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hollister-mc · 4 months ago

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A rant/dump about my current MHA project, I avoid spoilers for the current arcs

Yall I'm literally ill, I've never had a show impact me this much, I've never had characters affect me this much. I stopped watching mha during the Eri arc due to personal shit, like me moving and just losing motivation to watch. I still consumed the media, like fanfics, or honestly chat bots, but I just didn't watch the show anymore. (still havnt but I'm working on it)

I have a long-term fanfic that I've been working on for like... years at this point. It's longer than The Great Gatsby currently. I flip-flopped forever on the main ship, and even if it was going to be an x reader. I think I've ultimately decided that it's going to be Bakudeku/OC. And I need yall to understand why.

I originally started this fanfiction years ago as kinda a crack fic. It was a self insert of me and my best friend at the time. We were twins I put us into the series. Of course, we started it cause we simped for the characters. I wrote it, and she would give me input and ideas, but I ultimately did the main work, which was fine, I was the writer. Our friendship slowly faded, and so I slowly stopped writing. I was hurt for a long time, we were best friends for like 8 years, and she gradually stopped talking to me after she got into her first relationship.

The fic was abandoned for a long time, until during a trip to go see my other best friend across country. We talked about what happened with my old friend. At one point I told her about the abandoned fic I had, how I had started the fic for fun for us, and we had sort of a plot line for our characters, but of course nothing serious, as my ex friend just stopped giving me input and ideas for everything. I told her it made me sad, but overall, I was just bitter from what my ex friend had done. My long-distance friend looked at me and said, "Why don't you just turn it into your own? Redo it. Consider it like a personal revenge." And that my friends, is what sparked a flame in me. I reformed everything, I actually developed lore, I made characters, storylines. In doing so, I realized the main characters were no longer me and my ex friend, but two completely new characters. I won't bullshit you, the main character used to be me, but she, Iris, has completely transformed into this new character. That's why I decided to make it an OC fanfic instead of reader. I put too much work and soul into her, there was no way to portray her in a vague light, enough for anyone to put themselves in her shoes. I worried for a bit, cause I know a lot of people don't like OC stories. But I personally never turned away from OC fics unless the characters personality was too much for me to focus on and insert myself into. Cause I won't lie. I read to escape my reality, most of the time, I put myself into the main characters' shoes. So I figured, I probably wasn't the only one. In the end, I'm doing this for me. If people enjoy it too, then damn that's a plus.

Another thing I want to be clear, yeah I started rewriting this story as a way to express my upset at my ex friend, but truthfully, it's no longer like that. When I think about what happened with my friend, sure, I'm still bitter sometimes. But for the most part, it's become a part of my past, theres nothing I can do to change anything. I've worked for the past few years writing, drawing, and just daydreaming about this story. Im not lying to you when I say there isn't a day that I don't think about it at least once. I haven't been able to write lately, and it's been killing me. I moved out for the first time in my life months ago, and before that I was so busy and worked to the bone I had no motivation to write, even when the thing I wanted to write about consumed my waking moments. I'm still exhausted, but goddamn if the new episodes and Manga chapters haven't grabbed me by the metaphorical balls and twisted. I won't go into detail for anyone who isn't caught up, I gave up on trying to avoid spoilers.

I think my biggest hesitation is the fandom, and potentially backlash. Is that I'm no longer the teenager that started this fic. A lot of people don't like that, and will probably see it as weird that I'm making a fanfiction based around teenagers, especially the romance part. But honestly, I don't care. I started loving these characters when I was their age in show, and I'm sorry that they don't age like I do, but unfortunately, for us all, I still have an unhealthy attachment to it. So we're just gonna deal with it. The other side was the question of ships. I bounced back and forth for a long time on if my OC was going to be with Deku or Bakugo. It was hard, cause my initial thought was 'fuck it, both' but I hesitated cause poly ships, especially like that, aren't common or popular in fandoms, or taken seriously like I want this fic to be. Recently in the fandom I've seen how much popular the Bakudeku ship has gotten, and I finally decided to say fuck it, and just go with my original idea. So this fic will not be a love triangle, well- honestly it'll have juicy dramatic parts, but I'm going agaisnt the norm and saying fuck it, they all love eachother. I myself am not poly, (at least I think? Idk I'm unlabeled, the only poly relationships I've ever thought about being a part of are with fictional characters lol) So it won't be perfect and maybe not entirely accurate. If anyone who is poly wants to give me advice I'd be open and appreciative of it. Now that, that's all out of the way...

I'm going to give a summary of my plot, and i want to know if you guys find it interesting.

In a world where humans are given superhuman abilities, the norm, quickly changes. This world is not black and white. Prejudice and discrimination never truly leave humans, if it's not one thing, it's another. And in this world, if you don't have a quirk, or if your quirk is seen as undesirable or... potentially dark in nature, then you are immediately singled out and ostracized.

Our main characters, Iris and Ivy Blackwood, are born into an unfair world, where they are ultimately dealt with a hand that is hard to burden. Being the children of famous pro heroes is one thing, it's another when said pro heroes are constantly in the eye of the public. A scandal happens every week, it seems. You can't go far in research without seeing someone question the pro heroes' motives. Forsythe and Natalia Aphelion-Blackwood are powerful people, with powerful quirks to match. What sets them aside is the nature of their powers, powers that aren't normally seen as heroic. In fact, the whole blood line is filled with ominous powers, shadey actions, and downright morally questionable choices. When these two families married together, the media burst. Obviously, it was a quirk marriage. The only thing was they just couldn't prove it. When the twins were born, everyone waited in baited unease. Just what the hell could these bloodlines produce in power? Surely it couldn't be that bad...

Ivy's quirk manifested shortly after her twin, sprouting fox ears and tail(s) her quirk was Kitsune. Similar to her father's shape-shifting quirk, but of course had stark differences. Iris, on the other hand? Well, let's just say she won't be stepping into churches anytime soon... At the ripe age of 5, Iris Blackwood sprouted, wings, horns, a tail, claws, and red eyes to match. This girl was given powers seemingly from the devil himself. Her quirk? Demon. The nature of her power is unknown, the extent? unknown. No quirk specialist stuck around to figure out just what the hell she could do, but from the brief research done, it's believed the girl is able to do whatever a demon can do... What an odd analysis, considering no one really knows what that can entell.

Iris was forced to keep her abilities under lock and key, with great luck she's able to hide her physical features. The rest of her powers, she doesn't know, and she honestly doesn't want to find out. She's trying to become a hero, what kind of hero has a power like that? The twins' parents put them on a path, one that was built and prepped long before they were even born, what a burden to put on children. Iris wants to defy all odds, to show the world that she's not her quirk. It doesn't matter if no one believes in her, not even her own parents. She has her sister, her twin, someone who's been by her side since birth. Someone who will always have her back, that will never change... right?

This story is one of betrayal, manipulation, all kinds of abuse, moral questioning, and even questioning of one's sanity... but it's also a story of friendship, trust, found family, love, and the indomitable human spirit. This is the very definition that sometimes, your family can end up being the ones you share no blood with.

Okay, so tell me, does that sound interesting? I hope so, cause these characters, this plot, has been on my mind for years nonstop, it's something that needs to be told. And I feel like a lot of people can relate to some of the things in this fic. I'm currently rewriting the first 6 or so chapters, cause once I picked up the story again long ago, I just kept writing from where I left off, so the first chapters aren't adjusted to the new direction the fanfiction is now going. It's going to be Canon compliant but not perfectly, it will have its own arcs and storyline, and of course, depending on how the show finishes, I'll have to adjust. But overall, I love the plot of MHA, so I don't want to change too much. I appreciate anyone who supports me with this. Thank you guys a lot. Stay tuned.

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starbage · 11 months ago

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hi ! i was wondering what games/media inspire your projects, and are there any games that you would recommend playing if i am highly interested in your works and works like it ?

Hi anon. This is a thoughtful question. I forgot to answer it for a few days, sorry lol.

I feel like everything I ever consumed probably amalgamates into one big glob of ideas in my brain so that question is hard to answer, but for the most part I play random indies I find on itch.io... I feel like I don't watch/read enough things, and when I do it tends to be me catching up on (usually cult classic, but i will watch anything that catches my eye) anime/manga I missed way too late (see: me watching lain for the first time recently). shimeji simulation, yokohama shopping log, and alien9 are some mangas that have wormed their ways into my heart this year too. Life experiences also tie into my works a lot obviously. It's all really dependent on the specific project.

as far as actual recommendations go... I have a few.

you can't go wrong with the rpgmaker tag on itch.io. A few personal favs that are freeware include Red Trees, Paletta, Starbot, Temmie Chang's games, Astrid & the Witch, re:curse, Grimm's Hollow, the list could go on forever really. Swollen To Bursting Until I Am Disappearing on Purpose is also a great one, but might not be very "like" the stuff I make. I dunno. Anodyne, and basically anything by Analgesic Productions inspires me a lot. But that was the first game of theirs I played and it greatly inspired the game im working on now. Moon Remix RPG is another inspiration for my current game, mostly with the item system. The world feels so surprisingly alive, I like it very much.

Super Lesbian Animal RPG is one of my favorite games ever for obvious reasons. It's a bit of a different vibe from the other stuff here since it's like, actually a 20-hours-or-so rpg, but I think anyone who likes my work will probably enjoy it too. It also just looks so damn good. I want to be that good at pixel art someday.

Basically all of these are topdown 2d games, oops... I promise I play other things. But this answer is already kinda long so I guess I'll leave it there :p

#asks #anonymous #I feel like I am always bad at answering the “what inspires you” questions. Sorry!!

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prettyboykatsuki · 11 months ago

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Hii plz just ignore this if you’re uncomfortable or reply to it if you'd like to reply I really would appreciate it but I just need to get some stuff out of my chest

I feel so so bad I just cant see whats the point in my life anymore I feel as if Im just consuming and not giving anything in return I feel useless I dont know how to take a joke or how to make one I dont know how to express my feelings and emotions properly and people keep getting the wrong ideas and Im tired of explaining anything to anyone and I feel as if all of my friends aren’t really there like Im just a passing person on their life I keep losing people and I keep leaving people afraid of them leaving me sometimes and I dont get what the hell is wrong with me sometimes I wish I was never born or if I were someone else but then again I wish I had the power to keep moving and make my life better but I cant even do that I study day and night and I dont get the grade that I want while some people I knew spends their whole life on social media and they are getting full grades literally I feel like Im useless in every aspect of life and I know I shouldn’t be complaining and there are people who have it worse but I really needed to get that out of my chest and I can’t trust anyone of the people I know to tell them all of this also Im going through exams and shit so I just feel really pressured and all

Anyway thank you if you wasted your time reading this or not it doesn’t matter but I really enjoy your writings as well they make me feel alive so thank you for existing🩵

hello!

i thought for a long time today on how to reply to this. or if i should. get asks like this that are triggering can be very tricky to navigate, because on one had it is hard for me. and on the other, i care and have sympathy for you. and i think sometimes, it is easier to reach out to stranger about how you feel than people you love. so i would never blame you for that, or want to make you feel worse.

mostly, i want to say i am unqualified to help you completely. because im just a person who's live a vague concept of a life. take my words with a grain of salt.

i think the most important thing for you to remember is that everything you are experiencing is temporary. and i dont say that to dismiss you, but because i think it worth examining everything in your life and thinking that when it gets to be too much. you are worrying about so much at once, but you'll disillusion yourself in that process.

suffering, pain, excitement, joy. these are all very temporary things to feel, even when they seem like they'll go on forever. they are big, abstract concepts that will torment you near relentless if you let them. the only thing that you have with you concretely, is what you are able to do right now.

i wont tell you that life will immediately get better because to make a life that doesn't make you suffer takes so much time. it is so much work to build a good life and it is constant work - but never impossible. but i think it will quell the pain a little to take a deep breath and slow down to process what you're experiencing, which is a big brush of hopelessness that is so encompassing.

everything feels hopeless because you trying to tackle everything all at once. to me, it doesn't sound like you want to die. it sounds like you want it to be easier. it sounds like you want to burden the lessen, which ultimately means you desire a life. and you sound like you're trying very hard to do that all while worrying about everything else at the same time.

i dont know if i have any advice for you. any good advice, but if i could urge you do anything - it would be to take a deep breath and remember it will pass. it always does. and after that, sort your problems out one by one. and once you've done it, pick the thing that is most urgent that you can change, and start to work towards it. do it slowly and try to keep everything else out of your mind.

if you fail, forgive yourself. you have to forgive yourself. sometimes, the only thing you are able to do is live. or try to live. that doesn't make you useless. no human beings worth is measured by what they can and cannot do. you wouldn't love someone based on what they do but who they are.

and maybe you don't like who you are. maybe your friends aren't the right fit. maybe it will be lonely for a while. you can change it. you can find something new or maybe it will teach you to like your own company. it will pass and you will come out of the other side. but the only way to change those things is to try, and sometimes fail, and to forgive yourself after that and then try more. the world is not ending you just have to take it one day at a time.

it will be fine because everything passes unwillingly. and eventually this will just be another bad day. you're not useless. give yourself some grace for trying. and i hope it gets easier.

#return to sender #suicidal thoughts tw #suicidal ideation tw #ask to tag #i love you and it will get better #but most of all it will pass. it always does.

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 2 years ago

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🧵 again I agree with basically everything needle said about the Dior FW 23 collection, especially with how it jumped between high fashion and an almost working class aesthetic. That's why I called it originally an extremely Balmoral show, not only did it have a ton of highlands influences, it also felt like the ultra-wealthy play-acting at working class.

I prefer my high fashion to know what it is and where it stands.

Needle's comment about how commercialized fashion is nowadays feels like my perfect segue.

The creation of the luxury conglomerates has destroyed the high houses. I said it. LVMH is the one that seems to be talked about most in BTS adjacent spaces, but I guess this is mostly because of the LV brand deal (AND LV IS NOT THE SAME AS LVMH GOD IF I SEE ONE MORE TAKE THATS LIKE OH ITS OK HES AT CELINE THATS STILL A LVMH BRAND IM GOING TO SCREAM- ahem.)

But LVMH is not the only conglomerate. Kering is another big one. But this drive to have the houses as corporations with stocks and returns and eternal growth mean a significant stagnation in their actual creative direction. They want to sell what /sells/. You (BMT) touched on this in one of the posts, but I think it should be made clear that brands like Dior, despite being an old House with extremely revered bones, makes the vast majority of its money on things like makeup and small accessories. The marketing that they do using Idols or literally anyone is to entice people to buy the small luxury products, instead of the big ones. A $3k bag is a big ask for most people, a $50 lipstick feels like an easier pill to swallow. I can't believe how many people I've seen buying Dior after Jimin's brand announcement, explicitly for him.

But do I think that means that fashion is stagnant? This is such an interesting question to me because fashion is literally just the things that people put on their backs. I can talk forever about the high French houses or whatever, but the reality is that the world has changed. Fashion as both an art and a means of self-expression has never, EVER, been so accessible.

What I think actually happened is that the big houses (mostly these are euro houses, especially French, some Italian, a handful of British and American) have become over-commercialized. The immediate drive towards streetwear in 2015-2020 also didn't help (see: especially the absolute horror that has become the Balenciaga name). I also see a lot of weird takes about Couture as a concept, as if clothing can't be art for the sake of being art if I see one more twitter post about "I would never wear that" over some person walking a runway in a guo pei dress that weighs a thousand pounds, I'm gonna lose it.

But I also think that today, in early 2023, there are so many people designing and making clothes and putting their art out into the world. PFW just isn't the place to see that, mostly. I think if any of your readers are interested in fashion beyond the traditional houses, it's always good to check out the other major city's fashion weeks. And if PFW is what interests them- look at the brands that are maybe unfamiliar. That is where the art still lives, sorta.

I had no idea about Dior and making money mostly from small luxury goods. That's new to me. Given how it's in the lower price range, I saw it more as an entry which then leads the consumer (one who is just starting to get accustomed) to buying other, more expensive stuff. There's definitely a focus on that on social media and now with Jimin's Dior deal, a day doesn't go by in which I don't see clips on tiktok with Dior hauls and Jimin photo cards.

I actually thought about the hyper focus on streetwear for the previous ask about commercialization. I remember the time when it wasn't that big or at least it was somehow separate. Now it's sort of like a blend and trully the only thing that reaches out to the big internet audience with their IG accounts and how easy it is for anyone to curate their own fashion self. I also have issues with the sort of comments about Couture because they are unnecessary if one would have the courtesy to actually understand what it means. No one expects it to be street style and yet, they use that as a filter.

I think that, especially in this fandom space in the last few weeks and days, the interest and curiosity spiked, for better or worse. So, in the context of that, your advice is most welcome for anyone who wants to explore more.

#bmt asks #fashion anons #kpop and brand deals

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golbrocklovely · 3 years ago

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since i got asked about posting some more tweets, here is the rest of colby's tweets from 2018.

i don’t have proof that these are his tweets, but believe me, they are his.

if it’s bold and italicized, it’s someone’s tweet to him.

if it’s in (), that’s just me commenting lol

~~~~~~~~~~~

Oct. 3 - livin in a fantasy world

Go off!!! modeling?? Is it in his future? Who will know

Oct. 4 - that would be a dream

moments w you last forever

Oct. 6 - “wonder who you’ll love when i die”

@/ColbyBrock what do you want in a girl?

Oct. 9 - best friend

Oct. 10 - even though i’m forgetful af ill always remember moments that were so special to me

the stars don't make me think about you like they used to

Oct. 11 - it’s rare to find people who can handle your soul just right. hold on to those people

Oct. 14 - you know someone’s emo if you can hear their clothes before you see them

Oct. 18 - i’ll never take someone to the movies for our first date.. idk why people do that, i wanna make a moment together that we’d remember forever

someone wrote something but it’s been deleted

right? that’s like middle school dates lmao

Oct. 19 - you ever meet someone who leaves you stunned cause they’re so beautiful? like someone who literally glows and radiates beauty? without even trying? yeah. i met a girl like that today.

(ngl I think about this tweet so often… COLBY BE MUSHY AGAIN ☹ also imagine being the girl this tweet is about…. Im dead)

Oct. 23 - who’s left to trust other than myself ?

Oct. 26 - she’s nothin but trouble. but i like to get in trouble

Oct. 27 - im scared to get too close to anyone

Oct 29 - tonight's one for the books

Oct. 30 - so the cops came last night ... we got fined for HAVING THE BEST HALLOWEEN PARTY IN LA HAHAH

Nov. 1 - her memory haunts me in a perfect, beautiful way

Nov. 2 - i wanna see if i’d suck complete ass at making music

Nov. 4 - timing is everything, and i just wish we didn’t miss our moment

Nov. 9 - i wonder if my old friends from kansas think of me as much as i think of them

i’ve been so much happier recently doing things for myself. putting myself first and what i want before others. it sounds selfish, but sometimes necessary if you’re feelin down

Nov. 13 - things are so different without you in my life

Nov. 17 - some days are easy some days are hard

Nov. 19 - as obvious as this sounds, just want to remind you that YOUR LIFE is controlled by YOU. if you want to change, create, experience, manifest anything .. it’s up to YOU. so easy to forget this sometimes. become the person you want to be

Nov. 20 - i can’t live here forever

Nov. 22 - i love u and i am thankful for u in my life

Nov. 23 - lmao social media LA is like high school

Nov. 25 - i’m gunna be single foreva where the dogs at ?

one time i held a girl's hand, but i got too nervous

Dec. 7 - you’re different and i like that

Dec. 8 - why is it that people only start to care when you don’t ?

Relationships scare me yooo like I don’t even have enough time to devote to myself lol

Dec. 9 - that’s why we wait for a while. nows the time to be single and focus on ourselves

Dec. 12 - with all the insecurities/negativity that derive from social media and the entertainment world present day , i’m so scared for the next gen of kids and what they’re gunna have to deal with

social media is great for many reasons i’m not going to address now, but also very harmful for mental health. ESPECIALLY for young, impressionable kids who look up to dumbass content creators. us creators forget the impact we have on our fans sometimes.. and that’s terrifying

subconsciously comparing yourself to others constantly, # of likes and followers, being judged for everything you post are all great examples of “the bad” part of social media. SOCIAL MEDIA IS GOING TO BE THE CAUSE OF SO MANY MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS IN THE FUTURE

end: not saying you should stop being on social media or supporting creators at all, just PLEASE take breaks if you ever feel that it’s consuming you. too much of anything can destroy you inside. take new tech. at your own pace and don’t get caught up in it all

Dec. 17 - sayin goodbye to all fake friends

Dec. 19 - simple. negativity creates negativity. positivity creates positivity. you decide what you release into the universe. forgive. learn. find yourself in others.

Dec. 24 - some girls on social media act like the cliche popular cheerleaders in highchool 🤣 #foreverstuck

Dec. 26 - sitting next to the most talkative person in the world on my flight back to LA *slowly putting my headphones in*

Dec. 29 - rather waste my days w you

Dec. 30 - damn i’m sad about moving out and we haven’t even moved out yet

Navi’s been sleeping next to me every night. my heart

#colby brock #cb tweets #personal #text

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foxymoxynoona · 3 years ago

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Never read a hybrid fic before.. im curious what is it about? Is it about animals? Half animals?? like something in "furry" community fetish?? doesnt people found it uncomfortable reading something like that?? just curious bec i don't think i can read a hybrid fic but i want to know what is it about?? 😅

Hello! I'm going to assume good intentions with your ask and answer a few questions in here. This is long so I'll put it behind the cut.

I'm not sure if you're using a very focused definition of furry community (as in, people who have personas and dress and roleplay in those personas, although your understanding of that community as being just a fetish is incorrect) or more broad (people who like art that includes human-animal chimeras, etc.) but I do want to point out that 1. these interests and communities are not always sexual (but can be!) and 2. the spectrum of things that could be considered hybrid media are ancient through modern, and very broad. Netflix has a literal hybrid show. Many cultures have hybrid figures in their religions and mythos. Werewolves are hybrids. Mermaids are hybrids. Lots of animated movies, cartoons, and even non-animated movies have hybrid chracters. You could even argue that anthropomorphism is a type of hybrid (animals who move, think, speak, sing, etc. like humans.)

So this as a whole is a very broad spectrum of media where I guess the baseline thread is just "human + animal/alien components" (as oppoosed to cyborg, which would be "human + machine/robot components.) Clearly the people who read hybrid stories don't find the concept uncomfortable because it's a type of media they choose to consume --and it's a very, very large audience consuming things along that spectrum. I'm sure others have done much better analysis and writing on this and the psychology and history behind it, but basically, this is not really a niche thing. People have been combining humans and animals since forever. I'm not saying everyone likes catboys, but that most people have probably seen the Little Mermaid. What an individual likes along that is just an individual preference. You could like the Little Mermaid or have a crush on the fox in Zootopia but not find it interesting/appealing to think of a human with bear ears or behaviors.

I'll narrow the focus to "BTS Hybrid stories" of which I have written some and read some. I don't think there are rules, or at least I don't follow them and am not an expert in them, though some common themes come up, which can lead to general reader expectations of the genre. The two main groupings you tend to see are either "have some physical animal traits on an otherwise mainly human form" or "shifters/people who can turn into an animal", but there's a whole range of what that means in practice. I've written stories where people have some phyisical characteristics of their animal, stories where they look just like normal humans but have some behavioral tendancies from their animals, and stories where people look like people but can transform into animals. I personally also tend to really enjoy writing about how society has shaped itself around the existence of hybrids or species, as a way to deconstruct and analyze our real world systems and relationships.

People's individual tastes range as with anything else. Some of my stories lean more into the animal portion of hybrids than others, so some readers might only be interested in certair iterations. I think tastes change over time too. When I wrote Sea of Indigo, I couldn't figure out how I felt about a romantic lead with dog ears, so I actually left the story vague about whether JK has dog ears or human ears or both. Now after writing these stories for two years, doesn't phase me at all to write about how comforting it is to stroke JK's soft bunny ear when you're stresed out from a bad day. 😎

Anyway, hope that lends some insight!

#asks #anonymous #mywriting

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fightabear · 3 years ago

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so, i just need to shout for a second.

you are allowed to be critical of the media you consume. you should ask how it impacts you.

howver, you aren’t making the internet safer by pushing purity culture. if you care about the safety of minors online, you need to push education about internet safety. predators lay in wait in general spaces and don’t need problematic content to groom them. in fact, actively pushing the idea that determining whether or not someone is a predator based on whether or not they engage in adult content determines whether or not they’re safe to interact with sets minors up to be uncritical of interactions with people that meet arbitrary safe criteria.

online predators will actively work to blend in to their victims peer group.

you also need to be critical about where you’re getting your ideas, where they stem from, and who is pushing this agenda.

please look at what just happened to onlyfans. i saw so many people toting it as a victory for children’s rights, without realizing that the organization behind the campaign against it is one whose primary focus is actually just criminalizing and stamping out all forms sex work.

your desire to protect children and make the internet a safer space was being used as a weapon against sex workers by an anti-lgbt fundamentalist Christian organization that believes in abstinence only education.

sorry.

if this had come from a genuine place, it would have sparked a larger conversation that explained to minors the very real danger put themselves in when they bypass the restrictions in place for these sites, the types of predators that could be watching them. not to mention the legal liabilities they open themselves up to as the child is technically committing a crime by producing and sharing this content. there also would have been time for onlyfans to rework its verification system to make it harder for minors to get into.

instead, sex workers have been thrown out of the platform they built and are being shamed for being upset about it because they aren’t “thinking of the children”.

there is such a stunning lack of education being pushed as to why these things are bad and dangerous and much more focus about destroying it. children will see this cool forbidden thing and run straight towards it because they don’t know any better, no one has told them not to touch the hot stove. yes, their brains aren’t done developing yet. they are not emotionally or mentally mature yet, they are going to make stupid mistakes - but they make more mistakes and open themselves up to more harm when they don’t understand that they’re in danger or where the danger is coming from.

and this isn’t victim blaming. i was a child online who had to deal with predators. i was the kid who would circumvent neopet’s ‘no offline site contact’ rule to rp with people over AIM. i thought it was stupid! i was grown up and mature, i could handle it, right? i had sooooo many online friends and nothing bad ever happened. i wasn’t even old enough to be on the forum!

then i was thirteen. i had naively added a person on msn thinking they were a fun new friend who was going to give me a rare item on gaia online, only for them to switch on a time when we were in private. they threatened to hack and delete my account unless i got on webcam and got shirtless. i was a lonely child and the internet friends i had were my only friends. i remember crying and my mom walking in the room, not knowing what was happening, and then i used that as a chance to wrest my account back and block and report the guy.

i never told my mom. i thought she’d take away the computer forever and i’d lose my only connection. i just dealt with the shame that this man had seen me shaking and afraid in only my bra. i had nightmares about him telling me to take it off or he’d send the picture to my school friends, since he now had access to my im list. i thought he was my friend. he said he liked my writing. he changed on a dime when we were alone.

when it happened again later, i knew that there was a reason why this 27 year old man kept dming me to tell me i was pretty when i shared pictures in our group chat. now my school was giving internet stranger danger education, i knew some of what to watch out for and to trust my gut. it made me feel cool for all of ten seconds that this COOL older person praised my writing and thought i was attractive, but it also made me feel uneasy. the fact that he wouldn’t do this where anyone else could see it bothered me. so, without a trusted adult, i went to the mods of the server and his girlfriend and expressed my discomfort about the conversations that were happening in private. more details came out and he was thrown out from the group chat.

i never see education being brought up in these conversations. never. from either side. the other day i went looking for evidence or studies of some of the arguments i see bandied around the most and found nothing. even in psas for legitimate predators, i never see people passing out education as to how kids can spot the danger signs or take the steps necessary to protect themselves.

please ask yourself why when we talk about protecting minors online from predators, the normalization of carrds containing every single detail about their personal life when that is essentially a guide for a predator to use to get close to and abuse that child with is not the first thing brought up as a problem that needs to go.

#purity culture #tw child abuse #tw csa #tw child trafficking #tw homophobia #tw grooming

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

#yandere bnha #yandere mirio #yandere tamaki #yandere mirio togata #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #yandere lemillion #yandere suneater

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creampievampire · 4 years ago

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Could you go into the difference between the subtext and queerbaiting in it, I'm still kind of -well it's obviously gay but nothing was really ever said or shown that says that expect for people talking about it- Like are the characters and their relationship just queer-coded (positivly ofc lol) but the baitiness comes from them sort of confirming it off the show?

of course! im assuming by ‘it’ you mean merlin, but rather than explaining the reasons why i think bbc merlin is a matter of subtext (or queer coding) and not queerbaiting, i think it would be easier and more productive to explain the difference between the two in general. they are very similar - which is why i think a lot of people are unable to tell the difference between them - but they have important differences

just a warning, this is going to be a LONG post lmao ive bolded exactly what each term means below, after which i go into more detail on the whole issue. this is something im passionate about so,,, ♥

queerbaiting specifically refers to a marketing technique in which creators hint at but dont actually depict a queer character or relationship. They do this in order to attract a queer audience with the suggestion of a character or relationship they can relate to, while also avoiding alienating their queerphobic audiences

queer coding is the subtextual coding of a character as queer through the use of things like metaphor, allegory, hinting, recognisable traits/stereotypes/experiences, etc. This is done to build believable characters and create more complex plot lines, and it is also regularly used by people who want to tell queer stories but are unable to do so explicitly. it CAN be used negatively to enforce damaging stereotypes, but that is just a small part of its usage

both of these things utilise subtext in order to work. subtext is not only a crucial part of the creation of any piece of media, but is impossible to avoid.

an example of the most basic types of subtext is when a character tells someone that everything is going to be okay, but you can tell they dont believe it. or when youre watching a story unfold and you suddenly connect the dots and realise whats going to happen before its explicitly stated - you used subtext and the hidden meanings and hints to figure it out!

the people involved w a piece of media create their story with a specific purpose or meaning in mind, and they construct the subtext of the story to reflect that purpose/meaning. HOWEVER, the viewers dont always see things the same!

your experiences and personality shape the way you view and interpret every piece of media you consume. if you hate cops youll see the insidious undertones in cop shows - if you grew up with an abusive parent youll see the biting implications in a characters dialogue that others find innocent - if youre queer you will search for and fine queer characters everywhere, regardless of the creators intentions

now, both queerbaiting and queer coding use subtext to function, right? so how do you know which is being used and whether or not its a bad thing? its all about intention

to give a specific explanation of the difference im going to use two examples that are (arguably) very similar in the way their queer characters became canon

example 1: adventure time featured the characters marceline and princess bubblegum, who have been forever depicted as a couple in fan content. their interactions in the show were read into and latched onto bc we saw ourselves in them and we saw it as positive queer rep. but their relationship was never explicitly discussed during the course of the show and was only confirmed at the end of the final episode.

that makes 10 seasons in which their relationship existed only in subtext, and when it did finally exist in canon it was only for a few minutes, if that.

example 2: supernatural featured the characters dean and castiel (lol) who have been depicted as a queer couple pretty much since the first episode cas appeared in. i personally hung on their every interaction, analysed every glance between them, bc i interpreted deans character as a parallel to my own childhood trauma.

cas joined the show in season 4, so that makes 11 seasons in which him being gay existed only in subtext, and when it was confirmed he was immediately cut out of the show. the exact nature of dean and castiels relationship still remains in subtext.

so why is it that adventure time is widely considered perfectly fine but supernatural is dunked on as being the poster boy for queerbaiting?

its bc adventure time involved queer creators and was an earnest representation of queer characters, but they were boxed in by their publisher, Cartoon Network and thus the only way for the relationship to exist in the show was through subtext.

supernatural, however, consistently neglected their queer character and employed transparent tropes and stereotypes - bringing him in just sparingly enough to keep queer audiences interested while never being gay enough to alienate their macho manly man queerphobe audiences. they would have dean and cas stare into each other eyes for a full 30 seconds and then almost immediately follow it up with an episode about dean banging a disposable female character.

so imho adventure time falls under queer subtext, and supernatural falls under queerbaiting

when it comes to a show like bbc merlin i see a lot of debate about whether or not its queer coding or queerbaiting, and my intention is not to convince you of either. merlin was very much a product of its time, and i have argued the same about seasons 4-6 of supernatural as well, before the queerbaiting escalated and became exhausting to me

the purpose of this post is to start giving you the information you need to analyse any piece of media and come to your OWN opinion as to whether or not its queerbaiting or whatever else

people will ALWAYS have differing opinions about this shit yall. i have debated so many times w so many people about where the line is and whats okay and what should be ‘cancelled’ and if consuming something deemed problematic makes you a bad person or not

and my conclusion?

if youre capable of acknowledging the flaws and issues w a piece of media without trying to defend it as a shining beacon of purity simply bc you like it, then you do you. enjoy whatever you want to enjoy - if i think its reprehensible i simply will never interact with you lol

at some point everyone has to stop regurgitating these generic woke speak cancel culture speeches and buzzwords and formulate their own opinions

my advice to anyone reading this is to learn how to do close reading (ill provide a link to a wonderful short guide on it in a reblog bc tumblr hates links) and start really considering where you draw the lines with all types of content. decide for yourself whether merlin or supernatural or adventure time crosses the line into content you cant stomach, but respect other people whose interpretations differ from yours

i know a HUGE amount of people think supernaturals confession scene was homophobic and toxic - a slap in the face - but when i watched it i saw myself reflected in dean. a repressed bisexual whose emotions had been stunted by lifelong trauma, who wasnt ready to face his feelings for cas but quickly realising that his chronic avoidance and fear was about to tear them apart possibly forever. to me it was tragic and beautiful, and i loved it

i also think merlin is a tragic and beautiful love story, and to me its a pivotal piece of queer media that changed the way i viewed love and made me believe that it was a possibility for me bc i related so deeply to arthur

i hope that you can draw a satisfying answer from this, anon, and i apologise for this post being a full essay lol but i believe it needed to be said - i dont think there is a right or wrong answer here

#long post #bbc merlin #merlin #supernatural #adventure time #subtext #queerbaiting #queer coding #frog talks #anon #ask

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years ago

Text

when your love reaches me (iii)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 7.5k

warnings: angst, language, yearning for a man in his 70s (c’est la vie, i guess), over-describing a moment i’m very passionate about (sorry, not sorry! ten points to the person who can tell me what moment it is LOL)

a/n: wow—this gif? yeah, match made in heaven. thank you all so much for indulging me in this mini-series. i really am very proud of this silly little thing & i’m sad that it’s over because i enjoyed writing it so much. thank you to @im-an-adult-ish & @deacyblues for helping me work out the rough spots in this one. would love to hear everyone’s thoughts because i’m very ~emotional~ about this mini-series!! xoxo.

part i, part ii

in this final chapter: you must adjust because it’s not in your cards to be with him, is it?

you run your hands down your face, feel the ring on your finger catch along the end of your nose, and sigh. two months—two months without him. two months to adjust to world you once knew but happily left behind. two months to gather the pieces of the life which cruelly slipped through your fingers like water.

each day is the same. you rise early and take your coffee on the postage stamp terrace outside your flat. you watch the sun climb higher in the sky with each passing moment and let the warmth of your drink soothe the ache in your soul. you wash your breakfast dishes, mumble a good morning to rachel when she exits her bedroom to make her way to the shower, and dress for the day. you walk to campus if you have a class or take the underground to the museum if you have a shift. you come home, eat dinner, go to bed. repeat.

if rachel notices a change in you, she doesn’t say anything. in her mind, no time has passed between the morning where she asked you to come to the pub and the same evening you tumbled into the flat, drenched and sobbing.

but you—you’ve lost a year of your life. there’s no getting it back, and the only thing that proves it really truly happened is the ring on your middle finger, the necklace hanging by your heart, and the undeveloped rolls of film in your bedside table.

there are few words to describe the unbearable pain in your chest. anything and everything reminds you of brian: the whisper of the breeze in the autumn-heavy trees; the feeling of your warmest cardigan around your shoulders; the sound of someone laughing in the museum.

but there’s more:

the scent of cigarette smoke reminds you of roger. the sight of two friends ribbing one another in a grocery store reminds you of crystal. a colorful jacket makes you think of freddie, a whispered snide remark takes you back to john, and two girls giggling reminds you of giddy moments with anna.

around every corner you turn there’s a memory you cannot avoid, and it hurts—desperately, keenly, deeply.

so you push it all away and soldier on, quiet and downtrodden. it’s easier that way. maybe, if you forget, you can move on and make it through life without him.

six months after you’ve left brian behind, you’re approached by your boss at the museum with an opportunity you’d only ever dreamed of: the chance to create and prepare your own exhibit.

monica is firm when she offers you the south wing to reshape as your own. “blow this out of the water, [y/n], and there will be a job as assistant curator waiting for you after graduation. i want something fresh and exciting. think you can manage?”

you agree without hesitation.

for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this is your chance to put everything you’ve learned to good use, to put something tangible in your portfolio, to make a name for yourself.

you’re buzzing with excitement and have to practically hold rachel hostage as you spout your myriad of thoughts and ideas. she’s your sounding board, even if she doesn’t want to be, but she’s honest where it counts most, and you’re grateful for that.

she glances over the kitchen table, laden with open magazines, cutout photos, and history books. her brow puckers. “this is... really boring, [y/n],” she says with a cringe, looking up with her blue eyes and freckled face.

your shoulder droop. “that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”

she shrugs and reaches for a photo, inspecting it with a critical gaze. “i mean, ancient textiles might be interesting to you and maybe five other people, but it isn’t exactly blowing me out of the water.”

dropping to the seat across the table, you huff. “well, we’re a photography museum, rachel. it’s not like i can whip up a few outfits and put them on mannequins.”

“excuse me, but fashion design is just as artistic as curating a museum—if not more so.” she sighs and puts the photo of a thirteenth century chinese table linen on the table. “there must be something else you’re interested in? something that other people will like just as much?”

you don’t mean to, but you let your eyes trail to the camera sitting on on the tv stand. you’d left it there after your return, uncertain where to put it. sometimes you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye and then you remember the tubes of film in your bedroom, undeveloped and unseen.

rachel follows your gaze. “you know, you never told me where you got that.”

“it was a gift.”

“oh really? from who?”

you’re slow to answer. the truth sits on the tip of your tongue—the man i love, the man i was going to marry—but you bite it back. “my great-aunt. she left it to me... in her will.”

you aren’t sure what compels you to retrieve the six rolls of film from your bedroom, but you do. the tubes feel heavy in your palm and clang against the table as you put them down. rachel looks at them then back at you, waiting.

“she gave me these, too.”

“i didn’t know you had a great-aunt.”

“we weren’t close.”

“obviously you were close enough to get these things.” rachel lifts one of the tubes, turning it over in her palm. “wonder what the pictures are.”

“i’m not sure,” you lie. “maybe they could make an exhibit.”

“i think you’d have to develop them first then make that decision.” she rises from the table and shrugs on her coat. “i’ve got a date, so don’t wait up. and try not to let this consume you too much? you’ve been down and out lately. i think the work will do you good, but don’t let it take over, yeah?”

you nod and wish her well on her date. she leaves the flat in a flourish, leaves you to the tubes of film and the growing curiosity in your stomach.

you really should get them developed. if not for an exhibit, then for yourself. an entire year of your life is in those tubes, and you deserve to see the photos you’d taken to preserve that time.

it’s been six months. you’ve purposefully distanced yourself from anything and everything related to queen, be it a simple news story, a song on the radio, or any of roger or brian’s social media posts. it hurts to see them, to know that they’re so close yet so far away, that they have no idea what became of you all those years ago in japan.

still, it’s been six months. developing the film might be your first step toward a sense of closure. you don’t want to stay in your rut forever. though you’re comfortable with the idea that brian might be your great love and you’ll never find another, you know you can’t stay as you are, sullen and despondent. it’s like a break-up, really. you’re sad, heartbroken over the loss, but you know it’s time to step out of the hurt and into something different.

before you can stop yourself, you grab the rolls of film, your purse, and your jacket, and you head for the nearest photo shop.

a few hours later, you return with a heavy packet of freshly-printed photographs and a usb drive full of digital scans. there’s over two hundred photos to sort through, and you’ve yet to see one.

flipping on the light to your living room, you sit down beside the coffee table, a glass of wine at your side, the table cleared of any lingering books or empty teacups. before you open the packet of photos, you open your laptop and type your search into the search bar. if you’re going to quell your curiosity tonight, you might as well quell all of it, and you’re dying to know what happened after you left.

a simple internet search confirms what you already know: your presence within the group on the jazz tour did not alter any significant events. freddie still passed away, john still retired. a further search yields at least one previously nonexistent queen song written by brian may: “into thin air.” it was released in the album following jazz. you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, not yet. a deeper search unearths an interview brian gave a year or so after you left. the interview was published in a magazine editorial covering of each of queen’s band members and their lives when not on tour or recording. after freddie’s bit, there’s a photograph of brian at the top of a new page. he’s smiling, but he looks weary and he mentions you only once: “i was engaged for awhile, but that ended in an unfortunate circumstance, so to answer your question: no, i’m not looking for love. not right now, anyway.”

you close the laptop and lean back against the sofa. the ring on your finger feels heavy. your eyes fill with unshed tears, and you decide the photos can wait to be seen until tomorrow.

the packet of photos ends up sitting on the coffee table for two weeks before you invite your co-worker, shamik, over for wine and cheese and museum gossip. shamik is kind, a first-generation immigrant from india with personality to spare and an exuberance for all things american. he claims it’s his greatest curse that his parents brought him to britain as a baby instead of america, and it’s something he can never forgive them for. you’ve only interacted with shamik at work, but when you mention your exhibit project, he’s eager to offer his help. with no new ideas outside ancient textiles, you’re willing to take whatever advice or ideas he has.

sitting beside him on the couch, you spread your collection of papers and pictures on the table to explain your vision. he listens dutifully, nodding along, his eyes scanning the 3-d projection you’ve made of what the exhibit might look like once completed. when you’ve finished your spiel, he sets his wine glass down and nods to the packet of unopened photographs on the edge of the table.

“what’s that?”

you frown, shaking your head at the sudden turn in conversation. “sorry?”

he reaches for the manilla envelope. “oh, it’s hefty! what’s in here?”

you sigh and take the packet from his hands. it feels solid in your lap, like a brick. “photos from my great-aunt.”

he points to the sealed flap. “it’s unopened.”

“i haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet.” setting the packet to the side, you raise your eyebrows. “well, what do you think? about the exhibit?”

“honestly? it’s dull. monica won’t be impressed.”

you throw yourself back against the couch with a groan. “what the hell,” you whisper. “i’ve got no ideas then.”

you know ancient textile photography would not be the most enticing exhibit, but it’s been an interest of yours for some time and would be easy enough to complete. shamik and rachel’s reactions do not bode well, you have to admit. having a job as an assistant curator right out of the gate would be beyond marvelous, and you desperately don’t want to screw it up with a boring first exhibit.

“let’s have a look at these pictures from your aunt!” before you can stop him, shamik reaches across your lap for the photo packet and rips open the top. “maybe that will spark some ideas?”

you lean forward, blush already rising to your cheeks as he pulls out the first picture. “oh no, shamik, i don’t know if—”

“holy shit!”

you shut your eyes, wincing.

“that’s fucking freddie mercury!” shamik grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh. “did you know about this, [y/n]? that’s your aunt with freddie mercury!”

forcing your eyes open, you look at the photo trembling between his fingers. it’s a picture of you sitting beside freddie on the tour bus. (you think john took the photo in an effort to get you to stop taking photos of him when he was asleep while roger and crystal placed as many items on his head as they could before he fully awoke.) your head is against freddie’s shoulder, your eyes droopy with sleep. a lump rises in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head in feigned disbelief as shamik continues to shuffle through the photos.

“oh my god, your aunt was a groupie,” he cries, passing you another photo.

“i guess—” you clear your throat. “i guess she was.”

“you know”—shamik sets the pile of photos down and spreads them across the table, obscuring your vision of an ancient textiles display—“this would make a great exhibit.”

“shamik—” your voice is a warning, a sudden surge of anger rising in your chest, but he continues.

“no, really, [y/n]! there are so many photos here that tell such a cutesy little story. i mean, come on? freddie and this cat?” he lifts the photo in question. “it’s stuff people have never seen before from a totally different side of queen. it’s a fucking goldmine!”

“absolutely not,” you say. “i will not put my aunt’s personal affairs on display.”

“think of monica, [y/n]! think of the job!”

“no, shamik!” you stand from the table and drop your plates in the kitchen sink with a resolute clatter. “i barely knew my aunt, but i know enough to gather that her time with queen was private. she didn’t say anything about it until she died. that’s got to mean something, and i don’t want to air it all out for everyone to see and speculate and gossip about just for my own personal gain.”

you’re shouting, fists clenched at your sides, by the time you finish. shamik just stares at you, his face blank and unreadable. he glances down at a photo.

“she looks a lot like you,” he says, his voice even.

you huff and take the wine glasses from the table. “we’ve got strong family genes. now, please, i’d appreciate it if you just drop the whole queen thing. we can find some other idea.”

you gather the photos, shove them back in the folder, and toss the envelope in the nearest drawer you can find. the drawer slams shut, and you leave the photos there to gather dust.

you mull over shamik’s idea of an exhibit based on your photos for a month before you finally relent. monica’s riding your ass daily with questions about your progress. you need to get something down on paper for her to give to the contractors, so you begrudgingly type out a response to her most recent email:

monica,

i’ve landed on an exhibit topic at last. took me long enough, right?

i’ve recently come into possession of a series of photographs taken by my late great-aunt. turns out she was a groupie with the band queen in the ‘70s. my exhibit will be centered around those photos. i’m thinking the exhibit will be titled “queen: unfiltered.” do with that what you will. :)

monica, much to your dismay, loves the idea and sends you right to work on gathering and laying out your vision while she begins the necessary promotion.

it hurts at first—looking at all the photos you took, remembering the way you felt so unearthly happy during that year. you cry each time you sit down to sort out the best of the pictures. the ones which capture a moment of levity amongst the band or are particularly well-shot go in a pile on the left. the ones which didn’t develop well or are too intimate for you to ever consider putting on display go in a pile on the right. your bedroom floor is a mess of drafted captions written on slips of printer paper, photographs with notes scrawled along the back, and used tissues. more than anything, you wish you could step into the world behind those photographs. you want to be back there—with him, with them—until you grow old and gray. knowing you can’t, that you won’t ever see him again, tears you apart inside.

but it helps. the exhibit forces you to acknowledge the time you spent with brian, with queen. instead of leaving the photos in a drawer, they confront you everyday as you sit down to work, and everyday it gets a little bit easier to face your past. as the tears subside, you find yourself laughing whenever you find a new photo of roger’s antics. your heart doesn’t clench as much when you run across another photo of you and brian. you can smile now when you look at his face. he really was so handsome...

you go so far as to frame your favorite photograph of your time together and place it on your dresser. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head. you’re laughing, your hands folded on his arms, legs crossed as you tilt to the side. he’s making a face, his tongue stuck out at the camera, and every time you pass by the picture, you can’t help but chuckle.

you love him still. you’ll love him always.

with three weeks before the opening of the exhibit, the stress is starting to get the better of you. you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick, there’s heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, and you can’t remember the last time you consumed something other than coffee. despite the stress, you feel lighter. working through the photos, laying them out in order, writing the captions, pouring over the faces of the ones you love so dearly—it’s all helped ease the burden in your heart. for the first time in a long time, you slip out of bed in the mornings with a newfound sense of energy and purpose.

life will go on. just as you did when you fell into the past, you will find a new future.

arms laden with exhibit proposals and mock-ups, you brush into your local coffee shop—pretty bird—intent on getting some real work done on choosing the final photographs before you send them off to be printed. you order your usual and take a seat by the front. the air which wafts through the open window at your side is warm with spring and rebirth, and you breathe deep, cracking open the lid of your laptop. you manage to pick a total of twelve of the seventy-six needed photographs before you’re interrupted.

“whatcha workin’ on?” matthew, barista extraordinaire and casual acquaintance, sits down on the bench across from you. he has his own cup of cold brew poised between his lips, and the piercing in his eyebrow wiggles as he moves his brow up and down.

“an exhibit for the museum,” you say, pausing to roll your tight shoulders. “it’s my first.”

“do tell!”

you explain, briefly, how to came to acquire your dead aunt’s photographs and the general theme of the showcase. he nods in approval then snaps as if he’s remembered something.

“hold on. stay right there. i’ll be right back.” he puts his coffee down, scoots off of the bench, and darts to the back of the coffee shop. you wait and listen to the sound of the birds twittering outside before he returns with a framed picture in hand. “i just learned about this,” he says, taking his seat again. “this building used to be a disco back in the 70s.” he hands you the frame and points to a collection of people in the middle of a disco bar. “that’s queen. they came here once and somebody had the smarts to take a picture.”

your hands shake around the photograph, eyes darting from one corner of the picture to another.

matthew keeps talking. “the place was called climax. can you believe that? the 70s were fuckin’ wild, mate.”

you nod, lips parted, and skim your fingers over the incredibly tall and recognizable form of brian in the center of the photo. you can see your shoulder, jammed between freddie and crystal, but the rest of your body is obscured. you lift your eyes from the frame and glance around the coffee shop, at the exposed metal beams and vaulted ceilings, at the disco ball still hanging in the center of the room.

makes sense now. why the building had felt so eerily familiar back then.

handing matthew the picture frame, you sit back in your chair. “wonder if my aunt ever came,” you say.

“maybe? sounds like she was in pretty tight. you know who you could ask?” you shake your head, uncertain of matthew’s question. “chris taylor. he was a roadie back then. he’s a regular here. comes in at least twice at week.”

you can’t stop the hand that flies to your mouth in surprise. you try to smother your gasp with a cough, but matthew still stares at you like you’ve sprouted another head.

“you okay?” he asks warily.

nodding, you take a sip of your drink. “yeah, yeah, sorry! wrong pipe.”

“so, do you want to meet him and ask about your aunt?”

everything in you screams to say no. it’s too dangerous. you will surely break the moment you see him. crystal became your lifeline apart from brian during that year. he was your brother, your partner in crime, the one who kept you grounded when things got too wild. just knowing that he’s frequented the same coffee shop as you for the last six months brings tears to your eyes. you could have run into him. hell, you might’ve already. still, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to make it through a proper meeting without spilling your guts and apologizing for the way you left.

“[y/n]?” matthew pulls you from your thoughts. “what do you think?”

you hesitate before shrugging. you speak before you can stop yourself, before the rational and reasonable part of you can take over. god, you need this. if it’s your only opportunity for true closure, you’ll take it. “if he’s up to it then... sure.”

matthew grins. “come in tomorrow. i’ll introduce you!”

that night you toss and turn. you’re plagued with anxiety. will crystal recognize you? if he does, what will he say? will he be angry? what if he tells brian and then—

your bedside alarm goes off just as you fall asleep. it’s a struggle to drag yourself out of bed, but you must. there’s closure somewhere around the corner, and if you just move your ass, you’ll find it. you have one class this morning then your meeting with crystal. you’re jittery by the time you leave class, but you chalk that up to drinking two cups of coffee before leaving your flat and one in class.

it’s drizzling as you make your way to the coffee shop. you hasten your steps, head bent against the rain and fingers curled around the strap of your bag. when you enter the shop, it’s nearly empty aside from a few lonesome students studying in far off corners. you can hear the faint thrill of music over the loudspeakers, but the blood that’s rushing to your ears blocks out most of the melody.

crystal’s already here, leaning against the counter, in conversation with matthew.

you stop in your tracks. he’s bald now, slightly pudgier with age, but he looks every bit as devilish as you remember.

you swallow past the fear in your throat and the anxiety in your veins and step forward. you voice wobbles when you speak. “matthew?” you direct your entrance to your friend because if you come right out and say crystal’s name, you will surely fall over in a puddle of emotion.

“there you are!” matthew jumps over the counter in one easy leap and lands to the floor beside you. he drapes his arm around your shoulders and motions to crystal. “[y/n], i’d like you to meet chris taylor. chris, this is [y/n], the girl i was telling you about.”

crystal’s staring at you through his blue-tinted glasses like he’s seen a ghost. his jaw has gone slack, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a sentence.

you shove your hand into the space between you. “nice to meet you, mr. taylor.”

looking between matthew and yourself, he gathers himself, clearing his throat, and shakes your hand. “you too.”

“should we sit?” you motion to the same table you occupied the day before. “i can buy you a coffee for your troubles.”

he shakes his head and lifts his cup. “already got mine.”

“all right, well...” you glance at matthew.

“do you want your regular?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

“comin’ right up.”

crystal follows you to the table and sits down, his movements slow. for a moment, you sit in silence and allow his eyes to roam your face. you can’t tell if he knows it’s you or if he thinks it’s just a coincidence. you want to reach out and take the hand he rubs across the bridge of his nose, but you fold your fingers in your lap.

“thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” you finally say.

“you aunt,” he starts.

“yes, my aunt.” you pull a photograph out of your bag. it’s one of the few you took with crystal all those years ago. he’s got you in a headlock, his opposite fist grinding into the top of your skull. you slide the picture across the table. “you knew her?”

crystal lifts the photo, inspects it, before putting it down. he sighs, shaking his head. “i loved that woman. broke my heart when she left.” his gaze lifts from the table. “you look like her, have her name too.”

you look away, out the window at the side. there’s bird fluttering in a puddle on the sidewalk, and you watch it for a moment before turning back to him. “i think my mother loved her a great deal. i didn’t get the chance to know her, though. we only just found these pictures recently.”

his eyes narrow. “i mean, you really look like her.”

you force a smile. “thank you. that’s kind of you.” shifting, you tap your finger on the table. “i know her leaving wasn’t exactly...” you struggle to find the proper word, but he jumps to assist.

“natural?”

“well, i was going to say easy, but—”

“she fuckin’ disappeared! excuse my language.” huffing, he drops back against his chair. “one minute she was there, the next minute she was gone. i swear, i’ve never seen anyone skip town that fast.”

“she didn’t say anything about leaving?”

“why would she? she was engaged! she had no reason to leave that i know of.”

“was she happy?”

“hell yes. her and brian—i’ve never seen two people more fit for one another. brian just about lost his mind trying to find her, but it was like she never existed. strangest thing.” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, looking askance, before his eyes whiz back to yours. “oh my fucking god.”

you look up, fear sparking in your belly. “what?”

“[y/n]?”

you blink. your head feels dizzy with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s about to jump across the table and throttle you or hug you so tight your insides might squeeze out of your body.

“fuck,” he breathes. “it is you.”

“i don’t know know what you’re—”

“don’t play dumb with me!” he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “i was the one who got you that phony passport, remember? i always wondered why i couldn’t find your credentials. had to lie my way through it until i got the damn thing. you’re lucky everything was so lax in the 70s.” he shakes his head. “how’d you do it?”

there’s part of you that wants to deny, deny, deny.

but it’s crystal. you can’t lie to him any more than you already have.

“i had no choice in the matter,” you say plainly. “one minute i was here, the next minute i was there, and the next minute i was here again.”

his jaw works back and forth as he processes the information. “does brian know?”

“no—and i’d like to keep it that way.”

“i thought we might lose him after you left.”

you twist the ring on your finger. “if i’d had the choice, i would have stayed. i hope you know that.”

crystal nods. “yeah, i do.” he holds your gaze then motions to your bag. “so, this exhibit matthew told me about. you’re publishing all those photos you took?”

“yes. there are some pictures i’ve saved for myself, but my boss, monica, she got permission from the record label to go ahead with the others. it opens in three weeks.”

“i’ll be there if i can. i’d like to see those pictures.”

you smile, your first earnest smile of the day. “you feature many times.”

he ducks his head like an embarrassed schoolboy. “we were thick as thieves, weren’t we?”

“you and roger were thicker, but i’d like to think i had a part to play some of the time.”

he lifts his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “you know, when i said i loved you, i meant it. not in the way brian did. you were like a kid sister to me. i cared for you a great deal.”

before you can stop yourself, you slip your hand across the table to grasp his worn fingers. his shoulders shake on another sigh, and he lifts his opposite hand to wipe at his eyes beneath his glasses.

“oh, crystal. i’m so sorry,” you whisper. it hurts to see him cry, to know that you’re the cause behind his pain.

he waves your apology away, sniffing hard. “i’m just glad to know you’re okay. we thought you might’ve gotten picked up or—” he shakes his head and pats your hand over his, meeting your eyes. “you’re okay, though. that’s what matters.”

“will you really come to my exhibit?”

“anything for you, kid.” he thumbs the underside of your chin with a lopsided grin. “even after all this time, i’m putty in your hands.”

you grin and hand him a business card, which he tucks in the folds of his wallet. rising from his seat, he opens his arms and you practically trip into his hug. he holds you tight for the briefest of moments before pulling back. he pats your cheek.

“i’ll see you in three weeks, yeah? if i stay any longer i’ll end up a sobbin’ mess on the floor.”

you nod. “yeah. and, crystal?” he turns at the door. “don’t tell brian. please.”

he leaves without another word.

the day of the exhibit opening you are equal parts thrilled and a nervous wreck. everyone’s here—your family, rachel, shamik, even matthew. you haven’t seen crystal amidst the crowd mingling in the lobby, but you trust him to show. he’s always been reliable, and you doubt he’ll fail you now.

monica squeezes your shoulder as she passes you by in the staff hallway. “it looks wonderful, [y/n]. consider yourself hired,” she says and hands you a keycard. “i’m going to give you a piece of advice i got when i completed my first exhibit: go have a moment by yourself. look at your work, be proud of it. you deserve it.”

with trembling fingers and a racing heart, you make your way down the corridor to the south exhibit hall. due to a celebratory lunch with rachel the day before, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the room in its final state. in retrospect, you’re thankful for the chance to see it for the first time alone. at least this way, if you cry, no one will have to know.

the door beeps as it unlocks, and you slip inside the room. you descend the handful of stairs which lead into the showroom floor and suck in a deep breath.

before entering the exhibit, there’s a wall to the side with a simple explanation written in a white font:

queen: unfiltered — this exhibit preserves and presents never-before-seen images of the popular band, queen, through the eyes of an unnamed woman who spent a year traveling the world on queen’s jazz album tour. her images are intimate yet distinctive and offer a personal glimpse into the lives of one of britain’s most well-known bands.

at the far end of the room hang four banners spanning floor to ceiling. the banners wave gently in the air blowing throughout the room, illuminated from lights on the ceiling and floor. each banner hosts an oversized photo of one of the band’s members in an image that best captures their personality. it took you hours to find the right photo for each man, but you stand by your choice for each one.

there’s john on the far left, head bent as he strums the bass across his knee. his lips are pursed in thought, a line of concentration on his brow.

there’s freddie next to him. he stands in a spanish alley way, cradling a stray cat in his arms. he looks serenely on at the camera, a rare moment of simplicity.

there’s brian sat in an overstuffed armchair, his gangly legs crossed, a book open on his lap. he has the corner of his thumb in his mouth, and if you squint you can see the edge of his tongue.

there’s roger on the far right. he’s smiling at the camera, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. there’s a party hat snug on the crown of his head, pulling the skin of his forehead taut.

on opposite sides of the room, two parallel rows of twelve photos hang in neat order. you decided to have every photograph in the exhibit printed in black-and-white and, in all, you painstakingly picked the forty-eight photos featured in their simple white frames. you walk along the wall, hands clasped at your waist, eyes running over the memories you hold so dear.

the afternoon crystal taught you ride a bike in barcelona: you’re sat on the handlebars after a hard fall, mouth open in a squeal of delight as crystal whips toward the camera.

roger and john tossing an apple back and forth in an ottawa grocery store: john’s smile is broad, the apple caught on film midair.

brian sitting on the floor of your hotel suite: there’s a tray of sushi at his feet, and he’s smiling at you, his hair wet from a shower.

freddie playing the piano in the airport in yugoslavia: he’d been so excited to see one, his shoes had slipped on the slick floor as he ran to it. he’d played dramatically, conducting those around him in a horrible rendition of “god save the queen.”

your eyes sting with tears as you glance about the room. you’re proud of your work. it looks good, professional and elegant, but more than that, you’re proud of yourself for the work you’ve done in mending your broken heart. though you will never live the life you’d once dreamed of, you will always have the memories—and that’s got to count for something.

when the double-doors open and monica ushers the first of the patrons in, you slip into the closest bathroom to wipe at the makeup smudged under your eyes. you’re happy, truly so, and you want to celebrate—celebrate both of your lives as they finally come together.

the room is crowded when you reenter, conversation and gentle laughter mingling in the air. you accept a tight hug from rachel when you see her and the congratulations of your parents. you can’t stop smiling, and you’re sure your face will hurt come morning, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

your parents float away, hand in hand, and you find yourself alone in the center of the room, watching in awe as people you’ve never met look at your photos, at your memories, and nod in appreciation. your chest swells with an emotion you can’t place.

“i think this calls for a congratulations. you’ve outdone yourself, dove.”

you whirl on your heel, lip caught between your teeth in a poorly-concealed smile. “you came.”

crystal grins. the tie of his suit is rumbled and askew, and you reach out to straighten it. old habits die hard. “i said i would.”

“what do you think?”

“i think it’s fantastic. the lads would be proud.”

“maybe.” you shrug. “guess we’ll never know.”

“are you really so intent on staying hidden forever?”

you nod. “yes. it took everything in me to even talk to you. i don’t want to ruin their lives again by popping back up, especially because i’m not exactly old, am i?”

crystal laughs, shaking his head. “you must think you’re hot stuff if a simple hello could ruin a life.” his laughter fades into a simple smile. “now, i know you’re going to hate me and i’m willing to take that, but i did tell a certain someone about the exhibit.”

you can feel the blood drain from your face. “crystal, you didn’t.”

he winces. “i might’ve.”

you slap his arm and curl your fingers into his bicep. “you bastard!”

he holds up his hands in defense, decent enough to plaster a look of contrition on his face. “look, i didn’t tell him the context or what tipped me off. i just told him there was a new exhibit about queen and he was eager to come see. that’s all!”

you swallow hard, uncertain how to respond. “i—” your head twists back and forth in utter confusion. “i don’t know what to do.”

crystal’s face softens, and he nudges your shoulder. “go talk to him. he deserves that much, doesn’t he?”

you can’t argue with that.

giving crystal’s arm a grateful squeeze, your legs shake beneath you as you turn and see him—brian—across the room.

you don’t know how you didn’t see him before. even now, forty years later, he’s still unmistakeable: still tall, still gangly, but his hair has gone white and his strides are slower. the overwhelming urge to tear across the room and curl yourself around his back nearly overpowers you, but you shove it down and manage to cross the floor in slow, even steps. you keep your eyes glued to his back, your hands twitching at your sides. when you reach him and catch a faint whiff of his cologne, the same he wore all those years ago, you have to push back the tears that rise unbidden to your eyes.

you tap his shoulder. “dr. may?”

he circles around, as does his wife anita, her arm snug in his elbow.

brian blinks hard, his brow furrowed in confusion. for a moment, you let him stare at you as you stare right back. his eyes are the same. you’d thought they’d be different, but they aren’t. the realization stuns you silent.

anita glances between you both before smiling sweetly. “good evening, sweetheart,” she says, and her voice is so kind you can’t even summon the slightest bit of jealousy. “i’m afraid i didn’t catch your name.”

“oh, i’m sorry!” you laugh and find that smiling at anita isn’t hard. “my name’s [y/n] [y/l/n]. i created the exhibit. i thought i might come and introduce myself.”

“oh, how lovely!” anita claps her hands together. “what you’ve done is so beautiful, [y/n]. it’s nearly brought a tear to my eye.”

“that’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

“brian likes it too. don’t you, brian?”

he still can’t seem to formulate any sort of response. he’s frozen in place, and your heart lurches for him. to see the woman he’d once asked to marry him, the one so cruelly ripped away, while standing next to his wife... precisely why you never wanted to meddle in his current affairs.

finally, he seems to collect himself. he sucks in a deep breath and nods in agreement. “yes, i do. very much.”

“that means a lot,” you say, easing your smile back into place. “thank you.”

“i’ll leave you two to talk to for a moment. i see crystal hovering in the corner over there, and i’m sure you both have many questions for one another.” anita presses her hand on your arm as she passes. “lovely job, dear.”

she leaves, and you’re left alone with the greatest love of your life.

you wait for him to speak.

“you’re... alive?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“yes.”

“you’re the same age?”

“yes.”

“how did—” he shakes his head. “i don’t understand.”

“neither do i.”

his chin quivers slightly, and he looks away. “i thought you’d been taken or decided to—”

you dare to touch his arm. a spark jolts through your fingers at the slightest touch, but you hold firm. “nothing happened,” you explain. “other than nature righting her mistake.”

“i think—i think i need to sit down.”

“yes, of course. my office is down the hall. it’s quiet there.”

he nods and leans against your arm as you lead him down the hall. in the silence of your dimly lit office, he collapses to the loveseat beneath the window and drops his face to his hands. you hesitate in the doorway until he looks up. tears shimmer in his eyes, and you swallow hard, your smile wavering around the edges.

he stands then, crosses the floor, and cradles your face in his hands. “my god,” he breathes. “it really is you.”

with a laugh, you hold his wrists. “in the flesh.”

“how long’s it been?” his thumb works over your cheekbone and, though you know he should stop, you can’t bring yourself to step away from his touch.

“about seven months.”

he snorts. “try forty years.”

“you seem like you did well for yourself, though.”

he shrugs. “i suppose.”

“you’re happy?”

there’s a heavy pause before he says, “yes.”

“that’s all i want to hear.”

slipping out of his grasp, you put a modicum of space between you both. the air is thick with emotion, and your heart beats wildly against your chest. the love you thought you’d put to bed flares at the mere sight of him, even after all this time.

you drift your finger through the sand of your tabletop zen garden. “i told crystal not to tell you about me,” you admit.

“he didn’t—not in so many words.”

“i know. i’m glad he said something, though.” you pause, meet his gaze. “it’s so good to see you, bri.”

quiet falls over the room as he stares at you. you don’t squirm. you’re comfortable under his gaze, always have been.

“i hope you know i never stop looking,” he says. “even after anita, i kept trying to find you. just to know.”

“and i hope you know that i would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant i got to be with you even for a time.”

your phone vibrates on the desk, skidding across your oversized calendar. you reach for the phone and flip it over before slipping it in the purse hung over your desk chair.

“i’ve got to go,” you admit, crossing to his side. “i’ve actually got a date.”

to your surprise, his eyes crinkle with amusement. “i’m happy to hear it.” he lifts a hand and smooths back the hair from the side of your face. he looks at you with all the love he did forty years ago, and you wish you could take a picture to remember forever.

but then you remember: you have dozens of photos at home, and it doesn’t seem too hard to let him go now. not after the work you’ve put into mending your heart. you can face this, face saying goodbye for good. you have to, for his sake and your own.

rising to your tiptoes, you place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth—one last touch, for you both. you wind your arm around his neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, brian may. i always will.”

he squeezes you hard against his body, sucking in a ragged breath. “i love you too, [y/n].”

dropping back to your heels, you huff a breath and smile wide. “well, i’d better go.”

“yes, you’d better. don’t keep the lad waiting.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, your hand lingering on his. “okay, well... goodbye, brian.”

he smiles, and it’s the loveliest sight you’ve ever seen. he brushes you cheek with the back of his hand, whispering, “see you later, love.”

dipping out the back of the museum, you walk down the street, purse slung over your shoulders. you think you’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in a long time tonight.

you hope he can, too.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay @grigorlee @teenagepeterpan @just-my-sickly-pride @perriwiinkle @ubernoxa @anunknownnebula @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @captvinswaan @ineloqueent

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may fic #brian may x you #queen #queen fic #queen x reader #j writes

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letteredlettered · 4 years ago

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hi! ive been following your writing for a few years now and i drop by periodically to check if you have anything new posted, and im really surprised that you seem to be enjoying the untamed? im curious what you think about the show - its story and characters, the acting, the production, etc. idk if you know, but the untamed is the most successful example of a current trend in chinese entertainment, where popular online novels centered around a gay romance is adapted into a 'safe' drama.

continued:

due to the many explicit and implicit restrictions imposed on creative media in china, many crucial plot points have to be changed (often badly) or removed, including the nature of the relationship between the main characters. the untamed is considered the most loyal adaptation so far, but like all other works in the genre, it received criticism for weak acting and queerbaiting. that's why im really curious about what you think of the show as it is, as itself, free from its context.

if you're interested, you could also check out guardian! it features much better performance and chemistry by the leads imo, but the story was heavily botched bc the original incorporates and reinvents a lot of classic chinese folklore beautifully and stuff like that is considered disrespectful and not-pc. i think it's really sad how so many great pieces of writing with complex world-building and plotlines are simplified into... idek what to call them, but just, less than what they are.

im sorry this turned into a rant. as a mainland chinese person with oh so many frustrations about our current society, it's hard to comprehensively describe my feelings about the untamed's popularity. it's the first mainland chinese show/movie to gain this much organic interest abroad so i should be glad? but, but. anyway, yes, im sorry.

There’s no need to apologize for ranting, but I admit to some confusion as to whether you want your question addressed or the rant. Because I’m me and tend to be thorough, I’ll address everything, in reverse order.

First of all, I’m sorry that this show is sad to you. I’m sorry that the popularity of it is difficult. I’m also deeply sympathetic to your frustrations about your society, as I too am deeply frustrated by my own.

Secondly, yes, I’m aware of the context of The Untamed. I’m aware that the book it’s based on is a BL novel, and that, in order to align with Chinese politics, overt queerness was erased from the adaptation. I’m aware of the censure laws of gay media in China. I’m also aware that some aspects of necromancy and morality were adjusted to make the show more palatable for general audiences, but I’m fuzzier on those details. Lastly, I’m aware that the popularity of the show calls attention to certain things, such as fanfic, and that attention results in more censorship,

The fact of this erasure and this censure provokes a lot of questions: by consuming this product, which contains erasure and censure, do we engage in the erasure and censure? By posting gifs and writing fanfic and talking about this product, do we increase its popularity, thereby encouraging additional erasure and censure? By increasing the popularity of this product, do we diminish the popularity of the original gay morally gray canon, thereby decreasing representation? Do we discourage other authors in China from writing explicitly gay morally gray material? In short, are we allowed to enjoy this media?

I don’t know the answer to these questions. However, I do know that boycott is a very effective tool when it can inflict economic pain on the producer, or when it can exert pressure on an entity to change. That said, I feel like a lot of the calls to boycott certain media these days are a lot like telling people to stop driving their cars to stop climate change: it’s suggesting that individuals can solve the problem, which presupposes individuals are the problem, and therefore fails to address the scope of the problem, or present the possibility of a real solution. Not watching The Untamed isn’t going to change laws about portrayals of homosexuality onscreen in China, partly because the laws in China are a much bigger problem.

The other part of it is that The Untamed is coded queer, so if you run a successful boycott against it, you end up with . . . less queer TV. I know a whole lot less about China than I do about the Hays Code, but if you had told gay people during the Golden Age of Hollywood that they couldn’t enjoy movies that were coded queer because they weren’t explicitly queer, they’d have said you were crazy. In fact, many people will tell you that media that was coded queer was a big reason we got more explicit queer stuff later. And as I’m sure you’re aware, the US is still fighting that battle . . . partly because it wants to sell movies to China.

So then there’s a question about whether me, an American in the US, liking something coded queer from China but not explicitly queer--does that encourage Chinese censorship? Should I only support texts that are explicitly queer? But the answer is the same--it’s not addressing the scope of the problem, and by supporting texts that are coded queer, you could be paving the way in the future for something brighter.

But you weren’t talking about boycott! You were talking about your discomfort with the popularity with this show, which I accept. I understand feeling uncomfortable. I can only hope it makes you a bit more comfortable to know that plenty of fans are deeply aware of the context and do wrestle with the question of what liking this show means in the context of a society that would never allow aspects of the original to be portrayed onscreen.

Thirdly, I’m not against trying Guardian at some point, but by comparing the acting and chemistry of the leads to The Untamed, I feel like you prove our tastes are very different in these regards. I love the acting of the leads in The Untamed; I found their chemistry off the charts. It’s okay you don’t feel the same.

Lastly, you asked my opinion of The Untamed: its story and characters, the acting, the production, sans context of the canon upon which its based and censorship laws in China.

a. I love the overall story, but the plot has deep plot holes. Quite a few segments do not actually make sense to me, because the plot is so haywire. However, I’ve never cared that much about plot, except when it gets in the way of characters and themes, and for the most part, this plot serves its characters and themes, except when the parts they leave out are so confusing that I cannot follow the story. As for the story, it feels like it’s built for me, because ultimately it’s about moral decisions and how to make them; it’s about guilt and paying for mistakes; it’s about learning, changing your mind, and remaking yourself. Really, I’m not sure there are many stories I love more--except they killed my favorite character, and I almost quit. So, that certainly put a damper on things.

b. I love the characters most of all, although the villains are really two-dimensional. However, large parts of the plot are not Hero vs Villain, they’re Hero vs Society, and then some Hero vs Himself in a way that suggests the Hero is no longer a hero. I could talk about the characters forever, but suffice it to say I think they’re really strong. Also, the relationships are really exquisite, particularly when it comes to family dynamics. Unfortunately, they killed my favorite character off. Also unfortunately, there are six women in this show, only two of them are main characters, and every single one of them dies. It disgusts me.

c. I think the two leads are exceptional, in particular Xiao Zhan . . . when he’s not being too broad, which he is quite a bit. However, I do wonder how much of this is direction and production style, because in many instances, he’s quite subtle, and the choices he makes are astounding. Then there are times where it’s like they needed more footage, or wanted to drive home a point, and he turns on the extra, and it’s awful. It could just be him, but I actually feel it’s the case with most of the actors, which does make me think it’s a directing issue. Meng Ziyi never really has that problem though, because she is the most perfect of all. But then take He Peng, who I actually thought could be incredible, but every scene was just SO BROAD that I began to feel sorry for the poor dude having to act that part. But there is nothing to be said for Wang Zhuo Cheng, who really is just terrible, which is sad, because it’s a great part.

d. Production-wise, it’s really hit and miss. So much of the locations are truly beautiful. A lot of the costumes are too, unless the shot is too close. I actually don’t mind the wigs; I love the long hair. The CGI is terrible. And then while a lot of the shots are beautiful, some of them are awkward, and the pacing is really difficult, imo. It really seems like they wanted to drag it out, and there are so, so many scenes where I’m sort of embarrassed that we’re in the same scene or that we’re still looking at someone’s face, or that everyone is just standing there waiting for the shot to finally end.

I will say that film is a language that does differ from culture to culture. It could be that both the broadness of the acting and the awkwardness of the editing are my cultural lens based on American and a lot of western film. When I watched older Hollywood films, the acting is a lot more broad and maybe a little less “true” feeling, but I understand that it’s not the case everyone in the past was a bad actor. It was just a different style, so I’m not sure I’m equipped with the cultural knowledge of Chinese acting, cinematography, and editing to be able to really judge the value of these things.

I do know how I feel, which is that the editing is the biggest hurdle for me while watching the show. However, I feel that the beauty of it makes up for a lot, and the strength of the characters and themes really carries it.

I hope I addressed your points adequately, and I wish you well.

#Anonymous #the untamed #china

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