#like even just now in the last couple of pages 11 was being disdainful of these peoples 'superstitions'

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

sorta metal

[twilitty]

Waiting pt.2

Waiting

@twilitty​

Part 2/?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Read this first! Bella is away while Rose and Emmett are watching Nessie. This fic is centered around Bella.

It took everything out of Bella to not draw attention to herself. She had dressed in sweatpants and a ratty sweatshirt that she had to hide in the back of her closet so Alice couldn’t find it. Yet still people stared at her. This was one thing Bella doubted she would ever get used to: the attention.

She liked to lay low, fly under the radar, get lost in the crowd. But, that hasn’t happened to her since her human days. Well, it hasn’t really happened to her since Phoenix. It seemed that Forks high school thought she was the best thing around and quickly she had a band of boys vying for her attention. 

She’s walking down a busy side street in Port Angeles, she hadn’t lied about where she was going. The entire family knows she is in the city, they just don’t know why- except for Alice- and decidedly choose not to ask her about it. She appreciates the faux privacy they give her. It’s difficult living with a family who had supernatural hearing abilities, every whispered argument with her new husband was put on display for all to discuss in private. 

Port Angeles is her monthly retreat from the Cullens, who seemed to be her only socialization after she awoke as a vampire. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy spending time with them, she loves them all dearly, but most conversations revert back to time periods from before she was born. She was never a fan of history class.

Port Angeles was nowhere near as large as other cities, but it was close to home and she doesn’t like leaving her daughter for long periods of time. 

The street is littered with tourists in heavy backpacks, maps under their noses. The maps are unnecessary, each street has clear signage and you can always cut through alleyways to the next street over if you need to move fast. She can’t imagine how anybody could get lost among these streets and then scolds herself immediately. She had gotten lost in these streets. Her human self was used to getting lost and falling into the lap of trouble. She hates forgetting about her old self. 

Her shoulder bag bumps her hip with every step, inside her car keys, wallet, and a hardcover book. It’s a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, the edges of the stiff covers frayed with time and use. The words inside bore the stains of past tears, tears she would never shed again. She remembers the last time she cried over these pages, sitting on Charlies beat up couch with her wet hair tied up in a towel atop her head. She couldn’t stop thinking of Edward. This was before they had come together and stayed together. She had hoped that his behaviour was an imitation of Mr.Darcy’s. Hopefully he was just pretending to dislike her because he didn’t know how to work through his true emotions, ultimately her hopes came true, but at the time she felt empty. 

Empty from caring too much and empty from being let down yet another time. A new town she didn’t want to be in, and the one bright side seemed to hate her, how is she supposed to cope with that? She had treated herself with a bowl of ice cream after her hot shower, curling up in a quilt that seemed older than her and reading Jane Austen yet again. 

Everytime Darcy entered a scene another fat tear would drop onto the page, marking the exact spot she thought of the cruel bronze haired boy. A boy so beautiful her heart wanted to sing, yet every time he looked at her with that same disdain she couldn’t help but feel torn apart all over again. How could one human stand so much torment?

A part of her, small and insignificant, sits in her gut and wishes for tears. Wants some physical expression of her emotions. But, that won’t happen. 

The street winds to the right, groups of teenagers clustered outside of an indie coffee shop and giggling amongst each other. Idly she wonders, how is Angela doing? But the thought disappears as quickly as it comes and she finds herself at the end of the street with a four-way stop in front of her. 

She takes the right turn, sneakers scuffing as she lets her heels drag a little with every step. Humans never walk evenly, there is always something to unbalance their gait and mark their shoes. Alice would rather die a million deaths than see Bella purposefully mistreat her shoes, even if they’re knock offs she bought at an outlet mall. 

A couple buildings down, all cement and brick, is the public library. It’s poorly funded and the lighting inside is horrendous. The windows need to be resealed and the doors squeak like mice. She loves it. She enters into the drafty lobby, a bulletin board shows all the events this month, a book club is scheduled for today at noon. She checks her watch, 11:47. 

The next doors lead into the children's section where parents and toddlers sit in a semicircle at the back wall, a poorly constructed stage is used to recreate a story with hand puppets. “Save me!” She hears one of the socks yell out, a few children gasp and her steps slow to a stop. A child sitting up close to the stage has brown hair braided down her back in uneven strips. Her giggles stand out from every other childs gasps of horror. Beside her sits an identical little boy, his brown skin shining just like his sisters. 

“Don’t worry,” the little girl whispers into his ear, “the princess has a happy ending.” The boy looks up at her with big doe eyes, his nose sniffling. “I promise,” she says. Then, as if feeling that someone is watching, she turns around and faces Bella from across the wide room. 

They look at each other, the human and the vampire, the child and the woman, the hunted and the hunter. Her, Bella thinks absently, her senses slow to a dull, focused only on the soft thudding of the little girls heart. She is so beautiful. The girl watches her, wide eyes blinking as she takes in the woman staring at her without seeming to notice it. Then, she raises a dark palm, waving it at the woman.

Bellas senses surge back into her, noises and colours and scents slam into her like a wall and she almost feels the need to take a steadying breath. The girl continues to wave, her little brother looking over his shoulder to see who she’s looking at. 

Walking quickly and a little dazed, Bella makes her way to the staircase and closes the door behind her. She takes a deep, unnecessary breath which does nothing more than fill her lungs. Her chest sits hollow, no movement unless she forces it and no beating of a heart. She wonders idly what would happen if she was opened up, would they find her heart still intact? Did the venom solidify it like the rest of her or is it just simply gone? 

“Isabella!” It’s Nancy, she’s at the top of the stairs holding a book to her chest. She’s an older woman, maybe sixty five, with beautiful grey hair cut into a sleek bob at her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here, and looking stylish as always!” Bella just nods with what she hopes is a warm smile, she had heard and smelt Nancy above before she heard her but still widens her eyes to make it seem surprising. 

Coming from anybody else, calling Bella “stylish” for wearing sweatpants would have been sarcastic. Maybe a joke about how she always looks beautiful. But not from Nancy. Nancy is too kind, she likely has never said a poor word to anybody. 

“Thank you,” Bella responds. Taking the stairs up, Nancy has already started talking again. Bella's mind has a difficult time abandoning the little girl in front of the stage. The girl's heartbeat thuds in her ears, carrying through the thick metal door and up the stairs. She isn’t sure if she can still hear it or if her mind is just playing it back on a loop.

“All the ladies are already here, you’re the last to join us.” She continues to talk about who is here and who can’t make it. Someone brought lemon squares and someone else had snuck in orange juice and a bottle of champagne for mimosas. It’s a wonder the book club hasn’t been kicked out of the library permanently, it seems every month they are receiving another infraction for bringing in food and drinks. 

The book club meets once a month to discuss the book they were supposed to read, this week it’s Pride and Prejudice. The room they reserve is tucked into the back left corner of the library, the carpet is dingy and the walls that were once white are closer to yellow. Bella loves this room.

The ladies are all already sitting in a semicircle, a low table in the center is covered in treats and large glasses filled with a sweet smelling drink. A large bottle of champagne sits next to it. “Isabella!” A few of them call out as she enters the room with Nancy. She greets them happily, smiling widely.

“Alright, so this month we read Pride and Prejudice!” A few women whoop at that, giggling and whispering amongst each other. “Now, now,” Dhruvi chastises lightly. She’s the club leader, she makes sure the discussion doesn't get carried away. “Who wants to share their first reactions to Mr.Darcy?” Bella's mind runs faster than any computer, her words and actions are usually well thought through before she reacts, which is why she takes herself off guard when she responds so quickly. She hadn’t even known she had something to add. “I think he was acting a little cruel.” Bella’s voice says without her knowing. All eyes are immediately on her, apparently none of them agreed because their eyes are wide as saucers.

“How could you say that?” A woman pipes up, her bushy eyebrows knitted atop her wrinkled forehead. “He loves Elizabeth.”

“Yeah,” Bella says slowly, her mind whirring but not producing anything. “But that doesn’t mean he can treat her like he doesn’t care for her. He should have been open with his feelings at the start, not play stupid mind games with her.”

The room is quiet, the air dripping in what can only be suppressed judgement and mild concern from the old women. Bella notices this, takes a few looks around the circle and swallows her pride. “I’m sorry,” she enunciates, each syllable crisp with her obvious discomfort. “I guess I’m just projecting my life onto the story.”

“Is it your husband, dear?” It’s Nancy, sitting three women down from her and giving her a soft smile. Her skin is wrinkled, her eyes creasing in a motherly way. Bella’s vocal cords refuse to work, and even if they were functioning she has no idea what to say. None of the women speak and instead watch Bella work the question over in her mind.

Even though Bella could have thought this over in the bare breath of a second, she takes a minute to truly think it over. Was it her husband? Edward who loved her, who she loved? They had a child together, they were both immortal. She served up her human life on a platter and asked him to throw it away. No, it wasn’t her husband. Their relationship was perfect, picturesque, the happy ending everybody always knew they would get.

“My wife,” starts Dhruvi with a heavy sigh, “does this to me sometimes, too.” Bella had met Dhruvi’s wife before, she was a kind woman with long black hair streaked with silver, her skin a nearly identical shade of brown to Dhruvi. “She will go days treating me like a guest in our home, not holding my hand or kissing me. We will eat breakfast at opposite ends of the table and make small talk. The entire time I think, ‘did I do something wrong? Has she abandoned her feelings for me?’ But, no.” She leans over onto her knees and the scent of her floral perfume fills Bella’s head. “The next night she will cook me dinner and kiss me and tell me I’m beautiful. And, yes that is nice but it is also sad like you said-” Bella never said that what Darcy did was sad, but in her head she can see now that that word fits into her sentiment perfectly. “- because for a moment I questioned my wife’s love for me and that is very painful.” 

The room nods and murmurs in agreement, Nancy giving Bella a sad, pitying look the entire time. “I- I’m sorry about your wife not always being open about her feelings,” Bella starts, feeling like she’s being forced into giving confession. “But that’s not my Edward.” 

“Not mine either,” Nancy says quickly. “But when we met that was him. He was my Darcy in the way you described him. I love Patt now but at the time he would take me out on a date only to show up for class the next day with some new broad.” She shrugs her shoulders, “and that was cruel. He played mind games with me.” The grey haired woman doesn’t seem upset by this, instead she seems content with it. Stating it with a resigned indifference. 

“But you’ve got him now!” A woman exclaims and that sends the room into an uproar of laughter. Bella’s is noticeably absent from the mixture. 

The group finishes their discussion about the book in just over an hour, a few women sneak snacks into their purses as they depart, giggly from all the champagne. Bella packages her novel into her bag and puts it over her shoulder. Dhruvi stands at the door, with a styrofoam plate of lemon squares, only three left. 

“Isabella, I’m sorry about your experiences with this month's novel.” She says it kindly, but also as if she’s digging for more information. Trying to reopen the discussion from earlier. 

“No, I enjoyed the book, really. It was quite romantic.” The words rush out of Bella, the last thing she wants to do is start this conversation all over again. Dhruvi laughs off her comment.

“I’m considering hosting dinner at my home, I will be inviting a few of the women from this group and a few others you don’t know.” Bella’s silent heart has jumped into her throat. “Would you be interested in joining us?” What does she say? That she will go but won’t eat a single damn thing? Oh, sorry, I ate just before getting to your house for this prescheduled dinner. How awful is that, there is no way that she can go. 

“I don’t think I’ll be available that day.”

“I didn’t mention the date,” the older woman says slowly, eyelids leveling down over her pupils as if searching for something in Bella. The vampire has no response to this. “Bring your husband,” she says finally, “I would like to meet him.” 

[thegeneralsnotebook]

Special: On LL, Print & Play, and My Future With The Game

By now, if you’ve been paying any attention at all to the news coming out about Set 11, you’ll likely have heard the big announcement that is accompanying it. That is, that Friends Forever (Set 10) was the last set that will be officially printed and distributed by Enterplay. From this point on, sets will be designed, tested, released and managed exclusively by Commentary is Magic, in addition to their existing responsibilities with regard to managing organized play and all official rule documents. It goes without saying that this is major news for the game, and in accordance, I felt that it would be a good idea to offer my own commentary on what this means, both for the game now, as well as for the foreseeable future.

It bears pointing out first that while in the past I have worked with Commentary is Magic as a commentator for their broadcasts of tournament events, and will continue to do so, neither I nor any of the groups that I work with are affiliated with them in any way. The opinions that shall be expressed within this article are entirely my own, and come from a few days of honest contemplation, coupled with CiM’s extensive explanation for their actions this past Sunday, in their most recent stream.

To begin with, I should point out that regardless of anything else, this sucks. The end of the printed era and the beginning of the Print & Play era means that this game will never again be what it was before. None of us can say how well it will turn out, and while we hope it goes well, it goes without saying that things would have been better with Enterplay still involved. While there has always been a measure of disagreement over Enterplay’s handling of the game in the past, the fact remains that over the course of the game’s existence they have continued to produce an exciting, novel, and fun experience. I have no doubts that the designers responsible for the MLPCCG would have carried on doing so had the prospect made financial sense for their company. Unfortunately, it would seem that it did not. Whatever I have said in the past, I want to thank them right now, for the skill and devotion they provided in taking the game to its current state, and wish them all the best of luck wherever life takes them next.

That being said, the fact that Enterplay will not be continuing on with the license presents the community with a sobering choice. Ordinarily, the lack of a commercial rights-holder to make the game officially would mean the end of things. It would be, unless the community were to decide to continue on without them. This is not without precedent, and is perhaps most notably exemplified by the more than a decade long run of the Star Wars TCG under a fan development body, after Wizards of the Coast suspended development of that game in 2005. Though the Star Wars story does bring with it another important thing to understand: while CiM has made the initial choice to attempt to carry on with the game, they will not be able to do it alone. Unless there is a community willing and ready to continue supporting the game just as they are, this experiment in fan-run MLPCCG will be a short-lived one indeed.

Make no mistake, while playing the game from Set 11 on will no longer require as much of a monetary investment, it will absolutely require an investment of a different sort. Namely, the effort necessary to obtain the master copies of the cards, and to print them, however you decide to do it. This could be as simple as printing on regular paper and affixing the art to other cards to serve as a backing, right up to crafting acceptable playing cards yourself using an artisan print service. The options present a range of difficulty and investment required, but all of them are going to involve more time and effort than throwing some money at Enterplay and having the new cards show up at your doorstep several days later.

This will be a different game than it was before. People can make all kinds of arguments about whether it’s easier or harder to get into now, about the impact this change will have on the secondary market or the value of past collections. These debates are valid, but beneath them I think is a more important point. The game has fundamentally changed, and it will now no longer appeal to some people that it appealed to before. No one should be held in contempt if they decide that the game is no longer for them, and they don’t wish to participate anymore. Inevitably, the community will suffer some attrition from this change. Likewise, none should be held in disdain for choosing to continue on, as I shall be doing.

The gentlemen that make up CiM are good friends of mine, and I know that they have been the subject of a variety of suspicions and ill-will over the course of the existence of their organization. Arguably, it may have started even before then. Yet the evidence that I can see points to them being dedicated servants to the ideal that this community deserves a fun game to play, and that this game deserves as wide a community as it can get.

CiM is betting that enough people will stick around to make their gamble worth it. They are risking a significant amount of time and resources, never mind potential legal liability, to see this thing through. And make no mistake, this gamble that they are making only pays off if the game stays fun and enjoyable for all of the diverse and disparate elements of the community that plays it, rather than only for an elitist cabal. I have the great personal honour of knowing the members of CiM as friends, and I can say that none of these guys are stupid. They understand, and have always understood, the great authority and responsibility that they have as community leaders. This was true even before they claimed any official responsibility for the workings of the game. It perhaps bears repeating that CiM itself was borne out of a desire to grow the game beyond its extant community and present its best face to the wider world. I have never got the impression that their goals as an organization have changed.

Throughout all of their tenure as community leaders, they have gone to great lengths to dispel any suspicions that may have been cast their way. When they assumed control over the official rules and banlist, they began publishing their decklists in advance of official tournaments, denying themselves the opportunity to sweep the field with whatever tricks or combos they had privately discovered. Through events like CoCo and their sponsorship of increased and well-supported organized play, they have given everyone else the chance and support to grow their own local metas, which gives the entire community more opportunities to build better decks and compete at the major events. While it is true that designing the game while competing in it is a strange arrangement, the members of CiM have voluntarily imposed major disadvantages upon themselves in the hope of assuaging these concerns. And after all, every responsibility they have taken on has been done because they enjoy the game and want to be able to keep playing it competitively. To then not be able to keep playing it would obviously be an unworkable arrangement.

Having said all of that, it should perhaps be obvious that my personal take on this matter is a vote of confidence in the new designers. I could ask you, if this game were to continue being made, how else could it be done? Enterplay has made it known that commercially, the proposition does not make sense. Thus further design and production needs to be performed by the community if it is to happen at all. Again then, who else could do it? CiM has been around since nearly the beginning of the game, they have a network of similarly experienced testers, and even more important than that they have the passion and integrity to ensure that this process is carried out correctly. If what we desire is a future where further development on this game still happens, what reasonable alternative do we have to this one?

This is to make no mention of the fact that all of the members of CiM are functional adult human beings with lives outside of pony cards. As someone who has spent some time doing amateur card and set design, I can tell you that it is no easy process. It takes long hours of volunteer time to see a work of the magnitude of an entire set through to completion. Add to that as well all of their work producing content and organizing tournaments across the continent. I can say with no exaggeration that I’ve found their dedication inspiring beyond measure.

Which brings us to the final point. If you are anything like me, your first thought upon hearing of the move to Print & Play was to go to CiM’s Patreon page and either increase your current donation or start a new one. After all, I was willing to pay Enterplay to keep the game going, why wouldn’t I pay its new wardens to equally show my appreciation for their efforts?

Alas, this cannot happen. CiM thought through the matter extensively prior to taking up this responsibility, and as they’ve mentioned elsewhere, turning their efforts into any kind of commercial enterprise presents an enormous risk given that they have no license from Hasbro for the use of MLP show assets. Even doing this as a non-commercial enterprise presents risk on its own. So they have wisely decided to eschew all compensation for their organized play efforts. The next time that you get the chance to meet them in person, I’d recommend a thank-you. It’s honestly the least that they deserve.

So what does that mean for me? Well, from everything I’ve seen so far, Leaders & Legends looks great. Obviously it’s far too soon to say anything about the meta that will shape up after its release, but the cards at least look fun to experiment with. And, given that we have a fresh set of designers for Set 11, I see a new opportunity for some statistical analysis. Once Set 11 has been fully revealed, I’ll be performing an analysis of how the design of the set works out when compared to the Enterplay-designed ones. Hopefully, this will determine if CiM is bringing any fresh philosophy to the table, and maybe offer some hints of what directions they will be pursuing as they move into Set 12 and beyond.

Set 11 marks a brave new beginning for the MLPCCG. I see no reason to stop playing it, thinking about it, or writing about it, so I’ll keep on. I sincerely hope that everyone else who reads this will join me.

Note that this article will not replace my usual October Feature. That one, containing card ratings for the Friends Forever Core meta up to the Old Money/Portal bans, will be around at the usual time near to Hallowe’en.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: Come As You Are (1/11)

THIS IS FINALLY HERE OH MY GOD. 

Summary: A series of codas/tags/missing scenes to every episode of the first season of TItans. In the first episode, our protagonists are moving towards each other, but first, they each navigate the existential nightmare that is their own mind.

Warnings: SPOILERS for the whole series, some swearing, lot of dense parenthetical nonsense and fancy formatting. Dick and Rachel marinate in their own anxiety. I’ve also taken the liberty to fill in some gaps that were left by canon.

this is meant to be a companion series to my episode recap series. i’m in the midst of my worst writer’s block ever--it took two whole months just to write this chapter; i’m still far from happy with it, but if i looked at it anymore i was going to scream--but i hope to finish both the recap series and this fic series before s2 airs this fall. 

(s/o to @cautiousamber whose continued love for the show and for what it's doing delights me always)

Come As You Are

1.01

Strange things live inside Rachel’s head.

When she was little, people around her would come to her in her dreams in coloured silhouettes, glowing and wailing, ripped into pieces by monsters that lurked in the shadowy corners of her mind. As she grew, the figures grew more refined, more recognisable, but they never stopped screaming; when she heard words, it was only the monster that spoke.

I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU, RACHEL

The years passed, and the dreams started to leak into the real world: she would see strange, fresh scars on Melissa’s arms while trembling in her arms after another DREAM; hazy, coloured halos followed people she knew and horrible things happened to people she hated; the monster would stare back at her in the mirror now, eyes inky black, leaking venom into her veins. TRUST ME, the monster would say, calm while everybody else screamed, and Rachel, well. After a point, she forgot to scream, too.

Then one night, she dreams of a little boy on the trapeze who watches his parents fall to their deaths, and the monster does something it has never done before: it laughs.

-

“Master Dick, I trust you received the package I sent you last week?”

Dick idly doodles a large ‘R’ on his notepad while wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear. “I did, Alfred, it came in just this morning. Thanks. I, uh,” he makes the edges sharper, the ends like knife blades, “I should’ve called to let you know earlier.”

“Yes,” Alfred says crisply, “You should have.”

He twists the pad until it looks like the R is in motion, bounding across the page. Two tables over, Detective Oyode flings a casefile onto his desk in disgust. Across the room, Johnson is eyeing Dick with suspicious disdain. The air is heavy with the smell of stale coffee; there’s a lingering whiff of cigarette smoke from the balcony where Carter, Takashi and Mulligan take smoke breaks twice every hour, on the dot. The floor buzzes with steady chatter, the clicking of computer keys and ringing phones. Dick’s active cases tray is screamingly empty.

“I’ve been busy,” he says. “Settling in, and all that.”

“I see.” A pregnant pause. “And I suppose your new responsibilities as a police detective is the only reason you requested that I send over your modified batarangs?”

“Birdarangs,” Dick says, without thinking.

“Ah. Yes.” Alfred’s voice turns fond. “It’s been well over a decade since you came up with that convention, Master Dick; I must confess that it is good to hear it again. More than anything… it is reassuring to see that you haven’t decided to retire Robin altogether.”

A knot of anxiety tightens somewhere behind Dick’s sternum. This is about as secure a line as he can get without actually using the comms in his Robin suit, but it’s still jarring to hear someone just—just say it aloud like that. Especially after—

Dick’s grip on his pen tightens and he scores across the ‘R’ with such ferocity that the nib tears through the paper. Johnson’s put his coffee mug aside and is starting to walk in his direction and if Dick tenses any more he’s sure he’s going to do something he’ll regret. “Sorry, Alfred,” he says. “Something’s come up; I gotta go.”

“Very well, Master Dick. I hope that you will continue to keep in touch.”

“Bye.” He slips the phone in his pocket, gets up, and tosses his ruined pad in the wastebin. He neatly sidesteps Johnson, swipes the abandoned casefile from Oyode’s desk, and hurries out of the precinct.

-

(it’s all right. you’re beautiful.)

Now that (she’s) put some distance between (her) and (her) attackers (hot metal projectiles where there should be nothing but fire, but she can’t—she can’t—), the molten panic that’s been fuelling (her) escape abates, just a little. (She) slows to a walk, pulling (her) coat close.

(it’s cold, but she’s known colder.)

The further (she) walks from the woods, the less desolate it is. There are more buildings here and more people, turning to look at (her) as (she) walks by them. Almost on instinct, (she) turns into a gas station and makes (her) way into the bathroom, coming to a stop in front of a grimy mirror. (She) is all edge and glorious skin, shining and sharp.

(beautiful. you will know it. and more importantly, they will too.)

(She) empties her purse to find documents and keys and a dozen little opaque clues as to (her) identity. (She) is Kory Anders, and the name is both everything and nothing at all. It is everything because it fits, slots into place effortlessly in her mind like she’s known it all along, but doesn’t trigger a cascade of memories, or anything other than flashes of light and bone-deep cold (and unimaginable pain).

No matter. She is Kory Anders, and this is as good a starting point as any. Besides, she is sure that the real her has a taste for adventure.

-

When the fight’s over, Dick changes into regular clothes a couple of dead-end alleyways over and limps back to his car, trying very hard not to think about Batmobiles, or Batcaves, or anything bat-related whatsoever. His shoulders ache with tension and his knuckles feel pulverised—he isn’t quite used to being the ones delivering all the punches yet. There’s blood and glass in his hair and the acrid stench of used smoke pellets lingers around him like a miasma; he’s stuffed his costume and weapons back in the case, but there are still red smears around the lock and—

—he’s not even entirely sure he’s managed to leave the site of the fight clean; or if he’s gotten all the security cams in the alley; it’s been so long since he’s done this and even longer since he’s done it alone—

(All right. Deep breath. Deep breath. Another one. And another one.)

Everything feels even more absurd when, later in the night, he’s stuck in downtown traffic, trying to breathe past bruised ribs and the bite of glass shards in his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; moving this far from Gotham was supposed to be the start of a clean break. He’d been slowly working up to visiting Wayne Manor one more time (one last time, but he can’t—he can’t bring himself to—) to return the Robin costume, trying to reconcile the memories of safety and comfort he had under Bruce and Alfred’s care with yawning isolation of that gigantic mansion, the stomach-dropping terror that he would be abandoned (again) if he failed (again), and the anger that never seemed to stop simmering regardless of how much he punched, how much he cried, how much he laughed.

Being Robin without Batman feels like something vital’s been cut out of him, but just being Dick Grayson isn’t enough for all the evil in the world.

Dick stumbles into his apartment building, trying very hard not to make carrying a giant silver briefcase in the dark seem suspicious. He enters his apartment—dangerously open to the world but devoid of shadows—and lets himself slump onto the sofa. He’s going to (clean his costume and equipment, scrub the security cam feeds, clean the car of bloodstains and evidence, destroy the copy of Oyode’s file that he’d made, type up a report for his personal log) but for now he closes his eyes and—breathes.

Just—

Just for a minute.

-

The city is drab and cold in ways Rachel is entirely unused to; for some reason, she thinks of old white bedsheets turned grey from use and wear and repeated washing over years and years. Melissa ripped one of them into rags the last time Rachel DID SOMETHING STUPID, knocked over a vase, cut her hand on the shattered pieces, and dripped blood all over the kitchen floor. Melissa’d spent an entire afternoon scrubbing at bloodstains, refusing to answer to Rachel’s tearful apologies. (The voice told her to break the next vase over Melissa’s head, which made Rachel want to vomit.)

Melissa had washed the blood out of those rags as thoroughly as she could, leaving them even more dirty-grey than they were. That’s what the city looks like: wrung of colour, washed and washed again into grey submission—

“We’re here,” the officer in the front seat of the car says, dropping Rachel abruptly out of her thoughts. She’s taken into the precinct and asked to sit inside a windowless room; it isn’t until the officer that’s trying to get her attention touches her shoulder and she flinches, light and sound and terror rushing in, that the numbness abates and the voice snarls KILL HIM!

can’twon’tdon’t—

The officer looks shocked for a moment before his expression softens and he backs away. “Somebody will come talk to you now, okay?” he says, and leaves. Rachel waits and picks at the fraying edges of her sleeves, wishing—not for the first time—that she’d brought her phone along. It’s not like she has anybody to call, really; she just wants something to do that’s not staring at the walls (of an interrogation room, this is an interrogation room) and trying not to think about how desperately alone she is right now.

A few minutes later, Detective Dick Grayson walks in and introduces himself. Rachel jolts at the sight of him; she can hardly hear what he’s saying over the chorus of holy shit! holy shit! that’s taken over her mind, because holy shit—this is the little boy on the trapeze. He glows blood-red, and every movement of his leaves behind smudges of light and colour and life in this otherwise cement-grey room.

She holds his hands, tells him, you’re the boy from the circus; he frowns, but doesn’t tell her she’s crazy, or stupid, or BADWRONGEVIL. Dick Grayson promises to help her, and for the first time since watching her mother fall to the floor with a bullet hole through her head, Rachel feels hope.

-

Kory Anders is on a plane to the United States.

Twelve hours ago, she didn’t know her name; now she not only has an identity, but a destination, a purpose (a mission). Everything from swiping cards to speaking a dozen different tongues to summoning fire to her fingertips to the clean, beautiful effortlessness of throwing an asshole across a hotel room has been… intuitive; she thinks as she does, moves as she feels, learns as she touches. She doesn’t know what she will find when she lands (knows without really knowing that where she is going is both impossibly vast and comically small) but she’s going to start with looking for the girl in the photo and see where that leads her.

(--to a bubble suspended in infinite nothingness, shackles around her wrists and feet—)

And if that means burning up a few more entitled assholes along the way, so be it.

[nouies-moved]

BEST FICS OF 2017 picked by notchopsuey manips | other recs | rec page

#1. Runaway Land. 103k. Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually. Modern Greek mythology AU. #2. You Might Want to Marry My Husband. 24k. When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore. #3. Love's Truest Language. 48k. The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow. “Where's your order forms, then?” “I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him. Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

#4. got the sunshine on my shoulders. 124k. five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone. now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him. (or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

#5. Be with me so happily. 42k. Harry Styles may have had his doubts at first, but by the time the gates to the elephant sanctuary came into view he was one hundred percent positive. Louis Tomlinson hated his guts. Like hated, hated. Like loathed-him-on-sight hated. From what Harry could tell, he hadn’t even done anything close to insulting enough to warrant the disdain that was Louis Tomlinson’s default expression whenever he looked at Harry. It really wasn’t fair. Especially since he’d been lusting after the man from the second he’d laid eyes on that pretty, pretty face with those pretty, pretty eyes. Or ... the one where Harry Styles has a bad reputation and a heart of gold, and Louis Tomlinson wishes he wasn't so enchanted by boys who looked like Disney characters and wore shirts with bumble bees on them. [aka Louis is the director of the Styles Elephant Sanctuary and really doesn't want to babysit his funder's spoiled lay-about son for two months] #6. rivers 'til i reach you. 29k. Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is). #7. Fall At My Door. 29k. A-list actor Harry Styles and award-winning musician Louis Tomlinson have an acquaintances-with-benefits relationship, so whenever their busy professional lives happen to land them in the same city, they meet up. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And that’s all it is. Until it isn’t. #8. When We Were Younger. 76k. About a week after Harry started visiting this particular chat room, he was watching some kid argue with the whole room about football, personally disinterested as he tipped a bag of crisps into his mouth. He happily chomped on the crumbs, taking a swig from a glass of Ribena to wash them down, glancing at the screen and very nearly spat the squash back out again. His heart was pounding wildly. The display icon of the argumentative newcomer had caught his eye, and not in a good way. He gulped as he clicked the picture, and when it popped up in full resolution, his heart nearly fell right out of his arse. - Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own. #9. the wonderlands. 150k. "Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands." Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair. #10. Paint Me In A Million Dreams. 110k. Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity? In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food. #11. Divide (series). 45k. Four AUs inspired by Ed Sheeran’s album “Divide”. #12. Brooklyn Saw Me. 28k. In the cold and unforgiving city of New York, Louis doesn't have a home and Harry wants to give him one. But as their heartstrings become increasingly intertwined, and the snow continues to fall, home is getting harder and harder to find. #13. Walk That Mile. 141k. Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.” “Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.” “Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan. #14. Never Let Me Go. 55k. “Harry! I’ll tell you what,” Louis exclaims, clapping his hands together. There’s a big grin on his face. “If both of us are still single by your thirtieth birthday, we’ll marry each other.” Harry’s head snaps up, eyes widening. “What?” Harry and Louis have been friends forever, but they couldn't be more different. One night, with a little too much alcohol, they make a pact to marry in ten years if they're both still single. Now, one month before the deadline, Louis is willing to do whatever it takes to avoid ending up with his best friend. But is he, really? | Loosely inspired by The 10 Year Plan #15. Do Not Go Gentle. 70k. “This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.” For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust. Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back. “Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters. When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern. A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they? #16. Staring Across the Room. 26k. Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring. But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have. #17.��Take Me Back to Where We Started. 27k. Harry and Louis haven't spoken since they broke up four years ago. As boarding school sweethearts they once spent every waking moment together, but now they can hardly stand to be in the same room. When their five year class reunion comes around, both boys decide against their better judgement to return and (hopefully) have a good time. The only problem is, they're both still hopelessly in love. Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive. #18. Safe and Sound (You'll Always Be). 58k. When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break. #19. never mind the odds (i'm gonna try my luck). 59k. Louis Tomlinson is going to be the journalistic voice of his generation. He’s just waiting for his editor to realize it. For now, he’s stuck writing fluff pieces for the Life and Style section of London Now Newspaper. His latest assignment is more of the same rubbish: a profile of Harry Styles, plastic surgeon and one of London’s most eligible bachelors. Louis is intent on writing something smart and biting and unexpected; if it makes Harry look like an idiot, that’s just the price of good journalism. That is, until Louis gets to know Harry and realizes he might be kind of perfect. Featuring Louis as a writer/workaholic, Harry as a plastic surgeon with a heart of gold, Zayn and Niall as Louis’ colleagues and long-suffering best mates, and Liam as everyone’s favorite pediatric surgeon and Harry’s right-hand man. #20. Then We Talk Slow. 20k. The picture showed Harry smiling widely (with a fucking dimple) at the camera, his glossy brown curls situated artfully around his shoulders. Louis couldn’t see his whole outfit, but it seemed to consist of a pink, floral button-up with most of the buttons undone. Louis could also detect the dark outlines of tattoos on his chest, although he couldn’t quite make out what they were underneath the shirt. What he could make out was that his own heartrate seemed to have picked up significantly. Shit. This was so not good. Not only had Louis drunkenly sent messages in a deliberate attempt to interact with this man, he was now insanely attracted to him without ever having met him in person. Maybe Liam was right – drunk tweeting really was a horrible, rotten idea. A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets.

[paperlacejane]

In the light of Season 4 of BBC Sherlock,

I’m going to post my archived reaction to S3 and the Victorian Christmas Special, and some thoughts about the state of things. Completely unwanted and unrequested, but I want to share.

I also feel I should say that there is some positivity amongst the torrent of negativity.

I initially wrote the reaction to The Abominable Bride for my own personal catharsis. I considered posting it, tailored it as a review of the episode, even, but ultimately decided that I didn’t want to spread the negativity. If people were still enjoying it, then I didn't want to spoil it (I'm a sensitive type, and seeing negativity can easily harsh my buzz, so I didn't want to do that with anyone.)

I also still didn't want to believe where the show was heading. But now, given S4, I feel it's inescapable. Right now, I feel like I'm jumping out of the wood-work now to say: "SORRY GUYS, I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO END BADLY." But I also really do want to make a point about the direction that the series took with S3 and the hideous Christmas special. [There were some considerable insulting blips along the way before that, but S3 (my main problem is His Last Vow) and TAB were so concentrated in their shitness, that I feel I need to single them out.]

I just want to point out that this wasn't a sudden thing. I feel like I need to say this, because a lot of people I'm seeing have been saying: "how did it go so wrong, you fucked up, this season was horrible" as if there weren't signs before this. People much more eloquent (and concise/pithy) than me have highlighted some of the questionable shit that has cropped up in Sherlock. I'm not going to write out all those points here. What I focus on are the glaring bits that offended me the most, that jarred the hardest, that really hurt -- and which appear to have been dialed up to 11 for this last series/season. I haven't read any (?? I think?) critiques of The Abominable Bride, so I can't say whether people have commented similar. I hope they have. (I had read over a couple of positive ones before writing this, on the IMDB page for that episode. This 'review' was what I was going to submit as a review on that page, because I was frustrated with the positivity, but I decided it was too-ranty and too downer-like for there.)

Very very few people are going to see this, let alone read this. But I just want to let out something that I’ve felt for a long time. That the signs of the fall were there, and that the writers, the actors, they've been screwing with us for ages, and that they've been wronging us in more ways than the no-johnlock queerbaiting-turned-queerbashing thing (which is a huge WRONG.)

So, this is my cathartic rant from however many years ago. I titled it, because Evernote wanted me to title it, "Notes on The Abominable Bride and the Questionable Direction of BBC's Sherlock" (the original title, I recall was: "what the actual fuck," or similar.)

In two words? Truly repugnant.

There is an aggressive amount of sarcasm at several points in the following paragraphs. Just, be warned. It should be obvious, and I've switched some of it out for easier reading with fewer double-negatives, but.

Given the era that Conan Doyle's stories were written, sexism is evident. Even within the character of Sherlock Holmes. He is quite gynophobic in the original stories, I have no illusions there. And yet he still respects women. He respects them when they're intelligent, when they're clever -- and those are not 'masculine' traits. He defends women, and threatens righteous violence against people who prey on them - one of my favourite moments is when he literally goes to get his riding crop to whip a man who has been manipulating and catfishing his own daughter. But still, there is sexism in Sherlock Holmes.

But I have never felt so attacked and demeaned as a woman by a Sherlock Holmes story as I have while watching this episode of BBC Sherlock. Whose idea was it to dress feminists in purple KKK hoods? To have them adopt KKK methods? To have pretty much all the women of the series thrown into a cultish vendetta club who specialised in systematic terror and serial murder? Oh, bravo. I don't care if it was all in Sherlock's head, or supposed to be justified within the narrative, or if it's supposed to be 'real'. Why would they put that on screen? Why would they make those links, create those parallels? And who thought having Steven Moffat tackle the topic of women and sexism was a good idea?

The only truly respectable life-like woman I have seen in this series is Sarah - a simple doctor, everyday but exceptional, who was clever and held her own. And yet she was disappeared. To be replaced by vindictive hags, insipid would-be love-interests, charicature land-ladies, and a woman who shot and technically killed the most-loved literary character of all time - who we're supposed to have forgiven because she "didn't mean to kill him," because her killshot was supposedly "surgery." The writers of this series would do well to remember that this isn't Doctor Who. It's not a science-magical world where the audience is obliged to grudgingly swallow down all the unlikely and downright absurd rationalisations that are thrown at us. If you use that sort of bullshit logic for a story which is supposed to be more-or-less realistic, it just looks exceedingly lazy -- even lazier than it does in Doctor Who. Not only that, It's fantastically cheap, and, at least personally, your audience ends up feeling cheated.

It also looks immoral in the extreme. How is it that all the characters -- John and Mycroft particularly (a pragmatic but emotional man who is supposedly devoted to Sherlock, as well as Sherlock's own brother who tenderly takes care of him every time he ODs) -- how are they supposed to have forgiven Mary too? I could, maybe, believe that Sherlock's self-esteem is so low that he might try to rationalise Mary's actions away in order to not rock the boat and not lose the people that he thinks of as his friends. But why in fuck's name are John and Mycroft believing that crock of shit? Even if it were "surgery," you're telling me that they can both just let the bare fact that she shot Sherlock slide? No visceral rejection of a person who could do that to someone you care about? No wish to see them pay, or be brought to justice? They're not repulsed by her actions in any way? They still trust her, when that's what she's capable of? When "I'll shoot Sherlock in the chest and maybe/probably he'll die," is a perfectly acceptable risk for her to take? (I say 'probably' because he flat-lined. And if it weren't a TV show, everyone has a good chance of dying if shot near point-blank in the fucking chest.)

Sherlock may be portrayed unsympathetically in this series, particularly in this latest episode, but he's no Magnussen. I wasn't torn up when Sherlock shot him in the face -- there was common decency on Sherlock's side, which goes a surprisingly long way. Magnussen was a blackmailing creep who had a penchant for sexual intimidation and degradation after all. But Mary shot Sherlock. Sherlock still equals 'good guy.' Let me break that down for you: A deceiving unrepentant liar and serial killer shoots good guy in chest for no good reason except so that she can go on lying. But not only are Mycroft and John letting that slide with little to absolutely no fuss, they're then letting Mary make smarmy little snide comments about Sherlock and joking about the lacking security of MI5 (and yeah, of course Mary can hack Mi5 instantaneously on an iPhone. Why not! Who cares about believability when you have the opportunity for 'witty' banter?) Mary is all-round a despicable character who somehow gets away with being a piece of shit because... She's sassy? The result is that she is a bad guy who gets no repercussions for her actions, and appears as shallow as a shower to boot. (I'm reminded forcibly of River Song.) The whole thing makes all of the main characters appear void of all human feeling, all basic human reasoning. They have no principles. Given that the show's main characters are meant to be crime-solvers, justice-dealers, law-and-order types, and "the British Government," you'd think there'd at least be some sense of moral rectitude abounding. And yet, no. There's a difference between "just enough of an arsehole to be worth liking," and just plain old arsehole. There's also a difference between morally grey and morally bankrupt. I feel increasingly under the impression that the writers don't know the difference.

On a related note: the true Sherlock Holmes was never, ever a sociopath (the term "sociopath" hasn't been used by any respected psychiatric authority since the 1960s - Sherlock would know that, even if the writers don't.) He has been sexist, but he has never been devoid of moral feeling. He has occassionally been devoid of tact, and often focused on fact over feelings, which are clearly very very different things. It's often remarked that as a character Sherlock Holmes is admirable, but that it's hard to like him. That's never stopped me before. That is, it's never stopped me with the original stories. Even within other adaptations, I have a great deal of affection for him and the stories he inhabits. With this series, they've done a good job of twisting that affection into disdain and disappointment.  

Oh! And whose idea was it to harass a historically asexual/non-sexual character on his orientation? That was an added touch of pure ignorance - and that amidst the existing pool of unreason, it must have been the audience's birthday! Then, of course, they couldn't possibly forget to lean on the fact that Sherlock kept Irene Adler's photo in the stories! I mean, it's a given that he should be harassed for being non-sexual and non-romantic, but of ~course, if he were actually interested in sex and romance, he's obviously secretly definitely, ~definitely straight. Never mind that he also kept a bust and picture of Goethe. Nevermind that he has a picture of Poe in his bedroom. Nevermind that Irene was (in the original stories) a woman who just barely outwitted him, who ~just got away. Forget that it's perfectly conceivable that he might admire her resourcefulness and cunning -- they're just the things that as a character he always admires -- no, he obviously kept her picture because he wants to fuck her. Of course! God forbid a man admire and wish to remember a woman and not want to fuck her. Never mind all other evidence that he's content being a non-sexual non-romantic creature. Never mind respecting his orientation as valid. Never mind that Watson explicitly states that Holmes wasn't interested in Irene romantically/sexually, nevermind that he was willing witness at her wedding-- Oh, but they've found a solution for that as well! Watson was lying! Of course he was! How convenient for them!

I cannot adequately express just how disgusting it is that they are trying to suggest, in this same scene, that this particular interpretation/incarnation of the character of Sherlock Holmes is somehow the secretly ultra-accurate portrait of the 'real' Sherlock Holmes. They literally state that the original stories are glossed-over for the good of Dr Watson's reading public of the time. How narcissistic and power-hungry (and delusional) do you have to be to say that your adaptation is somehow a more 'real' or 'accurate' portrayal? "Oh, he's arguably one of the best-loved characters of all time? Well ours is more accurate and better and we have mobile phones!" The original Holmes is an icon, a simple character who is at the same time exceedingly complex, he's paradoxical and he's wonderful. He stands the test of time. And there was once a time when I would have defended this BBC portrayal of Sherlock as the most accurate adaptation I've seen - a rougher, younger Sherlock, but tactfully brought into the real and present day. Not anymore. They've ended up exaggerating Sherlock's flaws so that they consume his entire character - the drug-use/-addiction, the tactlessness. Then they have all the other characters hate on him, slap him, mock him because of the exaggerated character traits that once accented Sherlock Holmes, and that the audience once loved so much. I just feel like the entire series is being geared towards people hating Sherlock Holmes, hating this series. I don't understand what the intent is for making these narrative choices.

You cannot put your characters into situations, have them graphically violated and manipulated and slander them in-text, and then give a small throw-away line as if to forgive all trespasses. Audience engagement doesn't work like that. You're working towards your audience feeling violated. Offended. And we're given no justice, no closure. And rest assured: we remember everything. Why are there no repercussions? Why is there so much that doesn't add up, why is so much skated over, if this is meant to be the accurate depiction of the 'real' Sherlock Holmes and his world?

I don't trust the writers of this series. I don't trust them to give me closure, to take me on a journey or tell me a story that doesn't rankle in the wrong way -  that doesn't violate reasonable sensibilities and then shrug off the trespass in the following moment. I feel like I should be slapping the creators with a glove and screaming "I demand satisfaction!" Because this latest instalment (the latest two instalments) have done little more than alienate and aggravate me. Even to the point that I'm ashamed of having once been a fan of this series. Even saying that I ask myself: am I over-reacting here? But I reason with myself, and I still feel it's true. It's become a series that I truly don't even recognise anymore. It feels warped. And I don't know how they can turn it back into a story about Sherlock making the transition from great man to good one. I'm not convinced that they have an idea of what a good man is, given what they're letting their characters get away with.

Moral relativity is a thing, but surely it's not just me that thinks the BBC Sherlock bar for "good" or "acceptable" is severely and unrepentantly low. Like I said: there's a difference between morally grey and morally bankrupt. There's not even any in-depth critique about actions, no reasonable discussion - everything's allowed, everything's thrown under the rug of "I'm a sociopath! He's a sociopath! She's a sociopath! Everyone's a sociopath!" Not only is that boring in the extreme to watch, it's so unsubtle that it's infuriating. There's no examination of what someone's shitty remark or action means. There's no weight to any interaction. It's pointless banter. It's flimsy. And when anything goes, then by what basis can they be solving crimes and catching 'bad guys'?

The vision for the series feels shot to shit. It feels like the series' universe has become an absolute fiction, devoid of any consequences, lacking in insight, depth, and subtlety, and populated almost exclusively by characters who drive me to be empty of any sympathetic feeling. I know that it's perfectly possible to write hateful characters who are never-the-less engaging, who inspire sympathy and empathy. But this series does neither. Look at the characters on paper and they become nothing. They're empty. I struggle to find instances of cogent speech that reflect some semblance of a fleshed out character beneath the flaking veneer. It's like they're just spouting words, but the words themselves have lost all meaning. And even when I find a moment that seems like it rings true and clear to the character that's speaking (Mycroft asking Sherlock if he'd made a list of narcotics used was the first that came to mind), that poignant moment is directly contradicted by their actions in a multitude of ways (your brother's killer is sitting right next to you, and you don't mind). That's a man who loves his baby brother (emotional reasoning) who is fine with his brother's flippant murderer a) still breathing, b) un-punished, c) being all sassy and nonchalant about Sherlock's drug abuse, and d) hacking into government restricted records in front of 'The British Government'. THAT SHOULD TRIGGER A FUCKING EMOTIONAL REACTION. It results in the portrayal of an inconceivable level of self-deception and compartmentalisation that reasonable men with moral feeling wouldn't stand. The characters don't feel solid. There's no integrity to them. You examine their reasoning, their internal logic, their actions, and they crumble to pieces. That, or they're so two-dimensional that they don't stand up to scrutiny anyway. It's all contradictions -- but they don't make a beautiful paradox, they make a jumble of nonsense tropes.

Beyond my perverse observation of how... wrong they seem, how much they betray how they're straying from the vision of the first and even the second series, these last episodes have simply served to make me disinterested in practically every single character. This is a truly impressive feat when they were once among my most-loved. I feel so fucking jaded. But all of the crap is just piling up to the point where I'm literally just stepping away from this series. I'm figuratively and literally throwing my hands up and saying: you know what? Fuck off. I have a feeling it may be like a car-crash for me for the next few episodes -- "don't wanna look but you can't turn away" -- but I don't see how they could bring the series back from this. I can't be the only person that's feeling seriously, seriously wronged by this episode. I can't be. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me. Burn me thrice? Fuck. Off. I'm off to watch something that doesn't make me want to throw up and claw my own face off .

So yeah.

After quietly “breaking up” with the show -- think in the style of Jon Snow bitterly saying: “My Watch is Ended“ -- I semi-waited for S4. I say semi-waited because I wasn’t going to watch it. But I was still hopeful, at least a little bit, on the behalf of the people that I followed on here, that I met in real life, that still had hope for the series. I thought to myself: “maybe. maybe it won’t be shit. maybe they’ll explain what the fuck why the fuck how the fuck.“

As we've found, and as I've mentioned, from what I have seen from my tumblr feed tonight, it went about as well as I expected.

I still haven't seen S4. The last episode I watched was TAB. But from what I've seen on here, it's been a clusterfuck of queer-coded villains, and copious dashings of even bigger plotholes than before, logical blackholes, more morally reprehensible crap -- and so many inconsistencies, it'll make your head spin worse than the hammed-up cinematography.

So, I'm so sorry for the people that had such high hopes, and who were deceived and let down in a big way. I -- and all of us, I think -- know that in the greater scheme of things, one TV show that went to shit, as TV shows are prone to do, isn’t so horrible a thing. But this show meant a huge amount to me. It meant an enormous amount to many, many others. I think of the creative fan-community, so many hours making gorgeously complex filthy brilliant heartwarming heartbreaking fic (so so much better than what we received)... to have what spawned that creative storm of brilliance and engaging life-affirming work -- life-consuming and life-ruining (in the good way) in equal measure -- to have what brought these works about go so bad, it actually hurts. It hurts less for me now, because I'm much further away from it than I was a couple of years ago. But it still stinks. And if it hurts me, I can't imagine how much that'd suck to have the show you spent so long making intensive work around go down the gurgler. The fandom and the general community that surrounded this show, for the most part, were way beyond what it ended up deserving.

In further efforts to legitimise my (our) frustration and disappointment, I'll reiterate that engagement in fiction is a huge part of our modern lives. We care about what happens to these characters and these stories. It matters, for one thing, because representation matters (be that queer, female, moral). Media fucking matters. It mirrors and exaggerates reality, and they ended up giving us a steaming pile of bullshit. (In a positive metaphor, this bullshit may still be used as effective manure from which better works can spring. Just be careful handling it.)

But, I have to say, given the backlash, I am also giddy. Because people aren't standing for it.

People are still making up theories to excuse where the show has gone, and what they've done, but at this point it really is super-keen denial, which some have realised even as they speak it. But the denial, the desperate “surely this is a trick” reaction, while sweet in its idealism, is also really sad. Because I don't think 'The Show' is gonna come back from this. I don't think they can get away with what they have been putting on the screens anymore. How can they? I can't forgive them. And after S4? I'm getting the impression that most of the world who gave the slightest of shits about BBC Sherlock can't forgive them either.

But lastly, I just want to say: okay, it hurts now. It really hurts. I remember that I was going through some horrible shit when they first started fucking up this show. Really shit timing, Show. I don't remember much from that time, just snippets, because that's how the brain copes. But I remember saying to my sister in a fit of desperate honesty: "all the therapy things I read, they say you're meant to hold onto the little things that makes life worth living, that you live for, that you want to see and experience more of... But BBC Sherlock was that for me, and it can't be that for me anymore?" I remember so clearly it being a question because I was fucking lost and BBC Sherlock was my refuge, anchor, thing that I could cling to as a source of enjoyment and escape and engagement. And it disappeared, nonsensically. There was no beauty to the unravelling, it just turned to crap on me. So if I sound like I'm being overly dramatic, trust that it’s coming from a real place, of just... complete disillusionment and disappointment. And to be not only without that refuge, but to have it turn into something grotesque that appalled me on a number of levels... that was just insult to injury.

“Breaking up with the show“ actually felt like a real-life relationship breakdown. Recently, I remember reblogging that post by alecslightvood:

one of the saddest things is when a show you invested so much of your time into and became emotionally attached to seriously fucks up and you are no longer captivated by it whether it’s because of illogical plots with zero substance, ooc characters, sexist writing or because the show kills off and treats minorities horrendously, and all you have left is this bitterness at how things turned out because something that once made you happy now leaves you emotionally and mentally drained.

and I remember tagging it: "it feels like being betrayed, the mixture of heartbreak frustration and disbelief, 'why are you doing this?', 'you're not who I fell in love with', 'you're not who I thought you were', 'you're not who I'd hoped you'd be', BBC Sherlock, I'm looking at you." Because my god, that descriptor fits Sherlock to a tee. I don't know what show they were talking about (the original post is gone,) but god that fits Sherlock so well.

I’m glad I jumped ship when I did (I actually mistyped “shit” there, guys, Freudian slip,) because honestly, I’m so so sorry for you guys that stuck it out. I had some closet hope for your wishes and genius plots (the ones you wove, not theirs) to come together in a beautiful climax that would justify everything. That would have been glorious.

But as it is. You are allowed to dump this show. You are certainly not alone. And I highly recommend it. The reason I’m pleased with this shows catastrophic fall (hah,) amidst the outrage and frustration, is because to be rid of it is freeing. To be rid of the quietly-but-growing-louder queer-baiting queer-bashing woman-hating show that does everything it can to insult the majority of those minorities who watch it, that insults the intelligence of its viewers with stupidity while screaming that it's the best... That's a good thing.

[samanthasroberts]

Who Is Kaia Gerber & Who Are Her Friends? · Betches

Ask any normie who runs Instagram, and they’ll tell you the Kar-Jenners. And you know what? They’re totally right, but they also need to know about the newest clan taking over the ‘gram. Anyone with their finger on the pulse and on the right follow button knows that Kaia Gerber and her squad are taking over Instagram. We all know who Kaia Gerber is: she’s an up-and-coming model whose mother is supermodel Cindy Crawford and whose father made Casamigos with George Clooney (and apparently he does boring high-end business sh*t too, but let’s not pretend like I know how any of that works). She’s 16 years old and has way more going for her than any of us: perfect genetics, an endless supply of tequila, and more than two friends. But who is this friend group, exactly? Sure, they keep Shadow Hill and I.AM.GIA in business, but what else are they up to?

Presley Gerber

Presley is Kaia’s equally good-looking brother, of course! He’s an up-and-comer in the industry, just like his little sis, having modeled for big time brands such as Burberry and Calvin Klein. This mainstay at fashion week and the pages of Vogue has even been in a Pepsi commercial with mama Cindy, who was in her own iconic Pepsi commercial decades ago. It was cool and all (and much less controversial than Kendall Jenner’s Pepsi ad), but still will never be as great as Britney’s Pepsi commercials. Not much else is known about Presley, because when you’re that good-looking, you really aren’t obligated to be interesting.

Huhhhhh

A post shared by Presley (@presleygerber) on Jul 5, 2018 at 11:36am PDT

Charlotte Lawrence

Charlotte is Kaia’s equally leggy, equally barely legal ride-or-die. Her dad is producer Bill Lawrence and her mom is actress Christa Miller. Her dad was a bigwig on Scrubs and Cougartown—those shows that you kiiiinda  forgot about up until now—both of which her mom starred in. That means that Charlotte has clocked in a lot of time growing up around actors like Zach Braff and Courteney Cox, that actors you kiiiinda forgot up about up until now. Charlotte is pursuing the music career route, and has performed at venues such as Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn and Bowery Ballroom. She’s actually pretty great and has a promising career ahead of her.

film cameras & mom hats

A post shared by Charlotte Lawrence (@charlotteslawrence) on Jul 16, 2018 at 5:21pm PDT

Charlotte D’Alessio

Charlotte D’Alessio (no relation to Amber, who made out with a hot dog) is Kaia’s other bestie, because Kaia seems to love being affiliated with girls who are as lithe and brunette as she is. She is also dating Presley Gerber exclusively, which totally doesn’t sound awkward for Kaia at all. This Canadian beauty was discovered at the age of 16 at Coachella. That festival is a sh*t show of Bachelor franchise starlets and Instagram models, so the fact that she stuck out enough to get discovered as a model is a feat in and of itself.

Charlotte has a few bikini campaigns under her belt, as well as having modeled for brands like TopShop and starring as a femme fatale in some really confusing music video for some European band we’ve never heard of. (Can some film major put their worthless degree to use for once and please explain to me why there was an evil octopus in that vid?) When she’s not modeling or having good-looking sex with Presley Gerber, you can usually find her making Boomerangs where she’s slightly tilting her head and sticking out her tongue, or hosting Instagram lives, where she repeatedly answers the same questions over and over again about whether or not she got a nose job (which she denies getting because “I just know how to work my angles!” Sure, Jan) and what her workouts are like (which she claims to not even do. Again, sure, Jan).

pleasseeee

A post shared by Charlotte D'Alessio (@charlottedalessio) on Aug 6, 2018 at 12:41pm PDT

Chiara

Chiara is the token edgy, crazy chick of the group that they need to have. Otherwise, their clique would look more Wonderbread than an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, and that’s just not exciting. Chiara is, of course, a model, and her mom was a model as well. Her Instagram reeks of the kind of pictures that would be reblogged along with Lana del Rey quotes and Sarah Bah Bah art.

Resting face

A post shared by Chiara (@chiara) on Jul 29, 2018 at 8:58pm PDT

Madison Beer

Madison Beer was *discovered* by Justin Bieber when she was a tween for covering Etta James’ “At Last” on YouTube. She moved from Long Island to L.A. to make music, but is more known for her knockout good looks and incredible street style on Instagram. She actually only released a few singles, yet garnered over 10 million followers on Instagram with little to no legit music career. She finally released her first EP this year, As She Pleases, and it’s actually really, really good. Like, I don’t know about you, but I was expecting a girl that’s more Instagram famous than famous for, ya know, talent to drop a stinker of an EP, but “Home With You” and “Say It To My Face” are legit bops. She recently completed an American tour as well, so things are definitely starting to ramp up for Madison Beer.

dat fendi fendi

A post shared by Madison (@madisonbeer) on Jul 10, 2018 at 12:11pm PDT

Zack Bia

I don’t even get what this kid’s deal is. Even before writing this article, I have Googled Zack Bia repeatedly to figure out what he does or what famous parents he has, and I got nothing. It honestly keeps me up at night wondering how this hypebeast twerp hangs with this crew and has accumulated the following he has. He’s dating Madison Beer, so maybe that’s where a lot of my disdain for this kid comes from, because I can’t decide if I want to be Madison Beer or date Madison Beer. Signs show he may have gone to USC at one point, but that honestly means nothing because you barely attend USC unless you’re in Greek life or are an athlete. I really don’t have anything else to say about this kid because, like I said, I don’t know what the f*ck he does. So I just hate-scroll through his douchey Instagram instead.

beverly hills high alum

A post shared by ZACK BIA (@zackbia) on Feb 1, 2018 at 10:19pm PST

Isabella Jones

Isabella Jones is actually @bananablue17 on Instagram, because she didn’t get the memo that you don’t have to use your AIM screenname from 6th grade as your Instagram handle. Isabella is—wait for it—a model. She’s also currently dating a SoundCloud rapper whose tattoos look like a sleepover prank that you’d doodle on people while they’re asleep. He goes by Teddy. Just Teddy. A match made in heaven, really.

happy 4th🇺🇸

A post shared by Isabella Jones (@bananablue17) on Jul 5, 2018 at 2:36pm PDT

Emma Delury

Emma Delury is basically the girl next door’s little sister who hasn’t been corrupted yet, but the older quarterback of the football team plans on making a move on her once it’s no longer creepy to hook up with her. So it makes total sense that she’s modeled for the likes of Pink by Victoria’s Secret, PacSun, and Brandy Melville. No word on if she’s dating anyone, but Isabella leaves comments on every single picture of hers within 10 minutes of posting them saying how beautiful she is and how in love with her she is. These girls are well on their way to being so famous that they have BS rumors about them dating like Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift do, right?

❤️💙

A post shared by Emma DeLury (@emmadelury) on Jul 5, 2018 at 4:13pm PDT

Kevin Malone from “The Office”

I am Kevin Malone and you all are the Instagram models pic.twitter.com/fIVMj4yfyn

— Millie (@milliebeemoore) July 17, 2018

No, seriously. How the f*ck did this happen?

Whoever This Leech Is

Madison Beer did an interview a couple months back and was asked about her famous crew, and she took the opportunity to throw some shade—even though no one even asked! Ugh, this kind of drama is the only thing that make petty 18-year-olds tolerable. Anyways, she said some toxic chick keeps trying to swindle her way into their group to get followers and ever since, I’ve been wanting to know who it is. My money’s on Meredith Mickelson, because everyone in this group follows her except for Madison, and I don’t really know what Meredith does with her time besides take selfies while driving, take Boomerangs of herself sticking her tongue out, and taking videos of herself fake laughing.

dinner🍝

A post shared by MEREDITH MICKELSON (@meredithmickelson) on Jul 30, 2018 at 12:39pm PDT

Images: @presleygerber , @charlotteslawrence, @charlottedalessio , @chiara, @madisonbeer, @zackbia, @bananablue17, @emmadelury,@meredithmickelson / Instagram; @milliebeemoore / Twitter

Source: http://allofbeer.com/who-is-kaia-gerber-who-are-her-friends-%c2%b7-betches/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/who-is-kaia-gerber-who-are-her-friends-%c2%b7-betches/

[adambstingus]

Who Is Kaia Gerber & Who Are Her Friends? · Betches

Ask any normie who runs Instagram, and they’ll tell you the Kar-Jenners. And you know what? They’re totally right, but they also need to know about the newest clan taking over the ‘gram. Anyone with their finger on the pulse and on the right follow button knows that Kaia Gerber and her squad are taking over Instagram. We all know who Kaia Gerber is: she’s an up-and-coming model whose mother is supermodel Cindy Crawford and whose father made Casamigos with George Clooney (and apparently he does boring high-end business sh*t too, but let’s not pretend like I know how any of that works). She’s 16 years old and has way more going for her than any of us: perfect genetics, an endless supply of tequila, and more than two friends. But who is this friend group, exactly? Sure, they keep Shadow Hill and I.AM.GIA in business, but what else are they up to?

Presley Gerber

Presley is Kaia’s equally good-looking brother, of course! He’s an up-and-comer in the industry, just like his little sis, having modeled for big time brands such as Burberry and Calvin Klein. This mainstay at fashion week and the pages of Vogue has even been in a Pepsi commercial with mama Cindy, who was in her own iconic Pepsi commercial decades ago. It was cool and all (and much less controversial than Kendall Jenner’s Pepsi ad), but still will never be as great as Britney’s Pepsi commercials. Not much else is known about Presley, because when you’re that good-looking, you really aren’t obligated to be interesting.

Huhhhhh

A post shared by Presley (@presleygerber) on Jul 5, 2018 at 11:36am PDT

Charlotte Lawrence

Charlotte is Kaia’s equally leggy, equally barely legal ride-or-die. Her dad is producer Bill Lawrence and her mom is actress Christa Miller. Her dad was a bigwig on Scrubs and Cougartown—those shows that you kiiiinda  forgot about up until now—both of which her mom starred in. That means that Charlotte has clocked in a lot of time growing up around actors like Zach Braff and Courteney Cox, that actors you kiiiinda forgot up about up until now. Charlotte is pursuing the music career route, and has performed at venues such as Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn and Bowery Ballroom. She’s actually pretty great and has a promising career ahead of her.

film cameras & mom hats

A post shared by Charlotte Lawrence (@charlotteslawrence) on Jul 16, 2018 at 5:21pm PDT

Charlotte D’Alessio

Charlotte D’Alessio (no relation to Amber, who made out with a hot dog) is Kaia’s other bestie, because Kaia seems to love being affiliated with girls who are as lithe and brunette as she is. She is also dating Presley Gerber exclusively, which totally doesn’t sound awkward for Kaia at all. This Canadian beauty was discovered at the age of 16 at Coachella. That festival is a sh*t show of Bachelor franchise starlets and Instagram models, so the fact that she stuck out enough to get discovered as a model is a feat in and of itself.

Charlotte has a few bikini campaigns under her belt, as well as having modeled for brands like TopShop and starring as a femme fatale in some really confusing music video for some European band we’ve never heard of. (Can some film major put their worthless degree to use for once and please explain to me why there was an evil octopus in that vid?) When she’s not modeling or having good-looking sex with Presley Gerber, you can usually find her making Boomerangs where she’s slightly tilting her head and sticking out her tongue, or hosting Instagram lives, where she repeatedly answers the same questions over and over again about whether or not she got a nose job (which she denies getting because “I just know how to work my angles!” Sure, Jan) and what her workouts are like (which she claims to not even do. Again, sure, Jan).

pleasseeee

A post shared by Charlotte D'Alessio (@charlottedalessio) on Aug 6, 2018 at 12:41pm PDT

Chiara

Chiara is the token edgy, crazy chick of the group that they need to have. Otherwise, their clique would look more Wonderbread than an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, and that’s just not exciting. Chiara is, of course, a model, and her mom was a model as well. Her Instagram reeks of the kind of pictures that would be reblogged along with Lana del Rey quotes and Sarah Bah Bah art.

Resting face

A post shared by Chiara (@chiara) on Jul 29, 2018 at 8:58pm PDT

Madison Beer

Madison Beer was *discovered* by Justin Bieber when she was a tween for covering Etta James’ “At Last” on YouTube. She moved from Long Island to L.A. to make music, but is more known for her knockout good looks and incredible street style on Instagram. She actually only released a few singles, yet garnered over 10 million followers on Instagram with little to no legit music career. She finally released her first EP this year, As She Pleases, and it’s actually really, really good. Like, I don’t know about you, but I was expecting a girl that’s more Instagram famous than famous for, ya know, talent to drop a stinker of an EP, but “Home With You” and “Say It To My Face” are legit bops. She recently completed an American tour as well, so things are definitely starting to ramp up for Madison Beer.

dat fendi fendi

A post shared by Madison (@madisonbeer) on Jul 10, 2018 at 12:11pm PDT

Zack Bia

I don’t even get what this kid’s deal is. Even before writing this article, I have Googled Zack Bia repeatedly to figure out what he does or what famous parents he has, and I got nothing. It honestly keeps me up at night wondering how this hypebeast twerp hangs with this crew and has accumulated the following he has. He’s dating Madison Beer, so maybe that’s where a lot of my disdain for this kid comes from, because I can’t decide if I want to be Madison Beer or date Madison Beer. Signs show he may have gone to USC at one point, but that honestly means nothing because you barely attend USC unless you’re in Greek life or are an athlete. I really don’t have anything else to say about this kid because, like I said, I don’t know what the f*ck he does. So I just hate-scroll through his douchey Instagram instead.

beverly hills high alum

A post shared by ZACK BIA (@zackbia) on Feb 1, 2018 at 10:19pm PST

Isabella Jones

Isabella Jones is actually @bananablue17 on Instagram, because she didn’t get the memo that you don’t have to use your AIM screenname from 6th grade as your Instagram handle. Isabella is—wait for it—a model. She’s also currently dating a SoundCloud rapper whose tattoos look like a sleepover prank that you’d doodle on people while they’re asleep. He goes by Teddy. Just Teddy. A match made in heaven, really.

happy 4th🇺🇸

A post shared by Isabella Jones (@bananablue17) on Jul 5, 2018 at 2:36pm PDT

Emma Delury

Emma Delury is basically the girl next door’s little sister who hasn’t been corrupted yet, but the older quarterback of the football team plans on making a move on her once it’s no longer creepy to hook up with her. So it makes total sense that she’s modeled for the likes of Pink by Victoria’s Secret, PacSun, and Brandy Melville. No word on if she’s dating anyone, but Isabella leaves comments on every single picture of hers within 10 minutes of posting them saying how beautiful she is and how in love with her she is. These girls are well on their way to being so famous that they have BS rumors about them dating like Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift do, right?

❤️💙

A post shared by Emma DeLury (@emmadelury) on Jul 5, 2018 at 4:13pm PDT

Kevin Malone from “The Office”

I am Kevin Malone and you all are the Instagram models pic.twitter.com/fIVMj4yfyn

— Millie (@milliebeemoore) July 17, 2018

No, seriously. How the f*ck did this happen?

Whoever This Leech Is

Madison Beer did an interview a couple months back and was asked about her famous crew, and she took the opportunity to throw some shade—even though no one even asked! Ugh, this kind of drama is the only thing that make petty 18-year-olds tolerable. Anyways, she said some toxic chick keeps trying to swindle her way into their group to get followers and ever since, I’ve been wanting to know who it is. My money’s on Meredith Mickelson, because everyone in this group follows her except for Madison, and I don’t really know what Meredith does with her time besides take selfies while driving, take Boomerangs of herself sticking her tongue out, and taking videos of herself fake laughing.

dinner🍝

A post shared by MEREDITH MICKELSON (@meredithmickelson) on Jul 30, 2018 at 12:39pm PDT

Images: @presleygerber , @charlotteslawrence, @charlottedalessio , @chiara, @madisonbeer, @zackbia, @bananablue17, @emmadelury,@meredithmickelson / Instagram; @milliebeemoore / Twitter

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/who-is-kaia-gerber-who-are-her-friends-%c2%b7-betches/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182756223262

[allofbeercom]

Who Is Kaia Gerber & Who Are Her Friends? · Betches

Ask any normie who runs Instagram, and they’ll tell you the Kar-Jenners. And you know what? They’re totally right, but they also need to know about the newest clan taking over the ‘gram. Anyone with their finger on the pulse and on the right follow button knows that Kaia Gerber and her squad are taking over Instagram. We all know who Kaia Gerber is: she’s an up-and-coming model whose mother is supermodel Cindy Crawford and whose father made Casamigos with George Clooney (and apparently he does boring high-end business sh*t too, but let’s not pretend like I know how any of that works). She’s 16 years old and has way more going for her than any of us: perfect genetics, an endless supply of tequila, and more than two friends. But who is this friend group, exactly? Sure, they keep Shadow Hill and I.AM.GIA in business, but what else are they up to?

Presley Gerber

Presley is Kaia’s equally good-looking brother, of course! He’s an up-and-comer in the industry, just like his little sis, having modeled for big time brands such as Burberry and Calvin Klein. This mainstay at fashion week and the pages of Vogue has even been in a Pepsi commercial with mama Cindy, who was in her own iconic Pepsi commercial decades ago. It was cool and all (and much less controversial than Kendall Jenner’s Pepsi ad), but still will never be as great as Britney’s Pepsi commercials. Not much else is known about Presley, because when you’re that good-looking, you really aren’t obligated to be interesting.

Huhhhhh

A post shared by Presley (@presleygerber) on Jul 5, 2018 at 11:36am PDT

Charlotte Lawrence

Charlotte is Kaia’s equally leggy, equally barely legal ride-or-die. Her dad is producer Bill Lawrence and her mom is actress Christa Miller. Her dad was a bigwig on Scrubs and Cougartown—those shows that you kiiiinda  forgot about up until now—both of which her mom starred in. That means that Charlotte has clocked in a lot of time growing up around actors like Zach Braff and Courteney Cox, that actors you kiiiinda forgot up about up until now. Charlotte is pursuing the music career route, and has performed at venues such as Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn and Bowery Ballroom. She’s actually pretty great and has a promising career ahead of her.

film cameras & mom hats

A post shared by Charlotte Lawrence (@charlotteslawrence) on Jul 16, 2018 at 5:21pm PDT

Charlotte D’Alessio

Charlotte D’Alessio (no relation to Amber, who made out with a hot dog) is Kaia’s other bestie, because Kaia seems to love being affiliated with girls who are as lithe and brunette as she is. She is also dating Presley Gerber exclusively, which totally doesn’t sound awkward for Kaia at all. This Canadian beauty was discovered at the age of 16 at Coachella. That festival is a sh*t show of Bachelor franchise starlets and Instagram models, so the fact that she stuck out enough to get discovered as a model is a feat in and of itself.

Charlotte has a few bikini campaigns under her belt, as well as having modeled for brands like TopShop and starring as a femme fatale in some really confusing music video for some European band we’ve never heard of. (Can some film major put their worthless degree to use for once and please explain to me why there was an evil octopus in that vid?) When she’s not modeling or having good-looking sex with Presley Gerber, you can usually find her making Boomerangs where she’s slightly tilting her head and sticking out her tongue, or hosting Instagram lives, where she repeatedly answers the same questions over and over again about whether or not she got a nose job (which she denies getting because “I just know how to work my angles!” Sure, Jan) and what her workouts are like (which she claims to not even do. Again, sure, Jan).

pleasseeee

A post shared by Charlotte D'Alessio (@charlottedalessio) on Aug 6, 2018 at 12:41pm PDT

Chiara

Chiara is the token edgy, crazy chick of the group that they need to have. Otherwise, their clique would look more Wonderbread than an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, and that’s just not exciting. Chiara is, of course, a model, and her mom was a model as well. Her Instagram reeks of the kind of pictures that would be reblogged along with Lana del Rey quotes and Sarah Bah Bah art.

Resting face

A post shared by Chiara (@chiara) on Jul 29, 2018 at 8:58pm PDT

Madison Beer

Madison Beer was *discovered* by Justin Bieber when she was a tween for covering Etta James’ “At Last” on YouTube. She moved from Long Island to L.A. to make music, but is more known for her knockout good looks and incredible street style on Instagram. She actually only released a few singles, yet garnered over 10 million followers on Instagram with little to no legit music career. She finally released her first EP this year, As She Pleases, and it’s actually really, really good. Like, I don’t know about you, but I was expecting a girl that’s more Instagram famous than famous for, ya know, talent to drop a stinker of an EP, but “Home With You” and “Say It To My Face” are legit bops. She recently completed an American tour as well, so things are definitely starting to ramp up for Madison Beer.

dat fendi fendi

A post shared by Madison (@madisonbeer) on Jul 10, 2018 at 12:11pm PDT

Zack Bia

I don’t even get what this kid’s deal is. Even before writing this article, I have Googled Zack Bia repeatedly to figure out what he does or what famous parents he has, and I got nothing. It honestly keeps me up at night wondering how this hypebeast twerp hangs with this crew and has accumulated the following he has. He’s dating Madison Beer, so maybe that’s where a lot of my disdain for this kid comes from, because I can’t decide if I want to be Madison Beer or date Madison Beer. Signs show he may have gone to USC at one point, but that honestly means nothing because you barely attend USC unless you’re in Greek life or are an athlete. I really don’t have anything else to say about this kid because, like I said, I don’t know what the f*ck he does. So I just hate-scroll through his douchey Instagram instead.

beverly hills high alum

A post shared by ZACK BIA (@zackbia) on Feb 1, 2018 at 10:19pm PST

Isabella Jones

Isabella Jones is actually @bananablue17 on Instagram, because she didn’t get the memo that you don’t have to use your AIM screenname from 6th grade as your Instagram handle. Isabella is—wait for it—a model. She’s also currently dating a SoundCloud rapper whose tattoos look like a sleepover prank that you’d doodle on people while they’re asleep. He goes by Teddy. Just Teddy. A match made in heaven, really.

happy 4th🇺🇸

A post shared by Isabella Jones (@bananablue17) on Jul 5, 2018 at 2:36pm PDT

Emma Delury

Emma Delury is basically the girl next door’s little sister who hasn’t been corrupted yet, but the older quarterback of the football team plans on making a move on her once it’s no longer creepy to hook up with her. So it makes total sense that she’s modeled for the likes of Pink by Victoria’s Secret, PacSun, and Brandy Melville. No word on if she’s dating anyone, but Isabella leaves comments on every single picture of hers within 10 minutes of posting them saying how beautiful she is and how in love with her she is. These girls are well on their way to being so famous that they have BS rumors about them dating like Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift do, right?

❤️💙

A post shared by Emma DeLury (@emmadelury) on Jul 5, 2018 at 4:13pm PDT

Kevin Malone from “The Office”

I am Kevin Malone and you all are the Instagram models pic.twitter.com/fIVMj4yfyn

— Millie (@milliebeemoore) July 17, 2018

No, seriously. How the f*ck did this happen?

Whoever This Leech Is

Madison Beer did an interview a couple months back and was asked about her famous crew, and she took the opportunity to throw some shade—even though no one even asked! Ugh, this kind of drama is the only thing that make petty 18-year-olds tolerable. Anyways, she said some toxic chick keeps trying to swindle her way into their group to get followers and ever since, I’ve been wanting to know who it is. My money’s on Meredith Mickelson, because everyone in this group follows her except for Madison, and I don’t really know what Meredith does with her time besides take selfies while driving, take Boomerangs of herself sticking her tongue out, and taking videos of herself fake laughing.

dinner🍝

A post shared by MEREDITH MICKELSON (@meredithmickelson) on Jul 30, 2018 at 12:39pm PDT

Images: @presleygerber , @charlotteslawrence, @charlottedalessio , @chiara, @madisonbeer, @zackbia, @bananablue17, @emmadelury,@meredithmickelson / Instagram; @milliebeemoore / Twitter

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/who-is-kaia-gerber-who-are-her-friends-%c2%b7-betches/