#maybe i’m too young/not the right demographic but i just did not enjoy the experience

[briony-tallis]

finished fo1 today. it was a miserable, gruelling experience. do not recommend unless playing for the sake of series completion.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

#4 Reader X SickSpencer

Gif credit: @stunudo​

Prompt: Reader X SickSpencer - Spencer catches a cold and doesn’t come into work on Monday morning. The reader goes to his apartment to check and see if he is doing alright. 

Category: Fluff / Comfort

Content Warning: Language (maybe) 

A/N: After watching the episode where Spencer gets tortured I had an infinite need to write something where he gets comforted by someone. This is pretty domestic and fluffy, but it’s what I needed right now. I want to thank @veraiconcos​ for helping me with the inspiration for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Please like / reblog!

Link to all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/l/n_ = you’re last name

_h/c_ = hair color

_b/s_ = brother/ sister

_h/l_ = hair length

_f/c_ favorite color

_Y/n_ walked into the headquarters of the BAU with a pep in her step. She had spent most of the weekend hiking the paths of Ricketts Glenn State Park in Pennsylvania. She had taken the train up after she had clocked out of work and spent the rest of the weekend disconnecting from the world. She found the forested paths relaxing compared to her normal job she was bound to. She had asked if Morgan or Prentiss wanted to join her, but both of her teammates already had plans for the weekend.  In total the woman had walked over fifty miles. At noon on Sunday _y/n_ sadly said goodbye to her campsite, and drove herself to the airport. She had arrive at the office before everyone on Monday morning. She hadn’t gotten any work done during her outdoor experience. Because of this she arrived at her desk early in order to make a dent in the pile of paperwork she had left behind on Friday. When she sat down at the white desk _y/n_ noticed that some of the files she was least looking forward to were nowhere to be found. She didn’t think too hard about it for the moment, and just grabbed another file instead. After an hour, the other members of the team started streaming into the bullpen. _Y/n_ noticed that at 8:00 A.M. Morgan, Prentiss, J.J., Hotch and Gideon were all present, except for Dr. Reid. Agent _y/l/n_ looked around the room once more just to make sure that the young man wasn’t actually there, and she was just missing him. Spencer had never been late to work before. He had actually picked her up multiple times when she had texted him in a panic that it was raining and the trains would run late, and she’d probably get fired for being two minutes late. She knew that her fears were unfounded, she also knew that Spencer knew her fear was stupid. None the less he would pull up to her apartment and swing the passenger side door open from the inside. Those had been good rides. When _y/n_ was very sure she had not missed Spencer she walked up to Morgan who was just now walking up to his desk. She leaned against his desk and asked, “Morning, do you know where Reid is? Also, I’m missing some files from my desk, any idea where they may be?” Derek smiled and said, “I can explain both questions sweetness.” _Y/n_ rolled her eye’s at Morgans flattery but still raised her eyebrows, non verbally telling him to continue. Morgan took a seat and continued, “Reid is sick, apparently he caught a cold. About your missing files, your boyfriend stayed late last Friday, last I saw of him he had taken about ten of your case files to his desk, and was filling them out himself.” Before _y/n_ had a chance to process that Derek had called Spencer her boyfriend she replied, “Oh my gosh, is he okay? When did he get sick?” Morgan smiled as she realized what term he had used for her friend. She grabbed one of his case files and started hitting him over the head with it. The athletic agent put his hands over his head and said, “Reid got sick on Saturday. He texted us on Sunday that he had a fever and Hotch told him to stay home.” 

Before _y/n_ could ask more questions, J.J. entered the room and said, “We have a case, let’s head into the conference room to talk over the details.” When the team was assembled, Hotcher stood up and started explaining the case. “We’re looking for an unsub that has killed congressman Luke Allen. The murder took place in the senators office last night at 1:00 A.M. His body was found today by his aid, Gracie Suveua. There was no apparent forced entry. The senators most popular contributions on Capitol Hill have been his working and signing the bill regarding Obergefell vs. Hodges in 2015.” The team nodded and agent _y/l/n_ commented, “So we may be looking for a person that has problems with the implications of gay marriage in the Supreme Court: religious extremists, opposing party members or a person from another radical religions that oppose LGBTQ+ rights.” Gideon agreed and replied, “That’s a great start for a profile. Hotch and Derek, would you head over to the sight of the murder. J.J. would you give Penelope our main facts so far and get her to do a database search based off of those criteria. Prentiss, _y/n_ and I will head over to the police precinct to ask some questions and gather information from the force.” After a minute of gathering in their separate groups, the teams went their separate ways to begin the hard work of the new case. Prentiss and _y/n_ weren’t thrilled to be going to the prescient. The officers were mostly of a male demographic, and often ignored comments that both female agents had made before, and turned out to be true later. Nonetheless, the trio whisked away to the station. When they arrived, the Police chief heartily shook Jason’s hand, but chose not to shake Emily of _y/n’s_. The two agents looked at each other, shrugged and moved into the sleek building after Gideon. It wasn’t until 9: 30 P.M. that the team was back to the conference room debriefing the information that they had accrued during the course of the day. After the debrief was over Aaron said, “I think we will be better use to this case if we all get some sleep and pick this up tomorrow. I don’t think that we aren’t at risk of another victim being killed tonight. If we work hard there won’t be a second death  to follow the first. Get some sleep and I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.” Each member of the team slowly got up, in their fatigue and moved out of the bright room and back toward their desks. When _y/n_ got to her desk she slumped down in her swivel chair. She pulled out her phone and looked at the message she had missed. She ignored a text from her mom and instantly scrolled down to the text that Spencer had sent her. The message read, “I’m still feeling pretty bad. I’m sorry that I can’t be useful in this case.” _y/n_ observed the text, and thought about how Spencer threw himself into his work 110% of the time and maybe it was batter that he had a break from work, even if he had to feel like shit to get to that place. 

Before she could respond to the message that Reid had sent three hours ago Morgan approached _y/l/n_ and asked, “Do you need a ride home? Taking the train right now isn’t exactly safe.”_Y/n_ looked up to him and said, “I think I’ll go check on Reid first. Would you mind taking me to his apartment?” Morgan raised his eyebrows at the statement, and after a moment of silence said, “Sure thing.” The agents moved to the parking lot where Derek’s car sat ready to take off. _Y/n_ had sold her car when she had moved to D.C. to pay the deposit on her crappy apartment. She had always told herself that she would buy a new car when she had the money. Even though she  had been working on the BAU unit for over a year she had never bought a car. She preferred the train anyway. When the agent got onto the car Morgan smoothly moved out of his spot and into the empty road. _Y/n_ pulled out her phone and texted Spencer back saying, “Sorry you’re still feeling bad. I am going to come over and see if you’re doing okay. Be there in about twenty minutes.” When she finished sending the text she put her phone in her pocket and looked out the front window at the empty road. After a minute Derek commented, “You really like him, don’t you?” The male agent had his big brother voice on when he asked the question. _Y/n_ pulled her hand through her _h/c_ before responding, “Derek you know how I feel about him. You don’t have to interrogate me. But it might be helpful if you didn’t call Spencer my boyfriend in front of him. You know how he gets when it comes to affection.” Morgan smiled. He knew that both agents had spent a good amount of time together outside of work. He thought that they made a good couple, but also that they hadn’t said anything about their feelings to each other yet. Morgan respected that they were moving slowly, that really was more their style anyway. Derek replied, “I get you. Plus, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize any chance you might have in letting him tell you that he likes you.” As he finished his statement the duo pulled into the front of Reid apartment building. She looked over to her friend and said, “You know nothing may happen. If it’s just platonic I’d get it. But I do love him.” Derek smiled at the fact that she had actually said the words out loud. He responded, “Go get him tiger.” She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. _Y/n_ leaned back in to say, “If I get anything it will probably be a cold from our resident genius,” before closing the door, waving and walking into the apartment. 

When she was in the apartment she took a moment to enjoy the sleek interior of the building. She was always jealous of the coffee shop that the contained. She had to walk three blocks to get to a coffee shop from her apartment. Secretly she was grateful for this fact, because if her apartment had a cafe she knew she would spend all her money there. She was brought back to the moment when the elevator dinged and opened. The agent waited for the occupants of the elevator to get out, and she stepped in once it was empty. She pressed the cool round metal button that read ‘5.’ The moving contraption stopped twice for other residents to get in the metal box before _y/n_ got out on floor five. When she was outside Spencer’s door she realized that she had never checked her messages before just showing up at his room. She pulled out her cellular device, and saw that he had not responded. _Y/l/n_ thought, ‘Maybe he’s asleep? Or maybe he’s feeling really bad and didn’t want me to come?’ The agent panicked for a moment, considering that Spencer might be too ill to respond. After a moment she calmed down and knocked on the door. It took a minute before she heard light shuffling outside the door. She could barely hear her friend say, “Who is it?” _Y/n_ rolled hey eyes at the question; all he had to do was look out his peep hole. After quietly laughing she said, “It’s _y/n_. Can I come in?” The door opened slightly and _y/n_ could see a small sliver of Dr. Reid. She tried to ascertain his sickness level from the shade of his face. Spencer stood for a minute calculating how risky it would be for him to let her in. He said in a raspy voice, “I might get you sick. You know that 3% of American’s have a 64% chance of getting a  cold during the year.” _Y/n_ smiled and replied, “I’m happy you’re still coherent enough to give me statistics Spence, and if I’m going to get a cold I’d rather it be from you, and not some random person on the street. I’m just here to make sure you don’t stay sick for longer than necessary.” Reid reconsidered the odds. How old _y/n_ was, how active she was and her general health. After he finished his assessment the young man opened the door and allowed his friend in. 

When she was in the apartment the female agent set her backpack by the front of the door. Spencer had stepped back in an attempt to lower the rate of transmission. While he was doing this _y/n_ looked him over. He was paler than usual, and his cheeks were flushed red. His hair was limply hanging around his cheeks that were more sunken in than usual. Even in his comfortable looking Yale sweatshirt and grey shorts, the man looked miserable. _Y/n_ looked at him sympathetically and said, “Maybe you should take a seat?” Reid replied, “Do I really look that bad?” She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, but didn’t tell him verbally that he looked like a kid who had fallen into a swimming pool in his clothes by accident. She walked over to the coach and Spencer followed her. He sunk down into the dark fabric of the couch leaning his head against the back. She pulled a chair up while he was seated and asked, “Can I feel your forehead?” When the words were out of her mouth _y/n_ realized how strange it sounded, but Spencer didn’t seem to think it was weird - maybe because he was slightly delirious - or he just knew to expect strange expressions that he didn’t understand come out form her lips. So he replied, “Okay.” _Y/n_ stood up from her chair and knelt on the couch next to Spencer and lifted her hand. She placed it on his forehead. His skin was hot. For the moment that _y/n’s_ hand was on his head Spencer enjoyed it. The cool sensation of her hand was relaxing. He wished it stayed there for a moment longer. The genius realized that the concept was completely illogical because the heat of his fevered body would simply begin transferring to her hand. It only took a second for _y/n_ to realize that Spencer was still running a high temperature, and even though she didn’t need to, she slipped her hand under his chin to check the temperature there too. She assumed she did this because her mom had done it when she was a kid. She pulled her hand away again for the second time and got up. Spencer leaned his head back to look at _y/n_ as his friend moved toward his bathroom. He heard the tap turn on, and after a few seconds, she returned to his side with a small hand towel. She was holding her hand under it so that it didn’t drip water on his wooden floors. “When did you last check your temperature, and how high was it?” _Y/n_ inquired as she placed the damp towel on his hot forehead. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief at the coolness of the cloth. He then responded, “I checked it two hours ago. I think it was around 100.72 degrees. She nodded at the reply and then asked, “Have you eaten yet today?” The young genius was notorious for completely forgetting that he needed to nourish his slender body on a regular basis. So she could only imagine that while he was sick, food was the last thing on his mind. He gave the response she expected of, “No. I’ve felt kind of nauseous all day, I didn’t think eating was going to help with that.” _Y/n_ rolled her eyes and said, “Have you ever considered that not eating could make you nauseous too?” The young woman got up and went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and only found a carton of eggs and a few containers of leftovers. She turned to Spencer and asked, “Why don’t you have any food Reid?” Spencer gave a cough before defended himself by saying, “I normally go grocery shopping on Sunday, but I was sick, so I didn’t go.” _Y/l/n_ understood and said, “Okay. Well I’m going to run down to the corner store and make you some dinner. Do you have a favorite comfort food?” Spencer stood and took a few steps toward her and said, “You really don’t have to. I can take care of myself.” _Y/n_ replied, “I know you can Spence. I just want to be here to show you you don’t have to all the time. Especially when you’re sick.’ Reid bit his lip as he usually did when he was thinking. After a moment he strode to his counter and grabbed the keys to his apartment, and car, and tossed them at _y/n_. She quickly shifted left and grabbed the object being flung at her. Spencer said, “I really like grilled cheese sandwiches.” She smiled and said, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Before walking out of his living room and into the hall. She locked the door behind her and moved toward the elevator. 

The corner store was limited in it’s selections. But all that really mattered was that _y/n_ had a loaf of white bread, some American cheese, a kind of pathetic looking can of tomato soup, and some orange juice. With these items in her basket the girl moved to the counter and paid for the groceries with cash from her wallet. It wasn’t until she was at the counter paying that she noticed the time. The Digital clock that was displayed behind the cashier glowed in red letters 10:25 P.M. She knew that if she went back to Spencer and made dinner she was going to miss the last train. To the woman it was just a small thought that quickly came and went. She wasn’t going to leave her friend right now. If he was uncomfortable with her staying at his place overnight _y/n_ would get a taxi back to her apartment. Spencer heard the key slide in the door and knew that _y/n_ had returned. He was currently lying down on the couch and didn’t really move that much as she set down a bag on his counter. There was a moment where some glass clinked together, and a second later she was in front of him with a glass of ice water and a glass of orange juice for him. She set them down on the table next to the couch and he said, “Thanks. I’m feeling a little better now.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “Good, if you want a distraction while I’m making the food you can look over the new case. We’ve been working on it all day and haven’t gotten very far. The files in my bag.” Spencer jolted at the chance of doing something other than feeling miserable, and he got up and found the file in _y/n’s_ backpack. As he walked back toward the couch he noticed that _y/n_ had bought herself a coffee from the shop in the lobby. She shared his taste for sugar filled beverages. Unlike him, she preferred milk in her caffeinated drinks. Spencer grabbed the warm polystyrene cup and took a sip of it while she was digging in his fridge for some butter. Spencer often stole _y/n’s_ snacks or drinks. It was the type of thing that would make her  angry for a second and then she would laugh it off for five more. He would always buy her a replacement item, often he would make it a bigger cup of coffee or bar of chocolate than the one she had before. Spencer knew that the young agent was trying to save up money so she could fly down to her _b/s’s_ college graduation in a month. It was the least he could do. After all living in D.C. could be hard on the bank account. 

It wasn’t until the soup was on the stove heating up, and the grilled cheese sandwiches were in the pan getting melty that _y/n_ started looking around for her coffee cup. After a minute of futile searching she spotted it in Spencer’s hand. She smirked, moving to the back of the couch, she pretended to look over Reid’s shoulder at the information he was examining. When the man removed the cup from his lips and lowered it toward his leg she grabbed it out of his grasp and said, “Really Reid. This is how you repay me for my help.” Halfway through the sentence and she was already laughing at his antics. She glided to a position in front of him and started bringing the drink to her own mouth when she remembered Spencer was sick. She examined the lid of the cup, and obviously some of his saliva was on the rim of the cup. Reid looked up at her and said, “Sorry I also haven’t had any coffee yet today either.” _Y/n_ sighed and handed him back the cup replying, “You know, I fear that if you asked me to murder someone I would consider it.” Spence smiled up at her.  After another five minutes or so the pair were eating a very late dinner at the kitchen table. They were talking about the details of the case. As soon as they had finished eating Spencer asked, “Are you planning on going back to your apartment tonight? The train stopped running a half hour ago.” A blush rose to _y/n’s_ cheeks and replied, “Well. I was wondering if I could just stay here tonight? I need to look through the details of the case again, and do some research. I’ll be quiet.” It wasn’t a super odd request. The pair had stayed up all night before working on cases or having movie marathons, but they had never been at one of their apartments when one, or both of them was going to be sleeping. Spencer looked over to her and said, “Of course you can. I can help you with the research if you want.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “Thanks for letting me stay. And offering the help, but I think you should get some rest. You aren’t going to get better without sleep.” She smiled at him and began picking up the dishes from their dinner. Spencer helped her put them in the sink and said, “I promise next time it’s my turn to cook. I’ll finish the dishes if you want to take a shower before I turn in.” _Y/n_ considered that she had been in the same clothes for over ten hours and knew that a shower would relax her she said, “that would be great.” She was embarrassed to ask it, but managed to stutter out, “Do you think I could borrow one of your shirts to wear while  I work. These aren’t the most comfortable clothes.” Spencer opened his mouth for a moment at the idea and tried to clear his head of the image of her in one of his shirts. The man snapped his mouth shut and his jawline tightened before he responded, “Um, yeah. In my closet on the left hand side are all my t-shirts and sweaters. You can wear any of them.” She said, “Okay. I’ll just be a bit.” She rubbed her hand over his shoulder as she walked in the direction of his bedroom. After a minute Spencer could hear the water running. 

The lean agent scrubbed down the dishes and put them in the drainer next to the sink. When he finished with the plates and bowls, he sat back down on the couch with the intention of looking at the case again. His thoughts didn’t allow him to. Instead he was considering how he was feeling. He wondered if it was alright to want these kinds of evenings to happen more often. He knew that he wasn’t that good with women. His few attempts to woe the friends and strangers he had been interesting in had usually gone horribly wrong. Yet, unbelievably a friend had come to check up on him, and was comfortable enough to spend the night at his place. He couldn’t figure out if he had done anything differently with _y/n_ than his other friends. He also was unsure if she felt the same way he did. Maybe she was uncomfortable being here and just needed to stay out of convenience. While Reid was considering the current situation _y/n_ was doing the same. She was running shampoo through her _h/l_ hair and musing over what had happened over the last two hours. She had always wanted, hoped, to get closer to Spencer, but she was afraid that if she moved too fast that he wouldn’t be interested, or worse not want to hang around her at all. She and Spencer did share some of the same hobbies but she hoped that she knew him better than that. She knew how he shied away from physical affection, and how he always seemed so happy when she or Jason told him he had done a good job, and how she knew what his shampoo was going to smell like before she even opened the bottle. She really hoped that her presence, both literally and metaphorically wasn’t making him uncomfortable now. When she was finished with her reverie _y/n_ rinsed out her hair and stepped out of the shower, After another ten minutes Spencer looked up to see _y/n_ in another one of his YALE sweatshirt. It was so long on her shorter body that it covered her like an ill fitting dress. However, Spencer thought she could wear a potato sack and pull it off. He quickly looked away from her to hide his blush. 

The duo looked over the cases and _y/n_ hooked up to his WiFi on her computer. After this was finished and _y/n_ had bought herself another coffee (using Reid’s card), she recommended he go to bed. It was already 12:00 A.M. at this point. Spencer relented and headed to his bedroom. Before he went in he said, “Goodnight. If you’ve got any questions you can ask. Just knock on the door.” She smiled and said goodnight back, and told him to sleep well. The agent continued her work for another three hours before she moved to the couch to try and get more comfortable to do her work. The next morning Spencer found _y/n_ laying down on the couch she was clutching a pillow to her chest and had her left leg draped over the blanket she had covered her body with. Spencer dared not walk past her torso in case she was indecent below the leg she had over the blanket. He was feeling much better today, and wished that he could go into work with her, however, it was company policy to wait a full twenty-four hours after a fever to return to work. Spencer knew it was for the safety of his coworkers, but he hated being away from his job. The man knelt down and tapped _y/n_ on the shoulder. She sighed slightly before opening her eyes to see him. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Spencer quickly averted her eyes as she rose. She looked down at herself and realized that her _f/c_ boy shorts were peeking out from beneath Spencer’s YALE sweater. Her face turned red and she coughed, stood up and pulled the sweater down. She looked at her phone and quietly cursed, “Fuck, I’m going to be late.” Spencer knew that if _y/n_ was fast, and hurried she could catch the train and make it in time. He said, “Go change. If you’re fast you can make the 7:30 A.M. train.” _Y/n_ nodded and grabbed her clothes and ran into his bedroom. She shut the door and didn’t even bother to lock it as she stripped and quickly changed. Reid, who had woken up about thirty minutes before her, and had grabbed some coffee for her and himself. He had meant to wake her up once he had woken up, but he couldn’t disturb her when he had seen her so peaceful. When the woman came out of his room in her usual black pants and satin shirt, she looked ready to fight the crime in the city as she usually did. She put on her shoes and grabbed her things, stuffing them into her backpack. Spencer cleared his throat after she was finished and handed her the coffee. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you so much Spencer, for letting me stay, and the coffee.” Spencer smiled and hesitantly asked, “Would you come back again tonight? In case I need help again. Or feel bad?” It took a moment for the words to register and _y/n_ said “Huh?” And maybe it was because it was from lack of sleep, or her just being awake for five minutes, but the meaning of the words struck her after she had responded. She realized that Spencer wanted, that he really wanted to spend another night like they had had yesterday. She smiled up at him and replied, “Of course I’ll come back tonight Spence. I’d love that.” The word love was not lost on the genius, and he took a minute trying to and express his feeling, saying, “You know I really like you. I mean I appreciate you, or I feel things about you…” _Y/n_ wanted really really badly to hear the words come from him, but she knew that she didn’t have a moment to lose or she would be late. She hated cutting him off, but reluctantly said, “I know Spencer, me too.” 

At hearing this Spencer gave a heartwarming smile and leaned down to hug her. She quickly gave him a kiss on the forehead and cheek. She then let go of him, and ran out the door, shouting over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight!”

[its-bound-to-get-loud]

Why I believe 5SOS didn’t work as a pop-punk band (+ my opinion on THAT Rolling Stone article)

This title of this post may be an unpopular opinion for a lot of you. But I don’t believe 5SOS worked as a pop-punk band. In this post I will explain exactly why. I hope that even if you don’t agree, you will at least understand my POV. This post is probably gonna have a lot of text. Not a lot of links, videos or pictures involved. I hope it will still be interesting for you. All of this is just my personal opinion, I have no way of proving that this is 100% true. It’s just a careful deduction of things I’ve seen and thought about over the last few months, mixed with some personal opinions. With this post I’m trying to tackle some topics that are being talked about often and showing them in a different light. I’ve put quite a lot of time into writing this, so I’m hoping you will appreciate it. Finally a huge, massive thank you to my friend R for proofreading this, it means a lot to me.

To start things off, I’ve had quite a lot of thoughts about this topic: I don’t think 5SOS truly worked as a pop-punk band. The image didn’t fit them and it wasn’t right for their era. It was a fun sound, I enjoy listening to it, they probably even enjoyed making it. Obviously fans enjoyed it as well. I fully believe that when they first started, pop-punk is what the guys wanted to sound like. It’s the music they listened to, those were the bands they looked up to. When they got signed they had not been a band for a super long time, they were young and barely had any experience in both life and music. I’m not someone with an extensive knowledge of pop-punk groups, but from what I know a lot of these bands were misfits, outcasts. People who didn’t feel like they had a place in society. In some cases from broken homes, with bad childhoods, etc. That’s who they were and it’s what their music was about.

I’d say 5SOS as whole do fit those characteristics. They were from a small town where music wasn’t really a career for most people. So they felt the need to get out of their town and pursue music. Michael dropped out of school for music, Ashton obviously had a very difficult home situation. Calum has mentioned that his family didn’t have a lot of money when he was younger. I’m not sure how the situation was for the others. But besides this, everyone but Ashton came from a stable home, Calum’s parents separated later on. So I can see why the guys related to these pop punk bands put out songs about this. Especially when you’re a teenager you often feel misunderstood by everyone else.

But when 5SOS started they looked more like a boyband than a pop punk band. Their earliest songs were mostly love songs. While the boys might have felt like being a pop punk band, and maybe even considered themselves to be one, I would say they were more of a pop/pop rock band.

In some cases a label can mold an artist or band into a certain image upon signing. But 5SOS had already gathered a following before they were even signed, so molding them into a rougher pop-punk image right upon signing would not have worked, it would not have been organic. They probably didn’t want to alienate the fans they already had, because they were valuable in getting the word out about 5SOS.

Their first manager, Adam Wilkinson, didn’t seem to think 5SOS would work as a pop-punk band as well. Just look at these quotes taken from That infamous 2015 Rolling Stone article (I will not link it, because I despise it, just google if you feel the need to read it).

“While they cannot cross into the realm of pop punk, they can stand on the sidelines and capture the end of that market.”

“They always wanted to be Blink 182 or Good Charlotte, but I’ll be the first to admit I thought that was shooting too far,” says Wilkinson. “We tried to make them a little more pop.”

That last quote is basically what happened. 5SOS ended up connected to One Direction, a huge pop act at the time. A connection that wasn’t as much of a “coincidence” as they wanted to make it look like. Louis was never the one to truly discover 5SOS, this was simply a smart PR decision to connect 5SOS to the 1D fanbase and grow their audience. I highly suggest reading this post that lays out exactly how 5SOS came to get signed and how their connection to 1D began. You will see that there is clear evidence that it didn’t happen like they wanted us to believe.

And let’s be real. Take a look at this early 5SOS picture. Does this look like the next Green Day or All Time Low? They all look like the boy next door, with maybe the exception of Michael. Basically they had the looks of a boyband, and while they never have been a traditional boyband (and certainly aren’t now), they certainly were marketed as one early on. This is a label that still sticks to them to this day.

I fully believe that their team (management/record label) tried to slowly evolve them into a more pop-punk image as they got bigger. They couldn’t ride the 1D train forever and had to stand on their own 2 feet. That’s where we arrive at the Sounds Good Feels Good era. This is a fascinating era for me, because there is a shift. Their looks start changing, suddenly they slowly become rockstars, piercings start happening. The boys are growing up. They are old enough to drink, girls are in the picture, etc. Musically it’s also clear that their sound is changing. The self-titled album is still fairly pop-rock, 1D but a little edgier perhaps. Sounds Good Feels Good is the more pop-punk album. But is it really? Because as most fans will know, the album knows 2 sounds. It has the clear pop-punk bops, such as Money or Safety Pin (to name a few), but there’s also some songs that already predict the sound for Youngblood such as, for example, Waste The Night and Vapor. It’s clear to me that while they probably still enjoyed their pop-punk sound the guys were growing up and were slowly discovering what music their sound as a band should be.

If we’re being honest for a moment. What songs from SGFG really feel the most personal? Sure, She’s Kinda Hot is a bop, but what about Vapor? Vapor is by far my favorite song on the album, it tells me a story, it makes me feel emotion. Now I’m very biased towards SKH, because (unpopular opinion) I don’t like the song much because of the lyrics. But that’s a different story (we may get to that someday). There is nothing wrong with a song that’s a bop, you need those. I could enjoy SKH if it wasn’t for the lyrics. But bops can have meaning too. SKH doesn’t in my opinion. Besides the fact that the guys were growing up and maturing their sound, the music scene just wasn’t very pop-punk or even rock based anymore. It wasn’t a sound that was popular anymore.

I took a look at the billboard charts and pulled some statistics. Friday October 23 was the release date for SGFG. The Top 3 Billboard hot 100 songs that week were

The Weeknd – The Hills

Drake – Hotline Bling

Justin Bieber – What Do You Mean?

The songs/artists closest to 5SOS in sound in the WHOLE Billboard Hot 100 that week were One Direction – Drag Me Down, Fall Out Boy – Uma Thurman and Twenty One Pilots – Stressed Out. That’s 3 songs in a list of 100 songs and you can debate how close the sound of those actually was to the sound of 5SOS at the time.

Taking a look at the Billboard 200 Year-End chart, the #1 is Taylor Swift – 1989. SGFG ended up at #136 (keep in mind that the album was released in October, so close to the end of the year). 5SOS self-titled ended up at #73. The LIVESOS album ranked #176. There’s a few other records that can be considered rock in the list, but barely any pop-punk in the whole chart. The only one to be considered for that title would be Fall Out Boy’s – American Beauty/American Psycho album, which was #15.

Pop-punk or rock in general, wasn’t a popular sound that topped the charts around the time 5SOS got started as a mainstream act. Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 the week 5SOS released their first ep (Unplugged) was Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. The real mainstream success of pop-punk was mostly in the late 90’s running all the way through the early 2000’s. This is why I wonder why the label tried to make them into a pop-punk band in the first place. My best guess is that their team relied on the fans to push the success of the band forward after they came off of 1D’s Where We Are tour. They might have tried to create an edgier version of 1D with similar success. Where you create a fan base that is big enough to support the band without the need of casual listeners or fans from different demographics (male, female, old, young, etc.).

I think they relied too much on 1D fans to gravitate towards 5SOS as well, which may have been a mistake. Not all 1D fans actually liked 5SOS, some even actively stayed away from them the more they were pushed under their noses. When I entered the 1D fandom in 2014 most things I saw about 5SOS were negative. 1D fans considered them problematic and didn’t like them. This is partially why I steered away from 5SOS at the time. Besides that, I had enough going on with 1D to keep me occupied. Of course 5SOS’s fan base still grew quite a bit from the 1D exposure, but they never got to the same heights as 1D did. In several interviews the guys have said that they were being called “the biggest band that nobody has ever heard of”.

On a more personal note. As a recent fan, the whole pop-punk image never felt very genuine to me. Which might be because I came into the fandom backwards, starting with CALM and going back to their older material after that (side note: I did listen to the Youngblood album once or twice before). Don’t get me wrong, I love SGFG, I play it regularly. Money is a banger, Hey Everybody!, a bop, Permanent Vacation, love it! But as a fan I like to identify with songs and recognize that the artist is telling something that is personal to them. I don’t get that feeling from some of these songs. 

An example of a song that is emotional, yet (mostly) not personal to the band is Broken Home. It’s a beautiful song, but I generally skip it. 1, because it’s a very sad song and it’s not always something I’m in the mood for. 2, because it’s not a song I relate to on a personal level. And most importantly 3, I don’t see the song relating to 5SOS as people, other than maybe Ashton. An interesting quote about the song, made by their producer John Feldman, is on the genius page for this song.

“Other than Ashton, the three guys have parents who are still together. Ashton has never met his father. Ashton really connected into the theme. “We’re saying something with this song, it’s going to connect with the audience, at least 50% of our audience comes from broken homes. We’re actually taking a stand.” The other guys are loyal and family-driven and sweet, so they were like, “What are our parents going to think about us singing about a broken home when we don’t come from broken homes? How authentic is it?” It was a two-month debate.”

So the guys themselves were already questioning the authenticity of the topic when they were recording it. Ashton connected to the theme of the song, but the others didn’t. It wasn’t something they had experienced. It doesn’t say why the song made it on the album anyway. As stated in the quote, a lot fans can relate to it. I’m sure many fans found comfort in the song, which is a nice thing. The song doesn’t make you relate to the band though. If any of them had written this song from a personal experience it would have connected a lot differently. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that the song is not personal, it just doesn’t feel very genuine when you know the artist has no relation to the story they are telling.

Moving on to the 2015 Rolling Stone article I have mentioned before. This seems to cause some division among fans. Was it all true or was it made up? My opinion is that it’s a mixture of truth and BS. But a whole lot of it feels taken out context or exaggerated. I have been a fan since March, so I wasn’t around at the time this came out. But since becoming a fan I have watched tons of interviews and clips and have extensively discussed this band with my friend, so I’d like to say I have done my homework and have a good picture of this band. On top of that I’d like to think being a 1D fan sharpened my critical thinking skills and might have helped me see through certain bullshit. I don’t claim to be the person with all the answers, but maybe my thoughts make sense to some people. There might be some context that I’m missing or facts that I haven’t come across, if you feel like there’s a piece of information I’m missing, feel free to let me know.

The way the article starts, it reads like fanfiction. Literally. The extensive description of the surroundings, the time of day, everything. The first time I read it, it made me cringe so hard I had trouble getting through the whole thing. First things first. This interview takes place the day after the AMA’s. Who the fuck scheduled this? Either someone should have prevented them from getting drunk and partying, or they should have scheduled this on another day when these guys were in a better state of mind. That is, assuming things went the way they went as described in the article. Which is something I highly doubt.

The only direct source saying that this article is not genuine is this tweet from Luke. Besides that I have only read secondhand that the band and people surrounding them have spoken up about the inaccuracy of the article.

Some people believe 5SOS could have sued Rolling Stone for slander if this article was really as false as they claim. Now I’m no lawyer, but this is not how things work in the entertainment industry. An article like this has been agreed upon before. The interviewer didn’t just decide to drop by one day. During celebrity interviews there’s always someone from their management or PR team around to make sure they don’t say any stupid shit. Celebrities are a brand, they have an image to protect, albums to sell. If they say things that make them look bad it can cause damage to their good name. Record companies have invested money in artists and they want to see a profit in return. They don’t want to risk losing money, that’s why celebrities have PR teams. RS may have had a reputation for being a very honorable publication, but these days that’s not the case. They are not that far removed from cheap gossip rags such as the Sun or The Daily Mail nowadays. They still get read by a lot of people, which puts them in a position of power. Often when an interview takes place there are certain topics that have been agreed upon before, there are also topics that can be blacklisted if the artist or their team doesn’t want them talked about. For example relationships or family matters. These will also be agreed upon beforehand.

Here is a story about a former journalist for the British tabloid The Daily Star, who has admitted to making up stories and explains how they get away with it.

For arguments sake, let’s say the guys slipped up and showed their “true colors”. With a big publication like this it’s common that their team would have to approve the article before it comes out. If there’s anything in there that was not agreed upon that they don’t like, the article can be edited.

This leaves us a few possibilities.

The article is completely true and their team is shit at their job. They failed to prevent the boys from slipping up about stuff they shouldn’t and did nothing to stop Rolling Stone from publishing.

The article is true and their team just allowed the article to be published for whatever reason.

The article isn’t true, but their team let it happen anyway, possibly because they wanted to move the band away from their boyband image into a more punk-rock image that went with their sound.

My vote goes out to the last one. I think their team wanted to make the boys look more edgy/punk-rock and get rid of their boyband image and this is how they tried to do it. I think parts of the article may be true, but a lot of it is greatly exaggerated and in some cases made up. If my theory is true, it also means 5SOS or their team had no reason to sue Rolling Stone if they wanted to. Because it would mean you have a major publication on your bad side, which means no more future promotional opportunities for the band and/or the label. While Rolling Stone may be trash, it’s a publication that a lot of people read. Therefore it’s a very important connection that you don’t want on your bad side.

If you still think they could have sued Rolling Stone then take a look at some examples from 1D. 1D has been targeted by the British tabloid The Sun for YEARS. They wrote the most awful shit, a lot of it not true. Yet they still had exclusive scoops whenever something important happened. Exclusive meaning, these topics were given to them exclusively for publishing. It was proven that their PR manager is friends with the journalist from The Sun responsible for most of the stuff written. 1D never sued The Sun for those articles, because they most likely were agreed upon by their team beforehand. 1D has never tried suing the Sun over anything, despite what they wrote. This was not 1 article, these were many articles. Especially towards the end of 1D, when it was clear their label was losing 1D, there was a smear campaign in the media to discredit 1D and its members. There was a chance some members were going to sign with a competing label, and that’s something their label didn’t like. Here is a good collection of headlines from that smear campaign. Nobody ever got sued over these articles.

Do you still think 5SOS could have just stood up and sued Rolling Stone? The entertainment business is full of politics. If you don’t play the game you’re out. Also, question yourself. Why does Luke still say the article was twisted and inaccurate 4,5 years later? He has owned up and apologized for past mistakes, yet he keeps insisting the article didn’t tell the truth. He even goes to say that the article “broke and hurt him”. If you believe Luke is still covering his ass for what he said in that article, that essentially would he mean he is emotionally manipulating people by saying the article hurt him. Is that the person you think Luke is?

1 more thing I want to point out. Yes, I am aware of the fact that Calum has a large version of the magazine cover hanging around in his house. I can’t say exactly why. This is my best guess. That cover was still a big thing in their career, despite the article, it is still a Rolling Stone cover. That’s a milestone that not every artist gets to do in their career. Just because he has the cover hanging around doesn’t mean he enjoyed the article that came with it.

This whole post has gotten super long, it may not be the easiest thing to get through. So thank you if you made it till the end. As stated before, this whole thing is mostly just my opinion. But the parts about how PR teams work are a fact. I do not work in the music or entertainment industry, I’m not a lawyer, so I may have gotten some things wrong. If I did, please let me know and I will try to fix it. Feedback is always appreciated.

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter Two: A Lonely Cat Sits on a Roof...

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it!

I’m sorry for going AWOL for such a long time. I’m going to be honest, life’s not exactly going swimmingly right now, but I swear, I’ll try to post more regularly after I get through these sets of exams. Thank you for your patience and support!

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

P.S. I just watched a bit of Young Justice and read a bit of the New 52 so I may have mixed up some stuff. Just to clarify, Damian Wayne is Robin.  Also, I updated this chapter because my dumbass decided to add a bunch of headcanons in future chapters that did not exist while I was writing this. 

P.P.S. There may or may not be Season 3 spoilers for this now that the season has finished…, maybe Felix will pop up at some point?? Hm.... (As much as I love Lukanette, it’s not really a thing here because this is a Daminette fic...haha unless…?)

Tag List: @northernbluetongue @spicybelladonna @zerotosiki @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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Chapter Two: A Lonely Cat Sits on a Roof...

Dear diary, 

How could this happen? How could I have missed something so obvious, so noticeable, so, so,  so… Ugh! I can’t think right now. As the Guardian it should’ve been my responsibility to ensure that we had everything that Master Fu left in his possession, especially since it was about the Miraculous!

How could I even explain this to Chat Noir? Should I even tell him? What if he doubts my ability to be the Guardian? He did seem upset when I lost the Bee Miraculous that time.... . But, then again, he seemed supportive when I told him about leading Hawkmoth to Master Fu and that was so much worse.

Hopefully, I can make my mind up soon because it’s time to meet up with him!

Hopefully luck is on my side today.

Bisoux,

Marinette

By the time Ladybug landed precariously upon the Eiffel Tower, Chat was already there ready to greet her. Upon seeing him, Ladybug’s heart sped up and instinctively, she stepped back, away from him. Unfortunately, the Eiffel Tower was not meant to have a vast amount of foot space, and Ladybug toppled backwards, a screech dying upon her lips. 

“Ladybug!”  Chat rushed over and grabbed her hand with both hands. With a grunt, he pulled her over the edge, and shuffled the both of them backwards, just for good measure. When they were safely away from the edge, Chat loosened his hold on Ladybug; his heartbeat so fast even she could feel it whilst she was pressed against him. 

Or maybe that was just her. She couldn’t be too sure. 

“Are you alright?” Chat asked, withdrawing his arms away from her, Ladybug couldn’t be sure if it was from what she wanted to discuss tonight or the near-death experience, but it took awhile for Ladybug to get herself together. However, once her heartbeat was beating normally and her breathing steadied, she pulled herself away from Chat and sat across from him, her hands firmly against her lap. 

“Yeah, thanks to you,” she said, forcing herself to grin widely. Chat returned it with one of his own shaky smiles. 

“That’s, that’s good,” he said and exhaled deeply. “I think you might have scared all nine lives out of me, my lady.”

“Pity it didn’t scare you out of your puns instead,” she quipped back. She exhaled, but kept her posture tense. Chat caught her movements, and mimicked her; he crossed his legs and leaned towards her. 

“What’s wrong, Ladybug?” 

She stared at his wide green eyes, and wondered if he would show the same amount of care and concern in the next few seconds. 

“What isn’t wrong would be an easier question to answer,” she replied, already feeling her heartbeat increase again, and her fists clenching involuntary. Chat didn’t say anything, so she continued. “Well, first things first, thank you for your advice with the akuma, and well, saving me right now. I don’t think I could’ve figured out the red string if you hadn’t said anything.”

Chat blinked, straightened, then grinned. His cheeks lightly bloomed. “Shucks, LB. No problem, we’re partners after all!”

Ladybug paused, and averted her eyes before speaking. “Right, and as partners, you wouldn’t judge me, right?” 

Chat frowned and cocked his head. “Of course not.” He paused, scanning her before speaking up again. “Well, maybe I might judge you if you don’t upgrade your costume soon. As lovely as you are, I don’t think the suit flatters your loveliness enough.” 

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but was secretly glad for his quips. “Seriously, Chat. I’m being serious.”

“I’m being serious too. While the spots are iconic, we’re both fashionable enough to know you’re in need for a major upgrade-” 

“Hawkmoth has the tablet we need to translate the Miraculous Journal.”

“-and a belt would help- wait what?”

Ladybug flinched. “Look, you remember Master Fu right? And the whole thing where he made me the Guardian?”  He nodded. “Well, according to Wayzz, there was supposed to be a tablet that had translations for the Miraculous Journal, but it wasn’t where he left the Miracle Box or the other stuff he left with me, so that means Hawkmoth must have gotten it somehow, which means we’re basically screwed! And we can’t use any of the Miraculous we do have because the stupid box is some kind of egg, and Hawkmoth knows all of the identities of the old heroes, and, and, and-” 

By the end of her spiel, Marinette was pacing back and forth in front of Chat, who watched her in stunned silence. She had pulled out her pigtails in anger, and her hair was askew from her fingers grabbing and pulling at it. She was breathing heavily, still unsure if she should go on, because everything  was  a mess, but she was supposed to be the Guardian. She watched Chat as he bit his finger, his eyes observing the ground beneath him. His tail swayed behind him, as if it was contemplating the situation as well.

Ladybug sat down in front of him, curling her knees under her chin. When Chat finally spoke, his voice was throaty, almost brittle. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

She frowned. “Chat, I just found out about the tablet-”

“But, what about the box? Or that we might need new heroes? Or that you were stressing about all of this?” 

Ladybug sighed. “What could have I told you? I don’t even know what I’m doing, but now I’m responsible for all the Miraculous? Look, I don’t even know if you can help, but I think you should know anyway.” 

Chat frowned. “I know you think I’m useless or annoying sometimes, but we’re still partners, right?” I’m no Master Fu, but I’ll always be here to help.” Chat hesitated, shifting his eyes from her to the view below them. “If you want, that is.” 

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’re useless, chaton. But this isn’t just another akuma, this is something I should've had already under  control!” 

“You’ve only been the Guardian, for what, a week?” 

“Yes, but I’ve been training with Master Fu for months before that! I should’ve been prepared!”

“Prepared? Master Fu’s had a couple of centuries to his name and he still messed up! Why can’t you just trust me to help you?” 

She faltered, biting her lip. “This isn’t about you. Chat.” She trembled. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but the safety of the Miraculous is my responsibility now. So, even if it was just for a few months, I have to be the Guardian Master Fu was training me to be.” 

“You don’t have to do it alone.” 

Ladybug smiled bitterly. “You’re not always going to be there, chaton.” 

Chat adjusted himself so their shoulders were touching. “Well, I could be. Outside of these masks, you know?” 

Ladybug stiffened, and robotically turned to face him. He was smiling ruefully, although his eyes glimmered with hope. She frowned, 

“We can’t.” 

“Who’s gonna tell us no?’

She froze. Who was going to tell them no? Master Fu wasn’t the Guardian anymore, she was. And it would be helpful, knowing who he was… . 

A barrage of memories flashed in her mind’s eye of a flooded Paris and blank, ice blue eyes. An explosion so strong it broke the moon. A silent city, that had been a ghostly reflection of her own. A Chat Noir that wasn’t hers, that would never be hers, as long as she… 

“No.” 

“No?” Chat’s voice cracked. “But, there’s nothing stopping you from-” 

“Didn’t you see what happened with Miracle Queen, Chat? Rena Rouge, Carapace, Queen Bee, Viperion, Ryuko, all of them had their identities exposed and now they’re all in danger! Haven’t you noticed that Hawkmoth only targets a certain demographic? And you want to add our identities in that mess?” Ladybug’s arms were flying around as she ranted, gesturing between the two of them to emphasize the point. “That’s the worst idea you could’ve come up with right now!” 

Chat’s eyes widened, and he slowly retreated further from her. He took a shaky breath. “Alright, alright. That’s a no on our identities then.” 

A long and awkward silence fell between them. They were settled on opposite sides of the beam, their eyes shifting between them, and the quiet city below them. Ladybug sighed. Usually the view of the sparkling city of love was enough to calm her. But not even the bright lights of the streets reflecting starry skies could calm her racing heart. Hey body shook in tiny tremors as she tried to settle herself. A part of her just wanted to give in and reveal who she was. Maybe it would’ve complicated everything but at least Chat would be with her. 

However, the faint whispers of a lonely cat’s melody, kept her frozen in place. Fortunately, Chat broke the silence. 

“Maybe, we could try the Justice League again?” Chat hesitated and stared at her, green eyes on blue. 

“Didn’t we already try that after Stoneheart?” 

She remembered that afternoon. It was similar to them right now. Although Chat had been ecstatic to be a hero, she had still been hesitant. To help, Chat suggested the Justice League, a superhero organization that mostly dealt with crimes in North America, although there had been talk of them going international at the time. At the time, they both emailed videos of themselves, explaining the situation, and she had gone home and sent a separate email as Marinette, citing the Ladyblog as proof. They waited for weeks with no reply, but they had already gotten the hang of it so they had left it alone. 

Ladybug wasn’t too sure about trusting them to pick up a second time. 

“We already tried, remember? Besides, I’m the one that can purify the akumas and even if they’re at risk, we technically still have heroes. What help would they be?” 

“Well, they’re more experienced for one thing.” 

Ladybug squinted at him. “Wouldn’t that just put us in more danger? Imagine if a hero was akumatized and we had to fight them? There are days where casualties happen from civilian akumas.” She turned away from him. “We can’t risk it.” 

“Maybe they can help us from far away?” Chat suggested meekly.

Ladybug sighed. Chat sighed as well. He wasn’t dumb, Ladybug wouldn’t even fully trust her own partner. She wasn’t going to risk revealing the Miraculous’ secrets to an organization full of strangers. Besides, she was right. Normal akumas exhausted them, even with their power-ups. What would going up against more experienced akumas be like? 

Ladybug bit her lip. She knew Chat had a point, but this wasn’t a situation she could cast her Lucky Charm and perform Miraculous Ladybug out of. They were both way over their heads, and her mind was already running through every disaster that could happen by involving superheroes who clearly wouldn’t listen to them, if their response the first time had anything to go by. 

Her stupor was broken when Chat stood up and extended his baton. 

“Look, Ladybug. You don’t have to force yourself to do anything just yet.” Chat turned away from her. 

“Chat,” she whispered, standing up to reach out to him. She stopped when he shook his head. 

“I just wish you could trust me, Ladybug,” he said, before launching himself off the tower. Ladybug watched his form disappear against Paris’ dark skies, slowly lowering her hand and clenching it to her chest. 

She trembled and whispered to the nightly breeze flowing past her, 

“Me too.” 

________________________________________________________________

Chat Noir, despite all faults, was a boy who thought more often with his heart than his head. Thus, as he launched himself home to Agreste Manor, he was already forming tendrils of a small plan to help Ladybug. Although it hurt him that Ladybug couldn’t trust him enough to take his advice at face value, Chat Noir’s instincts were sure that even asking for help would help them more than Ladybug thought. 

Thus, when Chat Noir transformed back into Adrien within the safety of his bedroom walls, he rushed to his three computers and began drafting a plea for help: 

To the members of the Justice League…

[nokomiss]

@deadtedkord replied to your post “I’m still up for taking fic prompts! Let me know if there’s something...”

not to pop up w angst but maybe something about either bruce or steph keeping tabs on steph's adopted baby years down the line. not getting involved just, checking in every now and again to make sure that kid is safe and happy and never has to know the pain that they do. make me CRY 2020

Okay this skirts the line of ‘not getting involved’ as steph’s baby does make an appearance but this wouldn’t leave me alone! hope you enjoy <3

*

It was a slow night in Gotham, which just… didn’t feel right to Steph. So instead of cutting her Batgirl patrol short and heading home to study for the midterm she had in two days, she hit up the comms to see if anyone else needed a hand.  

Robin and Nightwing were fine, apparently eating falafels and chatting with some stray cats after interrupting a carjacking.  Tim was off with Young Justice, Jason was with the Outlaws, Babs was doing some fairly intense cold-case research that Steph knew would end with her sneezing over some dusty police file and Cass was having a movie night with Alfred.  

Steph finally asked Bruce, knowing that he always had something going on.

Being left out of a case is fine -- they all do their own investigations, there’s nothing at all unusual about that -- but there was something about the sharpness of Bruce’s voice when he said, “You’re not needed, Batgirl,” that hit Steph the wrong way.

It had felt personal, in a way things between them hadn’t in a long while.

So Steph did what she did best: ignored the hell out of Bruce’s pettiness and showed up anyway.

Immediately she could tell that she wasn’t actually needed.  The kidnappers weren’t exactly supervillain material.  The kids were unharmed and locked in a room together.

She couldn’t figure out why Bruce had tried to keep her away.

She helped zip-tie the kidnappers, who Bruce had dealt with quickly and easily while she’d still been assessing the situation and trying to find whatever hidden threat she was meant to stay away from.

And it was Bruce that she was dealing with, she realized suddenly. There was a stiffness in his shoulders, a tightness in his jaw showing that he was uncomfortable with something, and that wasn’t a Batman trait at all.  

Only the fact that the kidnappers were still conscious -- albeit dazed -- kept her from asking what was up. 

“You can go now,” Bruce said. He still hadn’t unlocked the door the kids were behind, even though Steph knew that they’d been there for hours. 

“What? There are like five kids in there,” Steph said. “I’ll help. Kids love Batgirl.”

That strange twist of his mouth again, and then Bruce said, “Okay.”

It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself that it was a good idea.

Steph rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door. The kids themselves were totally unharmed, and the kidnappers had clearly known what they were doing in one respect: the room was stocked in juice boxes and tablets, and the kids were for the most part calmly playing games.  They ranged between roughly four and six years old, and there were loud gasps of joy when Batgirl and Batman barged into the room.

There was no clear-cut demographic of the children -- two boys, three girls, a variety of ethnicities, though Steph noticed they all wore nice clothes, clearly no hand-me-downs, and their shoes were trendy and had clean soles.  Chosen for their parents’ wallet size instead of anything more nefarious, most likely, which made Steph relieved.  

Steph’s checking the kids over, making sure everyone’s physically and mentally good when one of the girls says, “Thank you for saving us, Batgirl!”

Steph looks at her directly for the first time and felt her heart drop.

She knew that face. She’d seen it a thousand times, she’d seen it in the pictures her mom still had hanging in the hallway from her childhood. The same eyes, the same baby-fine blonde hair, the same wide smile. Other things were different -- she couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop seeing the shape of her mom’s jaw, her dad’s ears, and her loser ex-boyfriend Dean’s freckles and eyebrows.  

It felt like she was frozen, like the way she felt in dreams sometimes, like the air itself had solidified and moving just took too much effort.  

She could feel Bruce’s presence behind her, heard the rumble of his voice letting the kids knew that their parents would be so proud of how brave they were being, that the bad people were going to jail, that help was on its way.

She blinked, and everything rushed back into focus. And she was still standing there, dressed as Batgirl, while the girl she’d given birth to beamed up at Batman like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

“You’re welcome,” Steph tells her daughter. 

The girl smiles and flings her arms around Steph’s waist.  Her face is pressed into Steph’s belly, just inches away from the c-section scar, and Steph rests her hand on her back, wishes that she wasn’t wearing gloves so that she could feel how warm and alive and present she was.  

It’s a moment she never thought she’d have - that she’d never really wanted to have, if she’s honest, because she knew that if she held her daughter she might never let go -- and it’s over before she knows it.  The girl lets go, hurries back to the other kids, beaming and saying, “I hugged Batgirl!” like it’s the biggest accomplishment of her life.

One look at Bruce and what she already knows is true is confirmed beyond a doubt; he’s watching her carefully, like she’s something that might break. Like she’s in danger of doing something dumb.

She shook her head lightly at him, trying to show without words that she’s not going to break, that she’s not going to try to do something stupid, that she’s-- 

That she’s happy and sad and trying very, very hard not to think about the fact that her daughter is four years old and has survived her first kidnapping.  

They lead the kids out of the room, shielding them from the kidnappers with their capes. Bruce lets her accompany her daughter, holding her hand and marveling at the way her little fingers curled perfectly into Steph’s, the way her daughter held her head high, tears unshed.  

“You are so, so brave,” Steph tells her, because she’s never going to have this chance again, and she’s wearing a mask, and her daughter is looking at her with something akin to hero-worship in her eyes. Steph remembers being little and seeing Batman and the way the thought of heroes out there making the world safer had made her feel, and it twists something inside all sharp and intense to think of her daughter feeling that when looking at Steph. “Always remember that. You’re incredible, and your parents are so lucky to have you.” Quieter, because she had the chance, and she knew better than to squander a chance -- “Your mother’s so proud of you.”

“She’s gonna be, I didn’t cry hardly at all,” the girl says, and Steph’s heart twists again, because there’s sweetness and love and pride in her expression at the thought of her mom seeing how brave she was. This is a girl who is happy, who is loved, who will have the best possible life.

Steph smiled at her as widely as she could and waved, not trusting her voice. 

Before she leaves, she sees a woman break through the line of cops and cry out, “Hope!”

Steph’s daughter runs into the woman’s arms, and just like that, the spell is broken, and she’s not Steph’s daughter anymore. She’s someone else’s daughter, a woman who is sobbing with relief that her little girl is unharmed, who is clinging her daughter so tight that the girl -- Hope, her name is Hope -- is pushing away at her, is laughing and talking a mile a minute about her ordeal, and Steph hears her voice, crystal-clear, say, “Batgirl rescued me, Momma, she said I was brave.”

Steph barely makes it out of sight -- there’s a building, two blocks over, and the roof has an abandoned, overgrown garden, and Steph likes to go there, sometimes. She’s standing in the overgrown garden and Bruce is hugging her, and she’s laughing and crying all at once. 

“Hope,” she says into Bruce’s chest, conscious of the fact that minutes before, she’d been holding her own daughter like this. “You knew that already, didn’t you?”

“You know I’ve been keeping track of her.” Bruce’s voice is gentle,  “Do you want to know anything else?”

Steph shakes her head, still pressed tight against the Batsuit -- the smell of kevlar and sweat and faintly, leather -- but then asks, terrified of the answer, “That-- she hasn’t had experiences like that before, right?”

She doesn’t even really want to know the answer, doesn’t want to know if her daughter had been doomed from the start, if her bad luck was somehow genetic, but Bruce replies. “She’s never been targeted before, no. She handled herself admirably.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Steph said, obscurely proud. She doesn’t really want to but she lets go of Bruce, steps back to sit on a wrought-iron bench.  In the daylight it would be scorching hot, but at night, the metal is cool and inviting.  

Bruce sits beside her.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone,” Steph says, because acknowledging her own fuck-ups is something she’s used to, “and I’m glad you tried to keep me away.”

“I didn’t intend for you to find out about this,” Bruce said. “I know the topic is… painful.”

Steph opened her mouth to tell Bruce he had no idea, to try to put to words the conflicting swirl of emotions-- not regret, exactly, because she knew with bone-deep certainty that she’d made the right decision to not raise her daughter, to keep her away from the wreckage that had been her life the past few years, but a more abstract feeling of sadness that the circumstances had been necessary at all in the first place. A wish of what might have been, had she been older, had she been prepared, had she not grown up the way she had.  A thought that at some point in the future, things might be different.

But then she realized that Bruce, out of everyone, actually would understand. He had children. 

“My mom told me,” Steph began, unsure as to how Bruce would take this, but knowing she had to set the words free that were bubbling up in her throat, “that kids, whether or not they were yours, are the one thing in the world guaranteed to break your heart.  Because you want so much for them, you want them to have everything that you never had, that could never possibly be, and that-- that it’s impossible. You can’t remake the world, can’t make it a kinder place. You just have to live with it. That loving a child meant pinning your heart to your sleeve, and having to suffer the consequences.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but reached over and clasped her hand in his own. 

“I think-- I think she might have been wrong. About not being and to remake the world, because that’s what we do every night. And she was right, but… I know she didn’t want me to go through everything I had.” Looking back, she’d been a lot younger than she’d realized when she’d been pregnant. Just a few scant years older than Damian, and he was so firmly a child in her mind that it made her reconsider all those feelings she’d had at the time of being grown-up.  She hadn’t felt it at the time, but she was older now, had a world of experiences that shone a light on exactly how young she’d been when she’d gotten pregnant.

She knew that to Bruce, she likely still was a child. Right now, she didn’t feel it. 

“Like, I knew she was out in the world before,” Steph said. “But now… She’s real, in a way that she wasn’t before.”

“Her life is significantly safer than ours,” Bruce said, reassuringly. She could hear the truth of it in his voice, trusted him on this.  Then he said, “I knew you didn’t want to see her.” There was no condemnation in his voice, only understanding, but Steph felt compelled to defend herself anyway. 

“I wanted to see her so badly,” she said. She couldn’t look at Bruce, just looked at the tangle of dying plants around them, at the Gotham skyline, all soft lights and sharp edges, beyond that. “It felt like losing part of myself at first, but I knew… I knew what her life would be if I kept her. What my life would be.”  She took a deep breath. “If I’d held her, and wasn’t strong enough to let her go afterwards, I would have been condemning us both.”

Now it seemed unfathomable. She wouldn’t be Batgirl now, she knew that much. Would never have been Robin. Spoiler might have been laid to the wayside, like it had when she’d been pregnant, but she remembered how she’d longed to go out in the night even when her belly made her waddle and struggle to sit up. Likely she still would have figured out a way.

But she wouldn’t have taken the risks she had. Wouldn’t have thrown herself into things as wildly. She probably wouldn’t have died, wouldn’t have broken her mother’s heart, wouldn’t have caused all the grief she could still sometimes see in Tim and Cass’s face when it was alluded to.

Instead, she knew the path her life would have taken: trying at first to stay in school, but working long hours. Her mom being forced to babysit every spare moment, life turning into a never ending scheduling conflict. Quitting school in favor of a minimum wage paycheck and abandoning hope of becoming something greater, something more. She might have managed a nursing degree, her own mother had with an infant at home, but she’d seen that path, too. 

She wouldn’t be here, now: sitting on a rooftop with Batman, filled with a flurry of might-have-beens, having just saved a roomful of children who looked up to her with something akin to worship. Wouldn’t be worrying about a midterm in biology. 

And the woman she’d seen, the one who’d loved her daughter enough to elbow her way through a police line, wouldn’t have that. 

“She looked so loved,” Steph said.

“She has good parents,” Bruce said. “She’s taken care of. Cherished.”

“She seemed okay, and the kidnappers were jokes, but they didn’t… this isn’t going to hurt her, is it?”  Steph had been kidnapped plenty, had been involved in various criminal acts even younger, and she knew it had skewed the way she looked at the world. 

“She attends a preschool,” Bruce said. “They were meant to be going on a field trip to a farm outside of town. One of the kidnappers disguised themselves as the van driver, while the others distracted the teachers. One of the other children on board’s father is the director of a medical group, I understand that there are delays with getting treatment for the child of one of the kidnappers. She was never harmed.”

Oh. That explained the juice boxes, they loved their own child enough to do something desperate to save them.

“That kid’s going to get the treatment it needs, right?” Steph already knew the answer but asked anyway.

“They’ll get a letter from Wayne Memorial this week,” Bruce confirmed.

Steph had another question, one that Bruce likely wouldn’t answer. Shouldn’t answer, but she wanted confirmation. “Did… Does it feel different, with Damian, from the others?”

Bruce took a minute to think, long enough that she knew he was answering her underlying question with care. “At first. The others, I chose. I brought them in, I thought it through, I knew them and wanted them in my life. Wanted to make a home for them. I didn’t choose him. And at first, if anything, it was harder.”

Steph listened. She wasn’t sure if Bruce had ever spoken of this out loud.

“But then it was like he’d always been a part of my life, just like the others, a part that was irreplaceable and unique but that I loved in the same way.” 

That settled something within her, something she hadn’t realized was bothering her. 

A long pause, then Steph broke the silence. “How do you do it?”

Bruce looked at her, waiting for clarification.

“Send your kids out there every night,” Steph said.  She could still feel the way her heart had dropped when she’d realized that her daughter was in danger, and couldn’t fathom what it would be like knowing her child was out trying to punch supervillains in the face. ��Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Every day,” Bruce said. “Every night.”

She wondered if he was thinking about Jason’s death, about all the close calls. About how Damian flung himself into danger so recklessly, like he still believed he was invincible. The way all kids thought they were invincible. About Dick, Tim, Cass. About all of his children, choosing the fight over safety every time.

 She wondered if he was thinking about her in Leslie’s clinic, clutching his hand and dying.

Bruce continued, looking down at their currently clasped hands. “I have faith in their ability to keep themselves as safe as possible. I train them as best I can, make sure they have the best equipment. Try to always know where they are, in case I can help. But mostly… your mother was right. Having kids is putting a piece of yourself out in the world and not knowing if it’s safe or not, and being grateful for every day that it is.”

He’d been careful with his words, never said you, but Steph could feel the weight of a small fortune’s worth of equipment and technology in her suit, in her belt. The communicators that shared her location. 

The way he’d tried to protect her by trying to keep her away tonight, so that she wouldn’t have to face this complicated churn of emotions.

She rested her head on his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you. For everything.”

She felt him shift, and the slightest hint of pressure as he pressed a kiss into the top of her cowl.  

“There’s a file, if you want to know more about her.”

She’d known that, from the moment she’d made him promise to keep her baby safe.  She knew Bruce didn’t do half-measures, that he took each promise he made as a lifelong commitment.  She’d known that, and she’d never consciously thought about it, because it was too much. “No, I think-- I think I saw enough.”

She’d seen a child deeply loved, a child that was brave and beautiful and bright.  That flung herself at heroes, safe in the knowledge that they were only there to help.

She’d seen all she needed to know that her daughter was living the life she’d hoped to have herself as a child. That she was living the life that Steph had hoped for when she’d signed those papers.  

That this was one glorious instance of one of her choices going exactly right.

[ax100]

Ax’s Promare headcanons - Post-World Blaze (pt3)

Hello, I’m back again with more headcanons! I had fun writing this part because I ended up having to consult with an intellectual property lawyer in my family about how patents and royalties work lmao. What’s crazy is that this is not the first time I’ve had to consult a specialist for fic (I previously consulted with a friend of mine who has a degree in political science and another friend who’s a university professor for this same fic that these headcanons are for). The more you know!

If you are not familiar with what is happening, I’ve been writing a series of posts trying to figure out a more specific timeline / sequence of events before canon events in Promare. An expansion of the literal FIRST FIVE MINUTES of the film, if you will (check the timestamps in the movie, I’m not even kidding). This is the fourth post in the series, and you can read the others here!

Pre-World Blaze

Post-World Blaze (Years 1-10)

Post-World Blaze (Years 11-20, Loosening Grudges)

And here’s the masterpost, for easier access: Ax’s Promare Headcanons (masterpost)

This post zooms in on Promepolis and the rise of Kray Foresight into power. I have a few notes here and there on my interpretation of the character peppered throughout to help you guys understand why I wrote this part the way I did.

Do note that this is just my personal interpretation of things and I am in no way saying that this is actually what happened! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

HISTORICAL CONTEXT (POST-WORLD BLAZE: YEARS 21-PRESENT, PROMEPOLIS AND KRAY FORESIGHT)

The news of the renowned Dr. Prometh’s death shook the world. Murder. Gunshot, straight to the heart. No evidence had been left; even the CCTV footage had been wiped. To make it even worse, all the data banks of the lab had been purged too. Whatever the professor had been working on was lost to time; he’d been notoriously secretive about his work during his lifetime, and never shared his research with anyone. The culprit was never caught, but the widely-held belief was that it was Mad Burnish’s doing—who else would want the professor dead? The trail eventually went cold, and the case would remain unsolved for the decade to come.

It wasn’t long after Prometh’s death that a local news story gained traction in Promepolis, one of the numerous city-states that had cropped up after the Great World Blaze. A young man by the name of Kray Foresight had saved a young boy from a house fire, losing an arm in the process. What made the story even better was that Foresight was an undergraduate engineering student, working on anti-Burnish tech. The press ate the sweet irony up, and regurgitated the information till it was all Promepolitans could talk about. That Foresight was such a darling too, such a kind-hearted soul—when interviewed about his stance on the Burnish, he was of the opinion that, while they were dangerous, they were victims of circumstance. His research was on anti-Burnish tech, to protect humans from the threat of Burnish fire, but he wanted to find a cure for the Burnish condition too. And wasn’t that a more sustainable solution for everyone involved? The young ones his age celebrated him—this is the kind of face their movement needed (compassion over retribution)—while the older ones, those who hated the Burnish but were charmed by this promising young man, started to think a little more.

Moved by these sentiments and impressed by his research, private and public entities alike lined up to invest in his tech. Almost overnight, Kray Foresight had become a billionaire. His research grew by leaps and bounds with the new lifeblood of steady funds, more money than a college student knew what to do with. Many companies tried to recruit him into their labs; others tried to buy the research from him. But he was steadfast in his refusal. The patents would not go to a corporation; of that, he had been adamant. Instead, a year later, right after his graduation (which had been publicized), he founded the Foresight Foundation, which became the holding entity for the patents of a slew of anti-Burnish tech that would soon become standard issue in all police forces and Counter-Terrorism Units around the world. The royalties from his inventions ensured a steady and impressive flow of funds, big portions of which were generously donated to the Promepolis City Government to fund their projects, while the Foundation worked on setting up its own network of schools, clinics, and social support programs for the citizens of Promepolis. All throughout this, the press kept reminding the public of what he had done in the past—the young man who had saved a boy from a fire, losing his arm in the process, was actively making the world a better place. He was poised for great things, and all eyes were on him for what he’d do next. They didn’t need to wait long. Only a little less than two years after the Foundation’s founding, Foresight made an unprecedented statement: he was going to run as Governor in the upcoming city elections.

There were concerns on Foresight’s intentions to run as Governor—one, he hadn’t served in public office previously, though he did have experience running a large foundation with a wide reach, which had also worked with the City Government closely in the past; and two, he was so damn young. His platform came heavily tinged with wide-eyed idealism, reflective of the new wave of thinking characteristic of the younger generation—“We in Promepolis protect our own, Burnish and human alike. The world has moved past the need for grudges; we must let go of the past and think of the future. At this point, we must strive, more than ever, to maintain peace,” he’d said in a campaign rally. No Promepolitan left behind was his battle cry; Burnish needed help, not anymore punishment, and he promised the establishment of a Burnish rehabilitation program, the first of the world would ever see. To all the Burnish in Promepolis, he’d promised, don’t worry, we’ll make sure you never hurt anyone ever again. And of Mad Burnish, which had largely lost its influence but still remained a thorn in everyone’s side, he promised that they would see their end during his term as Governor.

It made international news when Kray Foresight won as Governor of Promepolis by a landslide; even other city-states had a stake in it, after all. Promepolis was the first to establish a Burnish rehabilitation program in partnership with the Foresight Foundation, with many of the forward-thinking city-states investing huge amounts of money into the program as well. If proven to be a success, if the Foundation could really find a way to rid the world of the Burnish problem once and for all, they were all too happy to throw their money into the project.

(As viewers, ofc we all know this is a front. If Kray had the Parnassus Project in mind since the start, I don’t believe it would have been in his best interest to drive all the Burnish out of the city. So he pushed for a narrative that yes, the Burnish condition does make you violent and a threat to those around you, but we in Promepolis protect our own. We will help you, we will cure you. Many people voluntarily entered themselves or their family members into the program, even though Foresight said it could take years before they would be able to be released. This was fine, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone again. Many of them died, the lucky ones were busted out by Mad Burnish.)

(Any Burnish caught not submitting themselves to the rehabilitation program would be arrested on grounds of being a threat to public safety, and immediately put into the program. Those found complicit in the act of hiding the Burnish would also be arrested and subjected to appropriate jail time or conscripted community service.)

(The money that was being invested in the rehabilitation program was being used to fund the Parnassus, alongside the crazy big money the Foresight Foundation was making off the patents for anti-Burnish tech. The Financial Director of the Foresight Foundation was also the Administrator of the Department of Commerce, Industry, and Trade at the time—more on this in another post)

Kray Foresight was a firebrand of a politician. Promepolis’ Governors before him had largely been passive, but Foresight was a visionary. Though they had been few, being the darling of Promepolis and all, Foresight had shut the naysayers up quite swiftly. He not only proved to be competent in the role, but extraordinary, open to change and innovation in a way the previous Governors had not. With him and his appointed Council of Administrators, Promepolis began to change, developing in a way it could only hope to achieve previously. People attributed it to his age—maybe injecting youth into the politics of this city had been the right decision after all—and he proved to be popular with his constituents again and again, across all demographics. He would remain in his position for the better part of a decade, winning another term before his fall from grace. At his prime, he was seen as benevolent and compassionate, but capable of making hard decisions all the same.

(By the Second Great World Blaze, Kray would have been Governor of Promepolis for 7-8 years already.)

I personally headcanon Kray as someone who pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Competent people who are also nice enjoy an almost privileged position in with the general public, and I think he would have capitalized on that. Which means that, in a world where the Burnish are demonized, he would have used it to his advantage by playing the nice guy. Even to the people funding the Parnassus Project, I think he would have kept up that front-- “It is unfortunate, but we have no choice but to do this,” even if inwardly he was just. Really fuckin racist haha. A saint till the end, that Kray Foresight. Or so he would have wanted people to believe. (Support for this: it is apparently so far removed from his public image that he would do bad things to the Burnish that Galo’s immediate reaction to Lio telling him the truth was, “That’s a lie, the Governor would never do that.”)

Anyway, thanks for reading until the end of this post!

(Btw, I have an AO3 account! All these headcanons are going to be put to good use, eventually, in a fic, but I hope you check out what I have so far!)

NEXT UP: ???

[vroenis]

The 2019 Charlie’s Angels Reboot Was A Good Project & Deserved More Respect From Hollywood

We’ve just finished watching the film and there was a lot both J and I really enjoyed about it. We’re critical of media and art in different ways and I certainly don’t speak for them, as for me, oddly I’m lenient in ways that they probably aren’t when it comes to production and culture. I don’t have to dive too deeply into the cultural response to this picture to know how it went down, I’ve come into contact with just enough of it to have a clear understanding of the popular digest. The response is not at all unexpected, it’s just uninformed.

I feel that the 2019 (year of publishing) Charlie’s Angels reboot was a good project with a wonderful spirit. Elizabeth Banks’ aims were clearly evident in the final product, however it may have been shaped along the way, and that it was under-served in the production process likely from the very beginning.

This casting is fantastic.

I do wish there were better cast-ensemble promos for me to lift from the internet and wonder whether that’s another telltale sign of production or whether the heat has just faded since release and they’ve just dropped out of the archives but I struggled to find well composed images.

The first short sizzle-teaser I ever saw for the film, I thought was quite good. Neckbeards and mouthbreathers won’t have paused for a second thought before launching hate for the project - anything in the most vague proximity of feminism or empowerment of women, or even simply just not being centred around men - will be enough to bring snide internet snark by the truckload. It remains interesting that men continue to struggle to live in a world where there can be things that also exist that are not for them, they cannot simply let these other things also exist without contributing in some way. As it were, the project looked good. Sharp, clever, playful, and a timely reboot reclaimed in the most contemporary way. When I looked up the production details and found out Banks was championing it herself, I really took an interest in it. As the first full trailers released, the casting looked great - genuinely diverse and with real chemistry, I hoped it would find the audience it was looking for.

J and I have had a lot going on in our lives over the last two years and still do. We’ve gone to theatres I think twice in that whole time, maybe three times and I think two of those were gift certificates generously paid for by family. So tonight we finally got around to watching Charlie’s Angels. If we’d seen this in theatres, I’d have still be satisfied and had the same evaluation.

A production budget of $55 million is low-balling a project of this scope; 

There seems to have been a bit of pre-production shuffling and Banks did a lot of wrangling herself early on. 

The whole shoot front to back was just over two months and I assume three countries, US/or studio inclusive. 

CGI is noticeably subpar but not exactly cheap either, so it still would have cost a significant portion of that prod. budget. When I say subpar, the CG in this film isn’t bad, please don’t take that criticism as overly negative of the CG artists’ work - remember that people do the best they can with the time and money they’re afforded. If you want to understand what that’s all about, I encourage you to watch Corridor Crew’s channel on YouTube.

Combat choreography with principle actors isn’t great, there’s far too much editing but again, I’m betting there wasn’t a whole lot of money and thus time for training and rehearsing for them, so combat is noticeably slow. 

2nd Unit photography looked very good because this kind of thing is very old-school Hollywood in that it contributes to what makes an action/spy movie look like one. Unfortunately, that means it was also expensive. We’re really running out of money here...

There is a lot of licensed music in this feature which isn’t cheap at all. Again this feels super old-school Hollywood and definitely demographic targeting, but it firmly timestamps the feature - any film, really - and unless your film is about capturing the essence of the time IT WAS THE 80′s! or FOLK FESTIVALS JUST BEFORE COVID BROKE OUT as an example of not necessarily wanting to capture the past, I really think trying to nail down pop songs of the hot present ultimately does your film a disservice.

And I’ll address that one first because I feel like it may have been one of the easiest changes to make to lift the overall quality of the picture. Instead of burning thru an immense amount of budget on a pile of pop licenses, I think a calculated risk could have been taken in getting a young contemporary musician to create a slick electronic score in its entirety to back it along side the generic orchestral action fare, no disrespect to Brian Tyler. To be honest, Tyler probably could have done it all himself but was also probably just writing to spec. BUT HEY... WHY NOT SCOUT FOR ANY NUMBER OF AMAZING WOMEN OUT THERE WHO ARE PHENOMENAL ELECTRONIC MUSICIANS AND PRODUCERS what am I talking about it’s Hollywood...

This is what I mean by the project deserving more respect and being under-served. Hollywood doesn’t believe in projects like this, they don’t realise what the project is and why it needs frontier, sincere, good faith hiring and instead under-funds but funds it nevertheless SEE? WE FUNDED IT, WE DID THE GOOD THING, SEE US SUPPORTING THE WIMMINS? WE’RE NOT  SEXISTS YOU CAN’T SAY WE’RE SEXISTS YOU CAN HAVE YOUR FILM oh it didn’t do very well except we didn’t let you make it the way you wanted to make it, we still shackled you to 

THE SAME TERRIBLE HOLLYWOOD TRADITIONS THAT, BY THE WAY, ARE FAILING OUR MANLY MAN MOVIES FULL OF MEN HOLY SHIT THE DEBT-RECOVERY CYCLE IS REALLY DOING A NUMBER ON OUR INVESTORS I SURE HOPE WE DON’T HAVE TOO MANY CONSECUTIVE FAILURES OR, SAY, SOME KIND OF GLOBAL CATASTROPHIC AND/OR ECONOMIC EVENT HAND-WRINGING

ahem where was I

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provided the entire soundtrack for The Social Network and it’s both fantastic and timeless. OK oranges and refrigerators, but the principle still stands - I get the intent of Charlie’s Angels was a summer blockbuster but it would have still been elevated by being all the more slick having its own identity in music, having its own sound. You want that soundtrack by that amazing young woman because it sounds fucken awesome.

Charlie’s Angels still needed a few passes by a dialogue editor. I say that a lot. I know my standards are high and it’s a Hollywood film. There’s no problem at all with the vernacular, idioms and the casual language, that was all fine. It’s always just the little details - again, it’s always time and money which - really is just money. A good dialogue editor or script supervisor might have been able to just elevate this whole thing to that super-smooth level of flowing just right. Or perhaps if the actors had spent more time in training and combat rehearsal together, they’d have riffed better and improvised more. They still have good on-screen chemistry but again, more time - more money for time - and things improve.

If you don’t know my taste in film, you could see if you recognise anything in the Film Notes page of this journal, but it’s totally OK if you don’t. Basically most of them are long and boring, with super long takes of people not saying or doing much. I still love Hollywood films tho - I love all cinema and I’ll repeat like a broken record, I should either add a section to Film Notes of my favourite blockbusters or create a page for them. Anyway - Charlie’s Angels still has too much editing mostly due to the aforementioned combat, but also because of that good old Hollywood formulaic style-guide. It’s easy to look up the production credits and pluck out names but on a project like this, it’s difficult to pin the end result on the roles themselves. In these cases, personnel like editors are more like daily jobs rather than creative contributors which again is an immense shame. I catch myself before saying “It doesn’t have to be a Malick/Shortland/Lynch project...” but why not? Why can’t a summer blockbuster have its own fantastic identity? General audiences can identify Michael Bay and Christopher Nolan - sure, one or perhaps both of these people take themselves far too seriously, but why not let a project have its own identity?

We run back into the conversation of protecting investments and style guides.

The easy answer to Bay and Nolan is they’re men, but they’ve also had time to prove their worth over time with previous work and track record. Because they’ve had the privilege to do so. Because they’re men. And most of the people making decisions and letting them experiment and sometimes fail to recover investment on their projects and hey, don’t worry, just try again, are men - and they were permitted to try again because they were themselves men.

Whether individual men do or don’t deserve whatever they did or didn’t get, I’m not here to discuss. Many of them definitely didn’t and I can’t change it.

What we should be changing is how we finance, how we empower and how we hand over autonomy of projects to women in cinema, in the arts - in professional life, in any industry.

YOU DON’T KNOW THE DETAILS OF THIS PROJECT

So. Fucking. What.

I can make educated guesses and I can support as much as possible as fair and equitable an arts industry wherever I engage with it.

I really liked Charlie’s Angels. It had a lot of heart. It had a wonderful sense of play and sass and smarts. Yes, a few too many “why didn’t they just shoot the bad guy” moments etc. - again - script reviews, better writers, more time...

More money.

More respect from an industry that doesn’t respect women and women’s autonomy; social, professional, in all aspects.

I hope Elizabeth Banks wants to make another one, can raise the finances for it and has even more control of the next project. More power to her.

[anagentinwriting]

Subscribe - Part 8

Summary: (Modern AU) Peter was your college sweetheart until a certain event led to your break up. Seven years later another event brings you two back together, but this time a little girl is in the picture. Will listening to your podcasts be the reason you two get back together or be another reason to keep you apart?

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Word Count: 3116

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Subscribe Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You got released from the hospital three days ago, and you were already sick of sitting at home. You cleaned the whole house from top to bottom twice since no show or book could grab your interest. And with Meredith being at school for most hours of the day, you were bored out of your mind being home alone. You wanted to go back to work but couldn’t start till next week, which meant three more days of nothing.

Somehow, you convinced your doctor and Pepper to allow Wanda to work out of the office at your house today. You finally got to do something different, even if it meant planning Peppers trip to New York next week. You and Wanda started working on it, then the accident happened, so Wanda has been working on it by herself. She was a little lost, but she managed to figure out a few things from all your random sticky notes. 

“The talent has arrived,” Wanda shouted as she entered your front door.

“I’m upstairs. I ordered Chinese for us. It should be here shortly,” you shouted from Meredith’s room upstairs.  “I’ll be down in a bit. I’m almost done folding laundry.”

“Alright, I will...” Wanda started, getting interrupted by a knock on the door. “Get the door,” she whispered to herself. She pulled open the door, digging through her wallet. “Hi, how much was it again?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda glanced up to see a guy with a confused look on his face.

“You’re not the usual morning delivery guy?”

“No...um does YN live here?” He asked as his eyebrows came together, forming a crease between them. 

“Does she owe you money?” 

“No.”

“Did she hit your car?”

“Ah...no.”

“Then, yes she lives here and who might you be?” Wanda crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing him up and down.

“Peter. I'm an old friend.” He stuck out his hand, and she shook it.

“Wanda.”

“Oh, like from the podcast?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, watching him with suspicion. “So you’re apart of the small percentage of guys who listen to it.” He shrugged with a smirk. “What can I do for you? YN is a little busy at the moment.”

“I wanted to catch up on some things. Gamora told me she would be home today since she is going back to work next week.” Peter answered, hoping to get his point across. 

“She is. Somehow she convinced the doctor to let her because she’s going insane sitting around all day.”

“She was always the busy body,” he smirked, nodding his head.

“You’re right about that, Peter.” Wanda agreed. She stared at him for a moment longer trying to place where she might’ve seen him before, or a time YN talked about him. “I'm sorry, but I have to ask Peter; YN has never mentioned anything to me about a guy named Peter.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he stated. “There is another name you might know me by it’s…”

“How do I know you’re not some crazed stalker fan of the show?” Wanda asked, interrupting him.

“No. I’m not that at all. Trust me,” he replied, holding his hands up in front of him. “I only learned about the podcast a few weeks ago from Meredith.” 

“So, you know YN’s daughter, too?”

“Yeah, she’s a great little lady. She has her mother’s spunk and curiosity. She carries the weight of the world on her little shoulders, and puts on a brave face when she wants to be strong for everyone else,” he replied while Wanda nodded, agreeing with him half listening and half zoning out. “She’s my daughter.”

A second later, Wanda’s head snapped to him as the realization dawned on her. She stared at him, tilting her head to the side almost as if she was reading his mind. “Can you like chill for a sec,” Wanda proclaimed, slamming the door in his face and ran up the stairs. 

You put the last of Meredith’s laundry in her drawer when Wanda barged into the room out of breath. She stood with her hands clutching her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Whoa, Wanda! You alright?”

“YN, your um…your um…” She heaved, trying to catch her breath. 

“My what?”

“Star-Lord...is...downstairs.” 

“Wait, what?” You stared at her with big round eyes.

“Gamora told him to stop over,” she breathed. “Why do you have so many steps?”

“She never said--” you furrowed your brows together “--I'm...I'll be back.”

“Yeah. You go girl.” She collapsed on Meredith’s bed, pumping her fist in the air. “You get him, girl.”

You stood by the closed door, seeing a reflection through the textured glass window. He’s here. What were you going to say to him? Why didn’t Gamora tell you he was going to stop by? At least you could've better prepared and made yourself presentable. You glanced in the round mirror next to the door, trying your best to look approachable. You took a deep breath and opened the door to see Peter’s back. The small creek in the door made him turn around and smile at you. 

“Hi, YN. You’re looking better...ah...Gamora told me you’re going back to work soon, so I thought I would come to visit you before then. I wanted to check up on you anyways and thought we could catch up.”

“Is this because you found out about Meredith?”

“Yes and no. For one, I didn't know you moved to Malibu after college.”

“There’s a lot you don't know about me.” You opened the door wider, inviting him in. You walked with him to your office to get a bit more privacy even though Wanda would be holding a glass to the door regardless. Peter moved to the chair in front of the desk but waits for you to sit first. “Did you want anything to drink?”

“I'm okay. Thanks.” You nodded. “How are you feeling? I heard a little about your job at Potts of Honey producing a podcast. Sounds fun!”

“I'm doing better just tired of sitting around here all day.” You shrugged. “My job is pretty fun. Right now, I’m producing one podcast, but I'm planning on starting another one in the future.”

“I’ve listened to a few episodes, and it’s informative and funny. I also never thought of certain brands of diapers, bottles, or breast pumps being better than other brands. And how babies can be picky about what products they like and don't like. I’m learning a lot,” he smirked, eyeing you over. “I can tell you enjoy what you do. Both, you and Wanda, do a great job with what you are sharing with the world.”

“Thanks. She’s a good talent, and those are the topics people want to hear about. I'm kinda surprised you’ve listened to them,” you admitted, eyeing him over.  

“Well, I only started listening to them a couple weeks ago, so can't call me a lifelong fan.” 

“I see. Usually our demographic gears towards women, but I’m finding more men have started listening to it. I pegged you for the kind that wouldn’t.”

“I guess, there's a lot you don't know about me either,” Peter replied with an amused smirk. “I will say I am pretty fond of the Star-lord series as your fans call it.” You stared at him with wide eyes. “I am curious to why you decided to talk about us on there?”

“It’s a relatable topic. The podcast is about people sharing experiences, so I talk about what I know. I'm not going to make something up to get people to listen. Besides, it was Wanda who started it.” He chuckled, nodding his head, remembering the first episode he listened to with you on it; the not a date date. “I heard your record label became quite the overnight success story,” you inquired, hoping to get the topic off you. 

“It’s only a success because my partners are the best. If it was only me, I wouldn’t have come close to what I have been able to accomplish in this industry. It’s a crazy business, especially when you’re trying to find new talent and some can be relentless about getting noticed. Like there's this one high school girl from Queens, her boyfriend keeps calling and sending demos. It can get pretty ridiculous.”

“You should give her a shot. She might be a nice, fresh young face to add to your label.”

“You’re probably right about that. Maybe she’s worth another look.”

You heard the doorbell ring and excused yourself to get the door. You opened it, paying the delivery guy, and took everything into the kitchen. You rested your hands on the counter and took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. This whole thing will be over soon, and then you can go back to living your life without Peter. Why is he even here? You stepped back into your office to find Peter staring at the collage of picture frames on the wall. 

“She has your spunk, you know,” Peter stated, smirking at the pictures. 

“My what?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You know that...strength, curiosity and determination. Set your mind to it, and you’ll get the job done.”

“I'm not the only one she gets it from,” you confessed, forcing your favorite boyish smile onto Peter’s face. You ignored it as best you could, and pointed at one frame from her birthday party a couple of years ago.

“This was her fifth birthday, and she became obsessed with space and anything to do with it. I swear she watched every movie about space, including Despicable me.  It was a crazy time,” you smiled at the memory. 

“Mer mentioned that you never told her my name,” Peter inquired, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I didn't. I told her I used to call you Star-lord. It could be the reason she loves space so much,” you breathed with a slight smirk. “I told her everything she wanted to know about you, like how you’re a great guy with a caring heart. You love music and movies, and how you still think Footloose is the greatest movie ever.”

“It still is and will always be,” he confirmed with a straight face. “I guess what I don’t understand, is why did you only tell her the good things?”

“Why would I tell her anything different?”

“Well, the way we ended things was pretty bad.”

“If I told her the bad things and how I hated you for hurting me, she’d think I'd hate the part of her that is her father.” He nodded, realizing your reasoning. “I’m not going to brush my opinions of you on her when she didn’t even know you. I’m not going to make her think less of you because she’s never met you” You went back over to your desk, taking a seat. You let out a deep breath and bit down on your bottom lip. “Why are you here, Peter?”

“Isn’t it obvious.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Finding out I have a seven-year-old daughter from my ex’s sister, you can imagine my surprise.” You remained silent as your eyes moved to stare at the top of your desk. “I was a little freaked, to say the least. I never could keep a goldfish alive for more than a week, how was I going to keep another human being alive? I don’t know how you managed to raise her yourself, but you did. I guess I want to know, were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?”

“Yes, I was going to tell you at some point,” you paused before continuing. “I remember when Mer was about three years old, I was barely making ends meet and Gamora was doing way more than she needed, too. I was at a low point in my life, but then I got an interview at Potts of Honey and things got better. Easier,” you said, reliving the memory. “Besides I didn't want your first meeting with her to be about money. I didn’t want it to seem like I was coming after you because Walkman Records hit it big. To be honest, I wanted to accomplish something and rub it in your face,” you admitted, forcing a soft chuckle out of him. 

“Typical, YN.” He shook his head, refusing to hide the growing grin on his face. “I am proud of you and how far you’ve come in your career. You also did an amazing job raising Meredith along the way,” he admired as his smile drifted away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for either of you.” Your eyes shot up to him.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for not being there. It was my choice not to tell you about her.”

“I still feel like I owe you.”

“You don't owe me anything, Peter,” you snapped, raising your voice a bit.

“So then, why didn't you tell me about her sooner?” Peter questioned, biting his lip and keeping his eyes on you.

“I have…I have my reasons.” you sighed, looking away from him. 

“Which are?” 

“Can we not get into this right now?”

“Okay,” Peter paused, clearing his throat. “The reason I came by is I wanted to ask if um--” he sat back down, wringing his hands together “--if I could be more involved in Meredith's life. To be honest, I don’t know how to be a dad, but I don't want to be an absent father like mine was. I know it’s a lot to ask because you don’t trust me, especially with all that’s happened between us.” Peter took a deep breath before continuing, “I will take whatever I can get. Once a week, once a month, an afternoon, anything. All I want is to be apart of her life.”

You stared at him, not knowing how to answer. This surprised you. You never would’ve thought he would want to be apart of her life, let alone yours again. “Mer told me all about the little adventures you took her on while I was in the hospital,” you recalled. “It's been an earful, but every time she tells me about them, she's more excited than the last time. I can’t thank you enough for doing that. I appreciate you getting her mind off things because it’s exactly what she needed.”

“Happy I could help.” Peter nodded as a coy smile appeared on his face.

“How do you think she was doing with me being in the hospital? I mean, I got her side of the story and Gamoras, but since you spent the most time with her, you might have a better understanding.”

“I could tell at certain times it was hard on her. I don’t know if anyone else could see it, but she was scared. I mean, what little kid wouldn’t be seeing a parent like that?” Peter bit his lip, furrowing his brows at the ground. “Meredith’s a tough little girl. A lot like you in many ways. She wants to stay strong for everyone, but when it was the two of us, she was worried. I was, too.” He looked up, keeping a watchful eye on you. “All I tried to do was be there for her and do what I thought you would do in this circumstance.”

“Thanks for keeping a watchful eye on her. Gamora assumed something was going on with her, but Meredith can be hard to read sometimes,” you stated with a half shrug.

“Well, I knew her mother pretty well,” he smirked, making you shake your head at him. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you before you spoke up. “Mer continues to ask me about when she gets to see her daddy again." Peter's mouth twitched, trying to hide his smile. “Truth is I want you involved in her life, and since you want to be, I will not step between you two. She’s your daughter, too.” Peter broke into a full-blown grin, unable to keep the enjoyment off his face. “I was thinking instead of Mer coming to my work daycare after school, you could pick her up and hang out with her until I'm done with work. Gamora told me that worked well when I was asleep. Then after a while, you could take her one night over the weekend. Does that sound like something you would be interested in?"

“Yes, absolutely, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I can text you the details, and we can start next week when I go back to work?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect. Thank you.”

After showing Peter out, you and Wanda got to work finishing the final touches of Peppers trip while scarfing down Chinese food. Wanda narrowed down which store sold the most of our products and scheduled a customer meetup at that location. You scheduled appointments with the realtor to view a few properties for the new Potts of Honey facility Pepper hoped to open up in New York within the next year.

“So, that Peter guy is Meredith's dad?” Wanda asked, trying to keep her voice calm. 

“Yup,” you answered between bites, jotting down some notes for Pepper to look over. You didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than necessary.

“You weren’t kidding about how good-looking he is,” Wanda agreed, ignoring her work.

“Hmm.”

“Bet he looks good naked, too,” Wanda winked in your direction.

“Sure.”

“Is that all you're gonna give me is one-word replies?” You shrugged, chewing your food. “Why was he here? How does he know about Meredith? Are you going to see him again?”

You took a sip of your drink, squinting your eyes at her. “One: He wants to get to know Meredith better and become more involved in her life. Two: He's known about her ever since my accident. Gamora and I agreed, if anything ever happened to me she would tell him. Three: I will see him again.”

“I bet you two are going to fall in love again,” she squealed, clapping her hands together.

“I don't know about that.”

“You never did tell me what happened between you two.”

“It's not something I like to talk about. I will talk about all the happy moments, but the breakup is something I’d rather forget. Sure, I talked about it in one of our episodes before, but I didn’t go into much detail about it. What I said on there is the extent I will go into sharing about what happened,” you stated, and Wanda shut her mouth and got back to work.

___________

AN: They finally talked well sort of. At least it’s a start! We got a little information about Meredith's life growing up and about the reader's struggles before she got a good job. Yet, their breakup still remains a mystery. Wonder what was said in that podcast she mentioned? Did it come as a surprise that she wanted Peter in Meredith's life? Do you think they will be able to co-parent together, or will it end in another disaster? Time will tell. As always thanks for reading for those that read these notes...haha! 

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Social Foo-Pah

Social Foo-Pah Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Continuation of a previous fic, found [here], with a special shout out of thanks to @ohwhatstheworldcometo for asking about a companion piece and being so patient while I worked on this! While Pidge attempts to avoid Keith at the celebration of Princess Maia of Firnes entering society proper, said princess and Allura have concocted a plot to get her feelings for Keith out in the open. But if there’s one things the Paladins should always remember is this: Even the best-laid plans can go completely off the rails. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

The grand hall of Queen Simona’s castle had been decked out in elaborate tapestries in various violet, blue and white hues. All the tapestries bore an image of a strange creature that he could only say had to be something akin to a hydra, but each head belonged to a different type of animal and was outlined in a different color. At the center of the piece, with one claw poised just beside it, was a broad sword stuck inside a stone. Keith remembered from the briefing they’d had upon arrival that the colors and insignia were representative of the new world order that Queen Simona had brought to her Firnes many years prior. He reached out with one hand and gently toyed with the tassels at the end of one of the tapestries. He was mildly impressed by how much had been done in so little time to get the place ready.

He heard Kolivan let out a mildly displeased huff. “Keith, please remove your hands from the tapestries. They are materials seen as pivotal to this ceremony,” He said, his tone reminding him of his younger years and getting scolded for sneaking candy bars into the grocery cart.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please. I doubt that they’re that instrumental to what they’re doing. They look like little more than decorative pieces,” He scoffed.

“Decorative pieces they may be, but they do also serve a purpose,” Queen Simona’s voice was light with a mix of amusement and delight as she approached, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise vacant room. Both Blade members flinched and turned to face her as she approached, Shiro and another lumbering figure a few paces behind her.

“For years, under the tyranny of Queen Maura, our people suffered greatly. She kept them hidden in a fog of false feelings using her powers, keeping them from feeling discomfort over the things she was doing. These tapestries are the insignia that the rebellion Queen Simona led was represented by. They have become a symbol of courage and perseverance to our people,” The tall man behind her said, reaching into a pocket of his coat and pulling out a small bottle. He squeezed a pale blue liquid into one eye, causing Keith to realize that eye was unnaturally glossy.

“I didn’t realize that it held such significance. I apologize for messing with it,” Keith said, dipping his head at her both in a sign of apology and to avoid the scolding look his superior commander was sending his way.

Queen Simona chuckled lightly and gave the man beside her a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Oh, ignore him, young one. Dom’s become a stuffy sort as we’ve grown older,” She explained, her tone light and jesting as she looked at the man in question.

The other shook his head, fixing his one good eye on her, but his lips twitched at the corners in amusement. “You’ve never been good at professionalism, Mona,”

Kolivan stepped forward, offering one hand to the man. “I take it that you are Dominic de Cortez, the head of the royal guard?” He asked.

The other nodded, his expression levelling back out, and took the outstretched hand. “Correct, I am. I take it you are the Blade member in charge of the team you’ve sent along to assist Team Voltron with this. Kolivan, yes?”

He nodded. “Yes. I was hoping to do a debriefing regarding the intelligence we have, as well as discussing the knight rotation throughout the ceremony,”

“Of course. Would it be possible for your young Blade member and the Black Paladin to stay with Queen Simona while we are gone, just in case?” Dom asked, shifting to look over at Keith and Shiro.

Keith blinked a bit in surprise before nodding. “We’ll keep her safe while you’re gone,” He vowed. Queen Simona herself scoffed a bit and shook her head, mumbling something under her breath, but she waved the two older men off with one hand. Keith glanced at her uneasily. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Your Highness.”

She perked up in surprise before shaking her head. “I apologize. My problem is more with Dominic treating me as if I am still a child. I led a rebellion, by the graces; I think I can protect myself about some spoiled Galran prince and his lackeys if needed,”

“His generals and he are extremely competent fighters, actually. We’ve encountered them enough times to know they are not a force to be underestimated. That’s part of the reason you invited us here, after all; concern over his growing forces being enough to twist Princess Maia to sway to his demands,” Shiro commented before turning his attention to the tapestry. He reached out and touched one of the heads, the silhouette reminding him of a moose. “So the insignia is symbolic of your rebellion?”

“Yes. The sword itself is a representation of myself, as I was the one that orchestrated the rebellion. Each of these heads represents the family beast of each of my seven advisers. The one you are looking at is actually the representative of Dominic,” She explained.

“So you’re a queen with advisers?” Keith asked curiously. In most of the planets they’d visited, it was either ruled by a monarch or by a small council.

“The problem with our previous governmental system,” She explained, her gaze remaining fixated on the tapestry, “was that it was a council composed of members from the same family. There was no variety in the opinions being presented, no insight into how their decisions might affect another demographic of people negatively. None of the members of the council had lived an experience particularly different from the others, so there was no deeper insight. There was also far too much trust and acclaim placed in one another due to the belief that family would always look out for one another; this factor was how Queen Maura was able to rise and snuff out any voice that spoke out against her. For almost all my years of combat, my seven advisers have been by my side. They have helped me to grow as a person and offered me other avenues I would not have considered before. They have disagreed with me and corrected my path when necessary. I have trust in their judgment of myself, as well as trust in my judgment of them, so our system has worked out as well as any system designed by a creature that is not of a celestial status could. All of them have the ability to veto my ideas, and new policies are not put in place without every adviser having a say in what works and if any modifications are necessary.”

“That seems to be quite sound for your people. But I thought that your empathic abilities were how you governed?” Shiro asked.

“The old system lied much more heavily on the abilities of those like myself than the system I’ve designed does. My powers are used more as a clarification point, really. There have been officials and nobles that come with complaints, claiming to be looking out for their fellow man, only to reveal they have disingenuous intentions once I am able to ascertain their deeper emotions,” She said.

“So you’re less a queen and more a ruling lie detector, only with a deeper scope and higher point of accuracy,” Keith said.

Shiro flushed and cast him an annoyed glance. “Keith! That’s an incredibly rude way to put it!” He chided before looking back over at Queen Simona, whom had taken to laughing politely into her hand at the exchange. “I apologize for him. He’s not always the best when it comes to other people.”

“It is quite fine, Black Paladin. I appreciate the curiosity you and the others have exhibited since being here, as well as seeing how you tie things to your own culture for a better understanding. Knowledge can be a pivotal weapon you can use to your advantage; especially in regards to those you are allied with. I could send one of these along with you on your travels, if you’d like,” She offered, gently patting the tapestry once more before looking at both men.

“I’d appreciate one, thank you,” Shiro agreed, offering her a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something else but the large double doors of the grand hall opened and the three turned to face the smaller figure entering. “Oh, Pidge. Shouldn’t you be looking after Princess Maia with Allura, in the garden?”

Pidge tensed up and froze, her eyes locking on Keith. He perked up and cast her an almost sheepish look. She scoffed and looked over at Shiro and Queen Simona again. “I was wondering if there were any other duties you thought I’d be well-suited for. Like, maybe helping set up surveillance equipment or something,” She said quickly.

Queen Simona’s brow knit in concern. “Did something transpire between yourself and young Maia? She’s an excitable sort and has a bad tendency of occasionally speaking without thinking first,” She said gently, beginning to cross the room over to her.

“I may be the Green Paladin, but I’m not much of a nature fanatic,” She said quickly.

“She’s right about that; she’s one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, and can hack or repair almost anything,” Keith chimed in, trying to offer her a small smile.

She pointedly ignored him. “I’d be more comfortable doing something regarding technology,” She insisted, her own gaze falling to tiled floors beneath her.

“Of course, Green Paladin,” Queen Simona said before reaching over to a small speaker beside the doors. She clicked the little red switch on it and leaned closer. “Giselle, will you send one of your assistants to help lead the Green Paladin down to assist you in preparing the monitoring devices for this evening?” She made sure to flip the switch all the way down after her words, most likely opening the channel to whom she was addressing.

There was a brief pause filled with static noise before another voice responded, “I already have plenty of help. The elderly Altean gentleman is quite… enthusiastic about partaking in every element of our preparation.” The woman’s voice was tight, as if she was barely restraining herself from losing it, and filled with forced enthusiasm.

“The Green Paladin is a technological thinker as well, but a bit more subdued in personality compared to your current companion. View her as more of an assistant to help with reining in the talent you are currently accompanied with, if you’re so obliged,” Simona suggested.

She had barely flicked the switch down to open the channel before Giselle was heard shouting, “One of you go collect the Green Paladin from the grand hall this instant! She is going to be of great help to us!”

“Thank you, Giselle,” Simona said with a small laugh.

“No, thank you and thank the Green Paladin, my Queen,” She said before there was the click of her end going silent again.

With another small shake of her head, Queen Simona turned the device off. “I hope you don’t mind my having to present the situation the way that I did to Giselle. She tends to be very particular about how she takes care of the devices we implement around here. She barely even lets her own personally trained assistants do more than run errands and double-check readings,” She explained.

“Pidge tends to be that way when she’s working on a big project, too,” Shiro commented, hoping to ease some of the tension lingering still. Keith was watching Pidge like a hawk, occasionally shifting as if he wanted to catch her attention, and she, in response, was making sure to keep her face turned away from him. The silence between them was stifling, which was strange considering who it was he was talking about, and it had him a bit concerned. He knew there’d been some kind of argument between them during Keith’s last brief stint on the Castle of Lions, but neither of them would elaborate further than that.

The Green Paladin shifted, moving to head back out the doors. “Thank you, Queen Simona. I’ll wait outside for my escort then,” She said as she shifted to back out.

“I’ll wait with you,” Keith said, starting to approach the doors.

“I can take care of myself. And I’m sure you have your orders from the Blade,” She snapped quickly before storming out, ignoring how the young man visibly flinched at her words.

“Oh, my,” Simona mumbled, looking back over at the crestfallen Blade member. She then glanced over at Shiro, noting the worried frown on his face. “I take it that there is some kind of strain between the two of you?”

Keith perked up then glared off to the side. “It’s… It’s her problem, not mine. If she wants to be petty and hold a grudge, that’s her choice,” He grumbled before turning and heading to check the rest of the room, to assure that things were secure.

The two leaders exchanged looks before Shiro shrugged. “We should avoid getting involved. These two can be kind of… Stubborn, to put it lightly. And they tend to shut down if they feel like they’re being poked and prodded. If we can keep them apart until I can talk with them and diffuse the situation, I’d appreciate it,” He explained quietly.

“I understand. I’ll have them assigned to opposing areas in the grand hall tonight,” She agreed, offering him a small smile to help reassure him. He nodded his head in gratitude and looked over at Keith again, hoping that things could be blown over easy once they had time to address them.

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The hustle and bustle of the party ended up being much larger than expected, creeping from outside the walls of the castle and trickling into the city streets. It seemed that the whole capital – maybe even the entire planet! – was celebrating in some way for the young princess. The city streets were decked out with smaller, paper versions of the fabric tapestries, hanging from strings looped between the lampposts lining the city. The denizens were all dressed in their best outfits, wearing the same colors of the tapestries, singing and chanting the songs of the people.

Queen Simona insisted that the windows and balcony doors be left open, as it allowed the natural air circulation to keep the castle cooled, so there was a Blade member stationed at each entrance, ducked out in the shadows and keeping a watch for any suspicious activity. Members of the rebellion were intermingled in the crowd both in the castle and in the streets, monitoring for any sign of Lotor or his generals.

Allura herself was poised close to the end of the staircase where the royal family would be making their arrival from. Standing at the other end was Hunk, looking around pensively, anxious over potential missing any hint that something could be going wrong. She did a quick scan to double check where the two in her plans were present. Pidge was stationed beside one of the inner doors to a balcony, chatting amicably with the Firnesian guard stationed alongside her. A decent space away, back over by the main entrance, was Keith, most likely receiving his orders from Kolivan. She made a mental note to keep track on him, in specific, to guarantee the plan she and Maia had come up with could be followed. She then turned her attention to the top of the spiral stairs as the orchestra started up a much softer, gentler song.

At the top of the staircase stood Queen Simona, Maia and another woman beside her. The other woman seemed to be about the same age as Queen Simona, with inky hair that had been curled and teased, the strands bouncing mere centimeters above her bare shoulders. She was wrapped in a strapless violet gown with a white sash around her waist and matching gloves that reached her elbows. She leaned over to Maia, carefully tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, her eyes warm with affection as she spoke quietly to her. There was a resemblance in the two, in the curve of their faces and shape of their eyes, though the older woman’s eyes were stormy blue-grey. The younger woman was rocking back and forth on her feet, looking up at both she and Simona in barely contained delight, the long edges of her pearl gown skimming along the plush rug below her.

Simona dipped her head to say something, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, before taking a deep breath and reaching towards a small marble pillar beside her. The marks on her own arms almost seemed to be glowing in the celebratory lights. Atop a cushion was what seemed to be a silver choker of some sort, with small droplet-sized stones embedded in it, as well as a long strip of a velvety looking fabric. Queen Simona raised the fabric and offered it to the woman beside her, then carefully picked up the ornate necklace. “Thank you, to every single person in attendance for this moment. It is an honor to see so many coming out to share this moment with our beloved Maia,” She said, pausing to flash a gentle look at the young heiress before her.

The crowd before them erupted into a delighted cheer, boosted as those on the outside joined in as well.

She smiled and dipped her head. “As is customary for a young one’s official entrance into society, here before her newfound peers and equals, she shall be given a family heirloom and have her hair styled by her parentage. For her family heirloom, she shall receive the chain of truth, as customary of an empath with her skill and prowess,” She explained before glancing at the other woman.

“And, for her hair style, she shall have it styled in a simple braid with the cloth in my hand. The fabric is soft yet sturdy, the braid practical and humble, as these are the attributes she will be wise to remember as she continues down the path of adulthood,” She said, pausing to again tuck another rebel lock of hair behind the princess’ ear.

The crowd cheered the whole time as the black haired woman twisted and tied her hair off into the aforementioned braid, and then when Queen Simona carefully clicked the clasp of the necklace into place, the fit snug enough that it wouldn’t dangle but also loose enough that it shouldn’t inhibit her ability to breath, eat or speak. Once she was finished with the ceremonial parts, she received a peck to each cheek from each of her parents, then turned and slowly made her way down the steps. Once she reached the end, the thunderous excitement in the crowd seemed to miraculously reach greater heights, the collection swarming upon her to congratulate and greet her proper. Hunk shifted and took his position beside her, serving as a personal guard in case anyone got too grabby or enthusiastic.

It was quite some time before things settled down enough for Allura and Hunk to swap posts, the Yellow Paladin offering her a relieved smile before slinking off to find himself something to drink and eat. She offered him a small wave before her attention shifted back to her enthusiastic ward, bright-eyed and fidgeting in her giddiness, Squire poised on her shoulder. This left the young Altean a bit bemused, as she hadn’t seen the little Heelaw anywhere prior to that point. “Is this Keith person in attendance?” She asked eagerly, gently taking hold of the taller woman’s upper arm.

“He is. He should be over by the balcony right now, speaking with Kolivan, the leader of the Blade,” She said, guiding them towards where they were. She opted against adding that, upon seeing his approach, Pidge had ducked and disappeared into the crowd.

“Excellent! What kind of person is he? From what little I could glean from Pidge’s emotions, he seems to be someone deserving of her adulation,” She asked eagerly.

“Well,” Allura trailed nervously, her eyes darting through the crowd in the hope of locating Pidge, “he’s a bit abrasive, but he has a good heart. He’s a lot like her, in the sense that they both like their privacy, which is probably why they get along so well.”

Maia hummed thoughtfully, lifting one hand to wave eagerly when Kolivan and Keith spotted their approach from the corner of their eyes. She carefully detangled herself from Allura once they reached them, taking the second to offer a polite bow to them. “Greetings, both of you. I have wanted to offer a proper thank you for your assistance in securing our home for this evening in person,” She said.

Kolivan offered a small smile and imitated her bow. “It is our pleasure, Your Highness,” He said.

Maia nodded before glancing over at Allura. “Blue Paladin, would you be so kind as to see if one of the other Paladin’s would be willing to do a guard post swap with you? I’m sure you’re rather tired of following me along and I’d love the chance to speak with each of you in turn,” She said happily.

“Of course,” Allura said, hoping that her smile and tone didn’t sound too stiff. This was the request they had agreed upon in order for their plan to work. Pidge wouldn’t be able to escape being around Keith if it was for the sake of the mission. And Shiro had made it clear that each Paladin take a turn guarding the princess herself. With everyone scattered as they were, none of them should notice how brief her stint beside the princess actually was.

It was a rather impressive plan, Allura had to admit.

“You two are okay with looking after her in the meanwhile, right?” Allura asked, waving lightly before scampering off without even waiting for the answer.

Keith made a vague noise of approval, lifting his head to size Maia up properly. She didn’t miss how his gaze lingered on the markings of her power on her arms. “You have the same marks on your arms as the queen,” He commented.

Maia beamed at him and nodded, lifting one hand to gently stroke one of Squire’s chubby cheeks with her finger tip. “This is the sign that, just like Mother, I have the powers of empathy. These marks are the indicator that I can channel another person’s energy through myself and translate what their feelings are. For now, I’m still in training, but so long as the person I am doing a reading on is thinking of a specific subject or person, I can get a rather precise reading of them. Would you like me to prove as much?” She kept her smile and tone bright, betraying nothing of her gambit, as she offered one hand to the young Blade member. Sensing what was to happen, Squire carefully hopped from his perch and scurried off to pilfer some treats from the food stand.

He eyed her hand cautiously before taking it. At first, she was unable to pick up anything specific, other than that he felt uncomfortable and crowded in the current setting. “So, what exactly should I do?” He asked.

“Think about someone or something specific, so I can get a proper reading on what you feel,” She mused lightly, closing her eyes and beginning to actively probe. For a while it was just foggy and vague, but then he seemed to hone in on a subject. On the surface, he was riddled with confusion and frustration. Something was putting a wedge between he and the subject but he wasn’t sure what. Underneath that, there was fear and betrayal; the fear and betrayal both stemming from a belief that he was, or had been, replaced. There was also a sense of confusion as to what, exactly, his feelings for this person actually were, but the falsehood of that emotion was easy to piece together with a little more probing. Beneath the confusion, in a part of him that may be subconscious, there was a sense of fear over conflicting feelings towards them. On one hand, it seemed that Keith wanted to spend more time with this person and reach out to them, to be transparent with one another. The fearful part of him, though, reared its head like a charge animal and snarled fierce that it would be fruitless.

He felt this person was important to him but also felt he wasn’t important to them in the same way.

Maia slowly opened her eyes to look at Keith, a sense of dread settling into her belly. He clearly had a deep affection for whomever he was thinking about, which could end up sabotaging the plans that she and Allura had. It, she realized, could end up breaking the Green Paladin’s heart. She knew she’d be unable to keep the truth to herself; after all, in this situation, she’d want to know the truth herself. She slowly opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on him, her brow knitting slightly. “Are you sure you don’t know what these feelings you have are?” She asked quietly, her voice just above a whisper.

His eyes widened at her words, indigo eyes shifting from her to whoever he was looking at, panic clear as day.

“Oh, calm down. I’m not here to pick a fight,” Pidge grumbled as she approached, holding two fluted glasses. She offered one to Maia before taking a small sip of her own. “Hmm. Not half bad for an alien punch.”

Maia didn’t even try to hide the smile that turned up on her lips, looking from Keith to Pidge happily. She could tell by how tense he got that he knew that she knew it was the Paladin he’d been gawking at during her reading. She tightened her grip on his hand, sensing that he planned to politely sneak it away and try to flee. She took a sip of her drink before offering it to Kolivan. “Would you be so kind as to hold this for me for a moment?”

He looked a touch confused but nodded, carefully taking the flute from her. With her hand freed, she turned her attention back to Keith and Pidge. “You two seem to be having some kind of difficulty in your relationship, I hear,” She said calmly, trying to take advantage of Pidge’s distracted state to get a hold of her other hand.

The other was quick, though. Her gaze shifted from Maia, looking ready to tear into her for trying to involve herself, before her eyes locked on Keith’s hand still clutched by the princess. She shifted, moving to take a step back in preparation for her escape. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t!” She seethed lowly.

“This is going to be a good thing, I promise!” Maia huffed back, determined, and seized up the other’s wrist instead. The grip wasn’t ideal, but it would work well enough. “Just let me help you!”

“I don’t need any help with this!” Pidge snapped back.

“Yes, you do!” Maia yelled back, tightening her grip and kicking up her power on accident. If she wasn’t focused on her targets, then her ability to channel was a bit off-kilter, as she had learned many times before. If she was too focused on one, all that happened was a one-way transfer of the most basic reading of emotion. Keith and Pidge both visibly froze as they realized what was happening, the odd warm sensation that Maia’s powers caused coursing through both of them and laying everything at their feet.

Well, at one of theirs feet; specifically, Pidge’s feelings at Keith’s feet.

It was a whole minute of silence before Maia was able to compose herself enough to try and correct the flow of the channel, but it was also enough time for Pidge’s brain to catch back up with what was happening. At first, in her shock and horror and embarrassment, she dropped her drink, the glass shattering on the polished tile with the sound of a warning alarm blaring. Conversations around them died down significantly, eyes turning to gawk at them, and the embarrassment and horror grew stronger in Pidge as she looked around frantically. She yanked free of the other young woman’s grasp and staggered back a few steps. “What did you do?” She shouted, clutching her hand to her chest as if she’d been hurt.

She was more just yelling because she didn’t know what else to do, what else to say.

Maia shrunk in a bit, holding her own hands up defensively. An anxious glance around showed that a much wider circle of intrigue had been made, growing as the commotion itself grew louder. “I-It’s okay, Green Paladin, this is an easy fix. Just let me open the channel the other way and it’ll all make sense,” She insisted, trying to calm the other back down.

“Pidge,” Keith said suddenly, his voice quiet and somber, both women turning to face him.

Pidge’s eyes widened a bit at how he watched her, with eyes that were soft and gentle with what she could only label as pity. Her stomach roiled in discomfort, her face growing hotter with a shameful flush. She said nothing before turning and darting towards the double doors leading out of the grand hall. “Ah, Pidge, wait!” Maia called, moving to go after her. She then stopped and wheeled around to pin Keith with a displeased scowl. “Why did you have to do that?”

He blinked, bewildered, then scowled in return. “Excuse me? You’re the one who used her weird powers to do whatever it is you just did!” He accused.

Maia opened her mouth to respond when she heard an intrigued hum from behind her, familiar and chilling, and instead clamped her mouth shut. “Yes, Maia, what did you do, hmm?”

She slowly turned, lifting her gaze to meet the disapproving frowns of her parents. “Momma… Mother,” She said uneasily, her gaze shifting from each of them in turn.

“What’s going on over here? Is everything okay?” Shiro asked as he walked over, Coran and the other Paladins a few steps behind him. Keith noted that Allura bore a similar look on her face as Princess

“This is my fault,” Maia said quietly, wringing her hands uneasily. She glanced over at Keith, who still seemed surprised and muddled about what had happened. “I meant to do a transference of emotion between the two of them, in hopes of opening the channel of communication between them to discuss their mirrored emotional conflicts, but it didn’t go well. She seemed to know that something was going to happen and tried to run off but I wouldn’t let her. I only ended up transferring Pidge’s emotions to Keith. And she was far from happy about that and ran off.”

“Maia, you know you aren’t supposed to be using that technique yet. You haven’t gained a high enough level of control to complete the transfer properly; especially in a situation where you yourself are not completely composed,” Queen Simona said, her tone firm but otherwise composed.

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” The other queen said as she turned to the Paladins and two Blade members, seeming a bit frantic over it all.

“It’s not your fault, Queen Adalyn,” Shiro said.

“Especially since I doubt she was acting alone, Your Highness,” Coran chimed, casting a firm glance over his shoulder at Allura. The other jumped a bit in surprise before glancing down at where she was tapping the tiles on the floor with the toe of her Paladin boot.

“I just wanted to help, but I’ve only made things worse,” Maia mumbled softly.

Queen Simona sighed and looked over at Shiro. “I apologize for this, sincerely,”

“I’ll see if I can’t get her to come back. She should still have the communication device on her helmet switched on,” He explained with a small sigh, shifting away to try and reach her.

While he did that, Keith turned to look over at the other Paladins. “Poor Pidge. She must be really embarrassed,” Hunk said worriedly.

Keith opened his mouth to say something when Lance snorted. “Well, can you blame her? Who wouldn’t be embarrassed about having a crush on Keith?”

“Lance!” Allura seethed, pinning him with a glare.

“What? I’m just telling the truth!” He argued.

“She isn’t answering the comms. Which means she’s either turned the comms off, or removed her helmet,” Shiro said with a small sigh.

Simona nodded. “I’ll get in touch with Giselle. Her cameras should grant her a full reign of the territory of the castle. So long as she hasn’t gone running into town, we should be able to track her down,” She said, carefully lifting the skirt of her dress to head off. She briefly glanced at the shattered glass and drink on the floor, thankfully unperturbed since its fall. “And I’ll see about having that cleaned up, to avoid any potential slips or injuries.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shiro insisted politely. He paused briefly to stick the remaining three Paladins and Blade rookie with a stern look. “And I expect the rest of you to stay put; especially you two, Keith, Allura. We’re going to put this matter to bed the minute we find Pidge.” And, with that, he turned and followed after the queen to begin the search.

“Ugh, this is so unfair!” Lance whined, tilting his head back and setting one hand on his hips.

“I truly am sorry, to all of you. I hadn’t meant to cause this evening to go this way,” Maia chimed again, her whole figure slumped in defeat.

Hunk tried to offer her a reassuring smile, gently patting one of her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ve all made mistakes at big, celebratory gatherings like this,” He said.

Keith turned away from them, his gaze flickering to the balcony in longing. Would stepping out there be against Shiro’s orders? Did he even have to really listen to Shiro, considering he was no longer an official member of Team Voltron? Kolivan offered him the untouched flute of punch that Maia had given him a few minutes before. “Take a moment to clear your head out there. If Shiro returns before you, I’ll inform him I ordered you to do a quick check for any intruders out there,” He said evenly.

“Thanks,” Keith said, unable to muster up a smile but hoping that the gratitude still made it through. After receiving a quick nod of acknowledgement, he slipped past the gently billowing curtains and out into the brisk night air. He stepped out until he reached the stone railing of the balcony. Once there, he rested one arm against the railing to lean out and see the gardens better. They’d been lit by floating paper lanterns and cast an almost ethereal glow on the fauna below. Though, he realized, that perhaps that was simply because this world really was drastically different than Earth, even with all the similarities?

Sometimes he wasn’t sure, what with how much traveling they did through space. He typically left debates like that to Pidge. Whenever he’d encountered something like this before, he could say it outright to her, and for the next hour or two, she would be off. She would take what he was pondering and take it to new heights and levels of intrigue that he’d never consider on his own. Sometimes he’d lose track of what she was saying or how she’d gotten to the tangent she was on, but it was nice, just listening to her wax poetic-science about the specifics of his queries.

He took a quick sip of his drink, humming a bit at the taste. It reminded him of spiced apple cider.

He wondered if Pidge would agree with him on that thought. They’d once argued about whether the Gugu Juice from the planet of Yasarut tasted like blueberries and pomegranate or blackberries and pomegranate. He took another sip and turned the thought over, analyzing his relationship with Pidge and how he appreciated the natural simplicity of it. There was no need to try and present himself in a specific light with her. He could let the walls down and simply toss out any random thought he had without the risk of scrutiny or mockery.

He didn’t have to be Keith, the rejected Garrison cadet known for being a loner.

He didn’t have to be Keith, the ace pilot and ex-Paladin of Voltron.

He didn’t have to be Keith, the rebellious Blade of Marmora rookie.

He could just be Keith, no pretense or context.

He took another sip and fought back a sigh. In the end, developing feelings for Pidge made sense, the more he thought about it. Very few of the people he’d encountered ever allowed him to be so authentically himself before. His father had, within reason, of course; and, in the same vein, so did Shiro. Pidge never expected Keith to be or do more than he ever felt comfortable with. There was something about the ease of their relationship that felt like the first gulp of water after traversing the desert for many hours. But, with that freedom came the stifling fear that Keith would lose her just like he lost everyone that ever meant so much to him before. So he stashed his feelings under layers of fear and befuddlement, as a way to never have to acknowledge or act upon them.

That, he realized, wasn’t going to work anymore, though. Knowing the thoughts that were rattling around in Pidge’s head cleared things up for him. He know understood why she’d been so hostile about the scar he’d gotten from his latest Blade mission. The situation at current was far from ideal for either of them, but it left him feeling a need to face the truth wholeheartedly. Even if she ended up telling him off, proclaiming that it was just a crush and he was reading too much into it, he still wanted to have that conversation. He didn’t want to keep lying about his own stance on it, regardless of how much it would hurt to be rejected. He noticed motion across the garden from himself, by a large tree near the small waterfall.

There, huddled in close to herself, sat Pidge. Her helmet had rolled a few feet away and her face was hidden between her knees and crossed arms.

He stole a glance over his shoulder and, upon confirming that Kolivan was preoccupied with talking with Queen Adalyn, set his half-downed flute down on the balcony and hopped over the railing.

It wasn’t a particularly steep drop, and even then Keith had been smart about going down in stages to avoid injury. He navigated himself carefully, managing to make it to the small bridge in decent time and coming to a halt right after he crossed it. He could still see Pidge’s figure, but he could see her better now. The slight shake of her shoulders told him that she was either trying to fight back tears or was simply trying to mask that she’d surrendered. Approaching her now would most likely end with her cursing him out and threatening to tazz him with her bayard, depending on how he decided to go about it.

He took a deep breath before taking the final few steps towards her, stopping when there was a wide enough girth between them that she should – hopefully – feel unthreatened. “I’m sorry,” He blurted without thinking. She stilled and tensed, one of her hands shifting towards her face. He waited a moment longer, but when she didn’t start talking or move to run away, he decided to press things further. “And, I mean… I know that it isn’t ideal, but it could be worse. It could be Lance that you have a crush on.” He offered.

Her head shot up at that and he froze under the incredulous look on her face.

“Okay, bad example, I should have thought about that better,” He admitted, holding his hands up defensively, “but I think my main point is still kinda fair. I mean, I get it. I’m not the guy people think of when they think about people to have a crush on. And, yeah, that’s something I can totally understand. I know who I am and… I can understand why it’d be embarrassing to have an interest in someone like me. I’m not exactly good with people, and I’m way too impulsive, but I just… I wanted to say that I feel something like that for you, too. And I’m not really sure what caused you to end up liking me like that, but I’m really sorry that you’ve had to deal with those feelings.”

“What?” Pidge asked with a small laugh, carefully unfurling herself and cocking her head. The laugh had been mirthless and there was confusion on her face, which at least helped to soothe him a bit. She wasn’t being malicious about it, at least.

“That’s why you ran off, and I understand,”

“Why do you think I ran off?” She asked curiously, slowly pushing herself upright. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she settled on her feet and something about it made him uneasy.

Transparency with one another was kind of their thing. Or, rather, he’d always considered it to be there thing.

“Because you were embarrassed about having a crush on me,” He said bluntly, as if it should be absolutely obvious.

She shifted and began to walk towards him. “Well, you’re half right,” She said calmly. She stopped a few feet from him, brow knitting in confusion. She glanced briefly at the waterfall, nibbling a bit on her lower lip like she always did when she was turning over a confusion thought, then looked back up at him. “What did you get from Princess Maia, exactly?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I got that you have a crush on me, that you’re mad at me, that you were embarrassed and horrified about the whole crush thing-!”

“Wait, what?”

“I could literally sense your feelings because of Maia, Pidge; you don’t need to pretend,” He said, wincing a bit and averting his gaze. This whole thing was starting to enter the point of discomfort and, not for the first time, he found himself cursing his impulsive nature.

“Is that what you thought those feelings were about?” She asked, and this time when she laughed it felt a bit more genuine.

He screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to look back at her. “Well, excuse me for piecing things together with what I had! You don’t need to make fun of me because of it!”

“Look, Keith, you’re-!”

“I already know what you’re going to say, Pidge! I only came over here so that I could say my piece so that we could move forward from this!” He snapped, still refusing to open his eyes. He felt like if he looked at her, if he saw the mocking delight that he was sure was in her face, their relationship could never resume any sense of what they’d had before. He didn’t want to lose Pidge as a friend, didn’t want to lose that easy companionship. He could pushing his feelings up the hill to get over them if they were out in the open, he was sure, but he wasn’t sure if he could if he saw the jeering look on her face.

But then there was a set of suit-covered hands on his cheeks, the warmth of her palms still managing to reach him through the material. His eyes snapped open and he finally turned to face her. There was no malice or mockery in her eyes, surprising as that was. She looked a little exasperated, but there was something softer paired with him, something he was a bit too scared to name. Her hands slide down, sliding from either side of his face to either side of his neck.

He could feel his own pulse thrumming like made, as if his blood was kerosene touched by a lit match.

Pidge shifted, pressing herself up on tip-toes and looping her arms around his shoulders. Her head just skirted past his, shifting to rest her head against the side of his. “I was embarrassed because I didn’t want you to know how I felt yet; not because I was embarrassed about how I felt, you doof,” She said with a small laugh. She gave him a small squeeze. “I ran off because the way you looked at me after the transfer… It looked like you were pitying me.”

He blinked then, slowly so she could stop him if she wanted to, looped his arms around her as well, settling his hands between her shoulder blades and the middle of her back respectively. “It was pity, but not directed at you; it was just pity that we’d both had kinda similar feelings and had wasted a lot of time not talking about it. Why didn’t you want me to know yet?”

“Because… It’s complicated, you know? It’d be complicated if we decided to pursue a relationship, and it’d be complicated if we decided not to, and just… I didn’t want to have to deal with it. At least not yet,” She said quietly, slumping a bit. He could tell she was feeling exhausted by the events, which was unsurprising. He was feeling pretty worn out himself.

“We could find a way. I mean, find a way to make it a little less complicated,” He mumbled, closing his eyes a bit.

She let out a small hum and he quashed the disappointment at how disbelieving it sounded. “I’m not so sure,”

“But can we at least try? Try to figure something out?” He pressed quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes? Let me think for a little bit, okay?” She prompted, seeming just as thrown as he was. But he was fine with that, he figured. Perhaps they could as Queen Simona to help them figure out their compromise before they left.

[pineaberry]

Productivity

Part 1:Efficiency|Part 2:Productivity|Part 3: Competency

Efficiency is doing more with less.

Productivity is doing more with the same.

His name was Archiban Frodrick Kimble.

The man pondered this fact as he stepped out of the makeshift hospital’s refresher. He stared at the mirror grimly noting how the water hadn’t gotten warm enough to even begin to fog the glass.

He’d always been of the opinion that names were a sure way to tell how much a parent hated a kid. He considered it sound logic as he recalled how insufferable his own parents had been. If it had been up to them he’d never have left Coruscant after his studies. They would have him plan out his life like erecting a cage. It would have been a comfortable prison to be sure, but a cage nonetheless.

“Frodrick,” he scoffed.

It was the Frodrick what got to him the most.

Frodrick sounded like a man who enjoyed shuffling paperwork and hemming over ‘the economy’ and the ‘apprehensive state of things’ from behind the comfort of a borl wood desk. Frodrick would have stayed in Coruscant and ascended the echelons of high government while watching the galaxy tear itself apart from one of the planet’s copious ivory towers.

Frodrick was a ponce. Farkle that guy. He’d take Doc any day. A shiver cut off his thoughts.

“But I bet Frodrick has hot water,” he sighed before ruffling his damp hair with a towel and finishing his morning routine.

He usually didn’t mind his spartan surroundings, after all, helping those in need and five star accommodations were rarely part of the same packaged deal. However, after the fifth week without reliable plumbing, his living situation was starting to grate on him.

“Just remember, it’s for the greater good,” he muttered to himself as he gave his hair a final inspection.

It occurred to him that he did a lot of unpleasant things for the sake of the greater good. His willingness to dive into the muck to save lives had gotten him involved with crime lords, Hutts, spice traders, and more than his share of gang enforcers. There were still places in Nar Shadaa he couldn’t show his face without running the risk of getting it blasted all over the walls… and those were people he could still consider friends.

People called him reckless. Women would call him impulsive. (A significant size of said demographic would also call him a series of insults that would make a Hutt blush.) None of them really understood his motives. He went where he was needed simple as that. Be it in a rickety hovel on Rodia, or infiltrating the Imperial Medical Corps on Sullust, he sought the action because where there was fighting the inevitable civilian cost of it followed. It was why he was now on Balmorra juggling between feigned deference to the Imperials and pretending to care about whatever pointless cause the Resistance was championing this week.

Imperials allowed his unsanctioned medical outpost in the far edge of the Markaran Plains because it was convenient. Scouting parties often ran out of supplies this far away from their outposts and he was more than happy to sell them subpar medpacs or ‘gently’ expired rations. The Balmorrans allowed it because after a firefight, there was always a need for an isolated place to hole up. Doc was a practical man and he knew the moment one side decided he was expendable, it would all go up in flames. Considering how both sides seemed to be on a hair trigger, neutrality was becoming more dangerous by the day.

A cursory glance at his medical equipment revealed the sad state of affairs. His resupply was late. What little presence the Republic spared locally was holed up in Bugtown and unfortunately it also meant that the safest drop point had to be in the middle of a colicoid nest. Any number of things could have gone wrong. Speaking of which...

A handful of Balmorran Resistance fighters came barging in carrying wounded two of which, Doc knew, were already as good as dead.

“Colicoids! Imps they… they were herding them! Took the whole camp, couldn’t even sound the alarm...” stammered a young fighter looking white as a sheet, “tried to retreat and we-we ran into shock troops!”

“It was a tiny camp, not even on the maps or nothin’,” said another as they helped place a wounded man down on the medical bed.

“Imps never come this far west!”

“You only ever saw scouts around these parts!”

“They don’t have the manpower to hold the plains. They can’t!”

Doc didn’t comment as he worked on the wounded. His mind slipped into his medic mode as he categorized the patients: three critically injured, four stable, two terminal. He activated an old pair of medical droids that were being held together by hopes and wishes. The jittery contraptions were only good for working on the lighter injuries but they would ease some of the load.

Something about this bothered him. An unexpected coordinated attack had befallen a tiny camp that had until now, seemed to be too insignificant for notice. As he grappled with returning someone’s insides back into their proper place he glanced at one of the fighters.

“How many were in the camp?” he asked as he grabbed the last pack of Kolto and applied it where it would do the most good.

“Twenty… maybe thirty… we’re all that’s left. It was overkill. There was no need...”

“Okay kid, I’d love to hold your hand right now but I’m elbow deep in your buddy here. So if you don’t mind, help me out and put some pressure there… yes right there. Okay you don’t have to look but don’t let go,” Doc cut him off and recruited him as a nurse. Poor bastard was going to have to cope with some serious PTSD after this. They were too young and they seemed to get younger every time.

The kid was right, though, colicoids and shock troopers were a bit much for a camp that didn’t reach forty people. Usually when Imps tried to send a message they simply slaughtered the designated unfortunate bastards and left the bodies behind to serve as a warning. Survivors were rare unless… Doc’s eyes widened in realization.

“CLOSE THE BLAST DOORS!” he bellowed at the shell-shocked fighters near the entrance. One off them, a teenager thin as a rail rushed to the lock.

Almost on cue, an imperial probe droid zipped into view and shot the boy before destroying the locks. Like swarming insects, Imperial troopers flowed into the makeshift hospital. Their weapons were trained on the hapless resistance fighters. These weren’t the easily bribed dregs of the Empire that washed up at Doc’s door. These were regiment troops from Sobrik. No doubt fresh off a starship if their nearly spotless armor was any indication.

“So, it's going to be that kind of day…” he said as he tugged off his bloodied gloves in annoyance.

Doc’s experience with Imperials was that they skewed towards being rigid, hierarchical, militants with a superiority complex. If he wanted to find the leader of this little brigade, he’d just have to find the biggest most condescending asshole of the bunch.

“Seal the structure, no one enters or leaves this compound without my authorization,” an sharp voice echoed through the room.

“The elusive asshole shows himself,” he muttered as he saw troopers point their rifles at the medical beds. In a surge of anger he turned to the nearest soldier and scowled. “Hey! Point those things away from my patients!”

He was answered by a swift strike to the face with the side of a rifle. Doc stumbled back holding his nose and he had to hand it to his opponent, that was quite the eloquent counterpoint.

“Lieutenant Quinn. The bunker is secured, sir,” the soldier reported before raising his rifle to strike Doc again.

“Enough. Are you the doctor running this illicit facility?” Quinn asked somehow managing to sound both annoyed and utterly bored.

Doc blinked away enough stars from his gaze to focus on the man questioning him. He wore the usual drab gray uniform with a lieutenant insignia on his chest. He had black hair, cold blue eyes, and perfectly symmetrical features that betrayed the extensive eugenics treatment his DNA had gotten. Save for the speck of black under his left eye he could have been mistaken for a stock photo. Here he was, an Imperial Officer traipsing through the backwaters of Balmorra and the bastard had the audacity to not have a single hair out of place.

Oh yeah, he was in charge, and he knew it.

“This is an independent medical facility,” Doc said enunciating each word as though he were clarifying it to a child. The Imperial officer’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he sized up Doc’s form.

“Very well. Then in accordance with the Treaty of Coruscant article five section three, you are under arrest for harboring  and enabling terrorist activity,” he replied before glancing at a stormtrooper, “corporal, arrest the doctor and execute the traitors.”

Doc felt his stomach plummet at the words.

“What? No wait a minute! Waitaminute! WAIT!” he yelled stepping in the line of fire between the soldiers and the wounded. “Lieutenant Quinn, right? Sir, wait, please. They’re just kids. They’re stupid kids who wanted to play the Balmorran hero and got themselves mixed up in all this. Don’t… don’t kill them, there’s no honor in killing them.”

“Do not presume to tell me what is or is not honorable,” Quinn snapped with thinly veiled disgust, “I know what you are. You and your ilk enable this pitiful insurgency in clear violation of the ceasefire. You provoke the locals into revolting against Balmorra’s lawful annexation to the Empire and continue to draw out this conflict. Their blood is on your hands. Not that I would expect Republic scum to understand the basic concept of social responsibility and consequences.”

Doc bristled at the accusations but bit his tongue in the interest of saving lives.

“Alright… okay… maybe I deserved that, but don’t kill them. They’re no threat to you or the Empire. Listen, I’m a damn good doctor, I’ll go with you, hell I’ll even work off any trouble I’ve put you through after making you come all the way out here,” Doc’s mouth was running faster than his mind could keep up. There had to be something he could offer this slab of ice.

“You are wasting my time. Corporal, you have your orders,” Quinn said dismissively before turning his back on the entire scene and walking away. The soldiers locked onto the resistance fighters.

“There’s a shipment of medical supplies!” Doc blurted and Quinn suddenly stopped. The stormtroopers seemed to hesitate and looked to Quinn for guidance. Sensing the lieutenant’s interest Doc decided to work that angle. “I know you guys are running dry. I’ve a contact, Lt. Leeral at the outpost. She’s been pressing me for med kits and I’ve got them delivered this week. An entire month’s supply maybe more if you ration it right: Trauma packs, medpacks, fresh kolto, the works. Enough for a whole regiment.”

Lt. Quinn looked thoughtful and he raised his hand stopping the soldiers’ advance. Resources on the battlefield were scarce and they were indeed running on fumes. Additional supplies would be a godsend to the frontlines, but of course the man could be lying through his teeth to preserve his allies.

“You spare them and it’s all yours. I’ll take you to the drop point myself,” Doc said raising his hands as though attempting to appease a rampaging bantha. “Everyone gets what they want, nobody has to die”

Lt. Quinn pinned Doc with an ice-blue stare that chilled him to the bone. He could have handled a glare, or disdain, or even sadistic glee from the Imperial, but cold calculating nothingness? How was he supposed to read that?! It was reptilian and devoid of humanity, like looking a Krayt Dragon in the eye, or an armed droid calculating whether or not it should disembowel you.

“Corporal, take the prisoners to the outpost for processing and hold them there. I want a team of four to accompany me,” Quinn ordered before jabbing a finger at Doc, “and you. If your information proves to be worthless you will regret having lied to me.”

“Me? Lie? C’mon Lieutenant, how can you call a face this handsome a liar?” Doc retorted with a brash smile.

“I want cuffs on this idiot, right now.”

Doc sat in a holding pen that reminded him of an oversized pet carrier. His wrists were bound with durasteel cuffs, quite unnecessarily considering how he was already in a cage. Sobrik was every bit the cold, fascist place he’d imagined it to be. Though the Lieutenant had requested a map of the supplies’ location, Doc had adamantly refused to divulge any information save for the fact that it was located somewhere in the Jacent Valley. There was no point in revealing everything he knew, after all, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t take the intel and shoot him on the spot. Lt. Quinn had managed to look offended at the thought.

And so here he was, in a holding pen with nothing but his thoughts and the lock picks tucked into the inside of his boot. Doc leaned back against the bars and stared at the grated ceiling up above.

“What is a man to do?” he grinned before he deftly slipped out of his cuffs. It took only slightly more skill to open his cell door and sneak past the inexperienced guard.

Impersonating someone required confidence. If you didn’t project confidence, then no disguise could shield you.

Take Imperials for instance. Impersonating an Imp was all about stance. They walked, talked and breathed like they were bred to crush inferior beings under foot. Doc smoothed his hair back so as to streamline his look before squaring his shoulders and taking a steadying breath. He then began to storm down the streets of Sobrik as though he were being summoned for a pointless meeting and someone was going to pay dearly for wasting his precious time.

It worked…

…Right up until he took a wrong turn and ended up in a dead end surrounded by military personnel. He’d obviously stumbled into the officers’ quarters but rather than backtrack and raise suspicion, he marched himself right up to a door with only a young guard posted.

“Halt. Identification papers please.”

“Young man do you think a random stranger would simply barge into the middle of Sobrik if he didn’t have pressing business?” he snapped hoping his accent didn’t push through. “I didn’t rise through the ranks to become a major just to be questioned by a snot nosed brat!”

“I… that is… apologies sir. It’s just… your see... Lt. Quinn is very specific about protocol, sir.”

“Ah yes, the man can be an utter bore. He wouldn’t sneeze without the proper paperwork,” Doc huffed as he clasped his hands behind his back and stood at parade rest.

“And he’d submit it it triplicate,” the soldier echoed mournfully only to realize who he was addressing, “that is to say… er… sir… Lt. Quinn is not in his quarters at this time. If you leave your name I can… ah… let him know you stopped by.”

Doc raised an eyebrow. So that’s who this building belonged to. Well this was going to be more fun than he expected.

“I am well aware of Lt. Quinn’s location. I’ve only just arrive from cleaning up the mess in Marakan Plains! I wouldn’t come here donning civilian clothes if my business with him was not of the utmost secrecy,” he replied in his best emulation of Quinn’s condescending tone, “now step aside soldier unless you’d prefer to do your next assignment patrolling Bugtown!”

The young corporal looked conflicted before finally opting for the lesser of two evils and letting him through. “Yes sir. I’m sorry sir.”

Once more bravado and bold face lying won out. Doc marched inside leaving a flummoxed guard in his wake. He looked around curiously before making a beeline for the terminal. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the good Lieutenant to keep his end of the bargain, but he needed to make sure the people he was risking his life to save had made it out alive.

“Encrypted... ” Doc growled in frustration. He couldn't say he was surprised but that didn't mean it made the situation any less annoying.

He mulled over all of his known Imperial security keys but he found that the data was too well protected. A message flagged as important piqued his interest but it resisted all of his attempts to crack it. After a valiant but ultimately futile attempt, he could get no more information save for the fact that it arrived last night and it was delivered via an off-planet data courier. He’d almost be impressed by Lt. Quinn’s foresight and skill if it wasn’t such a huge pain in his ass. Without his trusty slicing gear he was left with few options. It was not an entire loss, he’d managed to skim enough data from the remaining messages to deduce his patients were still alive and being kept somewhere as collateral.

“Kriffing imps must really be hurting for supplies if they go through all this trouble just for lil ol’ me,” he muttered under his breath.

So like it or not, he was stuck here, at least until he could devise a way to ensure his patients’ safety. Doc leaned back on the chair as he mulled over the new information before catching a glimpse of Lt. Quinn’s sleeping quarters. The entire place was unnaturally spotless and pristine. Idly Doc wondered if the Imperial was actually a new form of humanoid droid.

“Well if you can’t beat them...” he sighed before springing to his feet and walking towards Quinn’s closet.

“You had one job, Jillins! One!” Quinn’s voice all but trembled with rage. “How is it you bungled such a simple straightforward task!”

“It’s not my fault, sir! He said he was a major and had a classified mission.”

“If I hear another excuse spilling out of your mouth, I will march you off the edge of Gorinth Canyon!” he snapped as he searched through his datafiles for signs of slicing.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t… I’m sorry...” Jillins stammered.

Quinn clenched his jaw as he worked furiously to identify and stem any damage or security leaks that might have sprung. Not only had his security detail allowed a Republic prisoner to escape custody, but now said prisoner was wandering around Sobrik in full military attire.

“Shall we sound the alarm, sir?” Jillins asked and it took all of Malavai’s strength not to throw a paperweight at his thick skull.

Yes of course, sound an alarm. Tell the entire city what complete and utter jackass you are. And by proxy, what an incompetent jackass I am for believing you could handle something so simple!

“He can’t have gone far...” the corporal said in an attempt to be helpful.

Quinn pinned his subordinate with an acrid glare that successfully cowed him into silence.

I am surrounded by idiots.

This was the last thing he needed. Lord Baras’ newest apprentice would be arriving any day now. Standard hyperspace flight times from Dromund Kaas to Balmorra could be anywhere from 4-7 days barring any major skirmishes. Lord Baras had given him a week’s notice, but from what he had gleaned, the Sith cared very little for accuracy or feasibility in his proposed deadlines. One week could very easily become 24 hours and he simply wasn’t ready! With his best men on the field gathering intel for Lord Baras, Quinn was having to rely on raw brawn and nitwits like Jillins.

The excursion through Markaran Plains was supposed have been simple: Locate the hospital patching up resistance members and seize any medical assets. With Imperial medical shipments three months overdue, this had been a had been a last ditch effort to restock their dwindling supplies. Planetary Command’s solution to an increasing loss of personnel was to send more troops but this level of death was unsustainable. Without reliable medical support, the Empire would never be able to cement their hold on Balmorra.

Regardless, his mission had ended up being nothing more than a costly expenditure of resources. The supposed hospital had been nothing but a sad collection of medical beds and a single bleeding-heart medic. Now more than ever they needed to not only find the medic, but the promised medical supplies. Should he fail to deliver either, the Balmorran commanders would have his hide long before Darth Baras ever lay a finger on him.

He ran a hand over his face feeling the pressure mounting behind his eyes. Not enough sleep in days, too much cheap caff and lack of a decent meal was making him irritable. He was bound to end up with an ulcer before the week was out.

Focus. Failure is not an option. Analyze the situation and act.

“I want you to go to the shuttle area and question the droid for information on anyone matching the prisoner’s appearance,” he finally said in a tone that was far calmer than he felt. Unfortunately this made Corporal Jillins hesitate and Quinn’s restraint finally snapped. “GO. NOW.”

Jillins flinched and hurried away as though he’d been scalded. It wasn’t as satisfying to Quinn as it should have been. He ran his fingers through his dark hair only as though to tear it out by the fistful in frustration. His holo communicator rang cutting through the silence and his gaze flickered with annoyance. Malavai recognized that frequency.

Enter another in a long parade of people wasting my time...

“Kent, I’ve told you, we are not going to be allocating resources to your facility for the foreseeable future,” he cut off the man before he had a chance to speak.

“I am aware. I got your ten page report on it,” Kent stated dryly, “though a simple no would have sufficed.”

“Then why do you insist on calling.”

“One of my boys just came back from Sobrik. I just thought you’d like to know there’s a Major at the Cantina regaling the place with stories and running up your tab,” the portly man on the holo replied looking utterly pleased with himself.

“What? That’s preposterous, I don’t have a tab-” Quinn froze and his expression turned positively livid before snatching up his blaster. “I’m going to kill him.”

He stormed out of his quarters with Kent’s amused laughter ringing in his ears. The outrage within him bubbled over and stifled that tiny voice that insisted they needed to take the prisoner alive.

“So there we was pinned down, easily fifty to a man. Blaster shots whizzing by our heads, and down to our last two snipers. When BOOM! Another concussion grenade and there went our snipers! There were so many dead troopers sprawled everywhere we piled them up and made barricades. Then there was another blast and I got it straight in the face. Death was callin’. So I turned to my mate Quinn and I says, ‘Quinny my lad, if I don’t make it out alive you toss my carcass on that barricade so I can keep kriffing up Pubs in the otherworld.’” Doc’s voice was tinted with his most convincing imperial accent as it echoed through the small crowd of cantina girls and soldiers.

Wars came and went but if there was one constant in the universe it was that nothing beat a good Cantina. Hell even Imperials became downright likeable once they had a few pints in them. Toss in a good story and soon Doc had quite the audience. The Sunken Sarlacc Cantina was no different than the Republic Cantinas off-world, granted there was a distinct lack of non-human faces on THIS side of the counter.

“You’re so brave,” a cute little Twi’lek cooed as she snuggled closer to Doc and brought him a fresh drink.

“I am, aren’t I? Heart of gold, you girls have. That goes double, in your case, beautiful,” he grinned nodding at a zabrak dancer with dark crimson skin. “Gotta tell you, luvs, after a long day protecting the Empire, it’s nice to come back and be reminded wot we’re fighting for.”

He’d settled in a private lounge usually reserved for visiting dignitaries which had not been cheap, but thankfully Lt. Quinn had excellent credit and a clear tab to boot. If Doc were a sensible man he would not be pressing his luck, then again no one could ever accuse Doc of being anything resembling sensible.

“Well then after that scrap, Quinn and I were thick as thieves we was,” he grinned as he looped an arm around the dancer and smirked, “got a scar from that and I just might show you if you play your cards right.”

The lounge door slammed open an enraged lieutenant on the warpath loomed in the doorway.

“YOU.”

“Ah! There he is now! Quinny m’lad, grab a pint! Ladies, make him feel welcome!” Doc chirped happily and raised his glass.

The gathered soldiers cheered his arrival and follow suit, some even clapped Quinn on the shoulder as they stumbled out and back to their barracks for the night. A few more mumbled things along the line of ‘you’re alright Quinn’ followed invariably by ‘no matter what everybody says’.

Quinn blinked in confusion as their reactions threw him for a loop. Despite a decade of service on Balmorra, he was not well-known and those who did know him were more likely to raise their glasses to throw their contents in his direction rather than… well whatever this was.

He scowled as he pushed away a scantily dressed alien female as though he were being confronted by walking sewage. He reacted as though the very idea of her existence to be an affront to decency itself. Quinn then approached the medic and seized his arm in an iron grip before pinning him with an angry glare.

“You are coming with me this instant,” he hissed under his breath.

“Aw, Quinny mate, you just got here,” Doc whined as he was dragged to his feet. He rolled his eyes at his captor. “Oh alright, if I can’t tempt you with pretty girls I suppose I can let you have your way with me. Take me to your dungeon!”

Quinn sputtered as though horrified beyond words as the cantina dancers tittered gleefully.

“You’re so pretty when you blush...” Doc smirked only to be confronted by the full brunt of Quinn’s closed fist. The medic stumbled back stunned but not entirely surprised.

“Don’t make me shoot you. No, better still, please do. Please give me an excuse to upgrade the decor with your splattered brains,” Quinn snapped as his grip grew tighter with each word.

Doc flexed his jaw a bit before answering.

“Okay, first: Wow, you are high strung. If anyone needed some downtime it’s you. Second: You are cutting off the circulation to my-OW OKAY! OKAY! I’M UP! I’M WALKING!” Doc yelped as he was pulled along like an errant child caught playing hooky. Once they were out of the cantina Quinn slammed him against the nearest wall and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“I cannot believe you had the gall to impersonate an imperial officer,” Quinn seethed.

“Oof, I didn’t like the accomodations you provided.”

“Obviously I made a mistake. I’ll make sure to find a suitable ditch to dispose of your body this time,” Quinn all but growled as he forced Doc to face him.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I hate it when we fight.”

“Am I going to have to gag you to get you to shut up?!” Quinn snarled in Doc’s face as he slammed him back against the wall.

“You know, I love it when we roleplay, honey, but maybe wait until we’re in private?” Doc’s head tilted to one side and he made a show of staring at someone behind Quinn.

Malavai turned to see a soldier patrolling the street staring at the both of them. He knew exactly how it looked: two officers stumbling out of the Cantina early in the evening... one of them pinning the other against the wall… the other spewing smutty nonsense...

Emperor preserve me.

“Stop gawking and do your job,” he snapped at the soldier before turning to Doc who was stifling his laughter. “I hope you enjoyed your little excursion because you won’t be setting foot outside in a very long time.”

“Oh Lieutenant, I’ve been so baaaad...”

Malavai clenched his jaw and all but dragged the drunken prisoner through the streets of Sobrik. That had to be it. He was definitely drunk. That was why threats were not working. That had to be the reason.

“I should have just shot you and saved myself the trouble,” Quinn muttered under his breath.

“You keep saying that but something tells me that if you could have, you would have,” Doc replied with a smirk, “seems to me like you need me alive. Either that or you’re just REALLY incompetent.”

“Would you care to test that theory?” Quinn asked as he drew his blaster.

“See, there you go again being rude to me. I respond to positive reinforcement and all these threats are doing nothing for my nervous disposition. You haven’t even asked my name!” Doc accused him as he stared defiantly down the barrel of the blaster.

“If it made any difference-” Quinn’s retort was cut off by the wail of sirens.

“What is it? What are those sirens?” Doc asked as he saw his captor look around warily before checking his ammo clip.

Quinn cast his talking burden with a grim look before sparing him a single word as explanation.

“Colicoids.”

“What? In here? But isn’t this an Imperial City?” Doc asked as he was shoved towards the nearest building emblazoned with an Imperial crest, “Don’t you have those huge guns? And a force shield!”

“If you’re that insistent on it, you’re welcome to explain to them when they catch us now walk faster!”

As the sirens continued to wail, Quinn’s security clearance got them into the building which turned out to be an vacated hangar. There were off-duty soldiers there already forming a battle plan in the upper levels. Quinn noticed an empty cargo container no doubt used for shipping fragile items. With a smirk and promptly shoved his prisoner into it.

“Hey! HEY! You can’t just lock me up in a box! IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE AIR-HOLES!”

“Sit down, shut up, and maybe you won’t use up all your oxygen,” Quinn snapped before slamming the lid closed and locking it tight.

“Quinn! C’mon man! Don’t leave me in here! It stinks like an old mattress! I can’t even stand up! Quinn! Quinn! ARGH! YOU ARE THE WORST KIDNAPPER EVER!”

Now that had been properly satisfying. If it weren’t for their imminent doom, Malavai might have even laughed. He climbed up the staircase to the second level and joined the soldiers. They, like him, were preparing to defend the hangar should it become necessary or to join the fight should they receive a direct order to do so. Hopefully the breach would be contained before it got to that.

I loathe Balmorra.

[ellamishan]

Body dysmorphia & eating disorders in dance:

WHITE hat: Neutral, objective opinion:

This idea would be hard to gain numbers/statistics on in New Zealand as it is so niche, unless I did my own research and went into dance studios with surveys. I only know rough percentages from my own experience in the dance world. But I know so many people who all struggled with this same issue and never knew they weren’t the only one. And because it is so rarely talked about, especially in the dance world, I think there is a definite gap in society for this discussion to be brought up.

YELLOW hat: Optimistic opinion:

I have a personal connection to this issue, they are topics I understand and know a lot about having gone through it myself and I feel because of my ties to it, I could appropriately and successfully get across the right message and encouragement to others struggling with BD and EDs in dance because I know what I would have wanted to hear and see.

BLACK hat: Pessimistic opinion:

There isn’t a lot of scientific research on body dysmorphia and the dance industry in NZ is small so the reach of my campaign might be too niche. It’s also hard to find stats on these issues and most eating disorder stats are international rather than NZ based.

RED hat: Intuitive, emotional opinion:

I feel strongly about this subject, it’s a topic that if I had seen campaigned about, I would be really interested in and would have helped me a lot in feeling supported/not alone in the issue. This is an issue I probably have the strongest connection to as it brings up lots of emotions.

GREEN hat: Creative opinion:

I can already visualise so many motifs and ideas to portray movement (dance) and the idea of dysmorphia. I think this would be an easy campaign to get visually creative with.

BLUE hat: Organised opinion:

I will need to do my own research to gain statistics and also visual inspiration/what ways will be most effective for campaigning.

Lack of self esteem amongst young people

WHITE hat: Neutral, objective opinion:

This is something that affects almost everyone and is also not talked about often, people are so hesitant to admit their genuine insecurities because people are so judgemental. I’m not quite sure how I would communicate this idea or what would be an appropriate way to ‘raise awareness’ about it, but I know that as long as our generation continue to bully and judge and compare and talk behind people’s backs, we will always have severe self esteem issues which equate to mental health issues (anxiety, depression, eating disorders etc). My purpose with this campaign would be to start with one of the main roots of the problem (of mental health issues) and come from a preventative point of view.

YELLOW hat: Optimistic opinion:

The target audience is so wide (all young people) so I feel a lot of people would relate and feel provoked in some sort of way to think about their self esteem and how it’s affected their lives. It would have a large reach and could really start some serious discussion amongst our generation on why is it like this? Why do we all have such low confidence - I feel confident the reach would be large too because I know all of my friends have struggled in some way because of lack of self esteem and it can be really debilitating.

BLACK hat:

Pessimistic opinion:

I am not so sure how I would gain statistics on this issue (maybe look at mental health stats?) but it is a really broad discussion topic and could be difficult to ‘raise awareness’ on as most people are already ��aware’ that young people often have low self esteem at times because that’s part of the growing up process.

RED hat: Intuitive, emotional opinion:

I personally feel that I would really have loved to seen a campaign talking about this because, I know that I used to feel guilty for feeling bad about myself cause ‘everyone does’ and it’s ‘normal’ so i shouldn’t ‘complain or talk about it’ but in actuality, why does it have to be normal, we should encourage openness about how we really feel and then minimise the burden of having zero confidence.

GREEN hat: Creative opinion:

I think it might be hard to portray this idea visually but there I think you could do some really cool animatics or have QR codes to scan, placed all over the city that would take you to really inspiring podcasts or talks that raise self belief and encourage big dreams and ideas.

BLUE hat: Organised opinion:

I need to figure out collateral that will best campaign the topic I’m raising awareness on - how would I generate QR codes, what visual branding/look can I create for the subject and what language do I need to use to capture people’s attention.

Over consumption in the fast fashion industry

WHITE hat: Neutral, objective opinion:

This is a widely talked about issue but I haven’t seen a lot of active campaigning about it to all demographics. It is an issue that needs to be addressed urgently however still, all over social media are big, well known influencers advertising and endorsing fast fashion labels. If second hand shopping and thrift stores can be more actively encouraged (as they’ve already become a big trend in the fashion world), and fast fashion brands discouraged using examples and stats to show just how much they contribute to the steadying decline in our world’s climate and rise in fossil fuel expenditure, then this campaign could have real benefits and change the way people shop.

YELLOW hat: Optimistic opinion:

I have recently (over the last few years) benefited from becoming less interest in fast fashion labels and more into second hand clothes purely for selfish reasons being I enjoy the fact that other people don’t have the same clothes as me, and I can find way more unique pieces. This ‘plus’ for me has in turn equaled a plus for the environment as I decrease my personal contribution to fast fashion and CO2 emissions. If other people can begin doing this, with the added awareness of how much fast fashion is contributing to climate change, then I believe we could start putting big well known fast fashion labels under, pushing them out of business.

BLACK hat: Pessimistic opinion:

New Zealand is a small country therefore our contribution to fast fashion’s impact on climate change is also already small so the effect of a decrease in people buying fast fashion here, might not be so large. Because this is already widely well known, trying to raise awareness about it might be difficult and people might switch off to it having ‘heard it all before’.

RED hat: Intuitive, emotional opinion:

I feel so strongly that the need for fast fashion is unnecessary because we have so many (too many!) clothes in the world already, we need to stop or slow the process of making more in bulk. Buying second hand is just as rewarding (if not more!) I’ve found and if other people could start doing the same, more second hand stores and thrift shops could open up in the place of big fast fashion labels.

GREEN hat: Creative opinion:

This could be so fun to campaign about; as well as raising awareness I could give people other options to shop at in replacement of stores like ‘GLassons’ and “Forever21’ etc - scanning QR codes that will take you to your map pin-pointing the nearest and best second hand/thrift store(s), creating an app with scroll through boards (curated depending on the brands/style you like) that will show you clothes people or thrift stores are selling online (via depop, their own websites or other selling platforms) as well as small independent brands that don’t mass produce. Laptop stickers, saying ‘I buy second hand’ because it has become a trend to do so and might influence others, cool posters, visually stating or showing (through photographs of the amount of mass production) the impacts of fast fashion, and specifically what you can change to help.

BLUE hat: Organised opinion:

How can I create the digital aspect, what will my visuals be/what theme can I create (colour palette, graphics etc) - also need to find more stats relating to NZ contribution to fast fashion specifically.

[kchatjjigae]

As everyone is aware, a solid showing from the Nerd Herd – from all around the country –  gathered for KconNY (adjacent) 2018 just over a week ago. Not only was it the usual crew, but we also brought two junior members, Thing One and Junior McFeely, as well as scooping up the podcast’s #1 fan to bring her into the fold. The ranks are growing and the newest additions are marvelous and really, that’s what weekends like this are all about.

I’ll save chatter about the actual con part of Kcon for the podcast as it will be far more interesting to hear about the various events from those that experienced them first hand. Instead, I’m going to share my impressions of the concerts, and those of Thing One, interspersed with pics Stephanie was able to capture on the first night from her excellent seat right next to the stage. Obviously, as it’s risky to buy any more than two tickets at a shot for a Kpop concert, we were all seated in pairs across the venue…each with different vantage points and experiences (slightly further away than they should have been…ahem…please see Stephanie’s venting about Kcon’s unethical move regarding stage repositioning AFTER we purchased our seats).

Both concerts organized the acts in order of presumed popularity or seniority. I say presumed because I have a wonky sense of reality when it comes to recognizing the actual fan base for groups that I love. I’m always pretty sure that everyone in the world will love anyone I’m focused on with the same fervor. Also, it’s hard to really gauge stuff like that when a group is as immediately popular as Stray Kids has been. Everyone did four or more songs, so it was a fairly song representation of each group.

The first night really kicked off with Jun Curry Ahn, as per usual, and eSNa both performing a short state. It was a good warm up for Thing One as she is a huge eSNa fan and has gotten to hear the Colorado contingent prattle on about Jun Curry Ahn a million times over. It felt very real to her to see them so early on – this was her first big show so it was all very fresh and surprising.  When eSNA pulled out her rewrite of Ahh Shit, I think my tween girl found her place in the world.

(not from the concert, but just so you can all hear it’s message)

Ahh Shit!, eSNa

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAzrjmEBAm4

Siwon, of Super Junior, served as the MC for the evening and Super Junior really kicked it off with an abbreviated performance of Super Duper. At first I was a bit surprised by the idea that they would be hitting the stage so early in the line up, but it was truly just a but of a feature. The Stray Kids were first up and they were fabulous. Both Thing One and the McFeely clan were surprised to realize that they were indeed budding fans of this group of young upstarts. Jisung and Chanbin entered the stage through the audience with their powerful rap and the other’s joined them in the middle. Their choreo was precise and driving and though we had a pretty direct view from our seats, we heard from those higher up that it was actually all especially impressive with a view from above. I love when a choreographer and the performs are so aware of how things will look from every point in a venue.

I am, without a doubt, sure that Stray Kids lost no fans with their performance and that they picked up a whole passel of new ones.

Next up in the lineup was Heize. Many of us had seen her last year at KconLA, and though I know she does have a big following, it’s always a bit weird to me to throw someone like her in with all of these boy and group pop groups. She’s an accomplished singer/songwriter, does a solo stage, and doesn’t dance. She’s just magical. That’s what she has to offer…magic. I’m an enormous Heize supporter and because I play her music so frequently at home and in the car, Thing One is also a big fan. She was beside herself when Heize came out onto the stage. Her one disappointment in the whole night was that she didn’t perform Jenga. However, everything she did sing was flawless.

Next up was, without a doubt, for me, the highlight of the entire weekend. I am a huge Pentagon fan…as are many in the Herd. Because it was my daughter’s first time at an event like this and because of how it was all set up and how expensive everything was, I wasn’t able to do things like Klub Kcon and the fan engagements. Though I got to see their little interview on the Kcon Stage, I hadn’t gotten to see them up close and personal in the same way many of our friends had, so this was super exciting for me…and they killed it. Pentagon are everything you want them to be while performing. Many of them speak beautiful English and they were extremely charming as they engaged with the audience. They played Shine, of course, but also threw it way back to Gorilla. Yanan, either because of previous schedules or complications with getting the world visa – I’ve heard it both ways – wasn’t able to attend. I missed him sorely, but man, seeing them in person really reaffirmed my love for each and every member.

The highlight of the first night for Thing One was Red Velvet. She, being an eleven-year-old girl that really loves identifying with her entertainment versus lusting them (though who knows at this point, she may be lusting them too) loves a good girl group. They were fabulous. Wendy, being a New Yorker to the bone, did a lot of the talking for the ladies, but they all put on a great show. I have extolled the virtues of Red Velvet on the sight before, but I’ll do it again for good measure. They are just as cute, hot, and adorable as any other girl group, but they have an edge that you can feel running right under everything they do. They are strong, talented women and they put on a laudable stage. I would absolutely jump at the chance to see a full concert…and now I fear I’d have to buy a ticket for the kiddo as well.

Before the last act, as Kcon is want to do, they had a couple of special stages. We saw Yesung and Seulgi perform a love song…charming, but not my thing despite my love for both of them. Then, leaving me desperately wanting more, Pentagon and the Stray kids performed a phenomical stage together. That is a whole hell of a lot of male idols on the stage at one time. My weak heart could barely take it. We need more of that. On the regular.

Super Junior performed the unbelieve finale for the night. You can see, feel, and hear the 13 years of experience these guys bring to the stage. Watching them work the crowd as they performed hit after hit was unbelievable, and I’m not even that big of a fan. When they were announced as having joined the concert all those weeks ago, my first thought was ‘Huh, I guess it’ll be great to see them, they are so formative after all.’ It was stunning.

But it was also a reminder that my kiddos are listening to everything we say around them. Thing One’s first comment on them as we walked back to the hotel was ‘They were really great, I wanted to love them, but I kept thinking about the things Shindong and Siwon have said and it ruined them for me.’ And I identified with that. Hard. It took some conscious separation from reality for me to get into them, but I managed, and it was so incredibly worth it.

I have heard a few times now, and from a few different people that Sunday night’s concert was the inferior line up and they weren’t looking forward to it nearly as much. For me, and for my kiddo, that wasn’t the case. And, after the show, I also heard from a couple of those folks that they were shocked to realize that night two was maybe even a titch more enjoyable than the first. You just never know what you’re going to soak up during these kinds of experiences and I love how open the herd is to reframing and enjoying what happens rather than clinging so staunchly to their expectations. Stephanie is very open about her stubbornness, but don’t be fooled, she’s willing to give stuff a chance and be surprised by what happens…even if it isn’t her thing.   

Thing One and I were there for the whole show, but we were really, really dying to see Golden Child and EXID. Both of whom are family favorites. Without hesitation, Thing One said that the moment DumDaDi started was her favorite part of the night. She literally shot to her feet with both arms in the air and screamed. She wakes up with that song in her head on the regular. GolCha kicking of the night was a great boost for our exhausted fan and the perfect way to really get her excited all over again. They are an incredibly earnest and hardworking group and they deserve every ounce of love and attention we can give them.

Fromis_9, largely an unknown quantity for me, was there to build a fandom. They are a relatively fresh out of the gate girl group that has really focused on a very cute concept. They were in lederhosen. Seriously. But after doing a girl group choreo workshop, I have all sorts of respect for their choreo and how much work it must take them to be that darling all of the time. I am not their demographic and won’t be investing a ton of time into developing a relationship with the group, but I respect them, what they were doing, and want them to succeed without question. Thing One, on the other hand, might be interested in listening to more of them so my money might be going into their pockets anyway.

One of the special stages of the night was a performance by LE of EXID and Jaehyun, Mark, and Taeyong of NCT. It was, in short, amazing. LE is one of the most talented female rappers working today and those NCT fellas…no words.

The NCT 127 stage was a delight. I’ve seen this iteration of the group several times now. These guys never cease to amaze, but with their limited list of hits, I feel like we get the same numbers over and over. I love, love, love them, but I am craving a show with all of NCT 2018. I want all of the subunits. I’m greedy for it. It was a highlight of the night, for sure, but I wasn’t surprised by how great it was. They are always perfection.

By this point in the night, right before the finale, Thing One had reached her introverted tween limit. She was more than wiped. So, with the crowd dancing around us, we sat through Wanna One. When you put together an idol group after weeding through countless potentials, picking the best of the best, you, of course, get the best. Wanna One is no joke. Their stage, and all of their little sub units and project songs, were fabulous. I am so glad they did energetic and I hope that Hui saw just how well it was received in the States. Selfishly, I’m glad they were the last ones on as Thing One doesn’t really know them well, despite my having tried to pique her interest, and I, honestly, am not as familiar with the individual members. I didn’t have to feel guilty that my attention was partially focused on my kiddo dozing on my shoulder instead of their beautiful choreo and Kang Daniel’s absolute perfection as an idol. But they did make me want to listen to them more. They did pull me in and make me that much more invested in their success this year and the ongoing individual success of each of the members.  

Despite my frustration with Kcon as an organization, in the face of my ire at our P1 tickets really being P3, and regardless of my constant need to make sure Thing One was safe, happy, and having a good time, both nights were amazing. I do love the opportunity to see so many groups – those I’m already in love with and those I’m just getting to know – all squished into one weekend with a herd of friends I rarely get to see. I’m not going to KconLA for many reasons, the least of which isn’t the fact that I’m seeing Monsta X in LA around the same time, but I do have a twinge of longing to be a part of all of that fun. I’m weighing the pros and cons of attending in the future – we just have so much more access to full concerts now – but having so much fun this time around makes it a much more complicated question.

We shall see what next year brings.

Throwback Thursday – Two Nights, Two Shows (and all of the other stuff) As everyone is aware, a solid showing from the Nerd Herd - from all around the country -  gathered for KconNY (adjacent) 2018 just over a week ago.

[sableaire]

What's wrong with Eleanor and Park?

I can see why it’s an enjoyable enough story, but my discomfort comes with the portrayal of Park. There aren’t too many Korean or even half-Korean characters in popular American fiction, so the main reason I read the book was for him in the first place.

Unfortunately, a major element of the book surrounds Park hating being half-Korean and associating being Asian with weakness. Which, considering the setting, is understandable, but there are three things about Eleanor & Park that grate at me, which I have elaborated on below the cut:

1) There is limited Korean-American representation in America, and this is the one that’s prevalent, the one about the kid who hates himself and looks down on his Korean mother, who only comes to be somewhat okay with being Korean when his girlfriend tells him that she thinks he’s cute - not sure if it’s because he’s Korean, but not in spite of it - and later comments that maybe she has a thing for Korean guys and she just didn’t know it.

*Hissing intake of breath* Yes, for the character of Park, maybe that was what he needed? But as a character whom the author herself stated was meant to be Asian representation? It makes me uncomfortable that his his self-esteem, tied to his half-Korean heritage, pretty much always comes down to appearances. I mean, that’s often the case in YA novels, sure, but Park is more than a YA novel protagonist, he’s an attempt at representation for an underrepresented demographic that has long dealt with fetishization on one hand, demasculization on the other, and is currently dealing with post kpop-boom fetishization (which is a whole other issue). It makes me uncomfortable.

Also, Park has green eyes. This is a smaller detail, and not one that’s impossible, but it’s a trope where major Asian characters are often given different eye colors because brown isn’t ‘unique’ enough, or because the protagonist needs to be ‘visually distinct’ from the rest of the Asians. Either that, or it exoticizes them further.  There are other ways to do it than eye color.

Ultimately, Park was meant to be Asian representation, Korean representation, but Park’s Korean nature starts and stops at his appearance. And taekwondo, which his American father made him go to and he’s not too fond of. It’s also spelled “taekwando” throughout my copy, which also kills me, but regardless.

There are kids like Park, I’m sure, who are disconnected from Korean culture, who don’t speak Korean, etc. But if one of your parents were born and raised in Korea and came over, and they’re raising you, there are some things that stick. None of those little details are there. If Park’s mother was more than just a background character, even, those little details would be there. 

The only time rice is ever mentioned in the book is in Eleanor’s narrative. I honestly cannot conceive of a Korean person born and raised in Korea who wouldn’t complain about America’s lack of sticky white rice, even once. If not Park’s mother, he could have complained about his mother complaining about America’s lack of rice, and that slightest, smallest detail would have made everything feel a little bit better for me. But Rowell probably didn’t know that, is the thing.

2) Rainbow Rowell is woman who is inexperienced with the Asian-American experience. Now, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing - I’m not the type of person that thinks that people of one race, ethnicity, or nationality should never write protagonists from another. However, when it comes to writing a character about hating their own heritage, in a time where there is not too much representation, it needs to be delicately handled, and someone without direct experience might not know how much thought needs to be put into it.

There are a lot of microaggressions in Eleanor & Park, some intentional, and some… probably not. Or, if it’s intentional, as a YA novel, I feel like they should have been better clarified as negative thoughts so that readers know this kind of thinking, these kind of comments, are not okay.

Throughout the book, Eleanor is pretty racist, but the story fails to condemn this behavior, especially since she never says it out loud - it’s mostly in her own head. Examples that linger in my head are ones that other people have talked about before,such as when Eleanor has the joking thought that Park paralyzed her with his “ninja magic”, or when she meets Park’s mother and waxes eloquent thinking of her as a Dainty China doll from The Wizard of Oz.

“Eleanor imagined Park’s dad, Tom Selleck, tucking his Dainty China person into his flak jacket and sneaking her out of Korea.“

First of all, comparing Asian women to dolls in this day and age - not cool. Even if it’s true to setting, not cool, since kids reading will learn that and think that’s okay when it’s not. When will we escape the objectification of Asian women, not 2012.

Further, Rowell’s father served in Korea in the 70s. She cites that as part of the reason she felt compelled to write Park as Korean, beyond her initial sense of “he just was Korean from the start,” which I do understand. The problem is, if her view of the American soldiers in Korea comes solely from her father’s military time there, she’s got a pretty biased view.

Park and Eleanor frame the white soldier whisking a Korean woman out of the country to America as something romantic, due to Rowell’s own life experience where her father carried a photo of a Korean girl on his person for years after returning from Korea. I can understand why she would want to explore that story, what a romance like that might have been. I genuinely wish that the current publishing climate would allow for her to explore that story and that I would be able to enjoy it. Unfortunately, current climate does not, and I cannot enjoy it.

The problem is, the story of American soldiers whisking Korean women out of the country has been told before. It has been a reality before, and considering it romantic?  A lot of Koreans would disagree. A lot of Korean-Americans would disagree. A lot. 

The American military’s presence in South Korea post-Korean War is one plagued with politics, and a time during which the sex industry was encouraged by the government to generate revenue from American soldiers. Many young Korean girls were forced or tricked into sex work, specifically for American soldiers. The Wikipedia page is here for an overview, and here’s something from Yale if that wasn’t scholarly enough. That’s left a lot of hard feelings.

I’m not saying there couldn’t have been great romances between American soldiers and Korean women at the time, but those are pretty much the only stories that have been told about the time (in English media), often told by said American soldiers themselves. As a society, it just might be time to recognize that with biased narrators, a language barrier, and cultural miscommunication, what might be a great romance to one man might have been a matter of fear and survival to another woman.

Then there’s Park’s name. I would also like a little backstory to Park’s name. His name is Park, which is a Korean family name. There was such a good opening there. The story could have made it clear that his mother wanted Park to have some kind of connection to his Korean culture, so they made his first name her maiden name. That would have been great.

But there’s no such explanation, and instead readers are left with a Korean kid named Park. The ordering of Korean names have been confusing to Americans for a long time, especially to children, so this really isn’t going to help with that. Next time they meet a Korean kid who introduces himself surname first, they might assume Park’s just his name. I’ve seen it happen before, and it’s always a little exasperating.

There’s more, but it all comes down to one point:

3) This is not a book I can recommend to Korean-Americans. Isn’t that the purpose of representation? So that the represented demographic can relate to the character? But the fact of the matter is, this is a YA Romance with a half-Korean kid that I would never recommend to a young Korean or half-Korean kid. Heck, I wouldn’t recommend it to any young Asian kid.

Why would I want them to read a book in which the half-Korean kid hates being any part Korean? One in which Korean women are framed as slight and weak? One in which Park feels that being Asian makes him less masculine, in which characters spend chapters trying to name one sexy Asian actor and they come up with Bruce Lee? One that has basically no actual reference to Korean culture?

Throughout the entire book, Park being half-Korean just serves as justification for his self-loathing / insecurity, his parents’ love story, and his striking appearance. Except he doesn’t think it striking. His girlfriend does, and that makes it better. To reiterate, Park being Korean basically comes down to his appearance. There’s nothing in there that a Korean-American can positively relate to. What good does that kind of representation do?

Yes, there are people like Park, who know nothing of Korean culture, whose Asian-American experience comes down to their experience of racism. However, Eleanor & Park is arguably worse for these individuals, because the book doesn’t teach Park to love himself or his heritage or his mother.

This book doesn’t have a message that I would want young Asian kids or young half-Asian kids to be reading. And it kills me because the author specifically stated that she did this for representation.

It kills me because I was hopeful, and I read it with a lot of hope for its content, but instead I was left with dread that this was the representation that was so highly acclaimed.

And it kills me further because there was a way to tell this story right, but Rowell just didn’t have the knowledge. I feel bad for her, because she failed to accomplish what she set out to do. I feel angry because she’ll probably never realize since the book was so widely praised. I feel tired because the average reader won’t notice all these little things that grated on me. To them, it was just a bittersweet romance, an enjoyable book. 

And every time someone around me mentions how much they loved the book, I have to consider whether or not I want to go through explaining all of the above yet again.

[theparaminds]

We all want to be individuals, the blue in a sea of green, the one that is sparked with lightning from a young age. It’s never easy and more so it’s not something that can come artificially, yet for Brad Brooks, it has been the entire tagline to his life. The New York native is one of the few all around type creatives that come around so few and far between, touching on so many forms of art while maintaining an intensely high level of skill in all.

Leading the new creative collective ‘Productive Honey’, Brad has situated himself as one of the pillars of underground youth culture, a true visionary in every sense of the word, he creates aesthetics and ideas that are shared and highly revered while developing the talent around him to produce the best products possible. But now, he looks to expand the already powerful core of youth he has at his fingertips, ready to challenge all the rules society has put up so far; all in the name of positivity and happiness.

PM: First question, as always, how’s your day going?

Brad Brooks: Well my day is going splendid, I just woke up from a tremendous nap, now I’m just chilling and the weather's nice.

PM: And you live in New York right?

BB: Yessir

PM: Have you always lived there or is that something you’ve recently grown into?

BB: I haven’t always lived here, I was born here but I moved out when I was 6 and spent most of my life in Dallas. I spent some summers here visiting family. Texas and New york are damn near polar opposites, Texas is super spread out where if you don't have a car there's not much to do, the sources of entertainment are completely different. Here you can walk outside and see some kids on the train or just around skateboarding or doing photography, and I feel I way more fit in with that demographic.  

PM: So then have you found that the creativity found in the city has amplified yours in a way?

BB: Oh yeah, most definitely. I constantly feel so challenged by those around me and feel like I’m on the cutting of America. Like I'm two steps ahead of the county. You’re picking up cultures and ideas that you wouldn't find anywhere else and applying them subconsciously to everything you do. Like, I always said this joke to my friends that if you saw a black guy speaking spanish in Texas, that's the funniest shit ever. But here, they're just called Dominicans.

PM: You mentioned those around you and your friends and I feel that’s a fantastic place to start with. So for those who don't know you’re the creative head of the Productive Honey team, but why don't you explain what that team actually is and in a sense why you feel it's important?

BB: Basically, two years ago I started PH as a thing to display my art and clothing brand for pocket money. I realized it had such a workload that possibly others would have to come in eventually. The problem with art though, is that you're the only person co signing yourself, so if you have a bad idea you're rolling with it. I remember once I was thinking about starting a cult, thinking it was smart because I had no friends telling me otherwise. But that's a story for another day. This art team opens so many perspectives of ideas and inspiration. It's really just genuine friendship.

PM: What would you say your role is on the team and how have you found it changing as others have joined?

BB: Well... being a team is brand new, orginaly when I pitched the team idea, I think it was december last year during a photoshoot where chemistry was crazy, we were just trying to figure out everyone's roles. As of right now, I still do the clothing and the magazine and visuals, but everyone is doing pieces of that and bringing in the music element slowly but surely.

PM: As well, Many online have compared you to groups like Brockhampton, how do you find yourself handling such comparisons, whether through rejection or acceptance?

BB: First off let me say that Kiddie is the biggest Kevin abstract stan of all time. But really the moment we established that we were going to be a team we posted a picture and Kevin hit us up and retweeted and shit, even though we didn't have any content out at all. Those comparisons are always gonna happen and I think its welcome due to it setting the bar high for us. We always joke about who’s who in the group and whatnot.

PM: Would you then say another goal of the group is to inspire others and create your own ways of artistic expression?

BB: Yeah of course if I can along the way, but truly, I just want to be free man, I want to live the way I want to live. I just want to be happy and live freely. If I'm remembered as anything I want it to be as the guy who left this dimension leaving positivity and lived free.

PM: Going back to Dallas, You talked about the pigeon holding in the city, how did you personally find your own inspirations and turn that into becoming a creative yourself?

BB: No matter where I was, I could always bump Kanye West and Kid Cudi all fucking day. I feel like where I was, it was just a bunch a cul de sac kids, not really artistic. But through the internet and whatnot I got to escape and learn about what’s out there beyond fucking Texas. Those artists were someone I could relate to. The moment I saw Kid Cudi speak in an interview and realized he didn't have a traditional black voice, I felt something, I felt like I fit in and just was accepted for once.

PM: A little off topic, but you say you're a nerd and an outsider, I’m really interested what your favourite video game, movie and album all are?

BB: OK, fave album, ‘Man on the Moon 2, I cried to that so many times, and probably played it a million times. Movie is easily ‘Back to the Future’ because I’m just obsessed with time travel and I overthink that type of shit. Oh, also ‘Like Mike’ that movie was fucking amazing, shoutout to Drew Siko he's an awful person cause he never seen it. And game is easily ‘Kingdom Hearts’, theres no video games that talks to kids the way that game does, it brought so many questions to me that just blew my entire fucking mind. Just even realizing your biggest fears through that game changed everything.

PM: Looking ahead to the future a little bit, what are your milestones you hope to hit as a team and personally?

BB: Biggest thing is to do a PH tour, taking the Peace Love Wifi show (happening on August 24th this year) across the country and sharing our shit everywhere. And I need a cartoon show of my own, may not happen for a while but it’ll happen. We wanna drop a tape as a team for sure, because fuck it why not. More films, more music videos, and maybe anything that'll come to our heads, fuck it maybe we'll make cereal.

PM: What do you belive you need to add to your skillset going forward to grow artistically in a positive direction?

BB: I think I wanna learn that nothing is perfect, I eventually start hating all of my work because I get so attached to it becoming perfect. I'm too hard on myself. I wanna be good in everything, there's no limit to our skills and what we can become so it's just a never satisfied attitude.

PM: Ultimately for you, what seperates a good and great artist and how do you hope to get to that great level?

BB: For me it's all about being able to relate to who's consuming the art, if they can have emotional experience or feel they can be part of the story, that can automatically make it something special for whoever's enjoying.

PM: Final question, If you could look back from the future and know the legacy of Productive Honey and yourself, what would you ultimately want it to be?

BB: Honestly, when I leave this place, I just wanna be remembered as someone who stood for freedom and happiness. Fuck the money, Fuck the art, when I see myself in the mirror I just want to be free and want to be remembered in the exact same way. To my mother I want to be a funny sweet son, to my friends I wanna be remembered as the loyal guy they always trusted on, I really just want to be the best man I can be.

PM: Do you have anything or anyone to shout out or promote? The floor is yours!

BB: Oh man, Let me just go through this list: This month; Peace, Love Wifi tickets go on sale this July, PROH magazine issue 3 coming out, Gab the Sandbox music video soon, Drew Siko new music coming soon, Project Demolition soon, season 3 of PROH clothing coming in fall and winter. Shoutout Kiddie, Gab, Drew Siko, My momma, Kid Cudi, and shout out all the Benjamins in my pocket and all the pretty shawties.

Follow Brad on Instagram

Productivehoney.com

[dainiaolivahm]

Facebook Usage Declined and the 3 Reasons Why

Each year, Edison Research produces the comprehensive and well-regarded Infinite Dial study which probes how Americans use social media, audio services, and other technology.

The 2018 edition will be released on March 8, and includes a shocking finding:

For the first time ever, usage of Facebook went down.

(Register for the free Infinite Dial Webinar on March 8 to learn a lot more about Americans’ usage of social and other tech. It’s the most recent, comprehensive, and accurate data available.)

That’s right. The behemoth of social media saw a decline in usage, from 67 percent of Americans ages 12 and older to 62 percent of that same audience, according to Edison’s survey of 2,000 randomly selected persons.

This drop is seen in every age and gender demographic as well. It’s not as if only young people, or older Americans, or women are using Facebook less. Every studied group is using Facebook less.

Facebook Usage Decline per Infinite Dial 2018

Of course, 62 percent of Americans is still a huge group of people. But this number puts Facebook’s 2018 usage in line with the 2015 penetration rate. Facebook just gave back two full years of user growth.

And a drop from 67 percent to 62 percent is a decline of eight percent overall in one year. Again, not enormous when looked at in isolation, but given Facebook’s steady, upward trajectory since the first Infinite Dial study in 2008, it’s quite a difference in pattern.

Facebook usage dropped 8% in USA since 2017, the first drop in its history. Here are 3 reasons why. Click To Tweet

Why, after a decade, did Facebook finally see a reduction in usage in the United States? I believe there are three explanations.

1. Increased Distrust of Facebook

It hasn’t been a great year for Facebook as an organization. The mainstream media has consistently  covered Facebook’s role (or at least complicity) in the world of “fake news.” When you combine this with the company’s other missteps in the areas of privacy and accountability, you end up with an environment where the users of the platform may not fully trust the motives and judgment of those that operate the platform.

Given that Facebook has access to many of our most important personal data points, photos, and feelings, a drop in trust could create a drop in usage.

2. Increased Discord on Facebook

If you’re a Facebook user, I’m sure you’ve seen this in your own News Feed: someone who says they are logging off of Facebook for good because of the rampant negativity present on the platform.

In the shadow of the presidential election, there has been continued polarization of thought in America, and an acceptance that the new normal is a climate of “us” vs. “them.” This is tiring. Each time you express an opinion on Facebook, you must defend that opinion from segments of your “friends” who are now “the opposition.” This squeezes the fun out of Facebook, like Fergie squeezing propriety out of the national anthem.

When additional Infinite Dial data is released, we’ll have more insight on this point. But I predict we’ll see an even greater drop in daily usage. While there are some people who have signed off of the platform entirely due to discord, anecdotally, I believe the bigger change is people using Facebook a couple times a week instead of every day.

3. Increased Disinterest in Facebook

Indeed, I believe reduced trust in our Facebook overlords along with reduced willingness to argue amongst ourselves on Facebook contribute to this first-ever reduction in usage in America.

But a third explanation is that this drop represents a natural shifting of users to other parts of the Facebook ecosystem. While Facebook’s usage declines, Instagram’s usage continues to march upward, as does the number of people consistently using Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp.

This may be a purposeful segmentation approach by Facebook. It’s particularly true among young Americans ages 12 to 24, where Edison Research observed the largest drop in usage.

After all, one of Facebook’s most attractive elements is that you can do a LOT of different things on the platform. But that’s also one of its great weaknesses. Is Facebook the BEST place for video? Probably not. Is it the BEST place for photos? Probably not. Is it the BEST place for messaging? Maybe.

As Facebook usage goes down, Instagram and WhatsApp and Messenger usage go up because they offer a more tailored experience. As social media progresses, it is natural for our own usage to gravitate toward one or more platforms that offer a more specialized experience that is more relevant to what we personally enjoy best about social media. Thus, some people gravitate toward Instagram. Others, Linkedin. Others still, Snapchat.

Coca-Cola is doing the same thing. They just rolled out four new flavors of Diet Coke, enveloped in a chic, skinny can. These new adjuncts will assuredly reduce consumption of old school Diet Coke, but they hope that this move will grow their overall market share, across all five beverage flavors.

Last year, I wrote about Facebook mimicking all of Snapchat’s features and baking them into Instagram. At that time, I predicted that while Snapchat’s user base would shrink as a result, it would actually be better for them strategically. Casual users of Snapchat (like me) would leave the platform and use Instagram instead (like me). Thus, the remaining Snapchat user base would become more homogenous, allowing them to charge a greater premium for advertising. And Snapchat just announced their first-ever profitable quarter, so that may be precisely what occurred.

Distrust. Discord. Disinterest. These are the 3 reasons for Facebook’s decline in usage.

But is it really a problem?

Distrust. Discord. Disinterest. These are the 3 reasons for Facebook’s 8% decline in usage. Click To Tweet

Facebook’s vision—as articulated by Mark Zuckerberg many times, and in many ways—is to be the way humanity connects. And they are, when you look at the entirety of their holdings. But, when you look at the do-everything workhorse that is Facebook per se, the bloom is finally off the rose. Too big, too boring, too noisy, too everything.

Should Facebook be concerned about this drop in usage? Yes. But as long as they are growing their user base across everything they own, they’ll continue to dominate social media, and beyond.

(Register for the free Infinite Dial Webinar on March 8 to learn a lot more about Americans’ usage of social and other tech. It’s the most recent, comprehensive, and accurate data available.)

http://ift.tt/2of3SAc

[byronheeutgm]

Facebook Usage Declined and the 3 Reasons Why

Each year, Edison Research produces the comprehensive and well-regarded Infinite Dial study which probes how Americans use social media, audio services, and other technology.

The 2018 edition will be released on March 8, and includes a shocking finding:

For the first time ever, usage of Facebook went down.

(Register for the free Infinite Dial Webinar on March 8 to learn a lot more about Americans’ usage of social and other tech. It’s the most recent, comprehensive, and accurate data available.)

That’s right. The behemoth of social media saw a decline in usage, from 67 percent of Americans ages 12 and older to 62 percent of that same audience, according to Edison’s survey of 2,000 randomly selected persons.

This drop is seen in every age and gender demographic as well. It’s not as if only young people, or older Americans, or women are using Facebook less. Every studied group is using Facebook less.

Facebook Usage Decline per Infinite Dial 2018

Of course, 62 percent of Americans is still a huge group of people. But this number puts Facebook’s 2018 usage in line with the 2015 penetration rate. Facebook just gave back two full years of user growth.

And a drop from 67 percent to 62 percent is a decline of eight percent overall in one year. Again, not enormous when looked at in isolation, but given Facebook’s steady, upward trajectory since the first Infinite Dial study in 2008, it’s quite a difference in pattern.

Facebook usage dropped 8% in USA since 2017, the first drop in its history. Here are 3 reasons why. Click To Tweet

Why, after a decade, did Facebook finally see a reduction in usage in the United States? I believe there are three explanations.

1. Increased Distrust of Facebook

It hasn’t been a great year for Facebook as an organization. The mainstream media has consistently  covered Facebook’s role (or at least complicity) in the world of “fake news.” When you combine this with the company’s other missteps in the areas of privacy and accountability, you end up with an environment where the users of the platform may not fully trust the motives and judgment of those that operate the platform.

Given that Facebook has access to many of our most important personal data points, photos, and feelings, a drop in trust could create a drop in usage.

2. Increased Discord on Facebook

If you’re a Facebook user, I’m sure you’ve seen this in your own News Feed: someone who says they are logging off of Facebook for good because of the rampant negativity present on the platform.

In the shadow of the presidential election, there has been continued polarization of thought in America, and an acceptance that the new normal is a climate of “us” vs. “them.” This is tiring. Each time you express an opinion on Facebook, you must defend that opinion from segments of your “friends” who are now “the opposition.” This squeezes the fun out of Facebook, like Fergie squeezing propriety out of the national anthem.

When additional Infinite Dial data is released, we’ll have more insight on this point. But I predict we’ll see an even greater drop in daily usage. While there are some people who have signed off of the platform entirely due to discord, anecdotally, I believe the bigger change is people using Facebook a couple times a week instead of every day.

3. Increased Disinterest in Facebook

Indeed, I believe reduced trust in our Facebook overlords along with reduced willingness to argue amongst ourselves on Facebook contribute to this first-ever reduction in usage in America.

But a third explanation is that this drop represents a natural shifting of users to other parts of the Facebook ecosystem. While Facebook’s usage declines, Instagram’s usage continues to march upward, as does the number of people consistently using Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp.

This may be a purposeful segmentation approach by Facebook. It’s particularly true among young Americans ages 12 to 24, where Edison Research observed the largest drop in usage.

After all, one of Facebook’s most attractive elements is that you can do a LOT of different things on the platform. But that’s also one of its great weaknesses. Is Facebook the BEST place for video? Probably not. Is it the BEST place for photos? Probably not. Is it the BEST place for messaging? Maybe.

As Facebook usage goes down, Instagram and WhatsApp and Messenger usage go up because they offer a more tailored experience. As social media progresses, it is natural for our own usage to gravitate toward one or more platforms that offer a more specialized experience that is more relevant to what we personally enjoy best about social media. Thus, some people gravitate toward Instagram. Others, Linkedin. Others still, Snapchat.

Coca-Cola is doing the same thing. They just rolled out four new flavors of Diet Coke, enveloped in a chic, skinny can. These new adjuncts will assuredly reduce consumption of old school Diet Coke, but they hope that this move will grow their overall market share, across all five beverage flavors.

Last year, I wrote about Facebook mimicking all of Snapchat’s features and baking them into Instagram. At that time, I predicted that while Snapchat’s user base would shrink as a result, it would actually be better for them strategically. Casual users of Snapchat (like me) would leave the platform and use Instagram instead (like me). Thus, the remaining Snapchat user base would become more homogenous, allowing them to charge a greater premium for advertising. And Snapchat just announced their first-ever profitable quarter, so that may be precisely what occurred.

Distrust. Discord. Disinterest. These are the 3 reasons for Facebook’s decline in usage.

But is it really a problem?

Distrust. Discord. Disinterest. These are the 3 reasons for Facebook’s 8% decline in usage. Click To Tweet

Facebook’s vision—as articulated by Mark Zuckerberg many times, and in many ways—is to be the way humanity connects. And they are, when you look at the entirety of their holdings. But, when you look at the do-everything workhorse that is Facebook per se, the bloom is finally off the rose. Too big, too boring, too noisy, too everything.

Should Facebook be concerned about this drop in usage? Yes. But as long as they are growing their user base across everything they own, they’ll continue to dominate social media, and beyond.

(Register for the free Infinite Dial Webinar on March 8 to learn a lot more about Americans’ usage of social and other tech. It’s the most recent, comprehensive, and accurate data available.)

http://ift.tt/2of3SAc