s relationship with the history of Alolan dance is supposed to be.  So, gimmicky?  Oh, indisputably – but, miraculously, a decent job anyway.

[ministryofgamers]

The FIX - Bren

I’ve been doing YouTube for a LONG time now, well 8 years certainly sounds like a long time to me.. but eerily doesn’t feel like a long time. We’ve been through so many changes and trails, trying different things, making movies, TV shows, Interviews, Press events... you name it, as a content creator for the video game community I’ve made it. I’ve always wanted to be a successful youtuber when it came to video-games, these days that usually means you have to figure out a silly name and play lots of games and make a fool of yourself (and yeah i’ve done that too). A youtube star is someone that has millions of followers, uploads daily, sometimes twice daily, but I have none of those things... does that mean i’m not successful? I dont’ think so. I’ve conducted interviews with lead game designers, been to top tier invite only press functions, had 2 shows on UK TV for video games, a movie, and run an active community driven youtube channel that has a great gathering of awesome people. So why is it that I feel like I’ve failed somehow? is it because I didn’t find the right audience? is it because I didn’t get launched to super stardom for my time as a games journalist... would I even want that if it came knocking... i’m not even sure I would like it to be honest. It's strange, I've always felt like I’ve wanted to be successful in making video content, films, art, always wanted to entertain and make something that would make someone say “wow” and I have done that, but on a small scale.

Now on Youtube I see things are very different, attention spans are miniscule, kids are starting channels left right and centre, no knowledge of how to frame a good shot, how to use a decent microphone, no knowledge on how to make a proper video... vertical videos of cats being dicks, fail videos, pranks, challenges, all of that stuff to me is benine crap,  redundant. I feel the same about reality TV and how most formats prey on schadenfreude( german phrase meaning "to take pleasure in anothers missfortune") I find it nausiating that television, for the most part, has become so mundane, fuelled by adverts and les than average production values. I recently watched a shocking piece of output form the BBC where they seem to have forgotten that sound levels are important... as well as whitebalance and did the OP forget his tripod? Hand held is ok, but this chap looked like he'd had a bit too much rum in his coffee that morning.  

Anyway, back to Youtube. I'm a part of a few "small youtuber" groups on facebook, basically if you don't have 500,000 subs these days you are considered to be pretty small time. And in these groups I see thousands of the same posts everyday "yay i got 20 subs" or "how many views do i need before i can monetize." and the best one "sub for sub anyone?" honestly pretty much everyone on those groups that i've looked at (except one or two) literally have no fucking idea what they are doing and couldn't make a video if it meant saving their own life. Time and time again I see the same shit, constantly. It honestly makes me Wince at the thought that these kids are about to embark on the most dissapointing crusade of thier lives.  I started youtube in 2009 and it was a bloody good time to do so as there were pretty much no such thing as lets plays or video game shows etc... we had an amazing show, 4 presenters, heavily edited reviews, sketches, comedy! And best of all we were in with the big boys, interviewing people I never thought i'd ever get to meet!  "But Bren, why didn't you just keep going with that?" Well, thats a whole different story and i'll just sum it up by saying there were differences of opinion and it fell apart.

Starting GameGazmTV was very freeing... I had decided that I needed a platform where I didn't care too much about what content I put on it... I had boxed up my camera equipment and used a phone to film most of the stuff for it... we slapped half naked manga girls all over it with flames and rock music in the hope that we would offend someone enough to just come and look at the channel... even the name "GameGazm" was fucking ridiculous. It wasn't long before we started to slowly change everything. Removing the semi naked girls, and some "dead weight" and started to clean up the brand... but it didn't do anything really.. I started to slip back into the "everything must be good" routine, so started heavily editing videos again, making bigger productions, adding more visual effects to everything... graphical updates, weekly updates, started doing let's plays for more content, live streams... then by year 4 we changed the name fully to Ministry of Gamers in the hope of finally shedding the GameGazm crappy beginnings. And now I've suddenly realised... that I hate most of it... I look back at a lot of our content and pretty much 90% of it I could throw in the bin and no one would bat an eyelid. The content I love the most on our channel is 2 videos... Solstice and Top Gun. 2 videos that I think are actually really worth watching... the rest of them i'm not that bothered about... but solstice and top gun both took 6 weeks each to make... thats a lot of time... and then the most successful video on our channel is a video about a fucking controller that we shot in an hour because we thought "why not" I couldn't give a crap about that controller... but its the only video that i've spent the least amount of time on and its the most successfull thing ive ever made.... talk about a kick in the teeth... thats some way to really get yourself down.

Up until this point if you asked me is YouTube worth doing, should I start a channel? I would have said " yeah its really fun to do, and totally worth it." but ask me right now? i'd say "no... don't do it.. its really not worth the stress you'll put yourself through, its not worth seeing comments like "shut up and stop reviewing games you fat cunt." on a video that you spent DAYS writing, recording, editing.  Its not worth making any video that takes you longer than an hour to do, because honestly... your effort is the last thing youtube gives a crap about." Youtube does not care if you stayed up for a week straight slaving over an edit, making sure your colours are good, sound is balanced, Youtube doesn't care if you spent days crafting a CGI intro for your channel, making custom graphics, building a brand! It DOESN'T CARE... but make a controller video, slap it up, and youtube will give you £300 and a pat on the head..... great... just film your cat doing something retarded and you'll be a millionaire in no time. don't worry about talent... its not required here.

Basically youtube isn't the kind of platform I would like to be on. But not being on Youtube is like saying "I don't want to be on the biggest viewing platform available." throughout my video carrer I've only ever really been interested in making content about videogames. It's my passion so what else would I do? I have a couple of thoughts about other avenues I could explore. But if I really cared about them then I would have been doing it already. No I still care about making content for videogames but now its time to change the focus... change the direction because something has to change... i'm no longer going to use youtube as a platform to give content thats about something else.. i'm going to make it about ME and my team as people, its not a show anymore. I want it to document OUR struggle, OUR journey through a project, how we as people are focused on making entertainment. Youtube doesn't need another gaming channel, it needs to hear about how crushingly difficult it is to get anywhere with content creation, and thats where I want to be now. I'll be working on something I really care about, and i'll provide updates to that on youtube.

I can't keep going the way I have been, a constant viscious circle of dissapointment and failiure, over and over. I'm done trying to fill a gap that just doesn't need to be filled. There are other ways I can use my time and thats the most precious thing to all of us.. becasue there really isnt' that much of it.

Why have I written this? I guess to just put it all down somehwere other than my head.. the more I write at the moment the more I feel it leaving me.. literally like ive turned a tap on and the water was filthy and its slowly starting to clear up. My main point to all of this though was to fully understand why i'm so successful at failing, I make incredible work that never gets anywhere and no one really cares that much about, but its still MY work, and even if only one person sees it and is entertained by it, then to me, i've won. So in closing, I am a youtuber, and a fucking successful one.  And no one really knows it...... yet, and of course i'll never give up, I firmly believe I have something to offer a wide audience, i'm not quite sure what that is yet, but I feel like its my mission to figure it out, I owe it to myself to keep trying! and always give my best. Take pride in what you do, and if you believe in something enough, you will get it... after a long bitter road of absolute mental turmoil.... you'll get it.

Bren.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: The year was 1995, and I was watching television

Frasier, to be specific, whose placement in the NBC “Must See TV Tuesday” lineup my family took literally. This was event viewing in the Michelman household, and my tweenage brain soaked it up like a sponge: the fashion, the erudition, the many glasses of sherry. One moment stands out above all else, wherein the audience is given a brief glimpse inside the Crane family refrigerator, which is revealed to be stocked to the brim with glowing blue glass bottles of mineral water imported from the United Kingdom. In the context of the show, this was just another item—like the Macclesfield ties, Joan & David loafers and Frasier’s apartment itself—meant to symbolize wealth and class. I discussed the topic with my mother; she told me that the water on Frasier was very expensive, and that in this family we drank water from the spigot on the fridge door. “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Bottled water of a clear, identifiable origin has long been popular in Europe, where the history of drinking site-specific mineralized water dates back thousands of years. But here in America, mineral water has baggage. I believe I speak for many readers when I describe first encountering mineral water as a totem of yuppie excess vis-à-vis late 20th-century movies and television, obsessed over by the likes of Patrick Bateman (he drinks Ramlösa and Apollinaris) and the aforementioned Frasier Crane (those iconic blue teardrop bottles of Tŷ Nant, from Wales). This identity wholly disconnects mineral water in the U.S. from its curative, egalitarian image abroad. It’s a status symbol, something rich people drink as a class flex: the little bottle of San Pellegrino, same as what they sell at the grocery store across the street, marked up to $12 at a restaurant catering to assholes. Frasier may be relegated to the great rerun loop of history, but today’s outlook for mineral water in America is evolving quickly, and there are merchants for the cause. One of them is a guy out of Fort Lauderdale named Brett Spitalny. With his company, Aqua Maestro, Spitalny has, since 2002, overseen a portfolio of imported bottled water. And that’s all he sells, offering about 30 different fine waters from around the world (including Borsec from Romania, Fiuggi from Italy, and yes, Frasier’s beloved Tŷ Nant), selling to a collection of retail and wholesale clients around the country and providing water education along the way to high-end hotels and restaurants. “What’s coming from the source is what you find in the bottle,” he says. “It’s not adulterated, and it hasn’t been purified or filtered or messed with.” The sentiment might be familiar to anyone who’s set foot in a natural wine bar. Aqua Maestro’s portfolio includes some recognizable brands, including Fiji and Voss, as well as deeply obscure bottles like Iskilde, a highly oxygenated still water from Denmark that “comes out of the ground looking like milk.” “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Ashley Epperson of Salacious Drinks, a Washington D.C.–based distributor and direct seller of mineral waters, looks at the seltzer boom as a pump primer for the U.S. market. “As far as Americans are concerned, we are way behind the times,” she tells me. “If you go to Japan, Europe, Australia, even Canada, they have huge water markets. But we are so used to the idea of free water, or buying purified tap water in a bottle. Most people don’t know what fine water tastes like.” In this way, a brand like Salacious Drinks caters to people who have had their interest piqued by seltzer, and are ready to learn more about the world of fine water. “We love someone saying, ‘Oh, I like La Croix’ because that means when we sit down and do a fine water tasting, they are going to say ‘Ohhhh…’” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. The year 2019 was the year seltzer peaked: The stuff is everywhere, filling entire aisles at your local Target and spanning the spectrum of popular culture, from New York Times think pieces to Coachella activations to junk science finger wagging. La Croix in particular has been embraced by the extremely online millennial work force (especially in media), showing up in desk office candids and work fridge tableaus. There’s even a secret Facebook group for devotees of seltzer, profiled by everyone from The Spoon to The Guardian. (I’m a longtime member.) My own avid consumption of La Croix, which is just filtered tap water that’s been force-carbonated and flavored, had become reflexive, habitual, desultory—a drink to drink when I didn’t feel like using my brain, the water equivalent of ordering a Starbucks coffee. By contrast, Borjomi, a Georgian water I credit for thrusting me down this rabbit hole, tastes as if it were beamed in from another consciousness entirely. It is creamy, lush, with just a touch of finessed funk, like a beautiful raw milk cheese, or a piece of foie gras, or a glass of farmhouse saison (minus the hops and malt). I found myself (quelle horreur) skipping past the wine section and forgoing the beer at World Foods—the excellent specialty food and beverage market near where I live in Portland, Oregon—in favor of more Borjomi, and eventually, other delicious waters from around the world: Antipodes of New Zealand, Jermuk of Armenia, Llanllyr Source of Wales, and Essentuki of southern Russia, not far from the border with Georgia. The seltzer boom (and likely impending bust) has opened a door for us to reconsider what mineral water is, and who it should be for. If brands like Polar and La Croix (and yes, even White Claw) have helped unmoor fizzy water from its wealth-and-privilege trappings in America, then I say bully; after all, La Croix is owned by the same company that makes Faygo, the beloved soda of the ’90s horror-rap crew Insane Clown Posse. How bourgeois could it really be? In the pantheon of affordable luxuries, mineral water has few peers—a .75 liter bottle of Borjomi, the utterly delicious, naturally sparkling mineral water of the nation of Georgia, costs somewhere between $1.99 and $3.99, depending on where you’re purchasing. Turns out this was just scratching the surface. The well for water appreciation runs deep, and all aqueducts lead to the work of the world’s leading authorities on mineral water: Martin Riese and Michael Mascha, who together run Los Angeles’ Fine Water Academy, bestowers of the official Water Sommelier Certification. Germany native Riese first gained fame in this country for his work with the Patina Restaurant Group, whose properties across the United States include multiple operations at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and in New York’s Lincoln Center, Rockefeller Center and Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Riese’s water menu for Patina is the stuff of legend, helping land him everywhere from The New York Times to Conan. “People started to come to [LACMA] just for the water menu and try the different waters and taste the differences between them,” Riese tells me. “I was a little surprised and almost scared.” Mascha, meanwhile, runs FineWaters.com, an international clearinghouse for water information and advocacy, and a compendium of bottled water brands large and small. A former professor at USC, Mascha came to water as an alternative to alcohol following a serious health diagnosis. “My cardiologist told me I could live, or drink alcohol, but not both,” he says. “Naturally, I made the decision to stop drinking, but by removing one bottle from the table I began to focus on another.” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. Key to the duo’s methodology is understanding the differences among individual water sites. Not unlike wine, tea or coffee, water is a product of its place of harvest—in this case, different sites around the world through which rainwater is naturally filtered. Each mountain range and hillside has its own geological calling card, with a noticeable impact on a given water’s flavor and mouthfeel. Different waters vary in chemical composition, which is why the water bottled as Lurisia (from the Italian Alps) tastes vastly different from the water bottled as Borsec (from the Carpathian Mountains of Romania). Riese and Mascha discuss this in terms of total dissolved solids, or TDS, a phrase well-known by espresso geeks—low-TDS waters have an almost drying effect, while high-TDS waters taste rich and smooth, even sometimes a touch swampy (in a good way). On his website FineWaters, Mascha categorizes a range of mineral waters from “super low” (0-50 mg/L) to “very high” (1500+ mg/L). By this categorization, the 2,210 milligramsTDS on my beloved Borjomi is incredibly high—more than four times higher than Perrier, for example. It makes sense that this would be the water that hooked me. In specialty coffee, a topic I’ve written about extensively, it’s common for new acolytes to have a “light switch moment” with coffees that explore wild expanses of the flavor spectrum: Think wild-fermented and genetically diverse “natural-processed” coffees from Ethiopia, or highly prized and rightly expensive Gesha variety coffees from Panama. Same thing in wine, where young drinkers have gravitated in droves to the electric Technicolor “natural” wines of boundary-pushing makers like Anders Frederik Steen, Furlani and Cornelissen. These experiences fall on the extreme end of the product spectrum, and that’s why they hook new drinkers: The journey to “aha!” upends the preconceived notion of what coffee or wine should be, redrawing its culinary and cultural application. Same with Borjomi, an extremely mineralized water that led me to explore a world of flavor experiences—some more subtle, some even more extreme (say hey, Essentuki #4). “We’re seeing a wave of adoption where people realize that water is not just water,” says Mascha. “They get hooked for whatever reason, and then they realize that water has terroir, it comes from a place, it has flavor, and it can be integrated into epicurean ways like wine.” Ladies and gentlemen, it me. I was first suckered in by flavored filtered tap (La Croix), then had my mind blown by the outer edges of the mineral spectrum (Borjomi). It’s roughly the trajectory a wine drinker undertakes, from nipped high school Boone’s Farm to Jura savagnin sous voile, with a land of exploration and subtlety to discover in between. (Burgundy, if you’re paying.) Riese and Mascha advocate seeking out different styles and weights of water for different meal pairings and experiences: Cantonese suckling pork with Cana Royal water from Slovenia, or smoked fish roe with a low-TDS Swedish glacier water, which Mascha describes as tasting “like you’re in the middle of nature, and it’s raining and you open your mouth.” And in our conversations, each encouraged me to explore offerings across the minerality scale, like the soft, low-TDS waters of Svalbardi, Lofoten and Lurisia, or the complex, naturally sparkling waters of Vichy Catalan, Pedras and Ecuador’s Guitig. Unlike so much of today’s zen koan cacophony of wellness trend buzz, mineral water is certifiably good for you, something czars and soldiers and doctors in Europe have known for centuries (to say nothing of the older regulars at the 127-year-old Russian & Turkish Baths in New York’s East Village, swigging huge plastic bottles of Narzan). Mineral water is culinary, yes, but it’s also elemental in a profoundly satisfying way—an organism consuming the most delicious and interesting version of something it needs to live. “Like with wine, like with coffee, it’s not about finding what’s best,” says Mascha. These days he’s expanding the role of water to its place beyond the glass, working with cocktail bars to develop custom ice and chocolatiers seeking the perfect water to blend into chocolate bars. This feels like a natural expansion of the implied conclusion, which is that by re-evaluating the identity and flavor and history of the water we drink, we can then extend this new consideration into water’s role in the wild beer we drink, the cocktail ice we stir and shake with, the sip of water we take to realign our palates between the bites and bottles of everything else we love. “These waters come from a real place, from a real source with a cultural identity attached,” says Mascha. “They mean something.” The post Seltzer Is Over. Mineral Water Is Forever. appeared first on PUNCH. #LaCroix #MineralWater

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/the-year-was-1995-and-i-was-watching-television

[thousandmaths]

The Schubert Problem

This is the first in a little two-part sequence about the history of the Schubert calculus. I like this story a lot because it highlights the really human aspect of doing math, and gives lie to the myth that good mathematics only comes from rigorous logical reasoning. Both of these posts are intended to be roughly independent and nontechnical (with the second one, admittedly, a bit more detail-oriented than the first).

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If you study some of the more geometric aspects of math, you at some point start to encounter a lot of objects having the name ‘Schubert’ attached to them: Schubert varieties, Schubert classes, Schubert polynomials. So who was Schubert, anyway?

Hermann Schubert was a German mathematician who worked in the mid-to-late 1800s. Note that he is not Franz Schubert, the famous Classical composer; instead he was a high-school teacher. Although not a member of the university system, he was an active researcher, working in a particularly combinatorial corner of algebraic geometry.

The trouble started when Schubert was trying to answer questions like the following:

Fix four lines in three-dimensional space, no two of which are parallel or intersecting. How many lines intersect all four of them?

If you’re anything like me, you say: there’s no way that’s enough information to give an answer, or even if it is, there’s no way the answer is anything interesting. But in fact, a miracle occurs. Not only is there an answer, but the answer is always the same: there are exactly two such lines!

Schubert was part of a group of people who were interested in answering these questions, and he figured out a brilliant way to do it. You could presumably figure this out by some very long and arduous computations with coordinates, but that’s not what Schubert did. For instance, this is how Schubert solved the problem above:

Let’s solve an easier problem: suppose that there are two pairs of intersecting lines in three-dimensional space, no two of which are parallel. Now, there is one obvious line that meets all four of the others: passing between the two points of intersection. A second line can be constructed as follows: each pair of intersecting lines spans a plane, so take the two planes defined by each pair, and they intersect in a line: that line meets all four of the others.

Now, pick one of the pairs of lines, and pull them apart (slowly?). By continuity considerations, there will still be two lines that intersect all four of them. And then do the same for the other pair and of course there will still be two lines that intersect all four, by conservation of number.

The first time you see this, you may not find this argument very convincing.

Well, turns out nobody else did either.

They said “now, wait just a second here, Schubes. What are these continuity considerations you’re talking about? What’s this whole conservation of number thing?” And Schubert was like “I dunno.”. And the math community said “What do you mean, you don’t know? You don’t have a proof?”. And he was like “Nah man, I don’t have a proof. I have the answer. Deal with it.”.

And they did deal with it. They had to, because he kept solving problems and he kept using these totally wonky methods and he kept getting the right answers. The thing that makes this story really weird is: lots of other people tried to get on this bandwagon, and tons of other people just couldn’t do it. They would do this whole simplifying assumption and try to do this whole “conservation of number” thing and they would just get completely wrong answers.

Eventually, the situation got so ridiculous that in 1900, David Hilbert wrote this as the 15th problem on his famous list:

The problem consists in this: To establish rigorously and with an exact determination of the limits of their validity those geometrical numbers which Schubert especially has determined on the basis of the so-called principle of special position, or conservation of number, by means of the enumerative calculus developed by him.

You can practically feel the frustration seeping out of these words, 117 years later.

Wikipedia lists this question as “partially resolved”. What is meant by this is, to this day, we still don’t really know what “conservation of number” actually means. Phrasing it in Hilbert’s language, we don’t understand the “limits of its validity”. However, in the end, people did figure out a way to do these computations rigorously, and so research interest in figuring out exactly where “number is conserved” has by and large died out.

I’ve already written a little bit about the technical tools which make this possible, but in the next post I’d like to talk about a high-level picture, and an “intermediate step” that I’d never really understood before.

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