#like seriously it went completely ham on me

[eventhorizon081]

As someone who fell hard for Xiangli Yao, I have to say -- words cannot articulate how let down I was by the Moonchase Act IV story, oh my gods. Spoilers below:

In the span of twenty minutes, I went from thinking "maybe wuwa can actually write a story" to so immensely frustrated. I read Xiangli Yao's character stories and I thought this was going to be something about how it isn't worth it to burn yourself away for the sake of pursuing more knowledge but NO they just turned it into some type of fairy tale everyone gets what they wanted in the end story. I thought Pascal was being built up to be a contrast to Xiangli Yao with the whole "I should give up everything for research" belief, while XLY believes in pacing himself and not burning up just to reach higher heights.

It's so immensely frustrating that wuwa's writers got halfway there, and then completely dropped the ball. First off, Abby fully killed the mood in the "circle of doors" room (but that's more of a personal gripe, and not really all that significant). Then, the whole "corruption" in the second half of the sonoro sphere journey was just so underexplained and badly done. I think the story had so much potential, with Pascal and the other researchers finally burning out when their research results yielded nothing. And then...there was nothing more that the quest had to say after that -- at least, nothing that wasn't incredibly muddled. Everyone's looking to Xiangli Yao to save them -- but why? We, as the readers, have zero context beyond "Xiangli Yao is a genius," and I think this scene in particular could have been done better if there was more of a clear invitation from the other researchers to Xiangli Yao -- an invitation to burn himself up in pursuit of research along with them. Yes, subtlety is good, but not in this case.

I'm also really conflicted about whether they should've written Pascal's work as so successful. I think it works, but the way they did it was completely wrong, because it actually teaches the opposite lesson: that we *should* burn ourselves out, because our work will have a legacy beyond us. I think that's a fine lesson to tell, but given that it goes against everything the writers were building up up to this point, it feels a little odd. They probably should've picked one side, instead of trying to do nuance in such a ham-handed way. Also, the lack of build-up to Pascal's big old confessional really felt like lazy storytelling. We went from "it's right to do anything to discover the knowledge I need" to "I was completely wrong and I should've backed off". And yes, I know, time and boss fights and all, but it was jarring to me, at least.

Also, can we fucking talk about Xiangli Yao *defending* Pascal's ideals during the boss fight? I'm actually going to throw hands, because it seems SO out-of-character for Xiangli Yao not to be concerned about Pascal's behavior at ANY POINT in that quest, and while I do think Xiangli Yao would defend Pascal's memory, I think he also wouldn't look up to Pascal as a role model of any sorts, given that they clearly had that fundamental rift in ideals.

Overall, super pissed about that quest because I can personally relate a lot to Xiangli Yao's conflicts (at least in his character stories), and I thought I was going to get a wonderful story where those conflicts were explored. I loved the lighthearted dating sim-esque parts of the moonchase quest, but I was seriously excited when I figured we were finally going to get an insight into XLY's character. Sadly, it was a bit of a letdown. Hoping that this isn't the last we see of Yao, though, because his character stories contain some JUICY facts about the worldbuiling of wuwa as a whole.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟗/𝟏𝟎)

Summary: There is little time left. Very little time. Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: angst, anti-Semitism French spoken -> italics

At first, it’s how Albert’s face seems to shut off each time your town’s name is seen on a sign at the side of the road, the mark that you’re getting closer to your destination. Then it’s how Tom looked like he wished for the earth to swallow him whole each time the bus station is mentioned, the place that will take you home.

It just seems so close now.

But there are good moments. At noon, when you find yourselves in the middle of nowhere with only the shade of the trees or a windmill to keep you cool, you all sit joyfully on the grass to eat what Charles and Germaine had generously given you; plenty of bread and ham to be able to walk without to a rumbling belly. It’s during those occasions that Tom never misses an opportunity to be next to you, the fact that you’ve taken to teaching him French seriously giving him a good reason to talk to you at length.

Not that he needed a good reason.

Everyone casually laughs at his attempts at pronunciation, each of them trying to participate and help where they can. But the truth is, he’d rather have you for himself, because he knew he could make you smile like he had never seen anyone else do, like nobody else could.

He wanted to be the only one.

“This isn’t even a word…”

“Yes it is!” you argued as you dropped your hand in defeat. “Poulailler is where the chickens go. Try it.”

He didn’t lose his teasing smile while he tried to pronounce it. “Yeah, still doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t bad. La poule is the chicken, le poulailler is the chicken coop, it’s as simple as that.”

“And how do you say rooster, then?”

You stopped yourself from answering him at the last second, red staining your cheeks slightly. “Mh, that you don’t want to know.”

“Why?”

You contemplated his curious and enticing smile before a voice interrupted you and your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N, can you tell me on the map where the store you slept in was again? Looks like a good hiding place for future travellers, if the owners get on board.”

You nod quietly to Giulia before taking the map from her to examine it while you heard Tom fall back at your side, disappointed. The conversation didn’t stray from the different points Giulia could use for her route, mentioning Raymond, whom Charles had said he would convince, and Albert, who already saw himself as a ‘passeur’ near Poitiers.

Tom was bored again, and you felt guilt at the sight of his glum expression. But it all went away when he suddenly comfortably rested his head on your lap, closing his eyes and proceeded to take a nap there as if it was the most natural thing to do.

There was a brief silence, but the others quickly reconvened around the current subject while indescribable affection and fulfilment flooded through you. You didn’t notice Henriette's discreet smile, Giulia’s indifference or Albert’s flickering eyes as you fell behind the conversation completely, coming to run your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips stretched into a content smile. The soft satisfying sound he made when you grazed your nails over his scalp cheered you, and only you heard his quiet praises, telling you how nice it felt.

This is what he had been talking about, making every moment count. You would not allow yourself to think of the end.

You didn’t leave his side once as you hit the road again, walking next to each other, hands itching to reach to the other. It felt liberating, confusing, good. However, the more you advanced, the more your feet started to gradually drag on the pathways, reluctant. You wished you could stretch the journey at will, to go back in time or simply think of this journey as a nice trip in the countryside. Not a way to make it home, to send him home.

To put all of this behind you.

But reality struck you like a slap in the face when you approached the next town, quiet streets with bricked walls plastered with the new government’s posters, and below one of them, an old looking graffiti with a single blood-icing sentence.

“Les Juifs sont la cause de la guerre.”

You all glanced at it before lowering your gazes and hastening the pace, taking the direction of the inn you would spend the night in in tensed silence.

Tom lingered a moment longer, trying to decipher the words without success. He trotted behind you, brows furrowed at your sudden sour faces. “What’s written there?”

You rolled your tongue inside of your mouth, ill at ease. “Jews are the reason for the war.”

He stopped, face decomposing after your whispered translation before glancing around in worry. But he quickly caught up with you as you neared the café terrace where both regulars and travellers were enjoying a drink or a well-deserved meal.

You exhaled in relief as you entered, the coolness of the inside air much more bearable after your journey, and by the time you sat around a table and booked rooms at the counter, Tom had found his usual silent countenance again. You could see the irritation in his eyes and within his gestures as he now could not utter a word out loud without earning a dark glance from Giulia, not until you were in a less crowded place again. It saddened you too.

You had to snap your eyes away from the way his tongue wetted his lips before taking a sip of his drink in frustration when Albert dropped a heavy book in front of you. “Phone book. I need your help finding Aunt Marie. It won’t hurt telling the parents we’re on our way.”

You nod, more like a reflex than anything else before opening the pages filled with countless telephone numbers. Tom eyed each time you turned a page with a dark expression, jaw clenching, but you said nothing as you continued. His glass was emptied by the time Henriette had gone to freshen herself in the commons, your own tired gaze fixed on the digits before you.

You didn’t notice the three policemen enter at first, the usualness of their visit blending perfectly with the rest of the customers, until they approached a table that had been awfully quiet since you’d arrived. 

It was the entire room’s turn to fall in a tense silence. “Gutten Haben, Henrren.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the German words, not understanding why two French Policemen had suddenly switched languages. The one that had spoken was giving a sad look at the men seated for dinner, the two other policemen gauging the room warily.

“Uh… Gutten Haben, what can I… do for you?” one of the men asked in awful French, his thick German accent making the policemen smile briefly. Meanwhile, sweat was starting to form over the man’s forehead.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with us. We’ve been told that you’re immigrants, German immigrants.”

The two Germanics exchanged frightened glances before gazing back at the rough-looking policeman. “But… We have papers, we obtained it from your government, months ago!”

The latter clicked his tongue, an uneasy scowl appearing on his features, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than them. “I’m afraid it won’t suffice. Our government has implemented new laws. You’re going home, I’m sorry.”

You heard murmurs around you, catching words like “ran away”, “Jewish” or “persecuted”. The next moment, Giulia was whispering in your ears. “Y/N, take Tom and go through the back entrance. If they are taking refugees, there is no say what they’ll do to a British soldier, and we can’t risk it. I’ll find Henriette.”

There was a strange state of purpose surpassing the brief panic that filled you before you took Tom’s hand softly under the table. He barely resisted when you led him away, heading to the back stairwell as the two Germans were taken out quietly out of the room and the two other policemen lingered around.

Tom didn’t say anything until you had reached a back alley with a slim stream coursing next to it. “What is it, what are we doing?”

You checked that the coast was clear before pulling him to a corner where no one would hear you. “I don’t… I don’t think this town is safe.”

“What are you talking about? I thought we’ve reached a ‘free’ place where they couldn’t chase us. Were they German folks?”

“I think they… I think they were Jewish refugees from Germany, yes,” you thought out loud, digging your teeth in your lower lip in anguish. “The Reich wants them back, for…”

“And what the hell has it gotta do with those French coppers?”

You knew how helpless you looked at that moment, how lost. “Because this is the new regime! Pétain will do anything Hitler asks of him, and there is no say where it’ll stop… You would be taken as a prisoner of war, you have no papers, you have nothing…” You bit your tongue darkly. “Somebody ratted out those Germans, that's how they knew.”

Tom parted his lips in exasperation before clenching his jaw hard. “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant.”

He leaned his head against the darkened wall, right next to a propaganda poster, Pétain looking down at you with high colours as if he could see you, hear you. 

You bit your nails, stressed. “But it won’t happen to you! You’ve got Giulia, you’ve got a safe route to Spain, and there are no Nazis on this side, it’ll be alright.”

“Once again, Y/N, you don’t know that. I’m the first wanker who is making sure that crossing will not get me killed. Not that I’ll care about making it now, anyway…”

Shock at his words made your breath momentarily get stuck in your throat. You lowered your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to keep a straight face.

But you tensed and didn’t even know where to look. 

He immediately realised what he had said, pushing himself off of the wall to make you look at him. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head as he held you close, making you go soft against him. “Why would you say that…”

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he repeated against your hair. “I’m just bloody tired, and it’s like I can’t see past the moment when… when we…” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about me then.”

You detached your face from his chest, looking up at him with fierce damped eyes. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Tom.”

You saw the lump in his throat disappear as he swallowed hard, glistening eyes fixed on you. You cupped his face with your hand, bringing him into a kiss that would make him understand, feel your need for him.

“You don’t get to give up, you hear me, Tom Bennett?”

He all but smiled, a ray of light in the dark. “You should know me by now, nothing can take me down, not even a bullet.”

You smiled in turn, trying not to leave his warmth as you kept your body close. “You know, I can’t help but think that… if you haven’t been shot, we might have never met again.”

You stared at each other while his thumb stroked your shoulders, lowering to your ribs, to your waist.

He took a deep breath. “Some might say it’s God’s plan and all. Either way, considering where I am now… I’d say it was worth it, this damn hell I've been through.”

He was drawing small circles against the curve of your waist, tickling your skin and you chuckled through the bitterness. “Always the charmer, are you?” 

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was known for back at home, wasn’t I? Gotta live up to the name.”

You hummed, coming to wrap your hands around his neck to stroke the soft hair there playfully. “That’s not exactly what I remember your reputation to be.” 

“Hm? Care to tell me, then?” he teased.

You faked hesitation, pressing your forehead against his to whisper. “Trouble maker… Loud-mouthed… Hot blooded?”

He pouted. “That… does not sound like me at all.”

His hidden laughter made you tilt your head to the side in refound glee. “Doesn’t it? I could have sworn it was you. Maybe I should look for another Tom?”

He instantly pressed his body harder against yours, familiar heat meeting your flesh. “Why would you do that when you have what’s best right there? Helpful, good-looking, amazing kisser…”

“Oh, really? I don’t remember hearing anything about that last part.”

“Odd, since you’re the one who told me, love,” he said with a grin as you arched an eyebrow over your forehead. "Through the pretty sounds you make, that look in your eyes when I touch you… I just can tell.”

You shook your head with a sigh to try to hide the blush that adorned your cheeks as he joined his lips with yours again. The touch sent chills down your spine and it suddenly made you feel far away from the inn, from any risks that could come your way.

“Are you Jewish?”

The small tone made you stop and snap your eyes open. A small child stood behind Tom, no more than eight, looking at the two of you with a paper plane in his hands, his expression flat.

You froze in Tom’s arms as you blinked, his head falling backwards in annoyance as you pulled away from him. “I, uhm… No? Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”

The child frowned at your confused tone. “Then, why are you hiding?”

You remained speechless at his question as Tom’s warning tone fanned in your left ear. “Y/N, if I turn around that lad is going to be traumatised. You should really make him go.”

You scowled at his complicit eyes as you tried not to feel his point. You detached yourself from him, making him sigh in frustration as you approached the boy gently. “We’re hiding because… we’re playing a game. Tom here was meant to find me, and he did. We were just discussing… game strategy. Where are your parents?”

The boy sniffed, an untrustworthy look fixed on you. “My father says that Jews are bad, that they’re everywhere and steal everything from us. That’s why the Germans want them.”

You tried not to appear too gobsmacked as you lowered yourself to him, a sour taste in your mouth. “You know… Maybe you shouldn’t listen to everything your father says, I can assure you they-”

Tom’s impatience was palpable behind you and when he called your name, the boy’s frown deepened, clutching his paper plane harder as he glanced between the two of you. “Maybe I should go and ask my father directly, he’ll know.”

“No, wait!” you tried, but he had already scattered toward the house right at the opposite side of the road, disappearing behind a fence.

Tom came to your level, seeing you heave with distress. “What was that?” 

“Not reassuring.”

You took his hand swiftly and dragged him along the stream in haste, wishing to put as much distance between you and the concerning neighbourhood before the boy could find you. Despite Tom’s hissed arguments as you kept walking, you only stopped when you reached the underside of a bridge, considering it far enough and feeling your slightly panicked heart settle.

“Are you giving me a tour?” he chuckled as he took in his surroundings. “It’s very pretty, I’ll give you that.”

It was. The bridge you had stopped under was small but big enough to hide you from anyone above. The evening light shone right on the stream below your feet and cast beams of light on the white stones. On the other side, a lone fisherman was laying his line in the calm waters, a bored eye lifted toward you as you turned to face Tom with a frustrated sigh.

“Darn this country. I’m sorry I dragged you here again, I just didn’t want to face people with problematic ideas. I didn’t want to get angry.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Does my girl get angry, really?”

“When people are stupid, yes!”

He chuckled as he pulled you away from under the bridge in order to walk along the stream, hand in hand. The grin he wore upon his lips was so endearing, as if he had no care in the world. "I’m afraid you’ll have to do an awful lot of fightin’, then.”

You exhaled as you pressed your thumb against the back of his hand, making him grin further. The night was setting quickly and already humidity was falling over your skin, eliciting goosebumps there.

“Do you even know how to get back?” he asked, looking around as you passed a small pier.

“Yeah, it’s somewhere… around there,” you gestured vaguely over your left to the path that led back on the road, hesitant. If truth was to be told, you were not in a hurry to get back, those moments with him seemed so precious to you.

Tom hummed, unconvinced but did not add anything else. As you went up the pathway, smells of dinners being cooked and playful screams of children reached you, and when you neared a small square further down the road, you heard the soft sound of a gramophone starting to play. Tom’s lips slowly curved upwards as he glanced over the high window where the music was coming from.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he turned around to face you, a playful glint in his eyes.

He didn’t answer, only brought you to a stop before taking one of your hands in his and putting the other on your waist. When the voice of Lys Gauty resounded, slow and beautiful along the violins, you felt yourself move in his embrace. 

You laugh softly, feeling silly at each of your steps. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I went to a few of Lois’ gigs,” he said with a snidely. “I observed.”

“I’ve never seen you attend one…”

You saw his expression drop as you kept moved in rhythm. “Yeah, well, once I went there, knowing you would be there but when I arrived, you were dancing with some bloke and… I didn’t feel like staying.”

You watched his long eyelashes flutter, the skin under his eyes turning reddish as he fled your gaze. He was beautiful.

But you couldn’t help but tease him. “I remember. He was quite nice, offered me a drink afterwards…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about it, really.”

You smiled tenderly, bringing a hand you wanted apologetic closer to his face. “He was not you, though. You wouldn’t have tried to get me drunk, right?”

Tom’s smile grew sardonic, satisfied. “The git.”

“Yeah,” you whispered as you pressed your lips against his smug ones, grinning through the kiss.

You lost yourselves in the melody, bodies moving languidly along the female soothing voice as he held you close, faces resting against each other.

“It’s nice… What does it say?” he asked after a while, hot breath fanning over your cheek.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. The word slowly sank in and unexpectedly made your heart ache, their meaning passing over you like a cold wind. “It’s from a movie, I think. It’s… kind of sad.”

“Tell me.”

You felt some of his hair graze the side of your face as your voice turned a bit broken. “It’s about two young lovers of twenty. They lived very close, but although they loved each other they never had the courage to confess, until they kissed and all became brighter.”

He readjusted his position against you. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

The music turned sombre, trumpets playing in as you continued. “But then hope disappeared, and all took the shade of the night. They grew apart, and their story became part of the past, their shared dreams left behind as if nothing happened between them.”

Tom fell silent, his fingers pressing deeper into your palm and waist as you opened your eyes.

If the words resonated strongly within the two of you, their weight crushing like a hammer, you did your best to not let the other feel it. You couldn't let yourself be controlled by these emotions, not so close to the end.

The song ended on a distorted note and a click as your light steps slowed on the paved stone. When the melody started again, the same melancholic words repeating, you decided that you had enough.

You couldn't bear it. “We should go back.”

You slowly pulled away from him, shivering from the cold air around you from the loss of his embrace but felt his grip over your hand harden, securing you into place. He hadn’t moved, a determined expression displayed over his features, the one he took when he was battling against his emotions.

You looked at him expectantly. “You haven’t changed your mind, have ya? I really can’t convince you to come with me anymore.”

You tried to focus on his touch in order to shut out the now irritable music coming from the window above, to shut out the emotions that threatened to make tears appear at the rim of your eyes. Nothing was as bitter than your heart at that particular moment. 

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded slowly after a long while, his lips curling in bitterness, resignation. When you met his eyes, you could have sworn that the light inside of them had gone, the lively glint inhabiting it. But his hand remained locked with yours, warm and tight.

When you got back to the inn the night had fallen completely.

You often wondered what would have happened if you had listened to your father, if you hadn’t come home from England, stayed away from the war.

Would you still be in your tiny flat, not far from the centre? Would you be worried sick about Tom, as staring at the door he had slammed behind him like he had just left? Would he have even slammed it in anger if he had been the first to leave, and not you? 

By now, the news of his disappearance or potential death must have reached Manchester, and you wondered how you would have felt if you had been on the other side of the mirror. You pictured a devastated Douglas, a lost and helpless Lois listening to the wireless. You couldn't even fathom the state you would have been in, if you weren't here, knowing he was perfectly out of danger, close to being reunited with your parents and having found your brother safe against all odds.

The greatest difference from where you stood was that here, you would have to see him leave, never to come back.

You're taken out of your reveries as you reached a crossroad, one moment Henriette asking you if you were alright, the other the boisterous voice of your brother making your head lift up in a quick motion.

"This is it,"  he announced, examining the sign in front of you. "This way is Châteauroux… where you'd be able to take the train,” he said toward Giulia as he waved somewhere over his right. “And this way is Poitiers. Our path.”

Your feet planted on the ground like they had suddenly grown roots and you felt the oxygen lack in your lungs as you forgot to breathe. You stared at the sign helplessly, trying to comprehend the words written on it, unwilling to.

You barely heard the conversation going vividly around you as the others said goodbye with warm embraces. Your eyes were turned toward Tom, finding him already looking at you and you felt your heart drop in your chest. His blue eyes bright, piercing, his mouth drawn in a tight line. 

Only when the small form of Giulia came to block your vision were you forced to tear your gaze away from him. "Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you. You really helped."

Your voice seemed to sound far away when you answered clumsily, barely present in the moment with her. 

You felt so empty. "Oh, I, uhm… really?"

"Yes, more than you know."

Her smile managed to snatch one from you, but it didn’t linger as she hugged you kindly. Over her shoulder, you saw your brother shake Tom’s hand and Henriette bid him good luck with a smile, but he barely managed to return it. Instead, silence settled in the air as Giulia let go of you, your gaze fixed on Tom, speechless.

Henriette was the first to speak after a while, clearing her throat awkwardly. "We should give them a minute."

The crunching noise of pebbles on the ground as they stepped away resonated too loudly in your ears. Tom approached you carefully, his fair skin paler than usual against the warm summer air.

You fumbled with your hands, eyes barely able to meet his penetrative ones.

"I guess this is goodbye then," you said, throat achingly dry.

He didn't answer, staring at you relentlessly, making you hyper aware of the scorching heat gradually forming beneath your eyes. "You'll say hi to your father and sister for me, yeah? And to the baby…"

His mouth remained closed as you shifted uncomfortably into place, crushed under his gaze. 

Not having enough of it. 

"Stop looking at me like that…"

His eyes flickered, the softness of his tone surprising you as he parted his lips. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're… like you're mad at me."

'I'm not-" he began, shaking his head. "I'm not mad at you, I just… It's just fucking unfair."

You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth. “We’ll see each other again. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Then why does it bloody feel like it?”

You couldn't answer, the uncertainty of your lives too much to even think about, rendering promises achingly pointless. You bit the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt to stay composed, but when he lowered his gaze and took your hands in his, you froze.

They were so warm, perfect for you.

"Listen, Y/N, about these three words, these three damn very known words... I really need to say th-"

"No, please Tom, don't," you pleaded, feeling the dampness of your eyes barely holding in. "I can't… I couldn't cope. Please."

His face decomposed, eyes strained sadly upon you, lost. The words burned his tongue, melted his heart. Still, he didn’t say them.

You couldn't bear it, the expression he wore, your own doing. You felt a tear form at the rim of your right eye and you leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his to hide it from him. He sighed against you immediately, eyes closed and hands trailing up your arms.

He felt so good. 

“Don't you dare forget about me, Y/N."

He sought out your lips, his nose digging into your cheek and you caved, melting into his needy kiss. It was slow and painfully sweet, realising that it could be your last. As his hands cupped your face more strongly, calloused fingers burning your numb flesh, you allowed yourself to make it last.

You pulled apart, panting for air as you remained in each other's embrace, your hands pressed against his chest. You found his heart to be beating as fast as yours, as shattered as yours.

After a sharp inhale, you felt it settle gradually as you tried to memorise the feel of him in your mind, to imprint it into your skin. 

"Goodbye, Tom."

You kept your eyes shut as a single tear finally rolled down your cheek, your body aching as you battled against his softening grip. When you pulled away from him sharply, you could only repress a shuddering breath.

You didn't allow yourself to look back until you had reached the others, and when you finally turned, he hadn't moved a muscle, weary eyes strained in you, powerless as he stood in the middle of the path.

It took everything you had not to let more of your tears fall.

Giulia gave you a quick movement of the head before joining him. She had to call his name before he finally followed her. Henriette stroked your back as you watch him reluctantly walk backwards, his eyes not leaving your face.

Maybe it would be easier to just close yours, embrace the darkness, to not witnesses that wretched moment.

But you couldn't, and by the time he had disappeared around a corner, your cheeks had dried and the pain in your stomach had turned dull.

There were still a few more miles until you would reach the bus station, and you couldn't utter a word, barely acknowledging your surroundings as you kept walking.

Only when you were safely seated in the bus did you feel all of the emotion crashing down, true tears being finally released. There was no dull pain anymore, but aching regret clutching at your heart, and you had to press against your chest in an attempt to soothe the pain. 

"Y/N, what's happening?"

You tried to breathe, to remain quiet, but it was too painful. "I should have let him say it… I should have said it back, I should-" you panted in muffled cries as Henriette watched you with worry. "I should have said that I loved him."

You didn't calm down until you arrived at your destination.

Part 10 (and last one.)

Thank you @babyblue711 for you support and amazing beta reading, as always.

Music Tom and reader dance to:

A/N: The installation of antisemitism within the Vichy government occurred much later, the first step with a new Jewish status on October 1940. I fast fowarded it so it can be applied on the story, in July-August 1940. The persecution in Non-Occupied Zone came much later as well, but it didn’t prevent the hate toward the Jews in France. Jew immigrates were, however, arrested during that time, because they weren’t French (who still had some semblance of rights early in the war.) Same goes for the prisoners of war.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines@nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n @queenofshinigamis @helaelaemond

[scribblesbyb]

The Day I Died (And Didn't Notice!)

Based on a prompt by @writing-prompt-s! It really tickled me funny so enjoy my take on it.

Prompt: You died the way you lived: having no clue what's going on. You are so clueless that you didn't even notice that you died and just got up and went to work like normal the next day.

Business as Usual

I died the way I lived: having no clue what's going on.

Seriously, I was the person who forgot their own birthday. So, naturally, the whole dying thing completely slipped past me. One moment I was trying to figure out why the elevator music in my office sounded like a dying cat, and the next... well, I was dead. But who has time for that?

The next morning, my alarm clock blared its usual obnoxious tune. I slapped the snooze button with my usual precision, groaning about another day in the trenches of corporate boredom.

I didn't notice the faint ethereal glow around my hands or the fact that I floated to the bathroom instead of walking. Ghostly bathroom habits, it turns out, are remarkably similar to the living kind.

The Commute

On my way to work, I passed through my usual routine: nodding at Mrs. Pigglywiggle as she walked her forty-seven Chihuahuas, grabbing a coffee from Pete's, and trying not to trip over my own feet. I did wonder why Pete's was empty, save for Pete himself, who looked rather pale.

"Morning, Pete!" I chirped, grabbing my coffee.

Pete blinked at me, a drop of coffee spilling onto his apron. "Uh, morning?"

"New look, huh? Pale chic?" I grinned. Pete just stared, and I figured he was finally taking my fashion advice to heart.

Work is Dead Boring

I arrived at the office and slipped into my cubicle, ready for another day of pretending to work while actually perusing cat videos. My coworkers, who usually ignored me, seemed especially distant today. Literally, they all kept their distance. It was like I had a force field around me.

I shrugged and turned on my computer. The screen flickered, then went dark. "Stupid piece of junk," I muttered, thumping it a few times. The screen flashed a message: ERROR: User Not Found.

"That's new," I said, squinting at the screen. I rebooted it, because when in doubt, reboot. But it stayed stubbornly black.

A Strange Meeting

Lunchtime rolled around, and I decided to hit the vending machines. My usual ham and cheese sandwich wasn’t doing it for me. As I reached for a bag of chips, my hand went right through the machine.

"Great, now even vending machines are against me," I grumbled. I looked around to see if anyone noticed, but everyone seemed too engrossed in their own lives—or too intent on avoiding mine.

That’s when Larry, the office prankster, walked up. "Hey, you going to the meeting?"

"What meeting?" I asked.

"The one with the Grim Reaper," he said with a grin. Larry loved his jokes.

"Sure, I'll bite. Where's this Grim Reaper meeting?" I played along.

Larry pointed down the hall. "Conference Room B. You can't miss it."

Meeting the Reaper

I strolled into Conference Room B, expecting to find Larry’s prank in full swing. Instead, there was a figure in a black cloak, complete with a scythe. His hood was down, revealing a surprisingly average face. He looked like he could have been an accountant.

"Take a seat," the Grim Reaper said, checking his clipboard. "Let's see, who do we have here?"

I blinked. "Uh, I'm here for the meeting?"

"Yes, yes," he muttered, flipping pages. "Ah, here you are. Charlie Thompson, right?"

"That's me," I said, sitting down. "So, what's this all about? Is this some new kind of employee evaluation?"

The Reaper looked at me over his glasses. "Charlie, you're dead."

I laughed. "Good one. Larry put you up to this?"

The Reaper sighed. "This is always the hardest part." He waved his hand, and the room shimmered. Suddenly, I was looking at myself, slumped over my desk, with a bunch of coworkers huddled around, looking horrified.

"Oh," I said, tilting my head. "So, that's why my computer didn't recognize me."

Adjusting to Death

The Reaper nodded. "It takes some getting used to."

I glanced at my ethereal hands. "So, what now? Is there like a ghost orientation or something?"

The Reaper chuckled. "Not exactly. But there are a few things you should know. For starters, haunting your old workplace isn't going to do you any good."

"Right," I said. "Guess I should move on, huh?"

"That would be wise," he said. "But don't worry. The afterlife isn't as bad as you might think. Plenty of cat videos, too."

Embracing the Afterlife

As the days turned into... well, whatever they turn into in the afterlife, I started getting the hang of things. Turns out, being dead isn't so different from being alive. Except for the whole corporeal body thing. And people finally started to notice me, albeit other dead people.

I even ran into Mrs. Pigglywiggle one day. "Fancy meeting you here," she said, her Chihuahuas swirling around her like a furry tornado.

"Yeah, small afterlife, huh?" I replied.

The Grim Reaper Returns

One day, as I was floating through what I called Ghost Starbucks (it wasn't really Starbucks, but it had that vibe), the Grim Reaper appeared again.

"Charlie," he said, looking a bit flustered. "We need to talk."

"Uh oh, am I in trouble?" I asked, sipping my ethereal coffee.

"Not exactly. There's been a mistake," he said, shuffling his papers. "Turns out, you're not supposed to be dead yet."

I nearly choked on my ghost coffee. "What?"

"Yeah, some mix-up in the paperwork. You're supposed to go back," he explained.

Chapter Nine: Back to the Living

In a flash, I was back in my body, blinking at the concerned faces of my coworkers. Larry was holding a bucket of water, ready to splash me.

"Charlie, you okay?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling the rush of life returning. "Yeah, I think so."

As everyone sighed in relief and patted me on the back, I couldn't help but chuckle. The Grim Reaper had a sense of humor after all.

Later that day, I got an email. It was from Pete, the coffee shop guy. "Welcome back," it said.

I smiled. Maybe being clueless wasn't so bad after all.

The Bright Side

And so, I returned to my life with a newfound appreciation for the little things. Like breathing. And not walking through walls. And understanding that sometimes, even death can be just another quirky chapter in the book of life.

But just in case, I keep an eye out for the Grim Reaper. You never know when he might drop by for a chat. Or another mix-up.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2023: #18

18. AUSTRIA Teya & Salena - "Who the hell is Edgar?" 15th place

Decade ranking: 51/116 [Above Ronela, below Jeangu]

OOOOOH MIO PADRE, I'VE GOTTA ROAST ME SOME BARBIES, ooooooooooh no.

It does NOT pay to be funny, sadly. Yeah, I wish I didn't have to go there, but sometimes the stars just don't align. With Loreen and Pasha being reunited and the year generally being mediocre, Liverpool 2023 already had enough parallels with Baku 2012. The "preshow obsession has a disappointing live" part I could have done without.

Like seriously. Was there ever a more slam-dunk end of contest favourite for me than TeyaLena? (well other than You Know Who, but we'll get there). My recent faves were Think About Things, Shum and In Corpore Sano. All uptempo, all enjoyable, all secretly very clever entries, eating and mothering (or in Da­ði's case brothering) as THE act on everyone's lips as the dust settled. Edgar was one of two entries who could have been The One for this year!!! But as Poe Poe Poe became Poo Poo Poo I'm forced to pack up my praise pen and bring out my critical analysis quill :-/

Fortunately, like the ladies, I am such a good writer, so enjoy this lengthy review, which is more like a vivisection:

ON THE FLAWS OF 'WHO THE HELL IS EDGAR?'

The first instinct would be to say that the song was impossible to bring, but I don't buy into that logic. "Edgar" was great, a vision, and absolute fucking BANGER. That's the hill, I'll die on. Despite the flaws of its live, I will always cherish it as a song.

Granted, the song was a lot of things at once. That's what made it both iconic and live liability. You try to explain to a layman casual audience member what Edgar is about. How it satirizes the music industry. How self-deprecating it is. What an API is. What an A&R is. What the 0.003 stands for. Now do that in the THIRTY SECONDS TIME FRAME it takes for the video teaser to play. You can't. You can be the best commentator or the most eloquent eurovision-obsessed guncle. Also, you're making me think with your words. Thinking bad. ME WANT ENJOY SHOW. ME WANT GOOD TIME, NO THINK.

So, there's two approaches you can take here, if you play to win.

The first by embracing the campness and going full ham, which how the televote countries would handle it. Your Moldovas, Ukraines, Finlands, Serbias, Norways. Hand Edgar over to one of them, and TeyaLena would start bent over a laptop or typewriter, harrassed by ravens or men in Edgar Allen Poe costumes, who would so a possessed zombie dance while TeyaLena try to escape the clutches.

Naturally, such an act requires less effort from the performers and could be seen as an easy cop-out by juries (die, juries!) and result in a loss of points and well, Austria don't play that way. Austria don't have a built in televote base and feel they are better off playing for the same juries that would normally reject an Edgar.

So instead they went for option two: embrace the hyperpop and try to build momentum off its hyperactivity. Fair enough, that's less interesting and safe, but a valid choice that can result in a very good time.

On this occasion though, it was a MISTAKE.

The best part about Edgar was the combination of dumb hyperpop memes with clever satire, and the staging ignored the latter completely. It showed Edgar Allan Poe TWICE, and then spliced in the Spotify reference in the background without context. That was all the act did with the satire. They should have named this song "Where the hell is Edgar?". The vague references only work when the entire audience is already in on the joke, otherwise it's a three mins of braincell murder. If a pleb tuned in blind (over 75% of the audience), tough luck on them for trying to make sense of it all. SHOULD HAVE FOLLOWED ESC ON TIKTOK!!!.

Bottom line: THE STAGING WAS PEDANTIC.

Thematic acts can alleviate that problem. Think Konstrakta's spa tableau vivant, Katryna's tron aureole, the presence of Gagnamagnið on the stage alongside Daði Freyr. This year we had Vesna's hexaplet choreography, Käärijä's ballroom dancers, Loreen's panini press, Gustaph's motivational graphics, even Alika's fucking self-playing piano applies to this principle. All of these did well, the competent ones with juries, the camp ones with the tv. Intuitive but thematically fitting visual cues that instinctively get the vibe across without requiring the audience to ponder it too deeply (or become a parody, I SEE YOU, France.) that's what effecive staging is about. Now compare the above good stagings to what Austria came up with: Four dancers in Samanta Tina garb, some more created by the LEDs in the background, and a VERY basic choreography. This is not a just simplification but a dumbing down. Every visual cue comes across as nonsensical, because nothing quite ties it together with the music. If only the song itself had provided us with a clear visual reference point, huh?

Of course, a dumbed down staging concept could still yield a good result despite itself if the live was teeming with energy and bounced off in every direction to match the music. Folks would be voting based on pure performance skill and nothing else. After all, Ewnicorn bluffed its way into third on that very principle. Sadly, neither Teya nor Salena were versed in the art of singing and dancing at the same time.

So ultimately, you're given this awkward performance where Teya acted really well and produced delectable facial expressions - I mean who doesn't love THIS:

-but failed to harmonize with Salena, while Salena hit most of her notes but clearly struggled with the Dietmann's simplistic, toddler-like choreography, like a Leila Jane or Mirud on stilts. Nice that they complimented each others weaknesses by showcasing opposite talents, but if you wanna do well just get yourself a girl who can do both.

And there we have it, Teya and Salena. High Risk, High Reward usually plays out for the better, but this is one such occasion where the high risk was avoided and the just reward was a disappointing score on the middle of the scoreboard. Such is the price of not embracing your queer-coded campness in Eurovision. We have landed in mild-like hell, just like Nina Zilli and Jonsi and all the others that I wish I could love more, but sadly did not live up to their initial hype. That too is life. Onward to better things, and things will surely get good as we move forward, right?

THE RANKING

[miniimapp]

Random 4*TOWN Headcanons

Gen ;; Fluff + Crack - Headcanons

Warnings ;; nah

Proofread + Edited ;; no

Auth. Note ;; WELCOME TO DAY 8 OF THE 4*TOWN CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN !!

Am tired and this is p low effort and last minute, sorry, better stuff will be coming today is just not my day lmao

Enjoy !! <3

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Tae Young, Jesse and Robaire were classically trained instrumentalists when they were kids. Tae Young was violin, Jesse was flute and Robaire was piano. T plays ukulele don't ask me why he just does and also the kalimba. Z can play the harmonica. Jesse also plays the guitar

Z learnt the harmonica from his grandad - they had a really close relationship before he died.

Jesse cycled through a lot of different instruments trying to find the one for him (clarinet, trumpet, drums, piano, violin, double bass) before landing on flute and then later on guitar as well

There are some really odd demo tracks and some completely unreleased songs that just go ham with any instrument that they felt like throwing in

They're utter chaos

Truly just a wall of noise at some points

Fun noise,, but still noise

I feel like they have a theatre thing,, all of them

Just like random improv games or,,

Suddenly acting out a famous scene in a very melodramatic way or,,

Randomly bursting out in songs from musicals and somehow knowing the full choreography for them..

Jesse is the one who starts their musical outburst 8 times out of 10

Sometimes though he'll start singing and the others will start to join in,, realise they have ko fucking clue what he's singing and then just listen to him solo like the king he is

T will 100% just start garbling rubbish if he doesn't know the words,, improv king over here

Seriously,, this man can go on with a bit for eons if he feels like it

He'll stay completely in character and be going string while the others are creasing and have no idea wtf to say

Mans lives for it

Oh your singing ?? Tae is adding a harmony onto that for you <3

Somehow he manage to find a harmony for everything and he finds it FUCKING IMMEDIATELY

Does make Robaire a lil jealous with his harmony abilities sometimes

Sometimes though Tae will just go from some ethereal harmony into a goblin voice while still singing the harmony

He's a great impressionist tbh

His voice can go deeper than most people expect,, its a lil uncomfy and he just doesn't like how he sounds so it doesn't happen often

When it does though, Tae is using it for evil

I'm talking demonic noises in the corner while the light are out

Z is the one who somehow knows all th dance moves to every musical ever

Mans starts teaching it to the others too as if they're not complete disasters

My guy has too much faith in these numpties

Z is also really fucking sneaky

So Jesse will be wiping the counter and all of a sudden there's something blowing on his neck

Dramatic ass jumps like 3 feet in the air and shrieks so loud

Z loves jump scaring all of the other members when he can

Also because this is a struggle for me and I need someone to relate to.. caffeine of any kind makes Z so incredibly tired

Like,, half a cup with half him out for 6 hours straight, wake up for dinner because Jesse went to get him and then straight back to sleep

Mans gets over 24 hours of sleep that day

Problem is Z is an energy drink fanatic

And zap the energy right of him

SO

The boys somehow manage to find him caffeine free energy drinks and he's never been more thankful istg

Z just wants to pretend he isn't about o pass out when he's supposed to be wired to high heaven

What's the point of having a drink that's really bad for if you don't even get the short-lived fun effects ??

Robaire loves to flaunt his coffee in Z's face all of the fucking time

Z doesn't even like coffee but it's the principle of the thing

Anways

Robaire would be having his main character moment as they're all jamming out

Singing into Jesse's hairbrush in front the mirror type vibes

Z gets so fed up with it so quickly

Ro doesn't care though

He's having his moment

It's his time to shine

And shine he will

Definitely broke something once trying to climb up onto the kitchen table in a feat of dramatics

Probably a vase Jesse made

Jesse was p upset about it tbh

So the others took it,, glued it back together and then decorated one of the broken pieces each

Now it's the statement piece

And it's glorious

Really wish to bask in it's shine tbh

[heyclickadee]

Aaaaaaaannnd it looks like my inevitable biennial Darkwing Duck phase just hit. Apologies in advance. I am probably going to be annoying.

So! Darkly Dawns the Duck:

1. Who do I have to kill to get the original opening scene back in with the rest of the episode? Like. That little action sequence is a perfect way to introduce the character and the show. Almost everything you need to know is right there. Darkwing is a mildly bumbling adrenaline junkie who’s just barely good enough at his “job” to get things done. Also, it’s a cartoon; the violence is made up and the injuries don’t matter. Unless they do.

2. Almost everything you need to know. The rest of everything you need to is in the very next scene where Darkwing is hamming it up, handing glossies to a cop, and lamenting the fact that he spent all afternoon ironing is cape now that there’s nary a reporter in sight.

3. Darkwing narrates his life and monologues to himself. He’s such a tool. I love it.

4. Listen, I’m aware that Tad Stones is very much a Silver Age comics guy, and that this cartoon is completely uninterested in explaining how, exactly, Darkwing pays for, you know, all his very expensive equipment (besides moonlighting as a freelance SHUSH agent from time to time), because it’s just not that kind of show, but I’m interested. (Honestly, the more ridiculous the explanation, the better.)

5. How long did it take Darkwing to put together everything for the breakfast routine? I mean, it’s not as though he has a life outside of being Darkwing, so I guess he’d have time. But still.

6. I always forget Tim Curry is in this. Taurus Bulba is slightly less funny and unhinged than you’re typical Darkwing villain, but he’s honestly half of what makes this intro episode work. He’s a little more serious, so the stakes feel a little higher.

7. Aaaaand Darkwing’s still monologuing to himself. As he does.

8. The fourth wall is paper thin.

9. “Clever of me to use my spine to break my fall.” — Tech Badbatch, probably.

10. More (less?) seriously, last time I hit the inevitable biennial Darkwing Duck phase, I kept trying to find a Darkwing Duck podcast to listen to, and I kept getting frustrated, because the hosts kept talking about this show the same way they would about, say, Batman: The Animated Series or Young Justice. Yes, they’re all animated, yes, they’re all about superheroes, and yes, they all stretch physical reality to some extent, but Darkwing Duck exists in an entirely different genre than the other two. Heck, it’s even in a slightly different genre than the original DuckTales series.

It’s a cartoon—a cartoon grounded by an emotional center in the relationship between Gosalyn and Darkwing—but a cartoon along the lines of the old Looney Tunes shorts nonetheless. Like. No, Darkwing doesn’t have secret superpowers. He gets anvils dumped on his head until he gets over himself every episode because it’s funny. The laws of physics as well as any danger of real physical harm coming to the characters is dependent entirely on the emotional needs of the scene at hand, and the emotional needs of the scene at hand tend to be rooted in comedy. Same goes for continuity. I may or may not be a hypocrite about this at times.

11. So I just hit the part where Darkwing and Launchpad meet and good lord, Darkwing really is a jerk and Launchpad really is a golden retriever.

12. I love how Bulba just casually mentions that his henchmen murdered Gosalyn’s grandpa.

13. Speaking of Gosalyn….

14. Man, I love Gosalyn. I love that she’s kind of a “problem”, that she tends to act out, that she’s a handful, and that she’s clearly upset by having been told that she’s a problem by the adults in her life (by the ones at the orphanage, anyway). She’s an outgoing but clearly lonely kid, and one of the very few kids from any shows from this era that actually feels like a kid.

15. Okay, yeah, I know I just went on a rant about cartoons, but adult me panics every time I watch the part where Gos realizes that Hammerhead is there to kidnap her.

16. Just an observation, but Darkwing is way more…I don’t know, personable with Gosalyn once they get back to his hideout than he was with Launchpad in that earlier scene. He’s still self aggrandizing and sarcastic, but he’s not nearly as caustic. (For now.) I’m honestly not sure he knows how to talk to other adults in a “normal” way when he’s doing the Darkwing thing, which is more or less all the time.

17. Aaaaand I’m reading too much into it now. Back to the funny.

18. I paused and now I can’t breathe

Look at this idiot.

19. I love that Taurus Bulba just happens to have an airship shaped like his face. In prison. Just because.

20. Photos taken moments before disaster

21. “You should have seatbelts, too!” Blink twice if the S&P department is making you say that, Gos.

22. That said, it is actually really sweet that Darkwing does end up taking the helmet Gos found when he rides off a few scenes later. (

23. Little girl blue 🥹

24. Okay but WHY did Dr. Waddlemeyer make a Simon Says the control panel for his levitation ray?

25. Man, Darkwing is such an insecure jackass.

26. Listen to the kid, my dude.

27. See? That’s what you get! (Darkwing really deserves the dressing down Bulba gives him in this scene. Also: Does he make funny accordion noises when he gets squished like that?)

28. Why do I get the feeling that if this episode came out today and was a Star War that people would be complaining about how hard it was for Bulba’s hitmen to catch a ten year old?

29. Honestly, I love how they thread the needle of Gosalyn being perfectly capable of handling herself and yet still being a kid who may eventually need help if the problem gets too big.

30. Oh, the jail scene. I’m still annoyed that the most unhinged part of Darkwing’s monologue is missing (the episodes on the DVDs and streaming and elsewhere that I’ve found are the ones that ran in syndication. And, for Darkly Dawns the Duck, that means it was cut in two and chopped up to fit in the syndication time slot, so there are a few scenes missing. The ones I miss most are the opening and part of the jail monologue), but what’s left is still probably the most honest thing Darkwing says about himself the whole show. There’s something about him that’s just. Deeply maladjusted. And it’s great. I love it. 10/10, no notes.

31. Nope, got serious again. Time for Launchpad to bring the funny.

32. Launchpad made a damn stealth plane shaped like Darkwing’s head. Just because.

33. Ah yes, the tried and true Darkwing method of combat: throwing yourself bodily at the enemy and shouting nonsense.

34. I always somehow forget that Bulba just decides he’s gonna murder a kid for kicks. He’s got the code by that point, he doesn’t need her anymore, and he doesn’t need to twist Darkwing’s arm to get anything. He’s just gonna kill Gosalyn. It’s just child murder time. And it feels like Gosalyn’s in danger because, again, the rules of physics apply depending on the emotional needs of the scene.

35. “Mom was right. I should have been a dental hygienist.” That is such a random line and I kind of love it.

36. Sorry to being this back around the The Bad Batch because, again, this show is a completely different genre of animated show, but Gosalyn’s little, “He couldn’t be…,” when she sees the ramrod destroy the top of that skyscraper and take Bulba and Darkwing with it reminded my of the fact that when a child protagonist in a show for children says something like that about a semi or fully parental figure thought to be dead, they’re almost always right. No, I will not let this go. This hiatus is so long.

37. This orphanage director really is just. The worst. “Oh, sorry you won’t through a traumatic life changing experience kid, don’t understand why you’re too upset to talk to anyone today. Your loss I guess.” Like seriously.

38. Yes! The pink shirt and the sweater vest.

39. Darkwing is so aggressively dweeby. 10/10, no notes. Again.

40. I mean, okay, his name’s Drake Mallard, sure, and that’s how he’s introducing himself to the orphanage director here, but. Like. I like both versions, but OG Darkwing is Darwing first, and Drake Mallard second. DT17 Darkwing is Drake Mallard first, and Darkwing second. If that makes sense.

41. Okay, so, I understand that OG Darkwing and Launchpad are sort of the Kirk and Spock of the Disney Afternoon, but I don’t really ship them. I just don’t get the vibe (again, from the OG versions—DT17 versions have a different vibe). That said, I do kind of love the idea that there’s nothing going on between them but that everyone who knows both of them just assumes that they’re a gay couple raising their daughter, and they both know it and are fine with people thinking that.

42. This isn’t how adoption works but it’s okay it’s a cartoon and it’s very sweet.

[trulyinspiringmovies]

Marcel The Shell With Shoes On

“Marcel The Shell With Shoes On” is a simple story that’s done really well and sends a profound message in its own way.

Marcel is a one-inch tall shell with shoes on. He lives in an Airbnb which is currently hosting a man named Dean. Dean wants to make a documentary about Marcel and his grandmother, Nana Connie. It turns out, Marcel lost his community after the previous house’s owners decided to move out. One of them accidentally packed up everyone else in the community and left never to return again. Marcel and Dean use the documentaries to gain internet virality and hopefully, they can find Marcel’s family once more.

I didn’t realize that Marcel was from a YouTube series before watching this movie, so I went in completely blind. I saw the trailer for this movie multiple times in theaters, so it definitely caught my attention. I’m always down to give A24 films a chance because their movies are so different from everything else. “Marcel The Shell With Shoes On” continues the trend of A24′s unconventional filmography. I could understand if some people thought this movie was a little uneventful or boring, but I personally enjoyed watching Marcel because of his authentic personality. I was seriously blown away by how subtly brilliant the writing was for this movie. For a good chunk of this film, I forgot that Marcel was a fictional character. His personality was genuinely authentic in a way that could only come from writers who pick up on the smallest details of everyday conversation. I loved the story and theme of this movie because it tackles the fear of further change after a devastating one in a way that wasn’t ham-fisted. None of this movie ever feels ham-fisted. They could have easily made Marcel cute to the point where they were trying too hard, but it never comes off that way. I loved seeing all the creative ways he and his grandmother developed to get daily tasks done. Nana Connie was a great character too. She also felt like a grandmother that everyone had. She’s caring and teaches important lessons while also having this sternness that only the elderly can get away with. It was endearing to watch her take care of Marcel and even worry about how the tragedy is shaping him. I also love how the behind-the-scenes of this movie carry the themes of this movie. Marcel was a character who was made by Dean Fleischer Camp and Jenny Slate (the voice of Marcel). They were dating and eventually married, but ended up divorcing later. They still wanted to collaborate to make this film and I think elements of their divorce made their way into this movie. It’s amazing to see that the two of them ended things amicably enough to still work together and still find value in one another. For that reason, this movie gets a five-star rating from me.

★★★★★

Watched on March 8th, 2023

[fangirleaconmigo]

@death-is-always-free

I feel compelled to solve your mystery for you. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I'm a nerd for film lore and this one delights me for some reason. It involves Alan Rickman being Alan Rickman, so that is probably why.

The 'why a spoon' quote is from the 1991 movie Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which would be an completely forgettable movie were it not for the gatdamned delightful scenery chewing performance of the late great Alan Rickman as the evil Sheriff of Nottingham.

Just previous to the scene he's yelled at Robin hood

"I'm gonna cut out your heart with a spoon!"

Later, his cousin questions his choice of threats.

"Why a spoon, cousin? Why not an axe or something?"

To which he replies:

"Because it's dull, you twit, it'll hurt more!"

Rickman added that line, along with all the other funny ones (That's it then! Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadings! and call off Christmas!) for his character, which endeared him to audiences, and enraged Kevin Costner.

So, Kevin Costner was taking this movie deadly seriously. He didn't want to make Robin Hood 'a joke'. He wanted to sound English and do a prestige drama that would win him the approval of the English. They kept trying to get Alan Rickman for Sheriff Nottingham, being a classically trained serious English actor and all. This was Costner's first mistake.

The problem was, Rickman thought the script was garbage so he turned it down twice. But the powers that be really wanted him so they told Rickman he could 'make the character his own'.

Well, Rickman was like…this script is bad. It will fail as prestige. The only way it's going to be enjoyable and good is to embrace the camp.

So, he rewrote his character with two of his friends in the back of a pizza hut and added all of the hilarious iconic lines.

But the director didn't tell Kevin Costner nor anyone else on the set (maybe he was trying to avoid conflict?? He knew good and well Costner wanted a prestige drama??) and Rickman just showed up on set and went HAM with his campy, hilarious dialogue.

Rickman was right. It worked. His character is the only thing people in test audiences loved about the movie. They cut more of Costner and put in more of Rickman and Costner was deeply deeply unhappy, feeling like his prestige movie had been ruined. He tried to push back and demand they cut more of Rickman. They did not.

When it came out, all the reviews basically said, 'this is all very awkward but at least Alan Rickman is a delight.'

AND THEN?? I swear the cherry on the shit sundae for poor Costner was that his film was indeed noticed by the British film establishment but notice who got the awards:

BAFTA - Best supporting actor, Alan Rickman Evening Standard British Film Awards - Best actor, Alan Rickman London Film Critics Circle Award - Best British Actor of the Year, Alan Rickman

They were a bunch of tired, shady bitches on the promotional tour.

Tell me about a joke that you and your family absolutely lose your shit over that other people would not get.

Tell me about the very unique way you pick on each other.

Or tell me about a pop culture reference your family will never let die and you’ve never heard any other family use it.

*chin on hands* I just love hearing these stories. (I’m obsessed with little loser microcultures like families and very niche fandoms) So lay it on me.

[pizza-pie-in-the-sky]

Our Own Place - Our Own Homemade Pizza!

This week, I invite you to come with us on a very special kind of pizza-journey, one to be the top-of-it-all for our project - we made our own, homemade, pizza! You can see everything about it under the cut <3:

~ Alex.

Well, this isn't going to be a usual entry, but I will do my best to show you how we made our own pizza from start to finish! First of all, we gathered up at one of us' house - obvious, but you'd rather know we didn't make these pizzas in the middle of the street or another completely random place, right?

I think it's also important to note here whose pizza recipe we used! It was the one we found in the book by Jamie Oliver at one of us' house. I think it turned out really good, so I guess we can sort of vouch for this particular recipe by this particular chef!

Here we made a particular distinction betwee ingredients we used for the pizzas, as we intended to make two kind of pizzas: gluten-free pizza and pizza with gluten. You can see the ingredients we used to make the dough for the gluten pizza in the picture below - we made the gluten-free pizza first and were so excited about this, that we only have last shots of it >_<. But you can see the other ingredients here, which I think is just as fun! In order, we added sugar, oil, water, special kind of flour used to make pizza, and yeast. I think all of them combined looked great!

Thank God we didn't have to spend so much time mixing the pizza, instead we used a machine! This made it easier, and you can see the process of its working below <3:

Still, I had the pleasure to work on the dough myself too - I've never done it before, so it was a really fun experience for me, which again, you can see below:

Now, that we had the dough prepared, it was time to choose the ingredients. I'll keep those a secret until I reveal the final results of this pizza-making. For now, maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them in the photos below, hehe:

Next. we just had to get the pizzas right into the oven, so they could be baked! Obviously, the gluten-free pizza went in first, for safety precautions!! It's really important that it was made first, so the gluten from the other pizzas wouldn't get on it. Here's what this part looked like, and yes you can see the ingredients now!

Finally, here are the pizzas! As one of us happily called them (psst, it was Nina), these were meat-eater, save the animals, full-out, and say no to gluten. The results of our hard work looked great, didn't they? They also tasted that way! We also added some fresh arugula to the pizzas after they got out of the oven, which is worth to note!!!

So, as per usual, I shall share my thoughts about the particular pizzas right now <3!

Meat-eater - the first one we made, and which had meat only: tomato sauce, mozarella with ham and salami! Yep, nothing more. Looking back on it, I'd add something more on it, because this much meat with no other ingredient on it felt too much for my taste buds, it was really salty... So I think, but hey, that only means I found it the least tasty! I was still happy to eat it after all, haha <3.

Save The Animals - this ones ingredients were tomato sauce, mozarella, as well as yellow and red tomatoes. It was probably my favorite one, because of how soft and full-of-tomatoes it was, and I love that in a pizza!! Seriously, it was delicate and delicious <3!

Full-out - oh, this pizza had almost every ingredient we found on it. And it's almost, only because we didn't add any ham on this one! Yes, this one consisted of all, tomatoe sauce, mozarella, salami, red and yellow tomatoes, champignons, and pesto! Due to the very presence of the pesto, the basil was one of the most noticable ingredients here, followed by all things tomato on the pizza! It felt confusing at times, there were so many good things on it I didn't know which ingredient and its taste to focus on as I was eating! Still, it was great, even if it was a lot <3.

Say No To Gluten - a special pizza we made, that was gluten free! It had ingredients such as mozarella, tomato sauce, camembert, curry ham, and champignons - all of which were gluten-free, obviously! I found this pizza to be soft, delicate, melting as I ate it, and cheesy. Not to my usual pizza-preferences, but I think it was really good!

I have to say, even though I had so much fun decorating the pizzas, some of them I think we could've thought through much more. That is particularly about the meat-eater pizza, or maybe just that I do just prefer pizzas with vegetable-ingredients - hence my pure, unfiltered love for save the animals and full-out pizzas <3. Overall, I enjoyed all of the pizzas, even if I do have favorites, haha!

To summarize the whole journey, making the homemade pizza was incredibly exciting. It really showed us how much effort goes into making pizzas, while the process of it, being extremely fun, made it all seemingly effortless (even though the tired-ness and sleepy-ness did come for us right after finishing our food). So, you could say this sparked a new appreciation for pizzas in me!

This also the last post in which I'll be sharing my pizza-related post. Next in line, conclusion to the project and the reflections upon this pizza-journey of ours! See you there <3.

~ Alex.

[hotflatrock]

Oingo Boingo Former Members at Mountain Winery

With rare exception, I do not dance. It’s not that a dislike dancing, quite the contrary. But I feel extraordinarily self-conscious while doing it.

The exceptions?

I took an east coast swing class in the 90s for kicks, and I can’t even begin to describe how much fun that was, and how it informed any public dancing I did over the next 20 years.

Otherwise, it is entirely dependent on the music being played. For some reason, Will Smith’s Getting Jiggy With It was known as my song, and the ham in me could not let me audience down. And prior to that, my singular dance song was Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo.

Freshman year, I went on a bay cruise with some classmates. The woman I was seeing at the time wanted to dance, and I was the right combination of drunk and seasick to agree to it. I could say I cut a rug, or maybe I did the white man’s overbite, but either way, that became my first “force him out on the dance floor” song.

I wasn’t an LA kid, so I was not aware of their legendary reputation of their live shows, so it never occurred to me to see them in person. With Danny Elfman gone and the remaining members touring as Oingo Boingo Former Members, this show seemed like the best opportunity to get a peep at their former greatness.

Before the main act took the stage, there were 3 opening acts. The Untouchables gave us a fun opening set of ska music, with a toastmaster who was wearing a toga for some reason. Dramarama came next, looking like motorcycle band with a Google project manager at guitar, and pumped out a short set of fun but unfamiliar rock songs before unleashing their big hit, Anything Anything. Closing the preshow were the Tubes, who unleashed a simply awful set of music. The lead singer’s voice is completely shot, unable to hit high or low notes, or even to stay on tune in the middle. Mercifully, the set was short, just long enough for us to research what an innovative and groundbreaking band the Tubes were 45 years ago, while enduring how awful they are now. Oingo Boingo Former Members could not come on soon enough.

One thing that never occurred to me before seeing them live is that Oingo Boingo is a ska band. Full stop. I went to a lot of ska shows in the 90s and listened to a fair amount of ska music, and Oingo Boingo is as ska as most of the bands I saw. I don’t know how I never recognized that about them before. Perhaps because I started paying attention seriously to them in the era when they were changing their name (to Boingo) and sound (to more rock).

Their current lead singer, Brendan McCreary, is kind of incredible. He does Danny Elfman’s songs justice, embodying the infectious joy and slight malevolence of the music. The guy can wail, holding powerful notes for an impressive amount of time.

The rest of the band seemed to take some time to warm up. They seemed stiff and immobile for the first half of the concert. But after their playful rendition of Halloween staple Monster Mash, everything seemed to loosen up. Not My Slave, We Close Our Eyes, and Dead Man’s Party were clear winners, a joy to watch with the audience pogoing away at their seats. No One Lives Forever particularly stood out in the back half of the set, a testament to the band’s power and fun.

Yes, I needed to get up and move around too. But the biggest endorsement of the night was the fact that I wanted to listen to more Oingo Boingo music on the way home from the show, the first time I have done that during the Year of the Concert.

[shadow-pixelle]

For SEW, were there any alternate versions of the fic? (From the ask game)

Oooh, SEW (aka A Shadow, an Eon, and a Worm, my Pokemon Mystery Dungeon/Worm crossover). I do miss that fic...

So yeah, it actually has been through a few different versions! I can't talk about all of them, because some of them relate to the ending and that's not been written yet, let alone posted, but I can talk about a few. Going under a cut, because this got a lot longer than I expected it to.

The first big one is, of course, the fact that it was actually meant to be a snippet thread, and not a full on fic! I started it because of a Discord conversation, which I no longer remember the full context of but involved jokes of me (at the time using the alias of ShadowVulpix) and a friend (who goes by Eon and has a shiny Ninetales as a profile) being sent to the Worm universe for some reason. The original plan was three or four snippets, I think... the introduction piece, the Lung fight, the small interlude chapter involving Tattletale of the Undersiders, and then a piece that never got written that would involve the Brockton Bay Leviathan fight. Since this was posted on SufficientVelocity, aka a forum site, that worked alright; mini chapters for snippets didn't seem so odd. But then my brain kept writing, and writing, and we ended up with a full fic instead.

The second biggest one was actually a massive plot change; the original idea had Shadow and Eon taking the place of the protagonist characters from PMD: Blue Rescue Team, which is why early chapters have references to some bits of that plot... I think the most obvious one there is a line from chapter 2;

'“Our first exploration was an E Rank, in a forest, pix.” Eon deadpanned. “Of course it was easy for a pair of Fire types.”'

This got changed again not long after, with the plan being for them to be from PMD: Explorers of Sky instead, which was changed between chapters 2 and 3;

'...or the cave in Sharpedo Bluff.”

“I thought you liked Sharpedo Bluff.” Eon queried, seating himself at the base of a tree to watch her.

“I did . It was just kinda drafty, and a bit boring in there...'

And then the third and final change made them a completely new Rescue Team that was unrelated to either of the regions from those two games, which happened... I can't actually remember when for sure, but was before the Leviathan fight. Because of that there's a bunch of early bits that seem a little wobbly, and I had to work out how to link them into my plot plan without it being too weird or obvious; I think there's actually a few of them that I've not properly cleaned up, though I was going to do it in the future before the writer's block hit.

Let's see, what else... I think the last major one is one I need to be careful talking about, because it relates to some stuff that'll be coming up in future chapters (once the brain starts working again), but the part Taylor plays in the endgame of the fic got changed quite a bit due to a comment from one of the readers on SV. They mentioned that Taylor seemed to be getting sidelined compared to her team mates, which I had already noticed and planned to try and do something about, but that comment made me realise that I needed to do a bit more with it and also start it up sooner, which has led to a couple of other changes more recently.

Obviously there's been minor changes that I can't quite remember anymore, but I wouldn't really call those 'different versions' of the fic, just small redrafts. So I think that's everything! Wow that got longer than I expected it to... Thanks for the ask, and hope you enjoyed the look into my brain and this fic's development!

[arobinwithoutbatman]

"Oh its something we've been working on for *months.*" was the casual reply as he changed out of his gear.

Well, the outer layer anyway. He wasn't about to strip naked in the main area of the Belfry. He'll go down to his underlayer and socks, thank you very much.

"So I was regularly visiting Two Face in Arkham and that kinda grew into checking in on Riddler and I've had maybe two conversations with Mad Hatter. Anyway. Two Face mentioned some things, I noticed some things that didn't sit right with me, I asked Harley a few questions the next time I saw her. And then I went to Dick because I was starting to see that Arkham's big problem was coming back even though we'd rebuilt the place. Namely, attracting terrible workers who really shouldn't be working in the mental health sector if they're gonna treat vulnerable people like that."

His tone turned into more of a frustrated growl towards the end of his little narration. Fists clenched at his sides before he forced himself tk take a breath and continue.

"He wasn't exactly happy that I'd taken that kind of risk without telling anyone. But it did get us sitting down and seriously talking about how to actually help the criminally insane whilst also protecting the average person seeking help. Most of the ideas Dick has pitching to the rest of Arkham Board of Directors, cause he has Bruce's old seat, are mine. We haven't been able to go ham with them yet though, cause there's no way the Board would go for a complete rehaul of all staff from the very top to the very bottom and figuring out independent overseers for proper inspections and anonymous tip lines for both staff and patients."

His smile turned cruel again.

"Until the staff messed up~ They put Two Face in solitary~ And as soon as his therapist found out, she's a very scary lady by the way I've only met her once it was like being in trouble with a stern principle, she called Dick. And got proof from Two Face himself. And I also got proof when I visited while he was in solitary~ Did you know solitary confinement is completely illegal in New Jersey~?"

Robin looks almost high when he returns from patrol tonight. A wide, cruel smile, sharp eyes and jittery from... excitement? "Hey Jay, guess which project of mine and Dick's is getting kicked into high gear~?" @arobinwithoutbatman

Jason blinks at the... Uncharacteristically mean expression on Tim's face. It's so startling that it actually puts Jason on edge.

"I didn't know you two were working on something." He doesn't usually pry in his own Grayson's business, nevermind another he's been avoiding. "I don't know if the little devil expression is needed if Dick is involved."

[chisatowo]

My takes are so fucking sexy and correct actually <3

[laurits-loke-seier]

Skamløs 🐍 Part 4 / På Seier huset

🐍This is a y/n type of story. The reader is a foreigner; the reader is a female; I will try my very best to keep physical descriptions to a complete minimum.

🐍May contain strong language. No major triggers, but if there are any - worry not, you will be warned in advance! Also, it's my first time writing fanfiction & English is not ma native language, so please be kind 😅

Part 1 / Den nye jenta ~ Part 2 / Som en jeg kjenner ~ Part 3 / Rolig til sinns

Also published on Wattpad

Summary: The part where you and Laurits try to get ready for the party at the Jutul cabin. And you start to see more colours of Laurits.

Laurits and I walked to where I live with Liv, which is apparently not very far from his home. He laughed that it must be destiny that I ended up in ‘this shit neighbourhood’ just like him.

I left him to wait on the steps outside the house, by his request, then quickly changed my outfit into something good enough for the party and a motorcycle ride. 

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” I came out and locked the door.  Once I turned around, Laurits clearly looked me up and down, and back up again. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out, clearly.” he huffed with a smirk, evidently not embarrassed at all. I laughed a bit and shook my head at how unbothered this dude is.

“I assume you need to make yourself pretty as well?” I was half joking, but his expression was so genuine, like it’s common sense.

“Of course, what do you think, I’ll miss an opportunity to show off a banger outfit? C’mon, Y/N, honestly.”

Ok, now I really want to see what he has in mind.

I was about to say I’ll wait outside, when he basically dragged me in as soon as I opened my mouth. We stumbled in, both of us giggling like idiots when I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell nose first on the floor.

“Laurits?” I heard a concerned woman’s voice come from inside the house. I stiffened up and got serious in a second. That has to be his mother, and I would hate to make a first bad impression. Childhood trauma, put a pin in it.

He gave a weird look and I just shook my head like ‘not now’. Soon enough we walked closer to the dining/kitchen area and his mother raised her eyebrows upon seeing me.

“Mom, this is Y/N, she’s an exchange student from Y/C. Please don’t be weird while I go change.” he spilled quickly, giving her a pleading look then jogging up the stairs, leaving me with his mother. 

With his mother, whom I don’t know how fluent in English she is, and me, not very fluent in Norwegian. 

I just smiled shily. Seriously, what should I say besides hi??

“Kaffe eller te? (Coffee or tea?)” she asked finally, smiling warmly.

“Kaffe, takk. (Coffee, thanks.)” Oh thank Gods, something simple.

“Med sukker? (With sugar?)”

“Ja, takk! (Yes, please!)”

I looked around the lilac coloured room. Pretty cosy for such an old house.

“Vær så snill, sitt ned. (Please, sit down.)” She came back with a cup of coffee and put her hand on my back, leading me to the dining table.

I just nodded smiling, took the cup from her hands and sat down.

“Jeg heter Turid. Og du er…? (My name is Turid. And you are…?)” she trailed off. Naturally, she forgot my name after Laurits just blurted all of that out so quickly.

“Y/N. Det er hyggelig å møte dere. (It’s nice to meet You.)” I hoped I was being polite enough how I spoke, feeling my cheeks heating.

“Samme her. (Same here.)” she said, squeezing my hand in an assuring manner. I gave her a more relaxed smile.

“Um, does Laurits usually take a long time getting ready?” I asked, sipping the coffee.

“O, noen ganger. (Oh, sometimes.)” she sighed with a laugh. “Gå, besøk ham. (Go, visit him.)”

I blinked a few times, unsure. Visit him?

She probably saw the confusion in my face and jokingly nudged me to get up and pointed upstairs. I let out an awkward laugh, finished up my coffee and went upstairs.

His room door was quite obvious - some punk rock music playing through the door loud enough. I knocked hard so he really hears me.

The door opened shortly, with Laurits half dressed, hair disheveled. Quite an annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t fucking find anything to wear.” he muttered and let me in.

I couldn’t hold in the laughter that bubbled up from my chest. He threw me a dark glare.

“I’m sorry. I am. Just… same problems here.” I defended myself. “Ok, Prince, let’s see what we can do about this horrible horrible situation.”

He smirked and steered me by my shoulders to his small messy wardrobe.

“Dear Gods, Laurits, this looks miserable. Is it always like this?” I motioned to the mess, and gave him a very dramatic-comical look. 

“I need your help picking something out, not your commentary on the wardrobe itself.”

“Okej, but my help comes with commentary, so…” I laughed while digging through the clothes. Picked up something that cannot be his - a floral shirt. “Hej, how about this wonderful piece? You’ll be the talk of the night, for sure.” 

He just stared at me through his eyebrows, not saying anything. I chuckled, kind of nervously, because it would feel better if he said something! Now it makes me think he’s rather planning something mischievous. 

“No? Not fancy enough for you?” I looked at the shirt myself, as if examining it. “I’d say go for it.” I nearly laugh-snorted, imagining him in this.

Only that what escaped my mouth was a blood curdling scream.

Because this bastard buried his thin fingers between my ribs. And seeing how tickling apparently I am, he locked me in his arms, my back to his chest, and kept torturing me.

“Take it back!” he almost growled in my ear.

“Neeeeeiiii! Neverrrr aaahhh-hahaha!” I yelled and erupted in hysterical laughter once he assaulted my sides again. Tears streaming down, my cheeks and stomach aching from laughter.

“I can do this all night.” he grunted with laughter.

“T-that sounds aahahah p-p-perverted!!” I screamed, trying to break free, but he held me quite tightly. “F-f-fuck ooooff!!” I kept laughing hysterically and kicking the air.

The door to Laurits’ room flew open with a crash and we just froze.

Magne is standing widely in the doorway, looking fairly surprised. And wait, is he holding a fucking huge-ass hammer?

“What is going on?” Magne broke the silence and loud rock music background, his cheeks getting a tint of pink when his eyes darted between us two.

This probably looked interesting. Me, screaming bloody murder here, his brother shirtless, with me locked in his arms.

“Please leave. I am busy serving Justice.” Laurits said suddenly in a very calm tone. “And what were you thinking of doing with that thing?” he mocked, motioning to the hammer in Magne’s hand. Which he hid behind him awkwardly. 

“N-nothing.” he stammered, then looked at me. “Are you really ok?”

“Yes, Magne. We’re just fighting. I think.” I chuckled and looked over my shoulder at Laurits.

I felt a shiver run down my body, because his gaze was stone cold towards Magne. Like he completely shifted, his hold on me tightening like a python slowly strangling its prey.

I lightly squeezed his hand that was around my waist. Only then did he break eye contact with Magne and turned his attention to me. 

“You ok?” I asked quietly. His gaze slowly softened and he nodded. Then wordlessly let go of me and just shut the door in his brother’s face.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

[gamerwoo]

hansol: the lovers playlist

characters: hansol x female reader

genre/warnings: idol au, strangers to friends, fluff, really bad attempts at humor

word count: 943

summary: can you name me a better disease? i’m young and dumb; got vacancy.

previous song | next song | back to playlist

17��s Vernon: hey, _____! sorry if this is kinda weird but can i get a ride tomorrow?

Was it a little weird to have Hansol text you and ask you for a ride? Yeah, it was. He was really nice to you and the two of you were getting along well, but why would he ask you instead of the twelve other people he had to choose from in his group? The math just didn’t add up in your head.

“Maybe he likes you,” Mira had giggled while you were getting dressed to go pick him up.

But when you went to go get him, he explained that the members’ keys were all confiscated.

“Jeonghan and a handful of members went for a joyride the other night and were late to an important meeting the next morning because of it,” Hansol explained when he’d slid into the passenger seat and had thanked you for agreeing to get him. “I needed to go to the Hybe building but uh…yeah, that whole thing. So, uh, thanks.”

It only took him about 5 or so minutes to go inside, do whatever he had to do, and then come back. He promised it would be fast multiple times – in the original text, when he got in the car, and when you had parked on the curb – but also promised he’d pay you gas money to make up for it. 

“So how much do I owe you?” he asked.

You scoffed, “I hardly used any gas to get here. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“Well…are you hungry?” he wondered.

“Vernon–”

“C’moooon,” he insisted with a slight whine. “You went out of your way to drive me here just because my bandmates are dumb. Let me do this.”

You were quiet for a moment, hands on the steering wheel before sighing and replying, “I could eat.”

So the two of you decided to get some McDonald’s. You were still obsessed with how much cooler the food was here than in America, and Hansol just wanted to go wherever you wanted to go because this was his treat for you. As you drove home from the restaurant, your music played in the background from your Spotify’s liked songs. You weren’t really paying too much attention to the music – maybe mindlessly humming along here and there – until you heard a drum beat that made you perk up. It was one of those songs that you heard and it seemed to scratch something deep in your brain.

“Hey, you went through a punk rock phase, right?” you chuckled, recalling the few times he’d posted about his music taste on his Instagram story. “Lemme introduce you to a song that really gets me hyped.”

“I like the beat,” Hansol commented with a chuckle as you turned the volume up a little.

You were singing along as soon as the lyrics kicked in and Hansol was glancing over at you and chuckling in amusement the whole time. But then when the chorus kicked in, you took it to a whole other level. It was like you were on an episode of Carpool Karaoke and you were just going ham. Hansol was laughing and clapping as he watched you essentially perform for an audience of one.

“You get really into this song, huh?” he asked.

“I told you!” you laughed between the first and second chorus.

By the time the end of the second chorus was about to start, you were stopped at a stop light. You decided to take the golden opportunity to take your hands off the wheel and just completely go at it. You were flinging your hair around, singing at the top of your lungs like your life depended on it, and just not minding that you looked like an absolute fool in front of one of your favorite idols. It was just one of those songs that you had to go hard to. You couldn’t control it. If it ever came on in a ‘try not to sing’ challenge, you’d lose immediately.

“So what, so what? I’m a lowlife! Living the slow life, baby, I’ll see you in hell! Mr. Dead on the Inside!”

When your mini-solo-concert had ended, Hansol was laughing and clapping for your performance. You focused back on the road, trying to fix your hair in the mirror before putting your hand back on the wheel and following the car in front of you through the intersection.

“Thanks for that,” he giggled.

“Yeah, free of charge,” you nodded.

It was only a few more minutes until you reached Seventeen’s dorm, but you and Hansol filled it by singing to a song both of you knew: American Idiot by Green Day.

On the way back to your own dorm, you felt your phone vibrate. At the next stoplight, you picked up your phone to see who it was. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was an Instagram notification from Hansol.

Instantly after, your phone was blowing up with notifications. Twitter accounts and Instagram accounts tagging you, people mentioning ‘Vernon and _____ hanging out together’, and the like. Your eyes and mind couldn’t even keep up with it.

It wasn’t until you got home that you finally saw what the commotion was all about: Hansol had not only recorded your little performance at the stop light, but he posted it to his story.

“Y’know,” Mira began as she entered the room you shared with her, “I feel like that song really suits you. ‘I’m young and dumb’? To a T.”

You promptly picked up your pillow and chucked it at her.