#its just. depressing. watching everyone go round and round arguing that no one is doing activism right and we just have

[gibbearish]

donate to palestinian gofundmes! remember your clicks! watch out for scam gofundmes! gofundme is refusing to release the funds to palestinian gofundmes! remember your clicks! theres a ceasefire! israel is breaking the ceasefire! palestinians directed to safezone! israel is bombing the safezone! theres a ceasefire! israel is breaking the ceasefire! donate to verified gofundmes! dont donate to gofundmes, donate to organizations who can use the money where it's needed most! remember your clicks! don't donate to orgs, theyre inefficient and individuals know how to use the funds better for themselves! here's a list of verified gofundmes! remember your clicks! israel accused of war crimes! remember your clicks! if we all work together we can stop this! eyes on the protests! eyes off the protests, theyre drawing attention away! eyes on the protests, the government is trying to shut it down! boycott eurovision, eyes on eurovision protests! eyes off eurovision, it's drawing attention away! never look away for even a second! remember your clicks! here's a graphic description of the torture theyre going through! pay attention, paying attention is how we stop this! remember your clicks! buy esims! think about the children dying horrifically right this second in real time! eyes on the next safezone, surely this time itll work and israel wont turn around and bomb it! remember your clicks!

compassion fatigue? how fucking selfish can you be? are you actually going to make this about you and how upset it makes you feel to think about? you should be thanking god it isnt happening to you. you know every country in the world hates yours and its only a matter of time before someone finds an excuse to start bombing you back, better pipe down! listen to the planes flying overhead and imagine they were raining death down on you, maybe thatll give you some perspective. remember your clicks!

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

Chapter Two: Adjustments

Now Playing: It Almost Worked by TV Girl

Chapter warnings: unwanted advances, cursing, mentions of alcohol/beer. Nothing overly described.

Jacob had gotten bigger since I last saw him.

It was a given, obviously, since I had last seen him when I was nine and he was seven with a missing front tooth and a slight lisp because of it.

But it was more than that, I think.

He had shot up like a tree, tall and lean now, but it was visiblethat his muscles were starting to bulk up. His hair looked thicker and his face was losing its boyish roundness, turning into sharp cheekbones and almond eyes.

I hopped out of the truck as Bella turned it off, and I walked into the barn with a flourish, not bothering to knock.

“Oh, oops,” I said, realizing Jacob had more friends over.

They were two boys sitting with Jacob, who stood when I walked in.

“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t realize Jake had friends over.”

“No, no, it’s ok,” one of the boys said, standing also and turning to face Bella and I fully. “No worries, right, Embry?”

Embry, also standing now, is tall and thin. His hair falls in slight waves around his head and his eyes are soft and dark.

Jacob rolls his eyes at his friends, coming over to give Bella and I a hug.

“Quit getting taller, you ass!” I grumble as he gives me a hug. He just laughs.

“Are your friends staying..?” Bella asks, looking at them. Jacob shrugs.

“If you two don’t mind.” He says, turning again to look at me. I shrug, wandering to the back of the garage and pulling out a blanket and pillow that I had stashed away.

Quil and Embry, whose names I learn quickly, stay and watch Jacob and Bella fix up the bikes.

I talk to them, amused with their humor. They were a bit childish, but it wasn’t annoying.

Quil was cheery and all smiles, and Embry was more reserved and quiet. They were both such genuine people. It was refreshing.

“So, what did you guys do for winter break?” I ask, looking towards Embry and Quil.

Eagerly, Quil tells me about the bonfire they had and all the food he ate. I smile as I listen to him talk, his story-telling humorous and fast-paced.

Before he launched into another story, Jacob interrupted Quil to ask, “Y/n, would you get some waters from the fridge?”

I nod, standing up from the pallet I had made in the ground and wandering into the house to grab bottles of water for everyone.

I pass them out, and Quil picks up where he left off without hesitation. I laugh more than I have in a while because of his stories and Embry’s sharp tongued quips when his friend got a little overzealous with his descriptions of events.

I knew Bella was having fun, too.

She would snicker at Embry’s sly words and Quil’s fanciful stories, looking up to watch them argue before going back to helping Jacob, a smile on her face.

I smiled wider, contentment blooming in my chest.

---

“Hey, guys!” I greet, smiling as I walk up to where Sam sits with Jared and Paul in the booth.

“Hey, y/n,” Sam says, looking weary and tired.

Concerned, I ask him, “Are you alright, Sam?”

He smiles, rubbing his face.

“Haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” He tells me, and I’d believe it.

His skin is paler than normal, his face looking drawn and thin. The skin under his eyes is ashen and ruddy, a clear sign of his lack of good sleep.

Jared doesn’t look much better. His hair is fizzy around his head, the braids he kept it in messy. It’s clear that he hasn’t had a chance to redo them in a while, which is unusual because he takes great pride in the appearance of his “luscious locks.” He, too, has heavy eye bags. He’s not pale like Sam is, instead looking flushed, almost feverish.

Paul, who I don’t have much to compare with, seemed in rough shape, too. He has a bruise on his jaw and a scabbed over cut through his brow, looking like he got into a fight. His expression seems grumpier than it normally does, which is saying something.

“Milkshake, Pepsi, water?” I ask, glancing at the three of them.

Paul looks up from to table to make eye contact with me.

“Coffee, please.” He said gruffly, and I nod. He sits stiffly in his seat, his shoulders tense and his face drawn.

I bring them their drinks quickly, setting a bowl of sugars and creamers down beside Paul’s hand. His fingers twitch, almost a flinch.

“What do you boys want to eat tonight?” I ask, pen to paper as I wait.

Jared ends up getting a large stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Sam gets his usual sandwiches and fries, and Paul decides on a chicken sandwich, pulled pork sandwich, and a large basket of fried pickles.

Tonight’s slower than ever, save for a group of men on the other side of the diner who have come this way to have some beers. Why they chose Roy’s is beyond me, but it’s probably because they’re dirt cheap.

I get them their food quickly, turning around to help Chelsea bring bottles of beer to the table she was working.

As I set them down on the table, one of the men put his arm around my waist and pull me to his seat.

“Well aren’t you just darlin’,” the man says, his eyes struggling to focus on me. My face twitches before I can stop it, my lips pulling up in disgust.

His friends laugh at him, wolf whistling at him.

“I don’t think she like that, Freddy,” one of them snickers, and Chelsea tries to tug me away.

“Come on, sit with us a while!” The dunk man says, trying to tug me into his lap. I try and politely refuse, but he just pinches my side and pulls harder.

“Enough, asshole,” I say, shoving away from him and quickly taking a step back. “I’m working, and you’re old enough to be my father. I’m not sitting with you, I’m not going home with you, and I’m not serving you any more drinks.”

Chelsea grabs my hand when the man, outraged, staggers to his feet to look over me.

My heart drops to my stomach as the drunkard takes a lumbering step forward, but a hand reaches out from behind me to shove him back into his seat.

“She told you to fuck off, didn’t she?” He says, his voice rough.

“She don’t know what she wants,” the man before me slurs, trying to stand again.

“Sit your ass down before I sit you down.” My eyes grow slightly wide as I glance at Paul, his face contorted with anger. He’s shaking slightly, and I reach back to push Chelsea farther away as I scurry a step back

“Paul.”

All three of us turn when Sam comes over, reaching out to grab Paul’s shoulder. He gives him a meaningful look, and Paul begrudgingly takes a step back.

Paul turns back to Chelsea and I, reaching his arm out to usher us back to the other side of the room, towards where Jared sits, watching.

I take a moment to really look at Paul as he guides us closer to the kitchen.

He’s tall, taller even than Jacob is now. He’s not quite as tall as Sam, who’s bordering on 6’5”, but I think he might be close. His shoulders are broad and muscular, his arms thick with cords of muscle. Like Jared, his shirt is tight around his chest and arms, but loose around his abdomen. His hair is loosely hanging around his face, a few locks curling around his jaw and ears while the rest hangs down to his collar.

As if feeling my gaze, he looks down at me when we stop walking. I clear my throat, looking away from him and back to Chelsea.

“Thank you, Paul. I appreciate your help.” I say quietly, my hand still firmly locked with Chelsea’s. She nods emphatically, her ringlet curls bouncing with the force.

He only nods, his jaw still clenched. Sam returns to the table as the group of drinks leave, grumbling to themselves.

“Are you okay, y/n?” He asks me, looking between Chelsea and I. I nod, shrugging.

“Disgusted, but yeah. It’s not the first time those guys have come here and made us feel gross.” I tell him, sighing.

Sam sighs, reaching out to pat my shoulder as he sits back down.

“Thank you for getting them to leave!” Chelsea blurts out, staring at Sam. He nods, taking a sip of his Pepsi.

It’s nearly empty, as are the rest of the drinks at their table.

“Oh, here, I’ll get you guys some more to drink.” I say, reaching out for their cups.

“That’s ok, y/n, you don’t have to,” Sam says, “We need to get back to the house, and you should probably be home soon.”

I blink, then nod, “’Kay, I’ll get you the check.”

Chelsea and I quickly get the check, and she slits from my side to go tell the cooks about what happened. I pay her little attention as I grab a few slices of the remaining chocolate pie and put it in a box, going over to hand Sam both it and the check.

He pays, hands me a twenty, and the three of them leave. Paul gives me a long look before he turns to follow Sam and Jared, and I find myself wishing that they had stayed a little longer.

---

“Yeah, that guy then tried to pull me into his lap and shit, and Paul came over and shoved him away and back into his seat—” I said, retelling the events of the previous night to everyone in Jacob’s garage.

His head turns, his face scrunched.

“Paul who?” He asks, and I tilt my head, trying to remember his last name.

“Um, Lahote? I think?” I say, unsure, “Friends with Sam Uley.”

Quil and Embry share a look, and Jacob sternly says, “Stay away from him. All three of them are bad news, y/n.”

“What?” I ask, baffled, “Why? They all are pretty good to me, and Sam saved Bella in the woods, didn’t he?”

“Sure he did, y/n, but the three of them are in a gang.” Embry says, his voice serious.

“Or a cult. Judy’s still out on which one.” Quil adds, and I share a look with Bella.

“Yeah, okay. Sam Uley is in a gang and/or a cult leader, and Charlie just lets it all happen. Sure.”

Jacob stares at me, “Y/n, I’m serious. Stay away from them. All three of them are nothing good. Trust us on this.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes but relenting.

“Okay, whatever. Stay away from them, I got it.” I reply, knowing that my promise would only last for so long. It’s not like I could ignore them or change shifts, and it’s not like I really wanted to.

Besides, I never saw them outside of working at Roy’s. It wouldn’t hurt to stay friends during my shifts.

---

I didn’t see Jacob and the others for a few weeks. I was busy trying to study for a test in physics, a quiz in history, and writing an essay for English. It seemed that my teachers like to conspire and make everything due at the same time just to make my life difficult.

When I finally picked up another shift at Roy’s, I was greeted by the confusing sight of Embry sitting with Sam and his group. I smile and greet them, confused why Embry was with them when he had, to my knowledge, hated them previously.

I get their drink orders and ring them in, bringing them out quickly and getting their orders for food. I don’t have time to chat today, since Roy’s is unusually busy for this time of night.

I do manage to catch Embry in his way back from the bathroom, and I notice that he’s gotten taller. His chest and shoulders have filled out more, and when I snag his arm, he’s burning up.

“Em, you’re burning up!” I tell him, my hand recoiling like I’ve been burned. He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Also, I thought you couldn’t stand Sam and his ‘gang-slash-cult’? What happened to that?” I ask, my brows furrowed as I stare at him. He just sighs.

“Y/n, it’s complicated, I can’t really explain it.” He says, a pained look in his eyes. “Just—don’t make a big deal of it, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” I ask, packing him in the chest. He winces. “Embry, you’re covered in bruises and you look scared out of your mind! How is that not a big deal?”

“Y/n, I promise, you’ll understand later. I’ll tell you everything, I swear. Just give me time to figure it out myself, okay?”

I stare at him, searching his face.

“You have two weeks before I start searching for answers myself.” I tell him flatly, “And whatever bandaid is hiding shit, I’m ripping it off.”

He smiles thinly, thanking me before going back to his table.

The rest of my shift is quiet and uneventful. Sam and his gang/cult/whatever the hell leave, and Embry gives me a look before he walks out the door. I just sigh.

---

“Bella,” I said, sitting down with my sister at lunch. She looked up from her salad, waiting for me to continue.

“Since when has Embry started hanging with Sam? I thought the three of them thought Sam and his friends were a gang or something!” I demanded, knowing that she was my last chance to learn before asking Jacob and Quil, who would lecture me about breaking promises.

Bella blinked at me for a second, then responded, “Couple weeks, probably? Jacob and Quil won’t talk about it other than to insult him or Sam, and I stopped asking because they just rant.”

I sighed, “Sucks for you then, I’m about to grill them about it.”

---

“Since when was Embry running with Sam?” Jacob looks up at my words, his brows furrowing.

“How’d you know he was?” He asks, and I’m quick to reply.

“I asked first. Answer my question.”

“Y/n,-”

“Jake.” I say, stern. “I need to know if he’s in trouble or not. You said Sam was running some kind of gang or cult, didn’t you?”

Jacob sighs, closing his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replies, “We think so. Embry stopped hanging with us about a week after you stopped coming over so you could study. He started skipping school and running around with Sam and his goons and wouldn’t talk to us.”

“Do I need to tell Charlie?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing he could do. We don’t have proof of anything.” He tells me, “Besides, everyone loves those freaks for whatever reason.”

My lips thin, and I sigh.

---

“Have fun at the movies!” I call to Bella as she walks out the door. She said that her, Mike, and Jacob were going to see some action movie. I had declined the offer, since I had picked up an extra shift at Roy’s so I could sleep early tonight.

Roy’s was basically dead for my entire shift, so I got cut early and could go home. When I got back, Bella was sitting in my room, waiting for me.

“Hey?” I asked, wondering what was wrong. “How was the movie?”

“It was fine,” she said briskly, “When Embry joined Sam, Jake and Quil said that he had started to get agitated and irritable. Then he started running fever.”

“…okay..?” I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

“At the movies, Jake was irritable and mean to Mike. He was rude to him about his tolerance to the gore, and when I touched him, he was burning up.”

“So, you think he’s going to run off to Sam or something?” I asked, and she nodded. I pressed my lips together, and sighed.

“Let me go shower and change. We’ll talk when I’m done.”

I was quick in the bathroom, showering with haste and changing into my pajamas before walking back to my room.

“What do you want to do about Jake?” I asked, and she just shook her head. She was staring at her hands, and my brows furrowed. “Bells?”

She sniffed, rubbing her eyes, “I just don’t want to lose him, too, y/n. I don’t think I can handle it.”

“You won’t have to,” I assured her, coming over to hug her tightly. “I’ll beat his ass.”

She laughed wetly, her tears soaking into my sleep shirt.

I made a mental note to call Quil tomorrow, to see if he knows anything.

[namtanlovesfilm]

Hi Axelle! Big fan of your channel btw, I watch your video about IPYTM just to get mad sometimes(my resentment towards that show is astronomical).

I've always wanted to move abroad, Seoul being the goal but I want to keep my options open. I know you have several videos about living in Thailand but I'd really love to hear more about your experience. Quality of life, language barrier, weather, expenses, xenophobia, visas, housing, pests, healthcarejob opportunities basically anything! Thank you so so much🙏🏻

Hope you have a fabulous New Year 🎊♥️

hi, thank you so much it means a lot! 🥰 glad to know someone hates ipytm as much as I do lmaooo! ok so let me do it point by point!

quality of life: much higher than living in france. rent is like 4x cheaper for way newer buildings with great amenities such as a pool & a gym, I can order food every day without breaking the bank, and bkk is such a lively city there's always so many cool things to do there for not crazy expensive! I would NEVER be able to afford my lifestyle here in bkk if I was back in paris, and the hot weather also makes it so I don't suffer from seasonal depression which is HUGE!

language barrier: I'm the only foreigner I know who speaks thai, and my foreigner friends have no trouble getting around relying on english. bangkok is one of the most expat-friendly cities ever imo!

weather: the weather is extremely hot in thailand, very humid & also it rains a lot and rainy season is no joke. however I prefer this weather over the french weather bc the sunlight we get everyday no matter the season is 12 hours a day, which is huge when in paris we can go from 14 hours of sunlight in summer, to only 6 in winter. again, really helped with my seasonal depression. also, I can go to my building's pool year round lol! the heat is not for everyone, but personally I feel like I'm on vacation year round & it has done wonders for my mental health!

expenses: as I said, bangkok is much cheaper than paris. however, with thailand's economic boom in recent decades, it's not dirt cheap either like the idea many people had like 10 or 20 years ago. the biggest thing where I really save the most money is rent, but transport is actually more expensive than paris, and imported things are unbelievably expensive. still, I live a very comfortable lifestyle with 800 euros a month, whereas to live the same exact lifestyle in france I'd need like 2000 euros.

xenophobia: there is barely any xenophobia in thailand. in fact, I'd argue that there is a romanticization of foreigners here, especially white ones. however, there are a lot of barriers to being a foreigner in thailand. getting the citizenship seems relatively hard, getting a job as a foreigner is unbelievably hard since the business visa needs to be renewed every 2 months which annoys employers, if you start your business in thailand, you can only own 49% of your own business while a thai person owns the majority, etc. most of the difficulties are legal & related to immigration, but thai people don't discriminate against foreigners. however, they will always tend to see you as a tourist & will try to scam you way more than a thai person, no matter how long you live in thailand... as expressed in videos, as a foreigner, you'll never be seen as a thai citizen, even if you spend your entire life in thailand, and that sucks...

visas: they're hell. as said before, business visas are like the shortest in the world, you can't have that many tourist visas, and the only visas that are easy to obtain are study visas (bc you pay a lot), or retirement visas that last 10 YEARS (bc they pay a lot.) however, thailand seems to slowly be relaxing its visa system, so there's hope.

housing: very easy to find something cheap, I found my 2 apartments in under 2 weeks each time, whereas it'd take me months in paris for a shittier place.

pests: first apartment had lizards, new one has insects...

healthcare: no healthcare as a tourist unless you got an insurance. now that I'm a student at the most prestigious thai uni, I have a lot of free services with the related hospital & health center. I also bought my own insurance so I'm pretty much safe. still is shocking coming from a country with completely free healthcare lol.

job opportunities: finding jobs as a foreigner is AWFUL & idk how I'm gonna find one once I graduate lol, I hope my professors can help me 😅

hope that helped, & I hope you get to do everything you're setting out to do 💜 happy new year ✨️

xxx

[skaruresonic]

every once in a while my feed recommends thinkpieces on the Matrix films written by authors who miss the point of said films, so I guess it's time for yet another thrilling round of "watch the films"

Did. Did you see the part where Neo wakes up in his bed thinking the interrogation was just a dream. Because. Agents wiping people's memories is an established plot point.

Also, the Architect implies in Reloaded that most people plugged into the Matrix are aware deep down that they live in an artificial reality, but they agree to live in it at that near-subconscious level because they've been given the choice to accept or reject it. He says this was the most elegant solution the Oracle created to address the problem of people rejecting the dream world en masse. As long as people are made to believe they have a choice, even the illusion of choice will suffice. It paints a rather depressing portrait of humanity and its complacency, tbh.

---

No kidding.

The animated short detailing the history of the machines portrays scorching the sky as mankind's last-ditch effort to gain an advantage following a gruesome war. It wasn't something they approached lightly. Never mind the fact that mankind isn't exactly known for its long-term thinking and well-considered rationale in the face of terror (neither are the machines, for that matter; nuance whomst?). Morpheus furthermore claims that they don't know who struck first, machines or humans, but they do know humans "scorched the sky."

The original script specified the machines used human minds to boost the Matrix's processing power, but because that was a concept that would have flown over the audience's heads in the nineties, they changed it to "the machines harvest humans for energy."

---

To be fair, the sequels do take Morpheus somewhat to task for his dogma. His faith gets noticeably shaken by the events of Reloaded and Revolutions. Not everyone believes what he believes, but his beliefs do not require them to.

I won't argue that Morpheus is particularly righteous or even accurate most of the time, but I do think the notion that "anyone that hasn't been unplugged can turn into an Agent and kill you at any time" ought to be taken into account. Is it a little extreme that he calls every unplugged human "our enemy"? Yes. But… he kind of has good reason to, tbh. Agents can't exactly be reasoned with. The crew were fully prepared to pop a cap in Neo's ass "for [their] protection," as Trinity says, despite Morpheus' conviction that he was the man they were looking for.

---

Eh. Neo's muscle atrophy appears later, though I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for the sake of having a hard-hitting scene. Watch less CinemaSins, it's good for you. ironically enough, The Matrix is the narrator's favorite movie. lol and lmao

"Furthermore, there's an unresolved issue of why the spider-like machine simply doesn't kill him (and every other revived human) as they wake up."

Because you can't kill something you think is a corpse.

The maintenance machine removed Neo's cables because it registered him as dead… as a result of Neo taking the red pill. Morpheus says taking the red pill disrupts a person's input/output signals, meaning the connection between one's RSI and body has been severed, something that only happens if a podbound human dies. The signal disruption allows the rebels to pinpoint Neo's exact location in the real world.

While you could argue this technique potentially harbors its fair share of flaws - one can only assume human batteries die every so often, so how would they be able to pick Neo out from the unattended dead? - asking why the machine didn't kill him tells me you weren't exactly paying attention.

Things get a little more complicated in Reloaded when the Architect implies that the machines do willingly let a small portion of humans go as a sort of pressure valve to prevent the Matrix from collapsing under its own critical mass. Even then, the first film provides a coherent enough explanation that we don't need Reloaded's. You're assuming the machine believes Neo is alive when clearly it doesn't. It sees him struggle, yes, but because the red pill makes Neo emit the machine equivalent of an ant's death pheromones, the bot goes "welp, another one bit the dust" and proceeds to flush the "corpse" down the drain.

---

People always act like this is some fresh new take.

Well. That's kinda the whole point of his betrayal. To make you wonder what you would do in his situation. It's all well and good to speculate on what-ifs from the comfort of the fourth wall, but the film frames an otherwise abstract moral quandary in very clear terms. Is a life of hedonistic bliss better than one where you are painfully aware of the artifice of reality and constantly fighting for your life? It's not an accident---you're meant to ponder the question.

The Matrix franchise approaches the concept of freedom from a nihilistic lens. Nihilism often gets strawmanned in movies (Smith's own views function as a mouthpiece for such edgelord flanderizations) as a defeatist attitude of "Nothing matters, so why bother living?" Rather, a more accurate portrayal of nihilism contends that, because nothing has intrinsic meaning, you are free to create your own meaning. That it is dangerous to chase meaning as defined by premade structures like religion or philosophy, because these will dictate your thinking and keep you under another's control. In so doing, you surrender your freedom to truly discover for yourself what it is that makes life worth living to you. And indeed, Neo transcends Morpheus' and the Oracle's understandings of the Matrix and what it means to be The One in order to walk his own path.

The films ask you, "If freedom felt more like prison, would it still be worth striving for? What is the value of a freedom where you stand to lose more than you gain? Does freedom have inherent value, or is it hailed because of what it represents as yet another variable within these multi-tiered systems of control?"

Tbf, Cypher's resentment towards Morpheus was more understandable in earlier drafts of the script, where it's stated that Cypher was freed from an extremely young age and Morpheus had actually wound up killing five previous candidates he'd assumed to be The One. Some speculate that Cypher is jealous of Neo on the basis of having been a previous candidate, but I don't exactly think that's strictly necessary to understand his desire for a mindlessly hedonistic lifestyle.

---

Okay, I'll give you that one. Never really was sure how Cypher managed to catch the Agents' attention without getting shot on sight. Perhaps Smith recognized an offer he couldn't refuse, and, both characters being opportunists, he and Cypher leaped at the chance to strike a bargain.

It may also have something to do with Smith's ability to at least somewhat mimic human mannerisms on occasion. Agent Brown and Agent Jones are about as personable as cardboard, so it's my pet theory that Smith was designated to be the "human whisperer" of the trio. Hence why Cypher conducts his negotiations with Smith at a restaurant while the other two stand guard.

The scene where Neo sneaks up on Cypher implies Cypher had been doing some hacking in order to prepare for his meeting with Smith. He turns the screens off immediately afterwards.

Moreover, Enter the Matrix implies people are able to plug into simulations without help from others. I would assume Cypher used the same kind of equipment to plug himself into the Matrix.

During Morpheus' torture, the Agents manage to figure out that Cypher has been killed, thus implying that they were counting on disposing of him all along. Because Smith orders the others to continue as planned, it's kind of obvious they never really intended on giving Cypher what he wanted.

---

Petition to drop the phrase "hasn't aged well" from our collective lexicon. At best, it's a semantically null phrase. At worst, it's being deliberately obtuse towards media history as well as the creative process, a way for audiences to feel superior based on the fallacy of modernity. There have been tons of documentaries on the making of the first film, some of which are included as extras on the original DVD. I recommend you watch a few before you say stuff like this.

Admittedly, this one pisses me off a little because A.) yet again the "hasn't aged well" sentiment inevitably loops back around to overlooking the context and history in which the piece was made, and B.) fuck you, the crew worked incredibly hard on this shit.

"The most egregious offenders are scenes like the helicopter crash, where the building's windows warp unrealistically." - You can excuse people flying twenty feet through the air and dodging bullets, but draw the line at (flips through notes) glass exploding in a circle?

Imagine saying this about The Matrix of all films. The one movie that can handwave unrealistic elements through its premise alone. The film where the entire point is that unrealistic things are happening because you are not watching reality.

and then Neo was like "whoa.exe"

Secondly, the Wachowski sisters spent several months studying how glass explodes in order to achieve the ripple effect seen in the film. While CG was used to enhance the scene, the underlying framework rests on a foundation of practical effects. They made dummy rigs and ran through tons of tests to find the precise kind of glass that could accomplish what they envisioned.

The special effects director was pretty hard on himself during a watchthrough with Carrie-Anne Moss, actually. He thought some of the digital effects looked horrible, specifically Agent possessions, and said they could have done better. People saying stuff like this just makes me feel worse for him in retrospect.

Bullet-time looks unimpressive to you now because it's been parodied to death over the past twenty-five years. I fail to see how this is the film's fault.

Subjective perspective changes trying to pass themselves off as objective critique without taking any of a media's history or creative process into account are a part of the reason why I think "hasn't aged well" is a thought-terminating cliche and ultimately useless in discussions of this ilk. It doesn't effectively communicate anything of meaning. You might as well say "this film features moving pictures" or "this video game has controls" for all the information you're imparting.

---

I will concede that Resurrections was a glaringly obvious cash grab and a huge waste of potential. The first half of the film nearly rivals the the first act of M1 in terms of its psychological intrigue, building a slowburn of anticipation… Only to completely shit the bed, devolving into a cynical montage of fanservice and half-baked ideas that amount to nothing more than a shrug. I'm not a Neo/Trinity fan in the slightest, so the "hook" they hoped would reel me in didn't work on me.

However, I think there is more substance to Reloaded and Revolutions than people commonly give them credit for. Perhaps not as entertaining stories, but certainly there's a lot of cud to chew on in terms of the philosophical elements they offer. And this is coming from someone who thinks Reloaded is easily the most boring film of the quadrilogy narrative-wise. The sequels build coherently upon concepts established in the original, if you pay attention.

Reloaded's "We cannot see past the choices we don't understand" is a natural extension of the first film's mantra, "Know thyself." The inability or unwillingness to "know thyself" proves Smith's undoing in Revolutions, since during his "me, me, me" phase he does not do any of the self-actualization or self-reflection that Neo undertakes on his path to achieving peace.

Smith's fatal flaw is his self-myopia. He purports to know how the world works, but he remains blind to himself. And it is because he does not understand himself that he cannot understand others, and thus cannot see his own destruction beyond the brief moment of victory he glimpses with the Oracle's vision. Smith is painfully aware of every single thing except his own inner workings, and that creates in him a void that can never be sated. His myopia explains why he cannot conceive of why Neo fights out of choice. He cannot understand any choice because he does not understand the value of free will.

The inability to see how his character evolves throughout the "forgettable" sequels is what led to galaxy brains on Reddit concluding "Smith is actually The One huehuehuehue" based on the flimsiest of evidence (and a lot of pulling shit from the deepest sanctums of anus, since, let's be real, nobody in this Chili's particularly paid attention to what M1 had to say about him either) and it's like. bruh

[tallmantall]

James Donaldson on Mental Health - Self-Help Can Become No Help At All If You’re Not Careful

The right self-help book or course can be a powerful tool to guide people toward a resolution. Many people can attest to experiencing transformation because they put the information to use right away. People have gone from nervous, shy, and lacking in confidence to become calm, outgoing, and confident in their ability to do things. This is where a self-help book or course works very well. But it can easily be argued that, like all things taken too far, self-help can be harmful.  There is so much self-help literature out there now and so much advice on how we can become better versions of who we are. Is it helpful? Is it constructive? Or is it harmful? Why Self-Help Can Be Damaging Many, many people will attest to having been positively influenced by self-help books and videos. And then there are those who have been damaged by them. The most common way the damage can occur is when the self-help book or video or course is used as a delay tactic. This is when people use self-help as a way to avoid actually doing the work to improve themselves. In other words: people will buy a self-help book, watch a few videos, purchase a course and then will instantly feel as though they’re making good progress toward being a better version of themselves. They’ve made the effort by buying the book after all: so they can pat themselves on the back and keep on reading. And then they buy the next book. And the corresponding course. And then the videos. And then the next book. And they feel great about themselves except they haven’t actually changed anything. Self-help is destructive when it is used as a delay tactic. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth If you'd like to follow and receive my daily blog in to your inbox, just click on it with Follow It. Here's the link https://follow.it/james-donaldson-s-standing-above-the-crowd-s-blog-a-view-from-above-on-things-that-make-the-world-go-round?action=followPub www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Know Who to Trust The other issue is that self-help can be negative because you aren’t getting the right information or it’s coming from an unqualified person. The good thing about the internet is that anyone and everyone can contribute. The bad thing about the internet is that anyone and everyone can contribute. There is a lot of incentive for people to appear as experts to get visitors to their sites and then earn cash from the number of visitors. The problem is that many people follow advice that is based on zero evidence and that is offered by someone who has no authority or credibility to offer it. For instance, its common knowledge that visualizing your goal can help you achieve it. What isn’t common knowledge is that this only works if it's done correctly. Which means there is a wrong way to visualize. The lesson here is simple: question what you read then as you try it in your life decide if its really working for you. If it doesn’t make sense or if it isn’t working for you, then seek out someone who has credibility by asking for recommendations from trusted colleagues. Read the full article

[alphabet-blues]

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Glide (Miss Venable x reader)

a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-

summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)

warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex 

google translate :’D

"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.

"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"

You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"

"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.

"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."

--------------------

It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.

You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.

The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.

You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.

Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed,  but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.

It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.

And now all you could do was scream.

"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.

"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"

"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.

Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.

"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.

"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"

"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.

"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."

"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."

"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.

"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.

"But I know it was something weird."

Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.

"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.

"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"

You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.

"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."

"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.

"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."

You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.

"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.

"I may not know your name, but I know,  that you are really pretty"

"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "

Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.

You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.

"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."

"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

"You're going to bed now."

"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.

You laughed again.

"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"

You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.

"You beautiful woman. We-"

"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.

"And my name is Miss Venable."

She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.

"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.

"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"

"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.

"Are you going to be quiet at last?"

"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.

"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.

"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.

"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.

"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.

"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.

"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.

"When you fell asleep."

You groan in annoyance.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.

It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.

Living my life in a bubble

Sometimes reality's too much for me

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Your love it gets me into trouble

Sometimes your gravity's too much for me

(It gets me weak in the knees)

------------

A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.

The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.

The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.

"Why do we have to eat this shit?"

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"

You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.

Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.

When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.

Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.

Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.

Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.

And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.

"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.

Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.

"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.

"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."

Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.

"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"

You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.

"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"

"I- uh".

You looked at her confused.

"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."

"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.

"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."

"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.

"And because we don't have any doctors here-"

"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.

"..I thought that would help too."

Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.

"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.

"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."

Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.

"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.

"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.

"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."

"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.

"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."

You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.

"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.

"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."

"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.

"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."

She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?

Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.

"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.

"What?"

"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.

"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.

"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.

"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."

You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.

"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.

"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.

"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.

"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".

Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.

You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.

Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.

"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.

You blinked in surprise.

"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.

When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.

"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.

"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.

"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.

"Why the Victorian style of all things?"

"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.

"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"

"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.

"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.

"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"

You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.

"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.

"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.

"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.

Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.

"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.

"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.

"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.

Your confusion turned to laughter.

"Well," you said.

"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."

"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.

You sighed thoughtfully.

"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."

"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.

"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.

"So I can  judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."

You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.

"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.

"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.

"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"

Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.

You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.

"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.

"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.

"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

----------------------

"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.

"God must hate me".

You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.

"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.

You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.

"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.

"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,

"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.

"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "

You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.

"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.

"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"

You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."

"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.

"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.

"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.

"Maybe".

You shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."

It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.

"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.

"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.

"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"

"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.

"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.

"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."

It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.

"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.

Miss Venable frowned.

"My grip?"

"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.

"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."

The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.

"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.

"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.

"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.

"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.

"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.

"You are the first person, who asks me that".

Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.

"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"

"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.

The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.

You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.

"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.

"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.

"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."

Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.

You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.

"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.

"I guess it was blackthorn".

Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.

"Doesn't that hurt?".

You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.

"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.

"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.

"May I ask why you need it?"

"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".

"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.

"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.

"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.

"Really?" You asked confused.

"More or less. It was more of an accusation."

"An accusation?"

Miss Venable hummed in agreement.

"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."

"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.

"What else happened that evening?"

A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.

"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.

"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."

Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.

Wrong turn. Wrong turn.

"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.

"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.

"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."

"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.

"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't care what I felt".

You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.

"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."

Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.

"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.

"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.

Why should it be such a struggle

When it means so much to you and me?

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Built like a ship in a bottle

Gotta handle you so delicately

------------------

I don't know what we got

But I know what I want

The silence is killing me softly

What. The. Fuck.

When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.

You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.

Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.

And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.

But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.

Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.

The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.

Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.

Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.

She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.

"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.

"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."

And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.

You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.

You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.

You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.

"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.

"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.

"You figured it die out."

You nervously began to chew your lower lip.

"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."

"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.

When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.

"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.

She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.

"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."

You looked at her sadly.

"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."

"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.

"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.

"What does this mean?"

"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."

Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."

Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.

"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.

"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.

"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."

You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

-------------------------

Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.

As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.

Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.

You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.

The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.

Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.

It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.

The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?

"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.

You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.

For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "

Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.

You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.

"What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.

"I think I love you".

Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.

"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."

"Despair?" You breathed in horror.

"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.

"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.

"And now you come and say you love me."

She shook her head.

"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "

You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.

"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.

"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't believe you," you whispered.

"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."

"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.

"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "

You shook your head.

"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."

"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.

"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"

You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.

"I understand," you said softly.

"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.

You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.

Show me freedom

'Cause love don't cost a thing

Give me freedom

Yeah don't just let me leave

--------------------

"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.

"I asked you something".

He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.

"Are you in love?"

You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:

"I am not."

The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.

"You can go."

Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.

This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.

You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.

Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.

Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 283: I'M MARY POPPINS Y’ALL

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all, “Tomura what do you have?” and Tomura was all,” a quirk bullet!” and they were all, “NO!!” He then threw the bullet at Aizawa, who ironically actually did have a knife, and since no one bothered to say “no!!” this time he proceeded to CHOP OFF HIS OWN LEG. Just, schwoop. Lopped it right off. Didn’t even fucking care. Anyway so then Tomura was all, “you know what who even needs quirk bullets” and somehow broke free from both Deku and Ryuukyuu to go claw off Aizawa’s face. Thankfully Todoroki “I've spent the past eight chapters puttering around waiting for the coolest moment to strike” Shouto finally decided to join the fray by impaling Tomura, and everyone was all, “ahaha, classic Shouto”, and Tomura was all, “don’t worry though I’m fine”, and it seems like he really is now, since he’s finally regenerated and all his wounds have healed again! The chapter ended with Gigantomachia stampeding towards Jakku, which is super terrible, but what else is fucking new.

Today on BnHA: The Gunga kids spend a few pages standing around letting all that trauma soak in nice and deep as Machia rampages on towards Jakku. Back in the Shigaraki Wastes, the heroes regroup, which mostly consists of the remaining conscious adults tearfully being all “you kids get out of here... save yourselves...” and the kids being all “YOU JUST SIT THERE AND CHILL, DAD” and “[EXPLETIVES]” and “I’M YOUNG AND FILLED WITH RIGHTEOUS SHOUNEN RAGE”, all of which is very entertaining to me and makes me very proud. Anyway so then Tomura’s body sort of explodes a bit, and he’s all, “what”, and then it finally sinks in that he might have popped out of the toaster early, so he tries to end the fight right there and then with another round of Decay. Except that Deku counters it by SPONTANEOUSLY LEARNING HOW TO FLY, which is probably SO CONFUSING for all the non-Gran-and-Kacchan people around, which is just one of the many things I love about it. And the other things I love about it are that it’s (1) THE MOST BADASS THING EVER, and (2) just, really fucking great. So yeah. Rage, Deku, rage.

OH NO MY BABIES

don’t tell me. I’m not sure I want to know what it is they’re looking at. how many of the pros are fucking dead now ffffmg

also that is an extremely intriguing chapter title, though. 75? as in percent?? oh my god is something finally going to go fucking right for our heroes. or at least, you know, less wrong

OOOF

dammit Momo he was supposed to go to sleep! WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL OF THAT MATH FOR, THEN. did he grow bigger, or did she just somehow miscalculate the dosage, or is he finally going to go night-night halfway to Jakku?

btw Momo I’m not actually mad at you, you’re still the only one who fucking did anything at all. if anyone tries to give you shit, just look them in the eye and ask them “okay and how many things did YOU do?”, and they’ll be like, “oh shit, none”, and you’ll be all “yeah that’s what I fucking thought” because YEAH

OH MY GOD SERO ANGST

I have never seen Sero this badly shaken before. it’s somehow so shocking?? holy shit you guys, I know I’ve been saying for ages “lolo all these kids about to be traumatized af” but somehow it’s one thing to know it’s coming, and another to finally actually see it. oh god

anyway let’s just hope all of the grown-ups aren’t actually fucking dead. but based on all of the kids’ expressions, it really feels like a lot of them might be, and that’s just... ...

and they had to see it. right? is that what this is implying?? holy shit. they watched it all happen. that’s it, the rest of this arc is cancelled, please proceed directly to the emergency therapy arc right now

TOKO!!

holy shit look at the size of that rock that fell on the medical tent. and DS pulling people out of the wreckage. it really feels like everywhere you turn this arc, the intrepid young scamps of U.A.’s first year hero class are the ones out here keeping things one step from total disaster

oh shit

excuse the hell out of me young Momo but what the hell is up with this use of the word “dead” with the implied “like everyone else” hanging there at the end?? what is up with that. that’s a very bad sentence I don’t like that at ALL

and what the actual hell is this panel of FATGUM AND TAMAKI IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CARNAGE, TWO PEOPLE WHOSE NAMES I’M QUITE SURE ARE ON THIS CONTRACT OF “PEOPLE WHO AREN’T ALLOWED TO DIE” WHICH HORIKOSHI IMPLICITLY AGREED TO THE MOMENT I STARTED READING THE MANGA. BOY WHAT

JESUS MOTHER F. CHRIST

THAT’S. THAT’S, UH

OH THANK FUCK

I mean, I already knew they survived, though. so WHY AM I STILL SO FUCKING ANXIOUS. good grief

and in before Majestic fucking dies on the next page, having saved the children with his very last act. I fucking hate you Majestic, you blue-balling child-preserving magnificent wizard bastard

HE FRISBEED THEM TO SAFETY GAH

WHY COULDN’T YOU DO THAT TO MACHIA THOUGH. BUT AT LEAST HE SAVED THE BABIES. TOO BAD HE’S FUCKING DEAD hahaha sob sob sob

is anyone still alive?? did the guys who were fighting off Snoopy Sno-Cone and RD back at the mansion at least make it out in one piece??

(ETA: from here on out all of these guys shall be referred to as Schrodinger's Heroes until further notice.)

so now Mineta is questioning whether or not their Smart Momo Plan even fucking did anything, which. same, Mineta, honestly. but it must have!! right?? ????

anyway so here’s some more panels of everyone dying do you want to see them. sure. why not

can we get back to the Tomura fight now. I’ve had just about enough of this, I’d like to see some 75% business now before this turns into the most depressing chapter of all time

BOOOOOOO

goddammit. well for now my money’s on Machia collapsing just as they make it back to Jakku. so Momo’s plan does eventually work, but the League still makes it back to Tomura thus ensuring more shenanigans can take place. goddamn, lol, just when I thought the arc was nearing its climax. feels like it just fucking respawned with a full life bar

also Toga is really looking... not great. I’m so scared for whoever she ends up fighting after this. OCHAKO MY SWEET BABY GIRL PLEASE WATCH OUT

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE

PLEASE ARREST HIM FASTER. holy fuck if you fucking screw this up and he gets rescued I SWEAR TO GOD

oh wait is he just here to provide more backstory on Gigantomachia

GO BURNIN’, YOU GOT THIS. also, gonna be honest, at this point I really would not mind if Machia did a little less living for Tomura and a bit more dying

FINALLY!!!

FKFKF Aizawa not looking too good oh god. and Deku looks like he’s about to spontaneously develop ALL OF HIS REMAINING QUIRKS JUST LIKE THAT ON THE SPOT, FUCK YOU TOMURA

oh my god DON’T GET DISTRACTED!!

Shouto’s arrival is either about to make Endeavor more useless than ever, or suddenly a whole lot LESS useless, and right now it’s up in the air and I am excited but also scared

EXCUSES EXCUSES

BLAH BLAH BLAH. “SORRY I’M LATE, I WAS SAVING PEOPLE’S LIVES,” Shouto lies through his teeth, clearly not aware that Tomura has a built in GPS and knows full well that Shouto was actually only a few feet behind Bakugou and Deku and so that explanation doesn’t fly at all. the real truth must be something so embarrassing that he’s ashamed to admit it. did you get lost. did you run into an NPC who wouldn’t let you pass until you had completed some sort of quest

THERE YOU ARE KACCHAN, I WAS WONDERING

just as enraged as Deku! it’s almost like he just witnessed his sensei chopping off his own leg and subsequently almost being murdered or something

(ETA: actually lol I think he’s mad at Deku, for taking off earlier and leaving him behind with Gran. though there’s no law that says he can’t be mad about two things at once! anyway so do you guys think that being beaten to the punch by Deku here may perhaps frustrate this young man and contribute to his decision to return the favor at some point later on in this battle, perhaps with dire consequences? hmm.)

anyway so if you all are keeping up with the math, and I think you are, it seems like just about every one of the adult pros is either down for the count (Aizawa, Gran), or recovering (Endeavor, Ryuukyuu??), or Might As Well Not Even Be There (a certain TWO OTHER PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL IN A TIME OUT AND HAD BETTER BE THINKING GOOD AND HARD ABOUT WHAT THEY’VE DONE. OR MORE PRECISELY, DID NOT DO OR EVEN ATTEMPT TO DO). anyway so all of that means that the only ones actually ready and raring to go here in Round 2 against the newly regenerated and POSSIBLY HAS HIS DECAY QUIRK BACK Shigaraki Tomura are... drum roll...!

okay but FUCK YOU GUYS though oh my god YOU’RE EVEN RUINING THE DRUM ROLL

DID YOU NOT EVEN NOTICE HIS LEG BEFORE?!?!? holy -- can I -- can I please just slap them, I --

anyway so RockLockRock looks like he has something to say here. probably going to tell Deku to take Aizawa and run, as if Deku isn’t the fucking glue holding this entire operation together at this point now that Aizawa is KOed. can you believe these guys are so incompetent they’ve actually got me arguing in favor of the child soldiers now, what even

...fuck

shit. that face. he’s ready to die to give them all a chance. he knows he wouldn’t last two seconds against Tomura and yet he’s willing to sacrifice it all. damn it RLR... okay fine your time out is done now, but I’m still calling your parents

unfortunately, you’ll never believe it, but Deku doesn’t seem all that inclined to listen to this man telling him to bail and save his own skin sob

ngl though I am living for the Enraged Vengeance Deku we’ve been seeing in these last couple chapters. maybe now everyone will stop dismissing him as just a soft boi who always eats his vegetables and doesn’t swear, and remember that in truth he’s actually a mildly unhinged feral child with an infinite pain tolerance and a god-given talent for never listening to any life-prolonging advice that adults give him ever

oop don’t tell me he’s gonna do the Decay thing again, shit

-- uh

“eh?” lmao what the fuck. my boy's torso just opened up like a fucking door hinge and all he can say is “eh.” this fucking manga

like he’s seriously just calmly standing there trying to assess what the heck has gone wrong

you really don’t feel pain do you. “haha lol what why is my arm falling off I thought I fucking ascended”

OH MY GOD

IT’S OCTOBER THIRD. looool the fuck

Tomura. my sweet little S+ ranked death machine with an A rank in knowledge. who’s spent the past 15-20 minutes battling to the death with the number one fucking hero and all his pals. who all just HAPPENED to be there all ready and waiting to fight him the instant he woke up. Tomura. buddy. did it really only just occur to you that maybe something went wrong somewhere along the line. that maybe things were not, in fact going according to keikaku. that maybe the heroes didn’t just sit around waiting for you to finish cooking in your villain bake oven. like please forgive my impudence but TOMURA ARE YOU STUPID, is what I’m saying, I guess. but gently

(ETA: SHIGARAKI TOMURA, WHOSE ARM IS CURRENTLY DANGLING BY A THREAD: “hold up lol what day is it.”)

I really like how Deku’s just crying nonstop this entire time though. but like, you know. crying with RAGE

lol and he’s figured it out as well, and I fucking love the connection his mind made, look at this

sudden feelings of solidarity. “WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I” lmao

AHH MIRKO

how does she still have two legs?? Horikoshi I can’t believe you forgot how many legs your own favorite character has. but anyways yes this has been your friendly reminder that Mirko saved EVERYONE and should have a battleship named after her

okay NOW he’s doing the thing

good job Tomura you finally got them!! good thing none of them can fly, or Float. RIGHT, DEKU

AHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSS

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT. AND A BLACKWHIP/FLOAT COMBO, TOO! TOMURA, YOU WERE SAYING??

(ETA: he even grabbed Kacchan too. “I can fly by myself!” YOU SHUSH MISTER.)

(ETA 2: and what I also love about this is that we know the SIXQUIRKS are seemingly in tune with Deku’s emotions, so it honestly makes perfect sense that in the heat of the moment with Tomura threatening to kill all these people that he cares about, the quirk just basically acts on his instinct to save and doesn’t stop to ask questions. we’re saving everyone, no buts. and he even activates Float at long last, acting on that same instinct. honestly Kacchan had the exact right idea the whole time, all the way back in chapter 217. “it’ll activate when he’s in trouble, right?” exactly.)

NO GRAN STOP NO ONE ASKED FOR THESE FEELS

OH MY GOD

NEVER HAVE I STANNED THIS BOY SO HARD. HOT DAMN

he’s so fucking mad. omg??! omg

okay so I’m gonna try my best to explain why I love this so much lol. all right. so the thing is, it’s actually so rare for Deku to actually take the reins like this. even though he’s the main character, even though he’s All Might’s heir, his personality is such that he genuinely doesn’t mind being in the backseat and is perfectly content to share the spotlight with others, or even relinquish it completely. BnHA has had... how many arcs so far? hold up let me check

-- okay I just checked and it’s 18. so, 18 arcs. and out of all those arcs, Deku has had a solo fight in approximately... five of them. and two of those fights were against Bakugou and Todoroki, respectively, so he was still sharing the spotlight even then. aside from that, he’s fought Muscular, Gentle, and Overhaul (oh, and Shinsou, I guess). that’s it! and it’s been almost 300 chapters! and again, he’s the main character. in a shounen manga. like seriously though, that is wild

and so seeing him here like this on the last page, ready to throw hands with Tomura, presumably while using Blackwhip as some sort of physical barrier to coat his attacks and prevent Tomura from trying any more Decay shenanigans with him? dude. I FELT THAT HYPE. it’s just a really effective way of keeping me from getting Main Character Fatigue like I might get in most other shounen series. because Deku doesn’t get the spotlight all that often in comparison, it still feels fresh to me, especially now with him actually going up against the Big Bad. just, idk what else to say except “hell yeah” lol

anyway, so I don’t even know how long it’s gonna last, and I expect that Kacchan and Shouto aren’t going to be content to just sit back and let Deku have all the glory either (Kacchan in particular is probably frothing at the mouth already), so in all likelihood it’s probably going to be more of a 3-on-1 than a 1-on-1. and it’s also very likely to end with Tomura gaining the upper hand and trying to take OFA! and so in truth this is a very fleeting moment of triumph, and the most premature of celebrations! but even so... damn. and also I just love seeing shounen kids lose their damn minds and explode with angry determination. and I especially love seeing it with Deku, because I love the reminder that beneath that sweet, unassuming nerdy exterior lies a core of fucking steel. that look in his eyes, though. TOMURA ARE YOU SCARED. you should be a little scared, lmao

anyway. so that’s the chapter! and I’m really glad we ended on this note, not just because Deku is a badass, but also because like I was saying earlier, this was about as bad a situation as the good guys have ever been in, and I felt like the manga was starting to lose that feeling of hope that still needs to be there at its core even when things are at their darkest. idk, I feel like we needed this. Tomura got a chance to catch his breath in the last chapter, and now it’s the heroes’ turn. whew

[friendandphoe]

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little— 

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

 ...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there’s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 1x13 A Clue: No

“Previously on” recaps can be annoying, but there is an art to it and I love a good one. This is a very, very good one, summarising the last episode with ramping tension as the music builds, then cuts to a different take of the last scene as the theme song starts, and we’re into the opening credits.

This is a long one, so it’s going under the cut:

Guy estimates that the “inner circle” of Robin’s gang is “a dozen at the most” and I find it very funny that neither he nor Vaisey have twigged that it’s always the same five people around him. What’s more annoying than funny is that they don’t know how many are in the “outer circle” because that really should have been A Thing in the show (Forrest and Hanton should have come back to guest star! I will never let this go!) After all, we see Little John with more men in the first episode, there are other outlaws in the forest/across the shire that are either working with Robin, or pose a risk to them, and I wish this had been explored.

Djaq manhandling and holding her sword to Pitts’s throat - I love Djaq.

The first arrow Robin shoots is intended for Vaisey, but one of the guards inconveniently walks in front and gets it in the chest. The second arrow is intended for Vaisey as well but he ducks (”my tooth!”) so we can’t fault the writing for a credible attempt at Why Doesn’t Robin Just Kill The Sheriff, because in this scene at least, he tries.

Bye Pitts. You certainly were.

I actually really love this scene (which probably seemed odd given the high body count), but Robin drawing his sword and charging, with Much, Djaq, and John backing him up to avenge Marian’s apparent death/make a final stand, as the music shifts from the jaunty Rescue Theme to Marian’s Theme, just gets me every time.

Although thanks to the cast commentary, I can’t unsee Djaq flipping that guy over her head twice, but hey, it’s a badass move. Clearly they didn’t shoot enough coverage of this fight, because we get the same action from several different angles.

Other than the flashback in episode 8, I think this is the only time we see Robin in Crusader mode, and just how lethal he (and the gang) can be when unleashed and with nothing to lose. Even when the enemy retreats Robin remains kind of wild-eyed with rage unsated, and it takes a beat for him to snap out of it. It’s symbolism time - he sticks his sword in the ground and leaves it there, and we don’t see it again this episode (or much in season 2).

There’s some nice acting going on from everyone in this scene - just utter exhaustion, Allan and Will oblivious to why the rest are so distraught, Much taking it upon himself to tell them but can’t say the words, and Robin with the finality of “she’s dead.” Their faces!

Djaq is still holding two swords as she enters the cave, which is a nice character beat - no doubt the fight also brought back unpleasant memories/triggers for her, and she remains on edge, for the moment unwilling to give up her defences even when the threat is gone.

I really love this scene too (the gang mourning Marian) and I think it’s quite deftly written - Djaq’s immediate reaction being the importance of a quick burial (as per Islamic tradition), Robin trying to keep it together, attempting to ask John/Will to build a coffin but unable to, so deflecting to ask Djaq to prepare Marian’s body, before trying twice again; John soothing him and taking charge. Will’s single tear and speaking of Marian’s goodness. Much responding with “Good? Oh, she was... She was...” looking to Robin because of course his thoughts are for Robin’s grief before his own, and also that his own relationship with Marian was complex. Allan: “She was alright...yeah” that says so much, and of course John’s “Her, we liked.” Again, some fine acting, kudos everyone.

“I loved her and I never told her” is ironic because Robin still won’t tell her until halfway through the next season, and if he had in the aftermath of her apparent death he could have spared himself a lot of the angst of the rest of the episode. But of course he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t learn from this moment, because emotions are hard, and sometimes we make the same mistakes over and over again.

I really love that it’s Allan that notices that Marian is alive, and his little “told ya” flourish.

Score note: while Marian is “dead” her Theme is strings, when she opens her eyes, it’s back to the guitar.

Guy’s guilt in finding out his impending marriage to Marian is based on false pretenses - would he still have forced the marriage if he’d known that from the start?

Djaq still has her two swords as they take Marian back to Knighton.

Guy, if your first instinct when told Marian is not at home is that she’s run away rather than marry you...maybe take a hint? “She cannot run from me” is a big yikes, and this confuses me as to Guy’s motivation in this scene. Did he intend to tell Marian the truth, but then convince himself otherwise (because “the excitement of the wedding” =/= “the wedding excites her”), but then why so angry when he thinks shes run? The difference between getting someone go/being left, I suppose.

Illness is a perfectly plausible explanation for delaying the wedding that no one seems to think of.

Edward is actually pretty bang on in this scene with Robin from a father’s perspective, telling him to let Marian go if he cannot stop it, and do the right thing. On the other hand...

“I am sick of doing the right thing” is why Robin is such a compelling character for me - because it is hard to always be good, to be held to that higher standard, and make the unselfish choice. I enjoy narratives that explore that, and this show is surprisingly unflinching about it, exemplified by:

The next scene, which is one of the most emotionally brutal/hard to watch of the entire show, in which Robin lashes out and does everything to drive Much away, including calling him “a pox”  and a “small man” until Much’s heart visibly breaks.

Now I don’t want to excuse Robin here, because he is objectively awful to someone who doesn’t deserve it, who is trying to give him support but also telling him some much needed hard truths (even if it is slightly self-serving, which is what what seems to set Robin off). But at the end of the day, if he loves Marian he needs to accept that it is her choice to marry Guy, to “do the right thing” to (she thinks) protect her father - and later of he does just that. For now Edward and Much are both right, it is more important for him to try and protect the king from Vaisey, because if he is ousted and Richard back on the throne so many lives would be improved, including the people of Locksley. But Robin has been pushed to breaking point all season, and has now snapped and can’t see reason, but is stuck in his own grief/rage.

But unlike previously, when Robin said regrettable things in the heat of the moment and then immediately took them back, this is a calculated attack designed to hurt Much the most, because he loves Robin so much that it takes A Lot to push him away. It’s a bold move to make your hero so unlikable in such a moment, because Robin really is unforgivably cruel here, and trust the audience to understand why. I mean, I don’t want to bang on about the PTSD, but it’s (partly) the PTSD, based on a triggering, precipitating event causing a self-destructive spiral. Robin needs some Ye Olde Therapy.  

For all the talk about Robin getting his title and lands back, nothing is said about what happens to Gisborne once he does, other than that they can’t prove he was the one who tried to assassinate Richard. Because really, Richard probably would believe Robin even though the tattoo was burned away, and Guy’s certainly committed other crimes that could be testified to just like they’re intending for Vaisey - and let’s be real, it’s not like a king needs evidence to order someone’s death (hello, season 2 finale). Boom - Guy executed, marriage to Marian annulled, problem solved!

So, the scene between Marian and Guy, in which Marian is more concerned with whether or not Guy tried to kill the king than the fact that he stabbed her. But its understandable, because Marian thinks there’s no way out that doesn’t risk her father’s life, and it’s easier to convince herself that maybe Guy didn’t do it to make the best of things. I think she does have some kind of feelings for him, or is at least moved by his feelings for her, and believes if nothing else she can influence him/continue working from the inside; giving up the mantle of the Nightwatchman but doing the same work (in a different way) as Lady Gisborne.

And then it’s Robin/Marian angst, round 3, and it’s a far cry from their interaction in the cave milliseconds away from “I love yous” - in both tone and body language they’re back in defensive positions talking past one another. The tension, it be thick.

Marian is making her best rationalisation with “deprived of love” and Robin not at all buying the Woobification 101. Once she tells him her decision to marry Guy, he accepts it, but it’s Marian’s reaction that’s telling, she’s surprised that he doesn’t argue, deep down she wants him to fight for her, to say that the real reason she shouldn’t marry Guy is because he loves her. It’s quite a contrast from the previous scene where Guy was very open about how he feels about her, while Robin deflects, but while she was conflicted about Guy trying to kiss her, she’s frustrated, disappointed, and angry when Robin leaves.

But really, this is rather unfair of Marian, because Robin did already declare himself in the cave (”we should be together”) without her reciprocation, so expecting him to take the first step again without any encouragement is a bit much.

Would a depressed person sit slumped against a tree all night?

“But by taking Marian in holy wedlock, I will wash away those crimes. Her pure heart will cleanse mine.” Yeah...not going to touch that one. I appreciate that there’s a lot going on with Guy and many, many people find it compelling, but I’m afraid it’s not really a narrative that interests me.

Speaking of pure hearts: Much. Faced with the same choice he was counseling Robin on, but with the additional wrinkle of knowing the king’s an imposter, he still decides to stop the wedding. “Her heart belongs to another” is A Moment and I don’t know exactly why but I find his very soft pleas following this and calling her “my lady” very affecting. 

She’s beauty and she’s grace, she punched Guy in the face.

“A trap. I knew it.” I haaaaate this line. NO YOU DIDN’T KNOW IT ROBIN YOU KNEW NOTHING OF THE KIND IF YOU HAD KNOWN YOU WOULD BE EVEN MORE OF A DICK FOR LEAVING UGGGHHHH.

“We can’t be seen together” Right in front of my salad two guards on front gate duty, who get front row tickets to the kiss. Look at them! They’re right there! This show drives me absolutely bonkers sometimes.

I do love this dress though.

“An audience with the king has been suspended!” Going out on one last pun.

Regardless, I really love this episode. Despite the lack of fallout from the emotional wringer they all went through, I can’t help but smile when the gang does their silly little jump for joy at the end.

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 11 Review/Remix

Not the most action packed chapter we’ve ever had, and certainly not as dramatic as Chapter 11s from past Volumes. But this week had some wonderful surprises and existential dread and depression in equal measure and I think that’s a formula for a pretty damn good watch.

Despite the devastating energy bomb Oscar delivered last episode, we open with the city of Atlas overrun with tons of Grimm. The people are still hiding in the subway, fearing for their lives twice over now that Ironwood’s monologue is playing and showing just how off his rocker he is. Those in the crater mines take it far worse, though we see some of the humans and faunus who had previously seemed on edge with each other holding one another in solidarity and comfort. Fiona breaks down in tears and is pulled into a Happy Huntress group hug by Joanna and May, so it’s a small comfort to see they’re all still alive.

Ironwood and Winter walk the halls of Atlas command together, and Winter can’t help but notice the fearful reverence the general’s presence instills in lesser officers. The Ace Ops are talking things over in the wake of their boss’ ultimatum, and Elm is of the belief that Ironwood was just bluffing about nuking Mantle if he doesn’t get what he wants. Vine agrees it may very well be the kick in the pants Team RWBY and the others will need to finally see the right path, but we the audience are getting pretty sick of hearing this shtick. Marrow thinks Ironwood is taking this too far, and Harriet is just angrily indifferent about the whole thing. Ironwood rounds the corner and addresses the squad with their new orders: get some drones ready to drop the bomb. Winter asks why exactly they need to actually make those kind of preparations, and he makes it clear that he really does intend to remove Mantle from the equation if he is prompted to. He actually thinks committing this massacre, nay genocide, will make Penny more willing to return to his command if she no longer has an alternative job. No, dumbass, she’ll only want to defy and even kill you more! This is how he believes they will save Atlas, but Marrow has had more than enough and calls him on his shit for a line like that. All this is doing is helping Salem in her mission to divide and destroy the world, and it’s spitting in the face of everything Marrow thought the Atlas military stood for. Harriet threatens to clean his clock if he doesn’t shut up, and Vine again suggests that this would be a necessary sacrifice for the good of the Kingdom. Elm tries to agree, to say that this should be their top priority whether they like it or not, but Marrow has more to say. He can’t believe any of them actually buy the nonsense they’re spouting, and wants to know if there’s anything his teammates actually believe in anymore. With so many moral compromises, where do they draw the line of patriotism vs fascism? The faunus man gives a pretty good clincher to his tirade by calling his badge and rank nothing more than a collar. Say what you want about the writing of the faunus discrimination subplots in the prior volumes, I think this was pretty good. Ironwood isn’t about to let Marrow walk away from a rant like that without consequences and we can hear his cocking his gun. Marrow hears it too, but before he can react Winter comes in from his right with a sucker punch that knocks him to the floor. As she drops a knee on Marrow’s back to cuff him for insubordination we see Ironwood was a second away from shooting this man, one of his few trusted elite soldiers left, in the back of the head for an execution without mercy or hesitation. She just saved his goddamn life and that makes her an MVP for this Volume. The other Ace Ops realize this close encounter with death too, and they all share the same expression of shock fear dread and confusion. Not even Vine can hide how much he doesn’t like what could have just occurred. Winter says she’s going to take this “traitor” to the brig where he belongs and Ironwood allows her to leave and do so, only taking his finger off the trigger once they’ve walked past him. Those with a better understanding of trigger discipline than I could probably make something poignant out of that, so have at it if you can. What is abundantly clear to us is that Winter will be taking Marrow no such place. She has absolutely had enough and she’s about to desert with him in tow. The remaining three have to get back in line and spend a little time rethinking their positions on this job. Well, at least one of them will be, I don’t think Harriet is gonna change course after what she’s already done.

From one tense situation to another, we go to the Schnee manor dining room where Team RWBY are trying to figure out their next moves with Oscar and Emerald. They know they don’t want Ironwood getting his hands on Penny, but they don’t know what to do instead that won’t result in mass casualties. They don’t know that Robyn and Qrow have flown the coop and might come to their aid soon, and under Ironwood’s watch there’s no way to try and evacuate the people in the crater before he drops the bomb. It’s a real bad situation with no clear solutions or backup plans. Emerald can’t help but be snarky and say if the perpetual optimism engine that is Ruby can’t think of what to do then there’s no right answer at all. Weiss is annoyed that Em is giving them sass when they really don’t need any, but Yang is downright furious and her to GTFO if she doesn’t like trying to help them solve this. Emerald tenses up when Yang stomps towards her with clenched fists, and her hands go to her weapons in case she needs to defend herself. We know Yang wouldn’t actually throw a punch even if she’s mad like this, but Em doesn’t. Probably because the most substantial thing connecting the two of them was the time Emerald used her semblance to make Yang look like a heartless brute who would break a leg for no reason on live TV. Also Emerald doesn’t have the best role models for how to handle frustration... Oscar continues to insist they all just take a deep breath and remember the big picture rather than lose it over small disagreements, and reminds them that Em is going to be staying on their side cuz Salem won’t let her safely be anywhere else. But when he tries to reassure the group with a reminder that Oz is back to offer help too it just tenses the situation further. Ruby’s got her head in her arms on the table, and she’s really having a hard time of it all. Oscar muses about all the negative personal energies keeping them from a productive cohesion, and Ruby pops off. A day’s worth of their best efforts, hard fought battles and painful consequences, and nothing has gotten better. Just like at the start of the Volume, all they’ve been able to do is argue over what to try and do while Atlas heads towards its demise. Yang tries to put an encouraging hand on her shoulder but she brushes it off and runs out of the room in a huff. Everyone silently realizes how much they’ve fucked this up if Ruby is so hopeless and desperate, and Yang follows her sister out of the room.

Upstairs, Jaune is doing his best to boost Nora’s Aura and help her heal faster, but it’s not doing anything about her lightning scars. Those babies are here to stay, and I don’t mind it. It shows history, survival and a damn good story about what she’s been able to power through. Ren is sitting at the foot of the bed, and the best he’s able to offer is how glad he is Nora is okay. She seems indifferent and even passive aggressive at the diagnosis on her scars, claiming it’s just another example of her being classic dumb Nora. Ren tries to object that this wasn’t her being stupid or foolhardy, but she bites back at him with all the resentment she seems to have been holding in since they split ways yesterday. He’s got no right to say what it was or wasn’t, he wasn’t there to see it. He pushed away from her when things went wrong because he didn’t want to have to feel anything he thought would be too hard to deal with. Ren makes no effort to argue, he knows she’s right and he apologizes profusely for how he wronged both her and Jaune. He regrets the things he said to them, or more likely the things he said to Jaune out on the tundra since he and Nora haven’t exactly talked much. He admits he’s been mad at himself for not measuring up to their mentor figures in the Ace Ops, for how little he could help when Tyrian came a’ slashing at Robyn’s election rally, and for slipping up and letting Neo get away with the Lamp. Mentioning the rally of course gets Nora’s attention away from her pissed off brooding, and she does start to listen a little more sympathetically. Ren says that he tried to tunnel vision on getting stronger in the hopes it would mean he wouldn’t fail again and bring the team down with him. We know from Ironwood how bad tunnel vision is, so I’m glad Ren is realizing it was a bad choice. Ren has realized now that by doing all that he failed the worst of all, that being in his role as a member of this team and as a partner to Nora. The two of them lock eyes, and Jaune notices the deeper meaning behind this prolonged eye contact and knows he should make himself scarce for now so they can have this more important conversation sans his third wheeling ass. Good boy, but a bit over the top excusing himself.

All Nora can find the words to ask is why Ren hadn’t said anything about these personal doubts sooner so they could try and deal with it and grow as a team, and he says he wanted to try and solve it himself because it was his problem and he was the one dragging the group down because of it. She disagrees on the grounds of her own perceived failings, being silly of mind and strong of muscle and little else of value. Ren won’t hear that kind of self depreciation sitting down, so he moves further up the bed to sit by her lap. He tries his best to give her affirmations by rephrasing her qualities as great things but she’s just not willing to hear it... until he gets a little more passionate about it than he may have meant to. These are the things he loves about her. Because he loves her. Lie Ren tells Nora Valkyrie “I love you”. Nora knows in her heart he really means that, but she has some things she wants to get off her chest. In the single sentence of backstory we get, her mom apparently abandoned her and fled from a Grimm attack before she ended up in Kuroyuri meeting Ren. SInce then they’ve always been an inseparable pair, and she wouldn’t give up a day of that for anything. But now she realizes she needs some time to really learn who she is as her own person and fighter, and going back to being as close as they were wouldn’t allow that kind of growth. Because Nora loves Ren too, always has. And she can tell their separate missions have done him some good too, but she needs a little more time before she’s ready to be the partner a great guy like him deserves. She just wants to know if that kind of request is okay with him. He puts a hand against her cheek and lovingly wipes away the tear she had shed. Of course that’s okay. He’s proud of her for being mindful of her own happiness and growth, and is willing to put the relationship they both very much look forward to having on hold while she grows as a person. This is a very healthy dynamic and all meming aside we really love to see it portrayed so naturally and acceptably in media. And for good wholesome measure, Ren Boops Nora. They laugh and smile and press their foreheads together because Rooster Teeth loves showing us that as a sign of proximity and intimate comfort.

Cutting to something far less happy, Qrow is retrieving Harbinger and Robyn’s gauntlet crossbow from a locker in what I assume might be evidence lockup. He asks Robyn if she’s got the security cameras running on loop, presumably so they can sneak through the halls undetected, but she is currently distracted. At least one screen is feeding audio of Ironwood’s threat to Mantle, and others are showing he really is gearing up to do so. Qrow tries to reassure her by resolutely saying they’ll stop him before he has the chance to, but she doesn’t seem to pleased with that plan. Regardless, they make their way through the halls and head for an elevator to take them up to the Academy. After avoiding being spotted by guards, they make it to the elevator but Robyn stops Qrow before he can hit the call button. She tries to advocate for a better way to solve this, he insists there isn’t one. Robyn says it’s not just about Qrow so it isn’t his choice alone to make what is or isn’t the only solution. Qrow just keeps insisting that this is what he’s gonna do and when he does it’ll all be safe and over with, but Robyn tries to suggest success isn’t guaranteed and if they fail it’ll only doom hundreds more than if they try something else. Qrow doesn’t give a damn, he just yells that Ironwood deserves to be killed, because in case the pronoun game was too hard Qrow is dead set on doing a murder. Robyn claps a hand over Qrow’s mouth and pushes him against the wall because they ARE still trying not to get caught remember? I really have to admit on my first watch I thought this was gonna be an eruption of some kind of romantic tension I just hadn’t noticed til now and she was going to shut him up with a kiss. But no, thank god they didn’t pull that tired trick. After making sure the coast really is clear, she gets to the heart of things. She can tell Qrow is in pain, he’s mourning, and its a shroud he’s well accustomed to. But don’t act like this is righteous justice for the people at large, Qrow wants blood on his hands purely for personal vengeance. She acknowledges that Clover had a lot of qualities worth looking up to the way Qrow had, but she thinks that at the end of the day Qrow has proven to be the better man and the better Huntsman. I feel like she could have phrased that a touch better so as to not speak quite so ill of the recently deceased, but the pep talk is there. He’s got the will to fight for what he believes is the right course of action rather than just what a higher up says he needs to, and that is the sort of strength of character that’s worth a whole lot in this world, so she hopes he won’t go abandoning it now that the going is even rougher. He seems to be calmed and inspired by this, but before any more words are said the elevator pings that it’s stopping on this floor so the two ready their weapons to fight whoever emerges. The doors open, but we have the perspective of whoever is inside looking out to see the two hunters drop their guard in confusion. As that is the end of that scene we will not be finding out who they saw for at least another week, but I think it’s most likely to be Winter and Marrow and the four of them will form an unlikely alliance.

Back in Schnee manor, Yang reaches the foyer to see Ruby sitting on the stairs clutching a banister. Instead of going right up to her Yang goes past to take a look at the collapsed suit of armor. She’s heard by now how Ruby and the others managed to kill the Hound, and tries to give her little sis amused props for doing what the elder sibling couldn’t. Instead Ruby just asks if Yang knows what they saw inside the Grimm. Yang says she does, and tenses up like she wants to brush past this very depressing topic Ruby is hinting at. Ruby is having none of that and just says what we’ve all been thinking. Summer Rose was most certainly turned into a Grimm too. Fearing the possibility in her head was one thing, but to hear Ruby say it aloud with a voice so hollow and hopeless is too much and Yang falls to her knees sobbing in a second flat. Yang tries to wipe the tears away, to be calm and strong like always, but Ruby isn’t stopping. They know Salem used to want Silver Eyed Warriors dead because of Maria’s brush with death years ago, but now Salem wants Ruby brought in alive and it seems obvious why. So why wouldn’t it be the case that Summer was the turning point, that fighting her was when Salem realized she could do so much more with her mortal foes? Ruby has had enough of lying to themselves for the sake of optimistic hope, her hope that Amity could get a message out got them nowhere but further failure and she blames herself for being childish. Yang takes her hand and assures her that it wasn’t childishness but rather optimism and hope. Those are things they desperately need in this struggle, but to be blindly optimistic can certainly be bad so they need to be smart about which risks they take. Ruby still isn’t about to concede this point because the risk she took was a failure and their message didn’t bring any help. I should like to remind the reader/viewer that it took about a week for Team RWBY to get from Mistral to Atlas and this message went out... 12 hours ago? Maybe 16? You’re giving up the ghost a little soon there sweetie, though they do need that help ASAP so better late than never isn’t really a viable option. Yang reminds Ruby that her plan was a bust too, but she kept trying to do good things that weren’t part of the plan and they did some good there. Summer took a risk too, by leaving for the mission she never came back from. And there’s little question that went according to plan either, but she still did her best and Yang still considers Summer her hero. As she embraces her little sister, I get the strong feeling that Summer isn’t the only Rose she considers her hero either... and by the tears that start welling up in Ruby’s eyes she clearly knows that.

Their sweet moment is shattered by the sound of equally shattered glass, and Jaune comes rushing down the stairs to tell them to get outside immediately. Penny woke up and the virus is in control again to make her head for the Vault without delay. Ruby bursts into her path to beg her to stop, and it does get her to start struggling against her digital orders. She begs to be stopped, and Ruby wraps her arms around her because honestly she’s just trying her best and with a weapon like Crescent Rose she’s gotta have some upper body strength. But that’s pretty meaningless against Penny’s rocket boots as she takes off with Ruby in tow. Blake and Ren use Gambol Shroud and Storm Flower (thank god for the grappling hook upgrade last Volume) to try and pull her down by each arm with the rest of their teams providing tug of war style support. Weiss uses a black glyph to really hold her in place once her feet are on the ground again. Before anyone can figure out what to do to properly subdue her Penny uses her magic to summon a cold vortex and blow them all off guard so she can start flying away again, still repeating her orders to open the Vault and self-terminate, though now she sounds emotional and conflicted about it due to her mental struggle. Before she can get any farther, a new set of chains grab her shoulders. Emerald has joined in, and even if it was a small gesture I found myself very enthusiastic to see her pitching in for the rescue. She yells for someone to do something already, and Jaune lets go of Blake’s side of the struggle (guess it would have been off balance if him Nora and Oscar were all helping Ren) to boost Weiss’ Aura so she can make a stronger inertia glyph. Back on the ground, Ruby hugs Penny again and asks how she can help her friend. And Penny says Ruby should kill her. If she does, Penny guarantees Ruby will be the one she gives the Winter Maiden powers to. None of the group like hearing this idea one little bit, but she thinks it’s the only way since she can’t fight the virus. But once again Nora swoops in with the sage words about it only being a part of you and not letting that be the end of it. Penny’s more than just a robot receiving orders, she’s got human spirit and willpower that’s been resisting for so long. This gets the gears in Ruby’s head turning and she realizes the human part can be what saves her. Jaune needs to boost her Aura, which he rushes over to do immediately. It seems to do the trick, and her soul is doing a much better job of keeping the virus contained, though it’s not gone forever. Everyone comes in for a happy group huddle, and she is assured that she is far more than a machine and that humanity is what will keep her going in spite of the remaining virus. It’s a very soft and touching moment. 

Then Emerald has something to say. They’re wrong... about being in the same place they started yesterday. They’ve made progress even though they can’t quite see it right now. They’ve taken some hits, and she admits some of that has been her fault, but that’s war so you gotta roll with the punches and fight on. She just really won’t like it if they give up the moment she decides she’ll fight by their side, okay?! It’s not like she likes these friendly, kind, understanding and emotionally complex fellow teens that are willing to take her in, baka!!! Oscar points out that she’s admitted she wants to stay with them and they all have a happy laugh realizing she’s got a softer side after all. Oscar helps her back to her feet, then addresses the group. Ozpin has some things he wants to say to them all, if they’re willing to hear it. They all share a look and decide that yes, they will listen. Oz comes forth and immediately launches into a speech about a fairy tale. Typical. We can presume these are further details about “The Girl who Fell Through the World”, and he says that girl took her grand trip to run away from consequences of a choice she has to make. But her problems only grow because the initial issue was never resolved. That’s the very thing he’s done here, his problem being the consequences of the truth and his past coming to light. He regrets not trusting them with the whole story and he regrets retreating into Oscar’s mind when he was found out. The group decides they understand where he was coming from a bit since in that interim they had to make some impossible choices about trust too. Trusting in someone is a risk, and they decide they’ll take that risk on him one more time. From the look of things, that second chance is going to Emerald too, and I hope she makes them proud. Penny winces again and it’s clear that one way or the other they will need to take her to the Vault. Ruby thinks on that for a second and realizes that’s actually worth a shot considering who they have at their disposal and the likelihood of it not going exactly how Ironwood thinks it will. To that end we see Ironwood down in the Vault receiving a call from Ruby saying Penny will be there. He sets the stipulation that Penny meet him at the entrance of the Academy and she has to come alone. I’m sure no green haired illusionist will play a hand in whether or not she really is alone... But either way there will be unexpected company because Watts hooked up a broken Scroll to the wiring of an Atlas robot to listen in on Ironwood’s call and know where the meeting will be. Neo arrives in the alley where the doctor and Cinder waiting, and it seems miss Fall has a scheme to get the ice cream psycho precisely what she’s demanding of them.

But what exactly these carefully laid plans will be has to wait a little while, cuz that’s the end for this week. Great job all around for this well balanced episode with many kinds of scenes and many ways to make my heart hurt...

[sbtlns]

One Last Time

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death, major angst

A/N: this was DEPRESSING to write omg i’m sorry yall (◕︿◕✿) requests are open!

It was supposed to be easy. Garth had called about two hikers who were found with their hearts ripped out in the woods not too far from the bunker. He did some digging and told you he thought it was a lone wolf that had left the rest of his pack and was just moving through town, so you volunteered yourself and Cas to check it out and give the brothers some much needed rest. Besides, newly-human Cas needed the practice and it was only one wolf, right?

“Nice, Cas!” you smiled, clapping his shoulder. With a grunt he pulled the silver dagger out of the wolf’s heart and stood up, turning to smile at you. “Who needs angel mojo anyway?” you joked. He gave you a small chuckle, looking down and wiping the sweat from his brow. You were still proudly beaming at him when he looked back up at you, but the smile quickly disappeared from his face. “Y/N! Watch out!” he yelled, eyes wide in horror. You looked behind you just in time to see a second werewolf charging the two of you before a strong arm pushed you out of the way. You fell back and stared in horror as the wolf knocked the blade from Castiel’s hand and pinned him to the ground. “Cas!” you screamed before clambering to grab the dagger a few feet away. You had just grabbed it and turned to run back towards them when you saw the wolf drag its claws clean across Castiel’s chest, eliciting a cry of pain from the former angel. “NO!” you screamed, running back towards them.

You tackled the wolf to the ground, knocking it off of Castiel’s body and plunged the dagger into its heart. You felt hot tears filling your eyes as you ripped the blade from the wolf’s chest and quickly crawled off of it and back to Cas. Castiel’s eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling shallowly and unevenly. “No, no, no, no,” you muttered, cradling his head in your lap. “Cas, come on buddy, wake up,” you pleaded. His eyes fluttered open and he struggled to sit up, coughing on some of his own blood in the process. “Cas, hey, don’t move. You’re okay,” you bit your lip, looking down at the blood pooling out of his chest. Shit you thought to yourself, realizing how deep the wolf’s claws dug in. You took your jacket off, careful not to jostle him, and held it firmly against his chest. He hissed in pain from the contact and you felt the tears streaming down your face. 

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, just relax,” you said as you fumbled for your phone to call the brothers. Your blood ran cold as you realized that you didn’t have reception this deep into the woods. “Damnit,” you cursed under your breath as a new wave of tears came. Cas reached up shakily to take one of your hands in his. You looked down at the contact before meeting his gaze. 

“Y/N,” he began, coughing as he tried to clear his throat. “Cas, hey, don’t, just relax,” you cooed. He closed his eyes and shook his head weakly before opening them and looking deeply into your eyes. “Y/N, you can’t move me. I’ll bleed out before help can get to us, if you can get reception, which I doubt,” he said in a strained voice and you bit your lip and shook your head, fresh tears falling down your face as reality sunk in. “So just let me say this. Please,” he begged. You stared at him for a moment before letting out a shaky sigh and nodding. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he began before you cut him off. “Cas-what? What could you possibly be sorry for? I was the one that didn’t see the second wolf,” you said quickly with furrowed brows. He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head again. “No. Let me finish,” he said before opening his eyes again, and you felt a sob threaten to wrack over you as you noticed his once vibrant blue eyes were becoming dull. “I’m sorry I didn’t say this sooner. I prayed for the courage, but...” he sighed. “I love you. I have for a long time,” he admitted as your shoulders shook from sobs. “You have made my billions of years of existence worth it, your kindness has changed me it-” he was cut off by a wet cough and struggled to get another breath in. “Cas, please,” you squeezed his hand tighter. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. You felt him take his last breath before his body went limp in your arms. You cried out, holding his body close to yours as sobs wracked through your body. 

You held him for what seemed like a lifetime, before you ran out of tears to cry. It had gotten dark and you knew Sam and Dean were going to start to worry if you didn’t get back to the bunker soon. You gingerly slid Castiel’s body off of your lap and stood up. Your body felt numb as your legs carried you back to your car, and you slid into the driver’s seat. You knew what you had to do, it had to be done and no amount of Winchester guilt-tripping could stop you. You drove a mile to the nearest crossroads and gathered the supplies from the arsenal in your trunk. You walked numbly to the center of the crossroads, heart beating out of your chest with anticipation of what you were about to do. You buried the box and stood up, looking around warily for the demon you had summoned. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Winchesters’ little pet,” you heard a cold voice from behind you and you spun around to glare at the demon. “Where’s your angel boyfriend? Oh. That’s right,” she said, curling her lips into a smirk. “Shut up.” you said angrily through your teeth. You took a deep breath before saying, “My soul for his. I know how this works. I’ll be a hellhound’s chew toy in ten years. Just do it,” you said with an edge to your voice. The demon scoffed and crossed her arms. “You really think you’d get ten years?” she said raising her eyebrows. She thought for a moment before offering, “I’ll give you one.” You felt your chest tighten and tears threaten to spill over your cheeks, but you knew what had to be done. “Fine,” you agreed. 

You sped back to the forest and ran to where you had left Castiel. You dropped to your knees as you reached him. “Come on come on,” you muttered panicked, searching for any signs of life on his face. Suddenly his eyes shot open and he gasped for air. You let go of a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and held him close to you. “I almost lost you,” you whispered into his chest. He shakily returned your hug. “What happened?” he asked, pulling away to look into your eyes. You breathed a sigh of relief as you noticed his once dull and lifeless eyes were back to their usual vibrant blue. You smiled through tears and replied, “it was a close call. But you’re okay. You’re okay.”

~Eleven Months Later~

You grabbed your jacket from your room and headed back into the war room. “Come on guys, we’re gonna miss the fireworks display,” you whined, noticing the brothers and former angel were still nursing their beers and sitting at the table. Dean groaned. “Y/N do we really have to go? We just ate all that food,” he argued, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, Y/N, besides, I think it’s supposed to rain anyway,” Sam said, offering you a small smile. You felt your chest tighten at the thought of missing the show. “No,” you said a little too loud, gaining all three men’s attention. “No, we have to go. We can’t miss it,” you said, hating yourself at how desperate you sounded. Castiel furrowed his brows and stood up. “What’s wrong, honeybee? There will be another next year,” he said soothingly as he made his way to you, holding you to his chest. You felt tears escaping at his words, the secret you’d been keeping from all of them for the past year suddenly becoming too much to bear. 

“Yeah, Y/N, what’s gotten into you this year? We went to a pumpkin patch in October to get pumpkins to carve on Halloween, almost burnt the bunker to the ground making a whole Thanksgiving meal, we got a real Christmas tree and took it back here to decorate, rounded up everyone we know for a New Year’s Eve party, and Cas took you out for a fancy Valentine’s date. Hell, we even hid freakin’ eggs for an Easter egg hunt. What’s with you hellbent on celebrating every holiday this year?” Dean questioned from his chair at the table. You couldn’t answer, and buried your head into Castiel’s chest as you broke into tears. “Dean,” Sam scolded. Dean raised his hands in defense, eyebrows raised. Cas took your shoulders and held you away from him so he could see your face. “Honeybee, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

You took a deep breath in, praying for enough courage to tell them the truth. “There won’t be another,” you said softly. The three men exchanged questioning looks. “Y/N...what do you mean there won’t be another?” Sam pried gently. You took another deep breath and stepped away from Castiel so you could face all three of them. 

“Remember that hunt that me and Cas took. The one with the lone werewolf?” You began, and they nodded their heads, eyebrows furrowed. “Well...” you took a deep breath. “It turned out to be two wolves and the second wolf...Cas didn’t...I mean he...” you stopped yourself, hearing your voice begin to shake. Castiel placed a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t what?” he asked, voice coated in concern. “You didn’t make it out!” you snapped at him, jerking your shoulder from his touch. He stared back at you in shock, not knowing what to say. 

“Y/N,” Dean warned, voice tight. “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to do what I think you did.” You let out a bitter laugh. “I did what I had to do,” you muttered. “Which was?” Dean asked angrily, standing up from his seat. “I made a deal okay! Happy?” you spat back at him. A thick silence fell upon the room. 

“No,” Cas said softly, staring blankly at the floor. “No, please, Y/N,” he said, turning his gaze to stare hopelessly into your eyes. You met his stare for a moment before you felt yourself suffocating under the guilt and you tore your eyes away. Dean sunk back into his chair and wiped a hand over his face. “How long?” he asked blankly. You bit your lip and continued to stare at the floor. 

“Y/N I said how long!” Dean bellowed and your flinched at the harshness of his tone. “One year,” you said meekly, fresh tears rolling over your cheeks. You heard Dean mutter something under his breath but the beating of your heart drowned it out. The room was starting to spin and you felt your knees buckled before a pair of strong arms scooped you up and held you to their chest. 

“I won’t let them take you. I’ll get my grace back. I’ll find a way to save you. I have to. I have-” Cas said desperately, voice cracking. He held you tighter against him and you felt his shoulders shake with a sob. You held him tighter, apology after apology spilling from your mouth. 

Suddenly, Dean stood up and grabbed his jacket and keys. “Come on,” he said gruffly. Castiel released you from his embrace and the two of you and Sam looked at him confused. Sam cleared his throat before asking, “um, where are we going?” Dean pursed his lips and shrugged his jacket on. “We got a fireworks show to catch,” he said simply. His eyes met yours and you could see how much pain he was holding in them. “One last time,” he said, looking at you. You smiled softly. “One last time.” 

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part IV: The 1980s

Ah yes, the 80s. One of my favourite decades for music overall, and one of the only decades in Eurovision where I wouldn’t immediately jump at the chance to change most of the songs that won, the other decade being the 2000s. 

But at least with the 80s there was more quality songs per year, whereas the 2000s was mostly drivel.

I also count the 80s as being somewhat of a turning point in the contest’s history, and by that I mean it always seemed to me like it was the decade where the UK really began to stop caring. Most people know the song that won in 1985, but nobody knows what won in 1986. Everyone knows Johnny Logan won twice, but couldn’t name his second song. Everyone knows Celine Dion competed, but can’t remember if she won or what she sang. 

That and countries also started experimenting with more modern sounds and outfits towards the end. The early 80s is just an extension of the 70s I swear. 

But that’s enough of all that, how do I find the winning songs?

1980- What’s Another Year?

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song that makes every 50something woman in the UK and Ireland all doey-eyed and rosy cheeked as they remember back to when they were a teenager watching this on TV and drooling at the lovely looking sad Irishman singing his sorrows into the microphone.  Or that’s my experience with this song anyway. Another experience is that most vintage fans I know tend to dislike this song on the grounds of it beating out [insert song here] Everyone has their favourite from 1980 since it was honestly a pretty strong year, but even though this song isn’t my first place for that year I can still clearly see why it won. See, 1980 had a lot of pop songs, so a slow, sad song like this one was bound to stand out, whether it was popular or not. Luckily for this one, it turned out to be a popular choice. Other songs wouldn’t be so lucky… Back on track though. Like I said, this is a very sad and melancholy song with sad and melancholy lyrics, which not only made it stand out in its year, but also made it stand out amongst other Eurovision songs of its time. It’s strange to think, but at this point in the contest’s history there hadn’t been a winner with lyrics so solemn and personal. See, in modern Eurovision, every other song is the artist baring their soul about their horrible ex-boyfriend, or their depression, or past abuse, or whatever, so knowing there was a period where songs like that were so rare is just… surreal to me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Greece tbh, I don’t mind this one

If no, what is? Greece- Anna Vissi- “Autostop”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 23rd

1981: Making Your Mind Up

Country: United Kingdom

Artist: Bucks Fizz

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the UK winner that nobody really likes, but the BBC still forces at us anyway because they’re proud they came up with a gimmick that everybody remembers. Or maybe it’s not that well remembered, but nobody would know that because we’re reminded of it every year. This song is… alright. Just alright. The first listen of this one is always the best, because after a while it just gets kind of annoying. The singing ESPECIALLY starts to grate you for a while. Even in the studio version the two girls sound unbearably shrill and whiny, and I’m not sure if that’s their fault or the songwriter’s (since if I remember correctly only one of them was a professional singer). I’m seriously convinced there’s no way for a female vocalist to pull this off without sounding terrible.  Again, this one’s perfectly fine and serviceable, but that doesn’t mask the fact it’s still the worst UK winner and the worst winner of the 1980s too. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Carlos Paião- “Playback”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 58th

1982: Ein Bißchen Frieden

Country: West Germany

Artist: Nicole

Language: German (Translation: “A little peace”)

Thoughts: This song gives me a really warm, nostalgic feeling, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know this one did well internationally, so it’s possible I just heard it as a kid, but given how I grew up in the early 2000s, “Eurovision is a shitty freak show full of weirdos from the USSR who gang up on the UK and don't vote for us on purpose” era Britain, that’s highly unlikely. Anyways, this is such a warm, fuzzy kind of song. It has a lovely… round-the-campfire, singalong kind of vibe, like this is meant to be sung by a load of long haired hippies with flowers in their hair and CND symbols drawn on their cheeks. And it’s… … Also kind of bland. If you’ve been reading my personal winners so far, you’ll have noticed I definitely have a soft spot for old German entries, so it’s a shame I find the one song they actually won with to be so… generic. It’s like they got tired of being unique so decided to send the same saccharine fluff everyone else was sending, and guess what, it paid off majorly, because this song was a huge hit at the time. Something about that kind of bothers me, like, out of all the entries they sent, it’s the one that’s the most “Eurovision-y” that ended up winning. And there’s something depressing in that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Bardo- “One Step Further”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 50th

1983: Si la vie est Cadeau

Country: Luxembourg

Artist: Corinne Hermés

Language: French (Translation: “If life were a gift”)

Thoughts: You want a tip on how to stand out amongst Eurovision fans? Say you like this song. Probably won’t make you very popular, but you’ll stand out at least. I will confess, I, too, was part of the hate-wagon for this song. Like most fans I knew, I’d complain about how boring and uninteresting it was and how it, ahem, “robbed” so many other entries, and how basic it was, et cetera, et cetera. But… honestly? It’s not even that bad. Sure I had other favourites from 1983 (the ones I could stand watching anyway, the host that year was so unimaginably terrible I gave up watching halfway through. I DARE you to watch the whole thing without wanting to neck yourself), but this song gets way more hate than it deserves. I honestly don’t think this song is half as bad as I made it out to be myself, or as bad as the fandom makes it out to be. It’s got a decent melody, some solid vocals, some appealingly 80s instrumental, like there’s a lot I like here. …Until you read the lyrics and realise they’re almost as half-assed and lazy as All Kinds of Everything’s, but I digress. Did I prefer other songs from that year? Of course. Am I going to complain about this one winning? Nah. It’s alright. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Sweden- Carola Häggkvist- “Främling”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 41st

1984- Diggiloo, Diggiley

Country: Sweden

Artist: Herreys

Language: Swedish

Thoughts: Whenever I was a younger fan I used to describe this song as being drunk-dad-at-a-wedding-music performed by three sentient Ken dolls, and I still stand by that statement. And I don’t really know how else to describe this one. It certainly has its charm, and it’s still a likeable song, but it also feels very… vapid. Like if this song were a person, they’d be a bit of a bimbo. And I mean, the song’s about how the singer’s oh-so-happy and prancing down the street in his brand new shoes, so that’s probably a fair description. Part of me wonders if that’s down to old Eurovision songs being vapid in general or if it’s down to the schlager genre itself requiring songs to be kinda neutered and happy-go-lucky, but even though I do like this song, it does come off as being a bit bland. A bit by-the-numbers and playing-it-safe. And I don’t mind songs like that, but I’d rather they didn’t win, y’know?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Italy- Alice & Franco- “Il Treni di Tozeur”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 15th

1985- La det Swinge

Country: Norway

Artist: Bobbysocks

Language: Norwegian

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song which finally hauled Norway into first place after years of being a regular last-placer. Maybe the UK should take some notes instead of blaming Brexit. Or Russia. Or Iraq. Or anything other than their own apathy, for that matter. But this is about La det Swinge and not the UK, so what are my thoughts on it? Well it’s… It’s the kind of song I imagine my mom and aunt would sing at a wedding if they ever attended one. It’s a very fun song, a little cheesy, sure, but it’s hard to not like a song that’s this upbeat and cheery.  And yeah I know it’s because it’s schlager and that’s generally a really cheerful genre by default, I touched on that in the review above, 

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Israel

If no, what is? Israel- Yizhar Cohen- “Olé Olé”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 14th

1986- J’aime la Vie

Country: Belgium

Artist: Sandra Kim

Language: French

Thoughts: This song is an enigma because I’m an absolute slut for 80s pop, yet, for some reason, I find this song painfully average and uninteresting. Now, I’ll get it off my chest and say that 1986 was also a painfully average and uninteresting year, and most of the time I just felt myself remembering the singer more than the song, and even then I struggle to remember what some of the acts even were. It was just such a boring blur of a year I’m surprised the juries even managed to stay awake to pick a winner. And I GUESS you could argue that this song is so upbeat and peppy that it woke them up, but that doesn’t excuse how bloody generic it is. Like, this is the most generic 80s song you can imagine, and not in a good way. It feels more like stock music than an actual publicly released pop song. Had it not won, I doubt it would’ve stood out to me at all; it would’ve just faded into the background with all the other muted, 80s-coloured mush from this year. Basically, there’s a reason the singer’s age is the only thing noteworthy about this song.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Luxembourg- Sherisse Laurence- “L’amour de ma vie”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 49th

1987- Hold me Now

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the superior Johnny Logan winner.  And I’m not sure why everyone forgets this one because Mother of Mercy this song is in another league entirely compared to the other schlock Ireland’s won with. Like this is their best winner, no competition. One of their best songs overall as well. One of the best entries from the 80s, one of the best winners of the 80s, one of the best winners… Yeah, I really like this song.  I’ll admit to sleeping on this one for too long myself, always dismissing it as some boring Irish ballad to go with all the other boring Irish ballads they somehow managed to win with (we’ll get to that later), and always agreeing with people who said XYZ country (always Yugolslavia) should have won instead.  Basically I learnt the hard way to never judge a song on its country and genre. But one day I found myself in the midst of a revisiting trip, going back to winners I didn't pay much attention to, just to see if there was anything I’d missed the first time round. And something about the lyrics in this song resonated with me a lot more than I thought they would. In a strange way, it made me feel older; like I’d grown up and was able to relate to the words in a song and appreciate it more than I could when I was younger. The line “what do you say when words are not enough?” especially hits harder than it should; as someone with autism I tend to find showing emotions difficult, even in virtual conversation where I’m not using my voice or face, because… Well, what do you say when your words aren’t enough?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 2nd

1988- Ne Partez pas Sans Moi

Country: Switzerland 

Artist: Céline Dion 

Language: French

Thoughts: Telling people Céline Dion won this thing is a new favourite hobby of mine, just to see the confused reaction. And that’s the most interesting thing about this song because it’s… fine, I guess? It’s a perfectly serviceable 80s power ballad, but there’s no bells and whistles to make me sit up and declare it any better than just “okay”. It’s basically the ballad equivalent of J’aime la Vie from 1986, in that it’s extremely 80s and also in French, but there’s nothing to make it that memorable aside from the singer herself. And even then this isn’t the song that made her famous anyway. Even her singing doesn't make this one stand out, partially because the song doesn't do anything special with it, and partially because she just blends in with all the other good singers of this era. And that’s kinda sad to think about.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Hmmm....

If no, what is? Greece- Afroditi Frida- “Clown”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 22nd

1989- Rock Me

Country: Yugoslavia

Artist: Riva

Language: Croatian

Thoughts: So this is another song it really took me a while to get into (there’s lots of those, trust me) and one that was very briefly in my top three overall favourites. It’s slid down a few slots since then, though I would still say it’s… Somewhere in the top 15.  I don’t really have a lot to say about this one, if I’m honest. It’s just a good, fun, solid song which stood out in a very dull and ballad-saturated year, nothing more, nothing less. The lyrics are nice too, being about a bored musician who learns to love music again by teaching himself how to play pop songs to entertain his friends. That’s a unique subject and I can imagine it resonating with a lot of people who’ve fallen out with a hobby they used to love because they took it too seriously (providing they either speak Croatian or have looked up the lyrics, of course). I mean, it resonates with me at least. All in all, I just like this song for its message more than anything else.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Da Vinci- “Conquistador”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 9th

[finleyjayne]

Everyone is Sad Sometimes

Steve Rodgers x Reader

Summary: During a depressive episode the end of the tunnel can seem impossible to reach. Your therapist says that you are not alone in your feelings but you don’t believe them. They don’t live in a compound with superheroes. After a run in with a certain super soldier, You can’t help but wish to bask your sorrows in your secret stash of icecream, what will happen when someone else has the same Idea?

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attacks

A/N: Sorry not sorry, Thank you for the photo Google. Also I’m going to tag @captain-rogers-beard​ because I am new and I want at least one person to read this.(Thank you Mimi)

Depression hits everyone at one time or another. That's what your therapist keeps telling you. It's just hard to see how the literal superheroes around you are dealing with depression. Like sure Tony locks himself into his bubble of work, Natasha goes missing for a week every month, and Bucky... don't even start with Bucky. Even Thor could be seen putting himself into the line of fire more after his brother's death. So maybe Dr. Pronce isn't wholly wrong. 

At least that was what you were starting to believe. Until Steve walked into the small breakroom, you were currently using to meditate. Steve was a God among men, and he had yet to have an "off" day in your presence. Compared to your increasing lack of good days, Steve was perfect. Even now, he was whistling a jaunty tune, his steps bouncing as he set up his sketchpad in front of the windows. 

Sitting in the corner, obscured by a stately, wingback chair as you were, he didn't even notice you. Which was great for people watching. Even better for you to get a nonpartial read on how the imposing, and reserved man before you was really feeling. Keeping quiet, you watched as he smiled to himself. A relaxed, carefree thing., full of contentment. You fought the urge to sigh. 

How could he be so happy about what was going on outside? It was overcast, all the trees were dead, the snow was murky because of all the combat drills that had been done throughout the field since it had last snowed. Even the cardinals and squirrels that found their homes in the nearby trees were absent. Probably hunkering down for before the next storm was supposed to hit.  

Your frown deepened at the thought. The winter storms did nothing to help your increasing hopelessness; in fact, they seemed to do the opposite. Not only did they make the impending sense of doom that you usually could keep at bay absolutely unbearable, but the dramatic pressure changes also made your very human body ache from all of the past abuse you've lived through. 

Before you can realize how it would give you away, you start to rub at a particularly sore scar on the side of your forearm. Even after the Captain was staring surprised at you, you continued to stare at him.

"I hope you realize it's impolite to stare." He says casually, his eyes barely flickering to you before going back to the window.

You startle slightly at being noticed. "I've heard that before. I've also heard that it's impolite to do a great many other things, Captain. Most of which the population of America does every single day." You respond, continuing to stare.  

Steve chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes the armchair across from your hiding place. "Oh, really? What would this list consist of?"

"Crossing your arms." you deadpan, pulling your knees closer. 

"Touche," he states, leaning back into the chair, relaxing his arms. Going back to his leisure surveillance. His hands twirling a charcoal pencil between their lithe fingers. 

After what was probably too long a silence, words pop out of your mouth. "What are you looking at? There are better views out of the other windows. The snow isn't even clean." 

"Sometimes, the lack of beauty is where true beauty lies." He whispers, his voice convincingly soft. 

"Who are you quoting, my mother?"

"Not quoting anyone. Just trying to remember what a friend. If I was to quote them, I would've said, 'Ugliness is just a failure of seeing.'" His voice wavered a bit as he continued to stare out the window. Turning to you, he cleared his throat. "What are you doing behind the chair instead of in it?" 

You laugh sardonically, "Meditating. I'm a bit of a claustrophile."

He gives you a strange look. "Oh? Are you sure you aren't hiding from something."

"Steve, not that it's any of your business, but I am always hiding from something. It's daily life for me," you say. Not wanting to answer any more questions, you stand lithely make your way to the door. 

He looked startled at your abrupt movement. "You don't have to go. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Look, Steve, I know you are just trying to be helpful. I also know that you can't really stop being yourself, and I don't really want to either. But I really can't handle being in the same room with your positivity right now. You're too happy, and it's not making me feel any better about my lack of happy. So stay, enjoy your sketching, see you at training tomorrow." You turn around before you could see the hurt playing over his face.

Later that night, you still felt awful at your inability to be content with any of the blessings you have been given since becoming one of the Avengers. Even when in sleep, the unending hopelessness caused your sinuses to burn until you woke yourself up with your tears. Finally, giving up around two in the morning, you make your way to the secondary kitchen in search of your hidden stash of comfort icecream. 

To your surprise, the light in the kitchen is on when you round the corner. Trying to act like you aren't dying on the inside, you circle the island cupboards to see the weirdest sight of your life.

Captain America, sitting on the floor, eating a bowl of Kellog Flakes, talking seriously into the phone. "I don't know what to do. I ran into her today. She blatantly told me tha..." he looks up and freezes midword. You could faintly hear the other person on the line calling for him, but couldn't care less. Staring straight ahead as you got your icecream and a spoon as quickly as you could manage. Fighting off the new wave of tears.

Gods, what were you going to do? Your depression was going to lose you your spot on the team? Was it really that bad? You went to every training session, you made it a point to listen to all direction, and worked extra hard every mission to prevent this from happening. What would you do if you lost this too?

Your thoughts tore violently through your brain, leaving you unable to pay attention to your surroundings anymore. You were just outside of your door when a calloused hand caught your arm. The forlorn wail you were holding just behind your teeth severed the still night air, pulling the ripcord on the tears fighting to be free. Your distress shredded any sense of coordination you had as you collapsed into Steve's rock-hard chest.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), please, let me explain."

"NO," you sobbed. "Let go of me, If you wanted to get rid of me, all you had to do was ask. I'm a big girl, I can take a little tough love."

That seemed to shock Steve. "What?"

You yanked your arm harshly from Steve's stunned grip. "That's what you were talking to whoever that was about, wasn't it? You finally realized that I am not worth it. That I don't belong and weren't sure how to break the news to me since I'm so depressed. Well lucky you, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I'll have my stuff packed and be out by the end of the week." You turn away as tears waterfall down your face. 

Before you can get a decent grip on the doorknob, Steve's hand finds its place on top of yours. "No. I don't want you to leave." He states confidently. "It's quite the opposite actually. I like you. I was asking Clint how to handle my feelings since you clearly don't feel the same."

That stops you in your struggle for the doorknob. You look up at the imposing man beside you through bleary eyes. "What did you just say?"

"I like you, sweetheart. I was worried about you, and I didn't know what to do. So I called Clint. He seems to know the most about women."

You stood there, shocked for a second. "You like me."

"You make it really hard not to."

"What do you mean?"

"Sweetheart, you are a gorgeous, strong, independent, caring, hardworking woman. I'd be stupid not to have feelings for you."

"But I'm so grumpy, and when I'm not grumpy, I'm sad," you argue, scrunching your eyes together in confusion.

"Everyone gets sad. You are just less adept at hiding your feelings than some of us are. That's okay. I know you don't see it right now, but you haven't always been this way, and even if you stay this way, I know that you are worth every ounce of love and respect that I've given you."

You just stare at him. Trying to find any hint at the lie. He just stood there, staring right back into your eyes and, you couldn't help the tiny flutter of hope that settled deep in your tummy. A slight twitch, like the flick of a cat's tail as it basks in the sun. You missed her, and you knew that if Steve continues to look at you like that, you were going to be feeling more than just the flick of her tail.

"You quoting my therapist now too? Or is it just more of your friends?"

[halothenthehorns]

THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

Sirius cradled the book in his hands for a moment, a curiously contemplative look on his face, pretending he couldn't hear James mumbling under his breath, "he got to read about Harry's Championship game last year- can't believe he gets all the good ones."

Sirius, unbelievably, didn't even hesitate as he gave the book a toss back and said, "knock yourself out Prongs."

James caught it with fumbling fingers and was still blinking in shock at his best friend, causing Sirius to smirk all the wider as he shrugged and said, "what, I'm not going to argue the point. You're right, I got a whole Quidditch game where Harry won, you should get the lesser of them with just some stupid World Cup."

James couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at him for the picking, he knew reverse psychology when he heard it, but it wasn't going to work! Sirius had given this up, and he wasn't getting it back!

They joined the throng of people heading into the trail, every camper on premises shouting, singing, and causing the air itself to fill with excitement.

Lily more than agreed. She wasn't even fond of the sport and she held an ever growing smile on her face, all the boys in the room acting like they were on a sugar high they were so excited to be hearing about this. It had certainly been built up enough.

 Harry couldn't wipe a smile off his face as they made it through the forest, and wound up in the shadows of the largest stadium Harry had ever seen. It was solid gold and so large he could imagine several whole cathedrals fitting inside. Mr. Weasley noticed the look of awe on Harry's face and happily said it seated a hundred thousand!

"And gets sold out every year," Remus added on, all of them also grinning at the look now back on Harry's face.

They made their way to one of the entrances where a cheerful woman inspected their tickets and informed them they were in prime seats.

"Top Box!" Sirius all but screamed in remembered excitement!

To get to the Top Box, she informed Arthur all he had to do was climb as high as they could go through the stairwell.

Remus once again couldn't help but think 'did everyone in the world know Arthur' but he was too busy laughing that James was half yelling as he read with overflowing enjoyment so he didn't bother.

They hit the stairs, watching as people slowly trickled out around them to their seats, until finally they found their place where only twenty chairs were available. The view was spectacular, perfectly positioned between the two goal posts. The field below was of the brightest green, the stands looked more like dots from this position, and directly across from them was a backboard where advertisements were currently being scrawled across.

Harry's eyes kept getting wider the more he remembered that place, thinking it nearly put the Hogwarts Quidditch field to shame with its massiveness, something he never would have believed possible before this moment.

James and Sirius, having only attended one themselves previously, were flashing grins at each other in remember exuberance of how that match had gone, having always wanted to take their kids one day, and getting to hear this play out through Harry now the closest they'd yet got to that dream, so this was practically wish fulfillment to them!

Remus and Lily had never gone to one, and the immense size and splendor of this spectacle was actually starting to blow their mind.

Harry only watched a few before he began inspecting his own area more closely, as he and his group filled in the first row. Almost directly behind him, he instead spotted a tiny little creature.

Harry did a double take at that, his mind caught off guard by the sudden unexpected visit he thought he was getting from, "Dobby?"

"What?" The others squawked in surprise.

Harry was frowning in puzzled confusion, placing his hand to his temple in agitation as the moment left him, and he was left floundering to explain. "I, I'm not sure. Just, looking around, thought I spotted him." He was still grimacing, so James decided to keep reading to clarify an answer.

Its face was buried in its hands, but it still had large bat like ears and was wearing a tea towel for clothes, all giving Harry a strong remembrance of Dobby.

The fact that Harry thought this twice didn't necessarily mean he was right, he would have thought the same thing twice in a row with his memories being replenished in the style they were. It would definitely be something that needed to be explained if it was Dobby, since they hadn't heard of the little guy for over a year now, in Harry's time.

It glanced up at the name, and the image was ruined as Harry instead found large brown eyes and a squashed button nose.

"Not Dobby then," Sirius stated.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Remus snorted.

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Canis,*" Sirius shot back.

That wasn't Dobby, but it was a house-elf like Dobby had been.

"Had been?" Lily giggled. "You mean is, or was in that instance."

Harry rolled his eyes, he wasn't the one who'd written this down.

Dobby used to be enslaved to the Malfoy family before Harry had tricked them into releasing him. The little one in front of him now squeaked Dobby's name in surprise in an even higher pitch then Dobby's tone, and though it was hard to tell, Harry hazard a guess this one was female. Ron and Hermione looked around in surprise as well, never having met Dobby themselves, but having heard of him through Harry.

"Huh, never realized that before," James muttered randomly, completely unconcerned now that it wasn't Dobby and wanting to get back to the Cup!

Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Did you tell him about Dobby?" Remus asked in surprise.

"Not directly," Harry shrugged, "but maybe Ron did, or the voice just got him curious. It did stick out."

Harry apologized for the confusion, but the elf squeaked back that she knew of Dobby.

Lily started humming 'It's a Small World After All' under her breath in surprise, but since this was one of the least strangest or coincidental things that had happened to Harry, she didn't mention it.

She still had her face half buried in her fingers, looking anywhere but at the open space in front of them as she greeted that her name was Winky, then deduced that he was Harry Potter.

"Brilliant deduction skills on this one," Sirius grumbled under his breath, not having appreciated one bit the last elf Harry had to deal with, hoping this one wouldn't have anything at all to do with his pup.

When Harry agreed he was, Winky explained that Dobby spoke of Harry Potter all the time. Harry asked how he was doing, and Winky sighed in disappointment, saying freedom wasn't doing him any favors.

"Has she ever met the Malfoy's," Remus demanded in disgust. "I think she should hold that to herself until otherwise."

Harry asked if he was okay, and Winky explained that his newfound freedom was going to his head. He was looking for a new position, but no one would take him, because he wanted to be paid now.

By the stunned look of the others, it didn't take much for Harry to ascertain, "so that's weird then."

"Absolutely," James nodded, his mind actually derailed, partially enough his tone wasn't as high pitched as Winky's from excitement at least. "Never heard of a thing like that."

"I think it's cute," Lily shrugged, a small frown still on her face at the thought of that elf. "I'd take him up on that offer in a heartbeat."

"Let's hope you're not the only one," Remus shrugged.

Harry glanced at Sirius, who he'd noticed had stayed absent, and couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Sirius had made it perfectly clear he certainly wasn't fond of elves, what would he think of this? He said nothing though, and Harry was certain if he really cared he would have, so Harry didn't bring it up.

Harry asked why shouldn't he be paid? Winky explained that only a tainted elf would want such a thing, elves took pride in their work and Dobby was shaming their kind by going round like this! If he kept up like he was, he'd wind up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures.

"That would be a first I'm sure," Remus muttered.

Harry was frowning now as he said he was glad to hear Dobby was trying to have some fun, but Winky said back stoutly that house-elves weren't meant to have fun.

Sirius watched Harry and Lily start to look rather confused and upset by this, so he groused, "This one's starting to depress me as much as the last one, can't she just let it go?" with an eye roll. Personally, he didn't hate Dobby as much as he initially had, not after he'd at least tried to save Harry, been abused by the Malfoy's for years, and Harry now considered him a friend. He still wasn't sure what Harry and Lily's big fuss about them were though. This little Winky was acting the way any other elf would.

They do what they're told and that's that. She then explained that though she was terrified of heights, her master had told her to come save his seat, and that's what she was doing.

"Ooh, that's terrible," Lily half cooed, half looked like she was going to start scolding any second. "That wizard couldn't have sent up anyone else, their friend or anything, instead of the elf he knows is afraid of heights."

"He might not know," James offered, "not to many wizards bother to get to know the likes and dislikes of their elves."

"And I doubt she'd inform him," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"It's odd enough to bring your elf to this type of thing," Remus shrugged, looking to break up Lily's agitated face that James hardly sounded more concerned about this then Sirius. "So I'm sure there was some reason." 'Hope the Malfoy's didn't get another one' he privately added in his head, thinking that wouldn't go down well with anyone.

He then looked to James to keep going, which he happily did, thinking they were getting way too worked up over an elf.

Harry was frowning in sorrow now as he asked why her master would do that if he knew she was afraid of heights? Winky explained again that she'd been asked to save a seat, as her master was too busy to come just yet, gesturing slightly to the empty chair beside her.

Harry felt like a tap dancer was running up his spine all of a sudden. Something, there was something right there...his body gave a great shudder of protest at his prolonging on trying to think on this for even a second, and he let lose a great gasp of surprise before he sagged back into the couch and glared balefully around the room in agitation, muttering the usual 'sorry, memories, nothing.'

The other's did not look happy, in fact they were getting pretty concerned at how often Harry was doing that even before he went to school this time, but what could they do?

Winky didn't want to be up here, but she was doing as she was told like a good elf. She gave one last terrified whimper at the edge of their box, then buried her face in her hands again. Harry turned back to talk to his friends, Ron asking if all house-elves acted like that?

Sirius suddenly gasped, and looked likely to fall off the couch, causing the others to jump in concern as he turned a stunned look to Harry and demanded, "I've just realized, you haven't been to the kitchens yet!"

"Err no," Harry said uneasily, still rather concerned by his overreaction.

As were the others apparently as James swatted at him and snapped, "you almost gave me a heart attack! Of course he hasn't you dolt, we would have heard about that."

"But, he's entering his fourth year," Sirius added on, looking from James to Remus and back like they were missing the biggest of pictures. "We could have walked down there blindfolded by then!"

"I'm going to strangle you," Lily told him pleasantly, "and Merlin help me I never thought I'd say this, but James get back to your game before I do."

Sirius was still eyeing Harry like he was truly concerned for his wellbeing at this slip, but James was happy to oblige.

Harry just shrugged back and said that Dobby had been weirder. Ron had lost interest already, and was instead using his omnioculars to people watch the crowd below, exclaiming in excitement when he used his rewind feature to make a man below pick his nose over and over again.

Shattering all the annoyed looks at Sirius for them to begin snickering at Ron. Sirius gave a slight pout, that's what he'd been trying to do, clearly they were being overly sensitive. Though upon reflection, after the past few days they'd had, he supposed it had been just a tad uncalled for.

Hermione was looking through her program, telling how both teams had brought a mascot that would do a small show before the game.

"The Irish always bring leprechauns," Remus quickly told Harry before he could ask.

"Bit of a bore really," Sirius nodded, "you'd think they'd try to break their stereotype."

"I do wonder what the Bulgarians will bring," Lily admitted.

Mr. Weasley had heard and quickly said that's always a fun show, both teams trying to one up each other with something native to their land.

As time kept passing, more people came into their box, and Arthur got up to shake the hand of several very important wizards.

"I really don't think Ron can call his dad's job boring anymore," James muttered, finding Arthur's presence more and more charming as this continued.

Percy kept hopping out of his seat so often he looked like he was trying to sit on a porcupine.

Causing all five of them to start snickering, that wasn't too hard to picture, especially as they could see the twins doing this to him on purpose.

When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

"Why's he bowing at them anyways," Lily giggled. "They're not the monarchy."**

"Trying to show off?" Remus offered with a shrug.

Looking thoroughly embarrassed with himself, he fixed his glasses and quickly retook his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry who Fudge greeted like his best friend.

"You become the stupid Boy Who Lived," Harry grumbled, "then he'll butter up to you just fine."

They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion,

James could not get that out without a hard bite to his words, it sounding all the more harsh sense his recent spike of this same feeling towards his own best friend. He didn't need some stranger acting that part as well.

asking how his summer had been, then introducing him to the Bulgarian minister in too loud tones.

"I never understood that," Remus snorted. "Talking loudly does not make them understand you any better."

"Don't ask us," Lily shrugged.

Fudge was trying to get through a language barrier, repeating his full name several times, but it wasn't until the Bulgarian caught sight of Harry's scar that he began babbling in excitement.

Harry was the only one who let out a surprised bit of laughter at that, with a rather hard edge, finding it funny his scar did a better job than the Minister. He did ponder on why he was being so harsh towards the man who hadn't really done anything to him?

Fudge sighed as he said to them that he'd been having to deal with that all day. He really needed Crouch around.

"Is he the only linguistic in the whole ministry?" Sirius snorted.

"I would have thought at least the Minister would bother to learn some for this upcoming game," Remus nodded in agreement, as he would have known he'd be meeting at least a few foreign dignitaries.

Then he noticed his house-elf was saving a seat.

"That's Crouch's elf," Lily grumbled, this not making her feel any better.

"Guess I'm not surprised," Remus shrugged, "his is as old a house as any."

Then he spotted the newcomers, Lucius

James spat out that last word in shock, which quickly turned into a haughty glare. Of course those Malfoy's would have to get the Top Box as well, Harry couldn't go five minutes without having to deal with their pompous arse! He would probably turn all sorts of jealous when he found out the Weasley's were up there with them, and they'd gotten in for free, because Arthur had done a good deed! Teach them a lesson!

There was a bit of grumbling all around from the others, but as all they could do was protest, James slogged on. He wanted to get to the game already, and hopefully ignore the existence of those particular purebloods.

his son Draco, and who must be the wife and mother.

Harry felt a flash of something he didn't quite understand as he first remembered this woman, was that warmth? Not quite as much as he'd felt about learning of Mrs. Weasley, but there was definitely something there... it was gone the moment he caught sight of his godfather.

Sirius' face gave a particularly ugly sneer at the mention of one of his relatives, having never liked Narcissa anymore than her sister Bellatrix. Both had their noses so high in the air it was a wonder they didn't drown in the rain.

She looked very much like Draco, the same platinum blonde hair, and a crinkled up nose suggesting she smelled dung close by.

"I'm sure it's the presence she's forced to live with, herself," Sirius muttered.

Mr. Malfoy greeted the Minister with a familiar handshake, and Fudge was delighted to meet Lucius' family, giving his wife Narcissa a delightful compliment and greeting Draco just as happily. Then Fudge introduced them to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, whom he couldn't pronounce the name of, then moved on to say he knew they must know the Weasley's.

"Like he knows the bottom of his shoe," Remus grumbled, then he remembered the last time those two had met, and he cracked up laughing at the expense of Malfoy senior again. He quickly filled in the others, at least giving James back a smile as he continued.

It was not a pleasant reunion, as the last time Arthur and Lucius had been in the same room, Arthur had hit him in the face with a book during their fight.

"Which Arthur won, with brilliant irony," Sirius cackled.

"A book on toadstools, can't forget that part," James agreed.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes were cold as ice chips as he asked in the worst of slights how he'd managed to get up here, surely he hadn't sold his house, it would never collect this much money.

Harry ground his teeth together hard in frustration, knowing he couldn't have said anything at the time, but always the most agitated when people made dig's at the Weasley's like that!

Fudge, who wasn't listening,

"Pity that," Lily snapped, "as he was showing his real face right then!"

happily explained to all who were listening that Lucius was up here as his personal guest, as he'd just made a large donation to St. Mungo's.

Remus mimed retching off the side of the couch in revulsion, something they all heartily agreed with. At least it was a good cause, if for the wrong reasons.

Mr. Weasley managed to get out how nice that was of him with a strained smile.

"Sad he can't mean it," James sighed.

Lucius' eyes then landed on Hermione, who flushed at the attention, but glared back defiantly.

"That'a girl," Lily nodded with a proud smile.

Harry knew why Mr. Malfoy would look down on her like that, as Hermione was muggle-born, something that Malfoy as a pureblood

"Pure of a conscience," Sirius muttered.

found a second rate person at best.

"She won't be so second-class when she knocks your son's lights out again," Remus happily smirked.

With the Minister of Magic watching though, no one could say much more as the Malfoy's took their seats. Thankfully Bagman chose that moment to arrive, asking if they were ready to get this show on the road? Fudge agreed they were waiting on him.

James was just thanking his lucky stars this chapter hadn't tried to end right here! All this buildup, and he would have had to try and convince Harry to give up the chapter next!

Bagman pulled out his wand, used the Sonorous spell, which made his voice magnify loud enough every corner of the stadium could hear him announce the start of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!

James was pretty close to sounding like he had the same charm placed on him, making the baby wriggle uncomfortably in Sirius' lap, but then he cooed gently to his godson, which seemed to convince the baby it was all in good fun as he relaxed back into his arms.

The board across from them wiped itself clean one more time, and then sported the score, which currently read at 0 0. Then Bagman began to introduce the Bulgarian mascots, Veela.

"Uhoh," Remus said in a happy little singsong voice.

"That wasn't their brightest idea," Sirius snickered.

"But a plentiful distraction," James cackled with glee.

"What are Veela?" Harry inserted, a puzzled frown on his face, that old agitation never waning where the answer should have been.

Lily chose to explain, "they're human like girls, with a very beautiful exterior used to draw in men, sort of like land sirens. They're not quite so much to look at when they get angry though," she finished with an odd smile.

Harry was still very curious indeed, wondering at that 'human like' part. Were they like Remus, human but with a touch of something else, or like centaurs, a touch of human but mostly something else? He decided to wait it out and see for himself.

Harry began to ask what Veela were, but then he was given the answer by a group of beautiful women dancing onto the field.

Causing all four of them to crack up laughing at Harry's expense, who was now doing his best to detail every inch of the carpet, still unable to hide his bright red face.

They couldn't be fully human though, there was something to graceful about their feet, a little too much perfection in their almost glowing skin, the white hair that fanned behind them without help. Then music began, and Harry hadn't a worry in the world.

"Ah magic," Sirius said with a dreamy look in place.

"He'll do that every time these are mentioned," James snorted, "apparently he met one once when he got dragged on holiday, and it was the best night of his life."

"You're just jealous," Sirius' gray eyes were gleaming as he flashed his teeth in a wide grin at both of his friends.

"Actually, we just don't believe you," Remus shot back.

Sirius looked very much like he was going to argue, but James had already heard this so much he could have quoted both parties, so he kept going loudly over the two.

The longer they danced, the more Harry could not seem to look away, nor did he want to, as he knew that if they ever stopped the world would end.

Lily was now uncontrollably giggling, her fist pressed hard to her mouth as she easily pictured that expression on her poor unwitting son, though he in no way resembled that now. He most certainly remembered that feeling, but was not experiencing it, instead he had switched his attention and was now mentally memorizing the ceiling.

The more elaborate the routine below, Harry began to think that he should do something equally impressive right back.

"This ought to be fun," Remus' grin broadened as he finished matching Sirius' glare and instead tried to poke some fun at Harry, who was still trying to mime a statue of complete disinterest, but mostly failing.

He considered jumping from the box, but would it be good enough?

"Most impressive," James snorted, "as you would break your neck in a spectacular way." He was now more than happy Harry was in a magical box that would not allow that to happen.

Hermione's voice shot through his fog of a brain as she asked what on earth he was doing, standing on the edge like that? Ron was in a similar pose like he was about to jump off a diving board.

Some of the blood rush to his face dulled back down slightly as he realized at least he hadn't been the only one, Ron had clearly been affected by that as well, though this didn't lessen the laughter in the room one jot.

The Veela's were done now anyways, and several angry roars rose from the crowd as they went to take their seats, which Harry of course agreed with, now wondering why he had a shamrock on his shirt. He was of course on Bulgaria's side. Ron, in a similar mind set, was now tearing apart his shamrock hat.

"That's one way to win over a crowd," Remus nodded in agreement.

"Wonder how many of the Irish fell for it," Lily asked, "or do you think they all collectively bought earplugs for this occasion?"

Mr. Weasley took it away before he could do any permanent damage, reminding to let the Irish have their say. Ron clearly wasn't listening, as Hermione tutted at their side.

"Ah don't be too harsh on them," James still managed to keep a happy smirk in place at his own son's expense even as he defended, "most males, and probably some females in the crowd, can't help it."

"Ah magic," Sirius repeated, finally stopping his insistent glare at Remus and instead adopting the expression from earlier, only causing Remus to laugh harder.

Bagman took control again by announcing it was now time for the Irish mascots! At once two green comets came shooting out of nowhere, and collided, causing a rainbow to appear in the sky. Then the comets split apart again, and began circling the entire of the field, little bits of gold raining below them. Mr. Weasley happily exclaimed that they were leprechauns, while people below were scrambling under their seats to collect the Galleons.

"Those should come with warning labels," James snorted, "will disappear, do not pretend otherwise."

"That would ruin the fun," Sirius snickered.

Ron collected his own wealth when they passed over head, shoving a stack full into Harry's hands and telling him that was payback for the Omnioculars, now Harry had to buy him Christmas!

"Uhoh," Remus said in a singsong voice, "looks like Ron hasn't learned that lesson yet."

"Hopefully his dad overhears and tells," Lily shrugged, "or Hermione will tell him, or Merlin Harry will laugh it off when he realizes later."

"Least he's keeping his priorities in line," Sirius snorted.

Once the leprechauns had settled down as well, Bagman began announcing the players of Bulgaria, including; Ivanova, Zograf, Levski, Vulchanov, Volkov, and Krum! Ron began yelling repeatedly that was him, that was the Viktor Krum!

"Thank you Ron," Lily murmured under her breath, "I thought Bagman meant the other Krum."

Once the roar of approval from half of the field died down, Bagman gave the same treatment to the Irish, introducing; Connolly, Ryan, Troy, Mullet, Moran, Quigley, and Lynch! Harry gave a quick zoom in on them, and saw they were all sporting Firebolt's just like Harry's.

Sirius gave a happy little wriggle all over again at that news remembering Harry had received his own, Merlin his godson could probably go out on that field right now and rival those two professionals!

Lastly he announced the referee of the game, an impartial Chair Wizard from Egypt through the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa. Harry spotted the man through his bald head, but a mustache much like Uncle Vernon's.

James was in such a good mood he didn't even care that Harry had mentally brought up those useless slugs!

He carried a silver whistle on a chain around his neck, which he held in one hand as he placed a box down in the center of the field. He kicked it open, and the two bludgers and snitch were released, while Mostafa rose into the air with the Quaffle in hand. Harry only saw the flash of gold from the snitch for the briefest second,

James and Sirius let out surprised whistles, it was a miracle for anyone to catch a glimpse of that thing at the professional level!

then he gave a sharp whistle blast, tossed the Quaffle in the air, and the game began.

"Finally!" All four boys cheered, thinking it was high time they get this part going!

Bagman only had a second to announce each player's name as the Quaffle was passed with such intense speed between the six Chasers.

"Someone needs to take some commentary tips from Jordan," Lily muttered, finding that boy much more fun to listen to then prattling off names.

This was like no other Quidditch game Harry had ever seen before, and he wasn't missing a second as he pressed his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses they were digging into his nose.

"Worth it," Harry breathed, his eyes getting wider every second as memory's washed back over him, the speed and skill of these players making him almost breathless.

He'd never seen such skill on a broom, and Harry chose to slow the action down with his magical binoculars, as the Irish formed together a defense, Harry pressed the play by play option on his Omnioculars which helpfully flashed the message 'Hawkshead Attacking Formation' across his screen. That quickly changed to 'Porskoff Ploy' when Troy made as if to throw the Quaffle, but instead ducked underneath the oncoming Bulgarin Beater.

James could not have sounded any more excited for what he was reading if he tried! The pure bliss of listening to a Quidditch game, the awe on his son's face instead of a painful memory bothering him, it was all he'd been wanting from these books!

The ball passed a few more times, ending with Levski possessing the Quaffle, but then the crowd gave a mighty roar, and Bagman was cheering how Troy ha scored! 10-0 Ireland! Harry yelped in confusion that Levski still had the Quaffle, looking wildly around for the action!

"You're still watching in slow motion," Remus reminded, none of them taking but a moment to catch up and make the connection.

Harry gave a muttered sorry, but James just snorted and waved him off, he wasn't particularly rooting for either side, just getting to read this one truly good thing and watching Harry enjoy it!

He and his two friends still gave a hearty cheer in delight for the score, actually hoping Harry would keep it on slow down. Sure it left him a beat behind, but they adored the extra detail.

Hermione reminded from beside him that if he wasn't going to watch at normal speed, he'd be behind. Down on the field, the Veela were pouting while the leprechauns rose in the air and began laughing in delight. Furious with himself,

"After what Ron did with his slow capture," Sirius snorted, "I think we'll let you off the hook."

Harry spun it back to normal time and again listened and watched as the name game continued shooting from Bagman, results only fifteen minutes later saying 30-0 Ireland.

Lily had not thought it possible, but her husband's voice continued to rise in volume and ecstasy the longer he kept going, the thrill of the game ensuing him with as much energy as if he were out there playing himself.

The Irish crowd were going wild, but the Bulgarians wouldn't let it last long. Finally Ivanova got a goal in, and Arthur advised all of his boys to stuff their fingers in their ears real quick,

Causing all five of them to give another giggle, almost happy the Irish were so clearly winning, as clearly the Bulgarians doing the same would result in a deaf watch.

as the veela started to dance in celebration. Harry screwed up his eyes too;

"Now what good is that going to do you?" Remus snickered. "You'll miss when they stop."

"Better to short time it and keep my head on," Harry shrugged.

but peaked after a second to see the game was resuming. Bagman kept going with the name commentary, but cut himself off in exclamation. Every set of eyes in the stadium began shrieking in delight as Krum and Lynch pelted down, and Harry followed their progress with squinting eyes as he searched himself for what both players must be after, the Snitch. Hermione began screeching in fright that they were going to crash, but she was only half right. Krum pulled out of the dive in the last second, but Lynch plowed into the ground causing groans from the rest of the stadium.

"Oooh," all five of them winced in sympathy for that landing, Lily with a particularly hard wince as she couldn't help picturing that happening to her baby one of these games.

Mr. Weasley tried to call a foul, that Krum had been fainting, but Bagman only called it as a time-out as the mediwizards on hand went out to check on Lynch. Ginny was looking horror stricken as she leaned over the box, but Charlie quickly reassured he would be fine, that was just part of Krum's plan.

"Oh that's brilliant," James chirped, his eyes lighting with understanding.

"He'd make a nice Slytherin," Sirius snorted, finding that a pretty sneaky way of winning.

Harry felt a quiet laugh under his breath, somewhere deep inside him he knew Ginny didn't need anything about Quidditch explained.

Harry rewound the footage and hit play-by-play again, the screen flashing 'Wronski Defensive Feint; Dangerous Seeker Diversion'

"I love how even that warns you it's dangerous," Lily said with an obvious look at Harry, who was trying his best to ignore that look and wipe the eager smile off his face.

as Harry eyed Krum's look of intense concentration while he pulled out. Harry had never seen anything like him, Krum seemed more like he was flying without support he maneuvered so well.

"Best feeling in the world," all three Quidditch players murmured with smirks.

Harry flipped his screen back to normal and was now watching Krum in real time circling above, his eyes narrowed with concentration as he used this unimpeded time to look for the Snitch.

They may have already come to this conclusion, but while Lily and Remus could take a step back and gave appreciate snickers at such a clever diversion, the other three still found it too much like what Malfoy would do to be too impressed.

Not too much time later though, Lynch got back to his feet with praise from his side of the crowd, and mounted his Firebolt again for the game to resume. Only fifteen minutes later, and the Irish Chasers had pulled even farther ahead with the score now being 130-10.

"Wow, they really are superb," Sirius yelped.

"But Krum's clearly the better Seeker," Remus countered.

"I think the twins were dead on with their bet," James nodded in agreement. "It all boils down to if the Irish can pull ahead enough that Krum's capture won't mean anything."

"Lynch could still pull it off," Sirius countered with a calculating look, trying to take what little knowledge he had of the player and say, "one knock out doesn't mean he's done for."

Lily cleared her throat loudly when both Remus and Harry looked likely to jump in, then mutely pointed to the book with an obvious look. James mumbled a bit but agreed.

Bulgaria wasn't taking this lightly, now resorting in much dirtier methods to keep the Quaffle on their side, until finally Mostafa called a foul for excessive use of elbows, cobbing.

"What a little gnat," Sirius managed to get out, still half jittering in place from his own pent up excitement at hearing all of this. He was actually starting to regret giving this chapter up to James, Merlin this was a good time!

The leprechauns responded to that by floating into the air and forming the word's 'HA HA HA' to mock the Veela, who tossed their hair angrily but began dancing in excitement for their team none the less. As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears,

Lily's giggling still managed to intensify at that mental image.

but Hermione, who hadn't bothered, was quickly tugging Harry's arm to get his attention, and giggling as she told him to look at the referee.

"Uh-oh," Remus chuckled, not looking particularly upset.

"Am I getting the feeling this is why they were brought along," James snickered, "for some preference from the ref."

"Intentionally or not, they're getting it now," Sirius nodded.

Harry looked down and saw that Mustafa had happened to land right in front of the Veela as they started their dance, and was now behaving strangely by flexing himself and smoothing out his mustache. Bagman sounded quite amused as he scolded they couldn't let that go on.

"He cannot be the only one," Lily nodded, her husband sounded exactly the same way.

Then he told that someone should go slap the referee.

"Now how come whenever I say that, I get told off for being unsportsman?" Sirius pouted, his eyes shining with too much giddy pleasure to really mean it.

A mediwizard was given the job, sprinting across the field with his fingers in his ears, as he kicked Mostafa in the shin.

Causing all five of them to begin laughing all over again, this was a brilliant game in every direction!

Mostafa came back to himself, and began shouting at the Veela. Bagman seemed to understand, as he told the crowd that he seemed to be threatening to take the mascots off the field.

"Ooh, Harry would actually get to be at a first," James practically began shaking with a whole new level of excitement.

The two Bulgarian Beaters seemed to take that personally, as they landed on the ground and began arguing with the referee, who was now pointing at the air and very clearly telling them to get back to the game. The leprechauns were having plenty of fun with this, now forming the words 'HEE HEE HEE.'

"There's a difference between mocking and distracting," Remus snorted.

"I don't see why it's worth arguing the point with him," James raised a brow in surprise. "If they tick him off enough, they'll just earn another foul."

When the argument continued, Mostafa lost his patience, and blew the whistle twice, earning Ireland two more penalties, while the Bulgarians boo'ed their displeasure.

James looked incredibly pleased with himself, while his friends laughed at the old familiar expression he'd always get when he called a play right.

The two Beaters took the hint and went back to the air, where the game was still steadily getting bloodier. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, no longer seemed to care if their clubs hit Bludger or person.

"This is turning as bloody as your Cup," Lily frowned with worry, each new game she kept hearing about only increasing her feeling she'd rather her son not take this up professionally.

"Hope they got a foul for every one of those," Sirius simply smirked.

When the Bulgarians yet again played another foul, the leprechauns chose a new tactic of turning themselves into a giant hand with only one finger up at the Veela.

"Oh now that can't be allowed," Lily raised a brow in surprise, "there are children present."

"Kids, do not mimic what that leprechaun just did. There, problem solved," James' shoulders were shaking he was still laughing and cheering so much that his shot back to Lily didn't hold much.

The Veela completely lost it, as fire seemed to sprout from their hands and they seemed to grow leathery wings from their back as they began fighting back with the leprechauns in a much more violent way. Harry no longer found them remotely beautiful, as they now resembled birds more than women.

Harry was spluttering in shock that those creatures of fantasy could turn into that! He most definitely understood what his mother meant now!

The others didn't look particularly concerned, on the contrary as Sirius eagerly said, "well, Harry did get a first it seems. As far as I know, the two team mascots have never started brawling before!"

"This is the best day ever," James nodded fervently.

Mr. Weasley happily endowed on his children the life lesson that this was why you never chose for looks.

"Valuable life lesson," Sirius agreed with a wicked grin, "though thankfully I have that and brains."

Lily chucked a pillow at him for that.

Above this, the game was still in full swing, Moran scoring for the Irish yet again. The Irish didn't get as much of a chance as usual to make their cheers heard, as the Ministry was pelting onto the field with wands out to try and get the two mascots under control.

James reading was coming out so breathy from trying to contain all of his laughter and excitement, his reading was nearly as chaotic as the scene he was describing.

Gameplay kept going, with Levski, then Dimitrov with the Quaffle, but then Quigley (Irish Beater) hit a bludger towards Krum, who hadn't a chance to duck and got a face full.

"Youch," Remus yelped in surprise, thinking that at least now he and Lynch were on even grounds having both been clobbered in the face this game.

The crowd gave a collective groan in pity, Krum's nose was clearly broken from any distance, but the whistle didn't ring.

"Was he going after the Snitch," Sirius asked curiously, his attention torn between the two so much it actually was getting hard to keep track. "It didn't say."

"Not directly," Harry shook his head, "so it was a foul."

Mostafa was still distracted by his broomtail being lit with fire from a stray Veela throw.

"That'll do it, yeah," Lily nodded, her eyes steadily going wider in wonder at this mess of a game that all of the boys were endlessly enjoying.

Harry may have been supporting Irish, but he wished someone would notice Krum's plight, he was by far the most fascinating player to watch. Bagman was loudly calling for a time-out as well, and still being ignored, but then Harry suddenly shouted loudest of all to look at Lynch! He was rocketing towards the ground again, and that was no Wronski Feint. Half the crowd was following the same progress, watching as Krum quickly caught up. Harry wondered how he could even see with blood flying across his face,

"Well it seems to have just broken his nose, not his entire skull," Remus said fairly.

"Thank you Professor," Sirius snorted, they'd worked that out for themselves.

Remus flushed in surprise, that old joke not holding nearly the same weight it used to, but Sirius and James were so entangled in their match they hardly seemed to notice what they were saying anymore.

but he seemed to easily draw level with Lynch as Hermione screamed that they were going to crash again! Ron shot back that no they weren't while Harry guessed that Lynch was, and this time Harry was right. Lynch once again got a face full of grass, and was quickly set upon by the Veela.

"Gah!" Lily yelped this time, actually fearing for that poor Seekers safety under that horde.

Charlie was still looking around wildly, calling for where the Snitch had got to, who'd caught it?!

"Because that was the important part," Lily grumbled, her mind still on poor Lynch.

Harry found it first, clutched safely in Krum's hand! His face still as red as his robes from his nose bleed, Krum was soaring through the air, his hand held high and proud in a fist, the tiny flutter of wings barely visible.

"That was bloody brilliant!" James cheered, throwing the book in the air in celebration and bouncing in his spot like it was a trampoline.

Sirius was to busy laughing, holding tight to the baby and still likely to fall off the couch any second, though his expression was remarkably similar.

The other three were only the slightest bit calmer, all laughing with pleasure at the event, though mostly laughing at the other two boys raucous reactions to it all. James seemed to take forever to settle back down and read out the rest, not that he was trying to hard. He would never have believed two days ago he could ever find such a good mood again, and he was terrified the moment he kept going something would come to spoil it. He wanted to hear of nothing else for the rest of these books, and yet he knew full well that wasn't going to happen. It still didn't manage to diminish his smile one bit, so wide it nearly distorted his words as he kept going.

The final score read 170-160 to Ireland, but the majority of the crowd was still lost in confusion, having been watching the spectacle of the two creatures. Slowly though, sound like an engine revving swelled to every corner as the delighted screams of the Irish came through.

"They did it, the twins did it, they won!" Remus laughed, falling back against the couch with his own shot of laughter at that realization.

"Oh, that's going to be so good for them," Lily nodded in absolute agreement, now their mother would have to give them a chance.

"This game could not have been any better in any way, shape, or form," Sirius nodded with absolute certainty.

Bagman was shouting the results for all to hear, that Ireland had won, but Krum had got the snitch!

Harry was laughing hardest of all at Bagman shouting out those exact results, he was so happy for the twins, so happy that his family was enjoying this moment of bliss, like the others hoping this wouldn't end.

Adding on that no one could have seen that coming!

"Well two of them did," James murmured happily, wiping a few watery tears of glee away.

Ron, who was jumping around in pleasure and applauding like mad, still had the sense to ask what Krum had gone and done that for, he knew they were too far behind to have won.

"That's right Ron," Sirius nodded along like a bobble head, "you keep applauding that idiot who recognized defeat with pride."

Harry happily shouted back that Krum had ended the game on his terms, he'd known the Irish Chasers were too good.

"I'm so proud you get it," James added on, tossing an easy arm around his son's shoulders and managing to keep going like that, Harry still snickering along at his side.

Hermione agreed he'd been quite brave,

"Brave is certainly better than grumpy," Lily agreed, her shoulders shaking from her own overdone laughter.

watching Krum's progress as he landed and some mediwizards came to inspect him, having to fight through the still raging battle of Veela vs. Leprechauns.

"So glad that's still not being ignored," Remus managed to stutter out half way intelligibly.

Behind Harry, Fudge and the Bulgarian Minister were shaking hands, then to all of their surprise the man said with a thick accent that his team had fought bravely.

Causing five collective snorts of laughter from the room. Oh yes, clearly this Minister didn't understand a lick of what Fudge had been saying! Which made all previous interactions near gold.

Fudge spluttered in outrage that he could speak English, but had been letting him pantomime everything all day! The Bulgarian just shrugged back, saying it had been funny to watch.

"Can we have him as our minister?" Sirius begged the book, turning huge puppy eyes onto anyone who would say yes. "He's clearly got a sense of humor!"

"I wish," Harry nodded in agreement.

Bagman was still announcing for the crowd that the Irish were coming up to the Top Box to greet their respective Ministers.

James squealed like, well like a Quidditch fan who'd just found out he was meeting the winners of a Quidditch World Cup. They were going into the Top Box, within autograph distance of his son!?

Harry's surroundings were suddenly rendered visible to all below them as every eye zeroed in on the Green clad team shaking hands with Fudge, who still looked rather put out he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Ah learn to laugh man," Remus was doing it enough for both of them as he got that out.

Then Bagman said to give a big round of applause for Bulgaria, as that team entered as well.

James was squirming so much it was hard to keep reading the print, he had to remove his arm from Harry to hold the book better, and even then he sounded deliriously happy.

The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

Harry winced, but for once felt no true feelings of embarrassment, as surely he was not the main focus this time.

Harry got his first face close impression of Krum, who had two black eyes, and was still clutching the Snitch.

"That's his keepsake," Sirius tried to whisper into Harry's ear so as not to get James to stop, but only just barely getting back to his normal tone from all the shouting, so Harry was instead left rubbing at his ear again.

Harry noticed that on the ground he didn't look nearly as nimble, more duck-footed and round-shouldered.

"Who cares," the other three boys said at once.

He and Lynch shook hands, Lynch's eyes strangely unfocused as if he was still getting over that last knockout.

"I can imagine," Lily nodded, her eyes still slightly more round than normal for concern of this stranger for two head injuries in one game. And James had said the Seeker position wasn't that bad!

He was still smiling happily though as he rode on the back of one of his fellow players broom while the Irish team did a lap of victory.

"Well his team kind of won without him, so it's good he's not the focus," Remus snorted.

Bagman finally used the 'Quietus' spell on his voice, it coming out raspier than usual but a pleased smile still on his face as he told them that people would be talking about this game for ages! Then he noticed the twins watching him expectantly, and he uneasily asked the boy's how much he owed their outstretched hands.

Harry felt an odd clench up of his stomach, one that he managed to laugh off with the others in praise for the twin's sudden fortune. Surely that feeling was just backlash from all his happiness of the game.

HPHPHPHP

The longest chapter yet of this book...and yet it was still kind of boring. Sorry about this, but as we all know, things really start picking up next chapter!

*Nickname offered up by Shakira94. 

**...British people bow to their monarchy, right? Sorry if they don't, I'll take it out if not...again sorry for the stupid American showing.