#new accent to make her even gayer

[reliquiaenfr]

Happy eleventh birthday to my progens, and happy pride from their daughter-in-law, the most rainbow dragon I own

[peacockpenis]

ok understudy CENTRAL at ppgw was a joy. stephen!chris, bianca!annie, fred!max, ryan!francis, and brennan!lucy today. some fun things:

- preshow is BACK! without gill there wasn’t a hammer bit but that did mean there was far more chaos of the three boys (jonathan, chris, and trevor) doing lil bits

- bianca is a STELLAR annie. that girl can SING! we were cheering for her lullaby and her accent as mary and as liza is ridiculous — liza is a little like her gill accent (vaguely jamaican?)

- stephen is still a joy as chris — somehow gayer and more anxious but a joy. his bottle bit went OOOON tonight (i may have instigated it) and he was having a very fun time with the other understudies. he’s somehow less pathetic but more of a little mess

- as a harry kershaw stan, ryan is SO FUN AS THE NARRATOR! he played with a lot more bravado, and when he appeared naked he looked at us and went “you’re welcome” cause that man knew he was sexy. he also couldn’t find the pistol when searching for the compass and stephen made fun of him.

- god brennan is adorable. a lot more noises rather than shrill screams from her but soooo fun as lucy. she was fully reading the last sequence from the book cause first she had to find it (went through a lot of pages) and then messed up and said “the crocodile” twice when trying to read it. but she killed it!

- no gill, so i was curious how they’d cover — brennan wore her gill costume for the first part to do the dog door and some early moments and to hold the sea and do some other moments, and occasionally they used francis to stand in (holding the sea, holding trevor’s cue cards). francis stepped into the world of make believe dance as well but in his narrator costume. you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t looking.

- no gill did mean trevor had to put everyone on harnesses for “flying alone”, which made me laugh, and meant he had a lot more to yell during the turn table — he was YELLIN OFFSTAGE AND IT WAS FANTASTIC.

- also the turntable was definitely slower tonight — probably because fred just stepped in and there’s so many folks on new tracks, but chris leask didn’t even notice until i mentioned it

[beautifulduckweed]

tag game: two earls one lady?? 👀

This one was inspired by A Fashionable Indulgence, because I love love love Pygmalion romances, but the premise isn't nearly as salacious as the title suggests, alas (though now I'm thinking...I can definitely make it more salacious). The basic premise is: a dying earl and his countess are looking for his long-lost brother's son, because he doesn't want his title being passed off to a Terrible Cousin. Good news: they find him. Bad news: he's a dockworker. Lessons in comportment and etiquette ensue, and the countess starts feeling horny for someone who's technically her nephew!! (By marriage, sure, but you know.) Lots of forced proximity! Feelings while dancing and touching him to correct his posture and comportment! He does pull-ups half-naked, not knowing that she's watching, and then does it EXTRA HARD once he figures out she is!!!

I actually have almost the entire story outlined, including all the major emotional beats. I did...a non-zero amount of research, lol. I just got distracted along the way by other stories. I write differently enough now that I'm like, hmmm, how do I make this gayer.

Re: the working title: I am trash for a girl/Earl pun, no matter how dubious the quality, but couldn't think of a good rhyme for cup. Damn and blast. Open to any suggestions.

Anyway, here's the first scene:

25 March, 1828

The morning fog was thick enough to chew. It smothered all of Rotherhithe in a gray pall, cold and foul and dense, and made the footing on the narrow planks that served as gangways at the Surrey docks even more treacherous than normal. Jack’s work wasn’t getting any lighter, though, and he and his gang were paid by the load, so all morning they hoisted deals—planks of wood, mostly pine today—onto his shoulders, sorted in lengths two to four times longer than he was tall. Then he had to perform the delicate, dangerous dance of getting them off the ship and onto dry land.

Being a deal porter meant moving in harmony to several different rhythms, taking care not to trip on any of them. There was the rhythm of the ship, rocking in the waves of the Thames. There was the jouncing of the planks on his shoulder as he walked—and the longer the planks, the more they moved. And then there was the most perilous rhythm of all: the bounce and give of the narrow gangplanks as he crossed from upper deck to lower and from ship to dock, each plank barely wider than a man’s foot, forcing him to place his feet one after another in quick, delicate succession. No railings or ropes to save him.

Jack didn't love the work, exactly, but he liked being good at something, and he was very good at toting around massive loads of wood. The best in the Surrey docks, which almost certainly meant the best in London. He also liked that it demanded his full attention: to his body, to his surroundings, to the feel of every surface under his feet as he transitioned from ship to gangplank to land. He liked the focus it required of him; it left him little to no room to think of anything else, much less time to remember, or brood. Days like this were especially tricky; no concessions for foggy weather, even though bad visibility meant more accidents, and the moisture beading on everything rendered every surface a menace. Just last week, during another bad fog, some poor sod had lost his balance and fallen into the drink. His face was slack and pale by the time they'd fished him out, his lungs full of foul water.

Death held no fear for Jack. He’d seen his share and then some. When God saw fit to finally take Ma to her eternal rest last autumn, Jack had found himself alone for the first time in all his twenty-three years. Since then, he'd felt—not invincible, quite, but something like. His time would not come for a while yet. God would not let him off so easy.

As he unloaded and stacked his deals on the dock, he heard cultured accents floating through the fog. Not a sound he encountered very often, but especially not here, and especially not this time of the morning. He listened for a few moments, but the fog had an odd muffling effect, and he caught maybe one word out of four. He found himself moving toward the voices instead of back to the ship, a yearning ache in his chest: his father had talked in similar accents. Been a good long while since he’d heard someone talking like that. As he rounded the corner of a tall stack of crates, he caught sight, just a few armlengths away, of a man richly dressed in sober-colored clothing, and startlingly, a lady next to him, small and slim and tidy. He stood and stared, but the fog foiled his attempts to discern more.

He heard the shout of warning at the same time he noticed the crates next to him shifting, then beginning to topple. Quicker than thought, he sprinted up and pushed the lady out of the way, just as several crates crashed around them. A tremendous blow caught him on his shoulder, and he smashed into the dock head-first before he could brace himself.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there in a daze, but gradually, as if from a great distance away, he heard voices shouting his name. “Oi, Upshur! Upshur, mate, you all right?” All he could do was blink stupidly at the muddy planks of the dock until someone turned him over, and he looked into the long, solemn face of the nob and the small, serious face of the woman, pale and disembodied in the fog. He heard the toff exclaim, “Good heavens, he is the very image of Michael,” and the woman’s voice saying, “Pickering, I do believe we finally found him.”

And then the darkness swallowed him.

[scenefox2003]

Yunan and Marcy Bond On The Pirate Ship

Aka I suck at creative titles but it’s exactly what it sounds like (it’s Yunan’s turn to parent, she kinda sucks at it at first tho)

Yunan growled as she yanked a rope with all her might, hoping to get enough wind power to chase after the enemy ship. Irritating laughter rang out as it drifted away, so close yet so far away. Most of her supplies for the trip went along with it, in the greedy clutches of a little green Manlet.

“That was too easy!” Tritonio shouted from the stern of his ship. “I’m honestly shocked, I thought the Newtopian government had no care in the world for sad little orphans!”

“It doesn’t for you, you little shit!” Yunan screamed, gripping the railing as if she could strangle it. “Just go to therapy and get over it instead of making everyone else’s lives a living hell!”

There was no use in acting civil, Yunan had already been humiliated. By Tritonio, nonetheless. That little prick with his dumbass accent and stupid haircut… he was always getting in the way, swindling her and making her look like a joke! Not to mention the time he tried to seduce her at that seedy bar… it didn’t work for obvious reasons but he still managed to steal her wallet somehow.

“Oh, quit your whining! Why don’t you just go buy more with that fancy royal credit card of yours? Oh, that’s right, I stole it! And you’re still too much of a pussy to tell Andrias and get a new one!”

Tritonio’s ship rang out with laughter, and Yunan felt her face getting hot. But her brain wasn’t fast enough to come up with a proper comeback, so there was a solid ten or so seconds of them laughing at her before she responded.

“I don’t even know why you thought that trick would work! Just looking at you makes me gayer! Go shove your dick in a rusty tin can for all I care, you good for nothing charlatan!”

But by then the enemy ship had already drifted into the sunset, and Tritonio had gotten the last word. Yunan let out a feral growl and punched the railing with all her might.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

The shitty old wood cracked and splintered, and she was about to do it again before a small voice spoke up from behind her.

“Um… Captain Yunan?”

Yunan swiveled around to face Marcy, who was standing awkwardly behind her. She had honestly completely forgotten she was there. Yunan was used to traveling alone, but this time Marcy wanted to be dragged along.

“Come on, Liv! You know I hate sailing with a crew! They just slow me down!” She had whined when she heard the news.

“It’ll be good for you,” Olivia had insisted. “Being alone on that musty ass ship for that long isn’t healthy.”

“Excuse me, the S.S. Pussy Destroyer is NOT musty! Besides, If it’s so lonely, Why don’t you come with me?”

“You know how much I hate boats, that old thing is a death trap and I get seasick already. Besides, Marcy’s delightful, you’ll love her.”

“So you’re willing to put HER on a death trap?”

“Oh, just fucking take her.”

And so she did, and Olivia wasn’t wrong. Marcy was sweet, and very helpful as well. But having her around now to witness her defeat… wasn’t ideal.

“Well that was a fucking disaster,” Yunan spat, starting to pace. “We’ve lost most of our supplies which means we’re gonna have to dock somewhere and buy more. God, I hate people, why can’t anything go RIGHT!” She screamed, tearing her hair out. She wasn’t even talking to Marcy at that point, just venting her frustration, and Marcy once again had to say something to make Yunan remember her existence.

“So uh, what should I do? Can I do anything to help, or-”

“I dunno! I don’t really care, and I don’t need your help. Just get out of my way so I can fix this mess!” She scoffed, waving her away with her hand. Yunan’s words had come out unintentionally harsh, like most of the things she said, but she didn’t really notice until she saw Marcy’s face fall.

“Oh, o-of course, I’m so so sorry, I’ll just, uh… leave you be, I’m sorry!”

Marcy quickly ran off to the cabin without another word. Yunan considered following her for a second, a bit concerned, but decided to focus on the task at hand, shutting herself in the storage room to get to work. Marcy could probably handle herself.

Once Yunan had taken inventory and come up with a revised plan for the rest of the trip, the sun had already set. She was more than ready to collapse into her hammock and call it a night, but when she went into the cabin she noticed Marcy’s hammock was empty. Her sword and red pirate hat were on the floor, seemingly dumped there, but the human was nowhere to be found. She bent down to pick up the hat.

“Huh, that’s… weird,” Yunan muttered to herself, about to shrug it off and call it a night. But something about it bothered her. She left the cabin and headed up the stairs to the upper deck, wanting to get a bird’s eye view of the ship and hopefully spot Marcy.

About halfway up the stairs she heard sniffling and small, stifled sobs.

Yunan’s heart immediately sank. She thought back to how she had acted, and the more she replayed the scene in her head the more she realized she was the asshole.

“Fuck!” She whispered to herself. “I’m so stupid! I was way too harsh with her! She’s like what, thirteen? God!”

She stood on the steps awkwardly for a moment, then finally built up the courage to climb the rest of the way up.

Marcy sat at the edge of the boat, hunched over in a tiny ball, hugging her knees. She pulled her jacket tightly around herself as she shook. Yunan couldn’t tell if she was shaking just because she was crying, or because it was cold, or because of the boat rocking.

Yunan hesitated for a second, feeling a bit awkward. She wasn’t good with people, that was Olivia’s job. But she couldn’t help but feel bad for Marcy, and she was the only other person on the ship. Not to mention it was probably her fault she was crying in the first place. She had to do something.

“Uh, hey kid…” Yunan called out awkwardly, trying her best to use the sweetest voice possible. “You okay?” She walked over to sit down next to Marcy, but she didn’t turn to look at her. She just stared down at the waves below, her eyes glossed over with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Marcy choked out, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “I’m so sorry, I just-“

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Yunan quickly reassured. It didn’t seem to make things better though. Marcy sobbed a couple times, no longer caring about how loud she was, then wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. It was pitiful to watch, and Yunan found herself looking away from Marcy and out at the ocean, trying to figure out what to say. She felt completely useless in this situation, she wished Olivia was there.

Wait, that’s it! What would Olivia do? Hmm…Probably the right thing or some shit. God damn it.

Yunan sighed, swallowed her pride and turned to look at Marcy again.

“Listen. About what I said earlier-“

“I’m sorry!” Marcy quickly interrupted. “I… I should’ve fought harder, but I let them get away with all our stuff, I wish I-“

“No!” Yunan shouted, surprised at how desperate she sounded. “That wasn’t your fault at all! It… it was all me. I’m so sorry for being a jerk. You didn’t deserve that.”

Yunan couldn’t help but be impressed with herself. Since when did she admit wrongdoing? It was admittedly weird, but something about it felt… right.

Unfortunately, it didn’t do much.

“But I DID!” Marcy wailed, burying her face in her knees. “I just took their hits like an idiot, like I always do! I’m such a bumbling fool! I got in the way of your mission just because I wanted to play pirates! You didn’t have to let me come, I know you like to be alone anyway and I’m just slowing you down-“

Yunan’s eyes widened in shock, and her heart turned to lead. Those words sounded too familiar. She placed a hand on Marcy’s shoulder.

“Woah, hey, stop. Look at me.”

Marcy stopped her tirade and finally looked at Yunan, her face an absolute mess. If Yunan felt guilty before, it was now eating her alive. She sighed and looked down, unable to handle it anymore.

“You… you heard me and Liv talking the other day, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Marcy squeaked out. “But you were right outside my door and you were talking kinda loudly.” She recoiled again, as if she was expecting her to retaliate, which broke Yunan’s heart. She sighed again, a long, soft sigh.

“Shit,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry, Marcy. I never said any of that because I don’t like you… I’m just really bad with people, and I was… God damn it, I was scared okay?! I admit it!”

Yunan was being genuine, and tried her best to show it, but it was no use.

“You don’t have to lie to me!” Marcy wailed. “You’re never scared! You shouldn’t have to do stuff like that! I should be better for you! I need to be better, you newts have given me everything and you’re all so nice to me and I just don’t understand why, I need to prove I deserve it-“

Before Yunan could even realize what she was doing she was hugging Marcy, holding her only for a split second before coming to her senses and rapidly letting her go.

“Woops, I uh, don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry-“

But then, just as quickly, Marcy was hugging her back, colliding into her and wrapping her arms around her waist. She buried her face in Yunan’s soft pirate blouse and squeezed her tighter than Yunan even knew she was capable of.

“I love you guys so much,” she sobbed, her voice muffled. “You deserve better than me, I’m horrible.”

Yunan tutted, and wrapped her arms around the girl.

“Aww, hey. Where’s all this coming from? How are you horrible? You have a perfect track record for missions and everyone loves you.”

“Not anymore! All our stuff got stolen, and when King Andrias and Lady Olivia find out I failed they’re not gonna want to be my friends anymore!”

With that everything started to make sense, and comforting seemed to come almost instinctively to Yunan. She curled her tail around the both of them, pulling Marcy closer.

“That’s crazy talk. Andrias and Olivia would never do that, I promise. They think the world of you.”

Marcy sniffled, then looked up at her, trying to tell if she was lying.

“They do?”

Yunan barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, DUH! I haven’t seen Andrias care about a person EVER, and then you came along and he actually seems genuinely happy. And Olivia can be a prude, but I know she loves you too.”

Marcy’s eyes welled up with more tears.

“But I don’t-“

“Nope, don’t even say it. Yes, you do. You deserve every wonderful thing King Andrias spoils you with.”

Yunan sighed, and in the gentlest action she had ever done, she wiped away a tear that rolled down Marcy’s cheek.

“You’re a good kid, Marcy. And yeah, you’ll probably grow up to be even better, but that doesn’t matter. Me, and Olivia, and Andrias, we all love you for who you are right now, not who you could be in the future.”

Marcy was silent for a while, overcome by emotion. Yunan wrapped her arm back around her, and Marcy buried her face back into Yunan’s shirt. Then she said in the tiniest voice, “thank you, I really needed to hear that.”

Yunan smiled softly, and patted her back.

“Sure thing, Master Marcy.”

Marcy sobbed quietly into Yunan’s side, and Yunan let her, sensing this was something she had needed for a long time. She wrapped her cape around Marcy’s shoulders and held her tight, rocking the both of them gently back and forth with the ship.

“You’re alright, kid. I’ve got you.”

The rhythmic sound of the waves mixed with Marcy’s hitched breaths lulled Yunan into a bit of a trance, which was only broken a while later when Marcy spoke again.

“I’m sorry for crying all over you…”

Yunan just chuckled.

“Do you really think the great General Yunan, scourge of the sand wars, defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, and the youngest newt to ever achieve the rank of general in the great Newtopian army is afraid of a little snot?”

“Yeah, I guess not,” she sniffled. “You’re really cool.”

Yunan couldn’t help but grin.

“Fuck yeah I am!” She gloated, playing it off as if it didn’t mean as much to her as it did. “You are too, you know.”

“No I’m not, I’m being such a baby right now.”

“Everybody needs a good cry sometimes.”

“Even you?”

Yunan sighed, and ruffled Marcy’s hair.

“Yes, even me.”

Marcy giggled, then yawned.

“Getting sleepy?” Yunan asked.

“Mhm.”

“Want to go back down to the cabin and go to bed?”

“No, I wanna watch the ocean some more.”

“Yeah, it’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

Marcy yawned again then shifted a little, getting comfy.

“Yeah, it is.”

The vast blue ocean moved gently up and down, the sight complimented the soothing rocking motion perfectly. In the distance, a dolphin leapt out of the water in a graceful arc.

“Look Marcy, a dolphin!” Yunan said, but she didn’t get an answer. Marcy was already fast asleep. She chuckled a little to herself, carefully picking her up to carry her to her hammock. With Marcy in her arms, she had a moment of self awareness.

“Damn, I’ve really gone soft, haven’t I?”

She got no answer besides Marcy’s soft snores. She chuckled again, then headed downstairs.

She’d have a lot to tell Olivia once they got home. Maybe sailing with a crew wasn’t so bad.

[collabwithmyself]

*(wakes up to see country boy Phoenix - cracks knuckles)* “Let’s do this.”

Likely got best of both worlds seeing that he and Miles went to the same school - I’m thinking farm was in the country on the edge of a big city, Miles was big city, school was somewhere in the middle in suburbia... either that or his family moved to the city right before he entered that grade so he was already ostracized as being ‘that new farm kid’... I love the first because there are southern big cities (there’s a difference between southern and country), and honestly the idea of Miles also having a little bit of an accent from being in a city close to the country gives me life - but also the second one with the move fits with the plot better

Either way I’m saying his parents either still have or got a new farm and he gets his best thinking done while riding a tractor. If they’re within a reasonable distance he’ll sometimes be visiting, helping with the chores, and then all of a sudden “Sorry Mom and Dad, gotta go!” because he had an epiphany on a case in progress.

First time Miles and Larry get invited over as kids, Larry is offended that none of the chickens will let him hold them, but he’s just too loud and fidgety. Miles, however, is calm and quiet and within a few minutes has one in his lap letting him pet it. (If Phoenix’s little baby crush wasn’t solidified already, it is now. Chickens are great judges of character, and he loves seeing how gentle Miles is with them.)

Also during disbarment his parents are concerned about him and continually suggest the idea of him coming home, maybe not even to work on the farm (although nowadays many farm owners also have other jobs) but maybe the courts will be lenient and let him be a small town attorney (especially now as a parent he needs a more stable job to support Trucy). Phoenix resists however because 1) Trucy is going through enough changes; he doesn’t want to put her through a new lifestyle and take her away from what she is familiar with, 2) he truly believes he will find a way to prove his innocence, and 3) [the sass comes out] “I want to help defend the innocent - not the deadbeats who want custody of their child even though they never have food in the kitchen or a steady job”

He gets personally offended by Jake Marshall. Like, dude... did you spend one day in Ft Worth (the most stereotypical Cowboy City in Texas) and decided that was what the whole state was like? No one talks and acts like that (or maybe that’s just me projecting)

Most people can’t tell Phoenix is from the country, but he does have certain mannerisms and a practiced lack of any accent that people can tell he’s not native to big city life. Honestly the biggest tell is when he refers to anyone (especially those with authority, but anyone he’s trying to be polite to) sir or ma’am. He’s become careful, especially since some people will take it as an insult about their age (“oh I can’t believe I’m old enough to be referred to as sir/ma’am”) but when used at the right time it has won over a few individuals because “they aren’t used to talking with someone so cordial and polite”

Lotta and him butt heads, and I don’t think she catches on that he’s a country boy from the beginning, but in 2-4 he gets really heated at Miles and she overhears the accent slip out “Maya is kidnapped, I’m bein’ Blackmailed into goin’ against my beliefs and seekin’ the truth, and ya decide Now is the time to Waltz In and let me know YAINT ACTUALLY DEAD!” After that she has a bit more respect for a fellow country folk just trying to make it.

Also, to the one ask that suggested they knew each other, I’m imagining if he moved to the big city right before he met Miles, what if she was from before the move? They finally get talking over a couple of beers about growing up, she calls him out on being a country boy, and they realize that they were classmates up until 2nd grade or something but had changed so much they didn’t recognize/remember each other.

Body built for working. He’s not the type to work out, but he’s strong from just general biking into the city, fence mending, tree limb clearing, etc. Can also cook (and eat) well. Knows all the secrets to making a good roast, and will get offended if you refer to a cookout with hot dogs and hamburgers as a barbecue (it ain’t a barbecue unless the meat is smoked and slathered in sauce)

Also knows a lot about plumbing and electrical from making a room in the barn to be a laundry room. Just has a bunch of random skills where at the office something goes wrong and Mia says something like “I’ll call someone to fix it” and he’s asking her if she has any tools because he thinks he sees the problem and can fix it if she has even a basic toolkit. She pulls one out that hasn’t really seen the light of day in years (new office present from someone), and sure enough Phoenix gets it fixed.

Has boots and a hat somewhere, but really only wears them if majorly working on the farm or attending a country event like a rodeo or something. Although he does have quite a few plaid button-ups and jeans he’ll wear on more casual days. First time Miles sees him in that, he somehow becomes 10% gayer. (BOY LOOKS GOOD IN PLAID)

*(crashes back asleep)*

Holy SHIT, Azal.

[becca-becky]

My notes on the BMC new cast recording:

• They sound so much more extra in like in every single song and I am living for it

• Will sounds like a whimpy teenager and I'm thriving

• Christine is still the best and I love her

• The songs that go into the characters's psyche are my most favorite part of every song that has it

• The harmonies and riffs are Fucking Amazing, what is there else to say

• Will's little octave jumps kill me every time (especially in Loser, Geek, Whatever)

• The songs from the OG recording aren't changed a lot to the point where they were recognizable, but changed enough where I would have to stop singing along with the recording just to hear a new rhythm, harmony, and/or riff (And there would be like an 100% chance that I'd love it)

• Halloween is still fucking amazing, especially with that sax solo ;)

• I felt like sobbing in like 10 songs, I was an emotional reck (in a good and nostalgic way)

• Every time I heard George's voice, I'd just get a serotonin boost (although that's for most of the soundtrack, but still)

• That wind instrument or an instrument that sounded like a wind instrument that played that E had that weird freaky halloween trill during Micheal In The Bathroom also gave me a serotonin boost

• THE FUCKING L E I T M O T F I S

• Will adding his own flair during his lines made me so happy and I was just like dhgdgdjffh

• THAT ACOUSTIC GUITAR WHEN MICHEAL SINGS I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY FUCKING SHINES

• Actually, the acoustic guitar during the entire song was just 😣👌👏

• When the xylophone has little extra harmonies, my heart just goes ❤😖

• Every single time two characters have a duet, it makes me just go 💞💓

• I HEARD A DIAL UP MOITF IN ONE SQUIP SONG I JUST REMEMBERED (I think it was in Sync Up? Could be wrong)

• Jenna's actress has such a strong voice and makes me very gay, gayer than I was before tbh

• Lmao the girl that was screaming during Smartphone Hour

• Literally all of the 80s references in the sound design and music make my little musician heart go doki-doki

• SQUIP's frat bro accent is another serotonin boost

• Also his voice makes me very gay

• The little lines in between each song make me very jubilant

• New harmonies in the accompaniment make me really happy 💓💖💕

• Two-Player Game's retro game sound effects in the soundtrack, awesome

• Micheal and Jeremy: talking

• Me: 😖❤

• Christine changing her tone and vowels (I'm not exactly sure how to describe it) in The Play to show how it's not exactly her talking (or singing, rather) is very cool and I loved it

• During Be More Chill, Pt. 1, when SQUIP is telling Jeremy to mimic what he says, I really liked it when Jeremy actually waited until SQUIP was done so he could repeat it. Idk why, I just really liked that detail and remembered that in the OG recording, I didn't like that part of the song

• In Be More Chill, Pt. 2, they give SQUIP his own part of the harmony (at least I think it's him singing at the end of the song) that isn't shared with another person from the chorus and I just really liked that :)

• The acoustic guitar really shines in A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into

• I honestly can't tell if the acoustic guitar a motif for anything (I could just be looking into this too much)

• Actually, the xylophone could also be a motif for something as well (Once again, could be looking into too much)

• Every time I heard the SQUIP motif in the instrumental before SQUIP Enters, I get chills up my spine

But uh, yeah! I know I'm really freaking late (I've been really busy the past few months, you can thank high school applications for that), but I thought I'd share my thoughts on the sound track, even tho y'all never asked for it :D

[oreolesbian]

my fav borhap moments

- during the Top of the Pops performance where roger hits the fake cymbal with the most devastated™️ look

- brian’s mocking accent: “we’re the BBC”

- “CAMERA TWO! ABOVE THE WAIST!”

- *freddie shopping* “do they have this in my size?” “freddie this is the ladies section”

- the band just barging in on freddie’s marriage proposal and brian’s, “hi mary, how’s your dad?”

- *chicken screaming* “GALILEO”

- “nOT THE COFFEE MACHINE”

- “when my hand is on your grease gun? that’s very subtle isn’t it?” “IT’S A METAPHOR BRIAN”

- just the whole band making fun of roger and his car kink™️

- *kenny on the radio* “ladies and ladies”

- the wayne’s world reference

- “who even is galileo?”

- john getting the shittiest bedroom and just accepting it with a sigh cause he doesn’t get the respect he deserves

- ROGERINA

- *freddie with a new haircut and mustache* “what do you think?” *roger shrugging* “gayer?” “no, roger the house”

- “what do you guys think of david?” *prolonged silence* “he’s a nice chap” “i think he’s gay”

- freddie just taking the liberty to name jim beach, miami because jim was just too darn boring

- “it goes on forever, six bloody minutes” “i pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever”

- *freddie literally talking to his fiancé who he hasn’t spoken to in a while* “how are the cats?”

- “you look like an angry lizard”

- freddie’s parents asking if jim hutton was a ‘work friend’

- freddie blowing his mom a kiss during live aid

- “what even is a rhapsody?” “it’s an epic poem”

- freddie’s mom handing out his baby pics to the band and freddie just yeeting out of the room to play piano

- the entire live aid performance AHHHHHH

- “ready freddie?”

- the ‘ay-oh’ of solidarity between freddie and another patient when he got his hiv diagnosis

- “do you know how many jim hutton’s there are in london?”

- “roger there’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen”

- *shatters a window* “you can take that out of our loyalties you twat!”

- “no one likes opera” “i like opera”

- the OUTFITS

- “i want to throw a party” “who are we inviting?” “PEOPLE”

- the picture of fred and jim in the credits

- brian kicking freddie out of the room just cause he felt like it

- gwilym lee, aka time-traveling brian may

- “’oh where’s madonna?’”

- freddie playing opera music and throwing shit everywhere while the band dances along

- “how many more galileo’s do you want?”

- accurate broke college student™️ representation when the boys literally sell their van to afford a recording session

- “i think you’ve got to turn it clockwise john” “DO YOU WANT TO DO IT?”

- “we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and i’m eating a ham sandwich”

- “i’ve got better things to do on a saturday night. i can name them.”

- “higher” “if i go any higher only dogs will hear me” “HIGHER” “my nuts are literally in my chest”

- tired mom™️ deaky literally playing the riff of ‘another one bites the dust’ just to break up a fight

- “i can sing” “not with those teeth mate” *sings* “i’ll think about your offer”

- THE CATS

- freddie jumping into a chair and spilling champagne everywhere

- the entire “ay-oh” sequence from live aid and me screaming it along with freddie

- the boys getting so into recording ‘bohemian rhapsody’ that they all just fucking topple over each other

- freddie smacking brian’s ass during ‘fat bottomed girls’ and screaming, “he’s got one too!”

- every. single. concert. montage.

- cutting to a frowning ray foster during the live aid performance on the line ‘no time for losers’

- “you’re a legend fred.” “you’re bloody right i’m a legend. we’re all legends...but you are right i am a legend.”

- brian “i was born with this hair” may

- *freddie having mary translate to her deaf father* “tell your dad you’re an epic shag.” “freddie he can read lips”

- *reporter asking freddie if one of his song lyrics implies that he has multiple partners* “you should ask rog that”

- *reporter trying to imply that freddie might be sick* *john leaning in* “i had a cold once”

- “what are you doing after this?” “homework”

- “take 26 of fred’s...thing”

- “roger’s a dentist” “nO i’m not”

- “an astrophysicist, so you’re the smart one” *brian smirking at roger* “yes, yes i am”

- “i fired paul” “under what pretext?” “villainy”

- “we’ve made our decision...what’s our decision again?”

- “miami will be our new manager” “no i won’t” *the band starts playing ‘another one bites the dust’* “FINE I’LL DO IT”

- “freddie fucking mercury”

- the experimental music session

- brian, john, and roger deliberately being late to meet freddie to tease him about his always being late

- “so roger, what exactly is the sexiest part of a car?”

- “what lyrics are these? you call me sweet...like i’m some kind of cheese”

- “it’s not disco. it’s queen.”

- jim and freddie’s relationship despite the little screen time they had

- the look™️ john and brian share when freddie interacts with the crowd during live aid

- roger and his gong

- “we’ll punch a hole right through the roof of that stadium” “actually wembley doesn’t have a roof” “then we’ll punch a hole through the sky”

- *brian teaching the stomp clap pattern for ‘we will rock you’* *john gives a look™️* “brilliant”

- “roger’s arguments. brian’s rewrites...deaky’s funny looks”

- freddie all up on the camera man during live aid

- the invention of the broken mic stand

- “HUMPY BONG???”

- “my voice sounds like a vulture’s crotch”

- *freddie warming up* *turns to his cats* “what? you think you can do any better? everyone’s a critic.”

- “it’s just a bit weird roger. what exactly are you doing with that car?”

- “here with their new single, ‘i’m in love with my car’!” “other side” “oh, ‘bohemian rhapsody’!”

- the montage of all the bad reviews ‘bohemian rhapsody’ got

- “every band wants more” “every band’s not queen”

- “i sound like shit, do it again” “okay, it’s your money” *tired john* “literally”

- BISMILLAH BULLSHIT

- rami malek

more fav parts

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

The Goldfinch

The Goldfinch marks the first movie of 2019 where I have seen all the trailers and I still have little to no idea what is going to happen in this movie in terms of plot. Normally I rant and rave against contemporary trailer makers for giving away all the details in a film - even important plot twists (I haven’t forgiven you, Pet Sematary, and I never will). But in this case, I haven’t read the book, and the trailers reveal next to nothing about what’s going on, so all I could really hope for was a star-studded, weird, arty time. Is that what I got? Well...

Basically, yeah. Although I wouldn’t really classify the film as weird. There are no bizarre cult classic choices going on here. Instead, it feels...literary. It feels like these characters don’t exist in any version of reality that you or I would recognize unless you were also a character in a book that takes place in a New York with no tourists or gentrification or $1 pizza slices. The plot is pretty convoluted, but basically Theo (Ansel Elgort) is a young boy when he goes to the Met and a bomb goes off, killing his mother. In the aftermath of the explosion, he meets a man who convinces him to 1) steal a painting and 2) take his ring as a sign to show the man’s business partner. Everything from there dictates the rest of Theo’s life as he bounces around from adoptive family on the Upper East Side to shitty real family on the outskirts of Las Vegas back to New York again. There’s a large and wacky cast of characters and a lot of twists and turns that really don’t make much sense. Also, it gets pretty gay.

Some thoughts:

The casting is all pretty spectacular, as the young Theo (Oakes Fegley) really does look like Ansel Elgort.

Do they really give kids morphine lollipops? That seems irresponsible. 

We really see the entire spectrum of white people here, from the brittle WASP-y Upper East Side of Nicole Kidman and family to the white trash foreclosed desert developments where Sarah Paulson totters in stripper heels outside Las Vegas, Nevada. And across that entire spectrum, their only solution for this kid who’s experienced this huge trauma is to keep giving him drugs, so at least that’s consistent.

I don’t understand what it is about literary fiction that has such a hard time translating to film - I’m sure all these characters feel more real in the book, but in the movie, everything just feels like so much unreality? Every new character that’s introduced feels like we’re walking into a new, weird SNL skit. 

Sarah Paulson is having a hell of a good time, though, which I always appreciate seeing. 

Dennis O’Hare is truly excellent at being oily and threatening. 

Finn Wolfhard is magnetic to watch, but his accent verges on cartoonish. Like all of his little “Ha!”s sound fake. However, the entire section of the film with Young Boris and Young Theo is the most captivating and feels like it’s the most emotionally honest. Like, they’re just throwing chips at each other and punching each other and it doesn’t feel like it’s trying to be anything more than deepening this relationship between these two boys, which is kind of nice in a movie where everything feels like it’s supposed to be a metaphor.

NYC is also hot in the summer - why the fuck did Theo only bring with him this one grey sweater when he’s packing to go to Las Vegas? Are you telling me he doesn’t own ANYTHING with short sleeves?

Did everyone smoke this much indoors in 2004? I don’t remember that at all, but then I wasn’t living with anyone named Xandra at the time either.

There is a Very Good Dog named Popper who goes through a lot tbh but doesn’t really get any sort of resolution? He ends up with a safe place to stay but then we hear nothing more of him so like, I just hope he had a really good life because Popper did nothing wrong and deserves everything for being such an intrepid lil traveler eating potato chips on the bus.

You know how I know this was based on a Pulitzer-prize-winning novel and not like, reality? Because everyone in the film says “blah blah blah as long as you like” instead of “as long as you want” like normal ass human beings. Take note. It happens at least 7 times, and each subsequent time made me feel more and more like I was in an MFA fiction workshop and some dude was explaining to the class how taking acid is a metaphor for expanding consciousness and bridging the gap between childhood and adulthood while all I wanted to do was get to the student union before they ran out of chicken tenders.

I know I ragged on Theo’s sweaters, but I do appreciate Pippa’s (Ashleigh Cummings) very strong sweater game. To be fair, she lives in London and we see her only in New York during rainy and cold times so like her sweaters make sense. I’m a big fan of Pippa and her wardrobe and her hair and I feel like she’s probably someone who has a much more interesting and rich interior life in the novel and she kind of gets shortchanged here as one of Theo’s almost love interests. 

Speaking of, I thought this movie was going to be a lot gayer than it ended up being - Boris kissing Theo in the trailer was like “okay okay alright i see u gay boys i see u” but then it all ended up as so much subtext on the cutting room floor. Theo has more chemistry with Boris than any other person in the film, and Boris’s appearance in adult Theo’s life is essentially the device that moves everything forward again, but everything stays closeted and bottled up. There’s no emotional catharsis between them, no acknowledgement of what they mean to each other. I was left wanting so much more from the one bright spot of the entire narrative.

Also maybe I’m just too stupid (I don’t think I am) but ultimately, what was the point of it all? Why did Welty encourage Theo to take the painting in the first place?? I get why Theo did it independently of Welty, based on the film’s last line. And why he kept the painting for so long. But why did he actually take it? I feel like I should know the answer to that question and I really really don’t. 

Did I Cry? I didn’t, and I feel like I should have.

Here’s the problem. I’m honestly not sure what I would suggest to improve this film. The performances are all GOOD and the pacing is steady (read: slow) but I’m not sure what to cut? I think the biggest problem is that none of it feels real. It all feels, in the words of Ferris Bueller, like a museum: it’s very beautiful, and very cold, and you’re not allowed to (emotionally) touch anything. It leads to an experience that I think could hold a lot more meaning than it actually does - in this case, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you could get the experience that you actually want by reading the novel.

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[cipher-fresh]

Requiem for a Starmaker

Crowley helped build the stars in Heaven. He still thinks about them, sometimes.

“Oohh, I helped build that one.”

It was scary, admittedly, when the sun went down for the first time. It shouldn’t have bothered Crawly, he could see in the dark, but it wasn’t like being a demon constantly made the sky blue-. Colors were just more distinct for him and his eyes were fashioned to be much more efficient at taking in light to see. None of this was spelled out for him helpfully in a You’ve Just Fallen From Grace: 5 Amazing Tips to Love Your New Despicable Place in God’s Plan! brochure. Brochures that were handed out included tourism of the crater created when the Morningstar fell, and pools of superheated sulfur. Crawly had put it down after reading the first four lines, and stood in a large cavern before he was told to Get Up There And Make Some Trouble. Fortunately, he hasn’t seen very much of Hell. What he has seen was very close to the ground. 

There hadn’t been a conception of anything the opposite of Holy, not until the Fall. Corporations hadn’t been a thing, everybody paraded around with vaguely-humanoid bodies, or wheels of fire and multitudes of eyes, their wings and all other manner of limb and face. Corporations worked like this, see. There was a horrible, infernal lava-filled pool in Hell (holy water water fountain and waterfall in Heaven) where the paperwork would be sent to the computer, scanned and digitized, and the Pool of Energy would churn out a body. It would rise eerily (peacefully and relaxed, in Heaven’s case) and lifelessly, much like a perfect corpse, from the bottom of the pool, where the incorporeal(1) form of the being would walk into the body and claim it. 

When Crowley Fell, his body had burned in the sulphur pools, his nerves already alight from the feeling of his body being compressed into a snake- one of Her last gifts to him. It wasn’t like losing his limbs was a help, as if less of his body would be in pain- his snake form was much bigger than most other snakes of Her creation. Not only did he have the memory and constant existence of being a demon, he had slitted yellow eyes, scales on his body that he hid with long sleeves and trousers, a brand on the side of his face, a forked tongue, and constant, desperate search for warmth wherever he could find it. 

Well, Crowley supposed, the warmth thing wasn’t specific to snakes, Hell was always on fire and burning to counteract the ice in one’s heart after being rejected by Heaven. Crowley specifically got spit in his, well, eyes- he wanted nothing more than to fit in with humans, to be popular, or even accepted- and he was the one cursed by God Herself. 

You know how magic is often based off belief and imagination? Crowley imagined that his car was fine, so it kept driving to Tadfield. It’s kinda like that. Aziraphale had spent six thousand years on Earth in a Micheal Sheen-esque human corporation, and he didn’t view his true self as the biblical description of an angel with eyes and wheels and limbs galore, but as gayer-than-a-treeful-of-monkies-high-on-nitrous-oxide, grandfather-looking english professor from the 1890s. (Otherwise known as a human being. You aren’t healing nanogenes from an intergalactic war, so please don’t think all humans look like Micheal Sheen. It would be nice if they did, I think, though.) So, Aziraphale imagined himself, even when lacking a corporation, to look like the person Crowley called ‘angel’ and fed ducks with. All the other angels in his platoon right before they were ready to fight before The-Apocalypse-That-Never-Was had already been given human corporations and they paraded around in heaven in them. Angels (and demons!) could technically do paperwork on computers in their True Forms (ultra-fast, slim, high-tech touchscreens in Heavenly cases, nineties-esque Apple II color computers in Hellish cases.

The animals scampered when dark came. They’d gotten used to it, it had happened for three days or so, and Crawly looked up as the sun went down. He wondered, did Adam and Eve know about the Fall? The stars in the sky? Did the moon scare them? It was a full moon tonight, hanging in the air, in full view. The desert they’d walked through together, being watched by an angel and a demon, both looking solemn, and straight ahead as the angel covered the demon with his wing, the first rain opening from the first cloudy skies. 

The rain had dissipated after fifteen minutes. When the angel lowered his wing, a bit awkwardly, Crawly said “I guess I’ll be, uh, off then.” he shifted back into a snake, and went to leave, before pausing-. “...thankssss.”- and slithered down the side of the wall. 

And, now, here he was. The sun going down, the real darkness, nothing stormclouds could manufacture. Crawly, still a snake, looked up. Twinkling lights, they looked so close while in Eden. What was the word for those things? They were on-fire balls of gas, Crawly knew, he’d helped make them, along with nebulas and galaxies and planets. What was the word? Not...oh, Crawly knew it had an ssss sssound, sssstellar, something like that. Crawly had built so much in Heaven, and he missed it dearly. Here he was, admiring them with physical eyes, from behind an atmosphere and the void of space and insurmountable distance, but it was his creation. One of his little marks on the world. He’d done something beautiful, and he could admire it. 

Crawly didn’t even get to admire his own creations in Heaven, he’d make them, then be told very forcefully to get work done on the next planet. 

Turning around, his view was blocked by trees and forest. A very determined snake-demon, Crawly slithered back up to the spot where the angel had been- the angel long gone, of course, who had nipped back to Heaven, probably to tell the Heavenly Host that they needed to collectively smite a single demon who had snuck into the Garden, tempted the humans and got them unfairly punished. 

Finally pulling up the rest of his sinuous body to the wet ground he had been standing on earlier, Crawly had a better view of the sky. A much better view, the sky almost illuminated blue from the imposing view of some nearby(2) nebula. Crawly wondered what it would look like if the earth rotated a bit more, the moon would rotate with it and, hopefully, if things matched up, the moon would be full, and in view of the nebula. It would be a pretty sight, such a striking white from the moon illuminating the night, the foreground in front of a stunning blue pattern, accented by all those little things in the sky. Crawly watched as some blinked into existence, some had been created at the end of the first week, and their light was just now arriving. 

It felt like space was hanging over him, the Garden of Eden being grabbed from the Earth by an invisible hand and lifted into the true astral void. You couldn’t describe space as empty or black, there was the presence or a stellar celestial being or the glitzy colors of a galaxy an impossible distance away. The sight of seeing his creation nearly brought Crawly to tears. 

Being an ex-heavenly being, Crawly knew that the Earth was a sphere. He understood gravity, he understood atmosphere and oxygen, he understood that the ssss things he’d made were very distant. The closest things were the sun and the other planets in the solar system, and the moon. He couldn’t see the sun, for obvious reasons, and still staring at the blue nebula, the moon wasn’t in his peripheral vision. His eyes couldn’t spot any of the planets that he knew existed nearby, a result of their orbits, and his snake eyes being more even less well-suited for looking into the vast deep of outer space. 

However, Crawly knew EXACTLY what was out there. Massive spheres of gas, burning, held together by gravity and God’s Will, or something. Other planets, physical places to walk and exist on on human corporations. Not that Adam and Eve would go there, obviously, but if Crawly couldn’t visit the stars, on account of his job on Earth, not in the atmosphere. He really hoped, one day, humanity would be able to visit his stars, for him. He wanted another look at- stars! That was the word. STARS! Crawly had made stars! 

And, and, Crawly had helped with everything out in space. He’d built so much of it, and he was blessed proud of it! Stars, illuminating the garden, even if there wasn’t much light in general, there was still more there because he had built them. Crawly also liked to think that they were free of Heaven and God’s ridiculous rules, even if they had been punished for it. They would be better off. He had done that. He’d freed Adam and Eve, he’d built the stars…

Please wonder. Please question. Please be curious, Crawly hoped. Adam and Eve were destined to be fruitful and multiply. Hopefully one of them would send passing thoughts to the stars. 

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

1957

Public education was always in interesting idea. He’d clearly never been in a school to receive an education like he was thinking about now, but he got by, humans never questioned him about his past. If they did, he could lie very smoothly. It had never been an issue, but Crowley thought it would be good to get an insider’s information, receive a child’s education. It would be funny if there was something that the British Government decided was important enough for good patriotic kids who served for King and Country to know, but Crowley, a 6000 year old demon, did not.  Incredible, it was, from the days of feudalism a few short centuries ago to today, with taxpayer-funded education for all the kids to learn their maths and times tables. 

Schooling like this had existed for centuries, developing over time, but Crowley had never imagined things turn out the way they did. Hell said the United States was the Place To Be. The States gave him a sour taste in his mouth, despite promising beginnings. He’d visited twice. Once after electric lights were invented(3) and he didn’t stay long. Crowley supposed it was better than when everyone was dying of the plague and stuffing flowers by their noses to stay immune. Second, in California during the summer in 1941. He didn’t do much, just a few one-on-one temptations for petty theft and fights, but he received a commendation for Korematsu vs United States a few months after the case, several years later. 

Shapeshifting was an ability Crowley had acquired after the Fall. He was above shapeshifting into a child and faking a family, but he’d still like to know what little kids learned. Corrupt them early. If he felt ambitious, he could have some sort of law in place so kids had to learn about something to help corrupt them, though Crowley wasn’t sure what. It would require a lot of effort, though, something he wasn’t feeling up to now. 

Maybe he’d just find a position in a school and watch silently from a corner as a snake. 

Anyway, it was the beginning of an idea. He’d have to hammer it out sometime else. And, he had other business. Not Beelzebub zzemself, but somebody lower in the foodchain had determined the States was the place to be. Things like child labor and the Great Depression had been good business. He could do a lot of work there. And that plan about ‘putting a man on the moon by the end of the decade’ had promise. 

Something bibliophilic and prim kept him from being in the right place, right time to take credit for God Bless America’s sins. For the Arrangement, of course. Got to keep your hereditary enemy in check. Aziraphale had settled in London almost four hundred years ago, and Crowley liked the place. He didn’t need to go anywhere. 

The events of the war still fizzled in Crowley’s memory. He hadn’t visited either of the places the americans bombed in Japan, but he had visited the country in the 1620s. He went to pay his respects after the bombs in Japan in 1947 after the war ended. 

And, so, he’d headed to some school in London, miracled up an ID for one Anthony Crowley, with a PhD in childcare or something, to be a guidance counselor, just as the school year started in September. A month later, Sputnik 1 was launched. 

It wasn’t like Crowley spent a lot of time thinking about the atmosphere of the Earth. Of course not. There were five layers or something, the stratosphere weather one, a couple in the middle, and then the exosphere, where the air thinned out more than 6,000 miles from the Earth’s surface. There wasn’t a specific place where there Was Air and Wasn’t Air, it just thinned out until you lacked the ability to breathe. He knew this mostly because of an education of Earth given to him in Heaven, which he recalled vaguely, and sitting in on a lecture in a university. That’s where he got the 6,000 mile statistic.(4)

He’d love to say he did incredible, in depth research by going in a plane or hot air balloon, or better yet, with his wings, but since the Fall, his wings had always bothered him. He’d learned to not have his wings out in Hell after returning from the Garden from his chat with the angel, some demon had attacked him for ‘showing off’ his intact wings. They had turned black, as standard during the Fall. He was lucky, other demons lose their wings entirely, or were reduced to little ones that couldn’t fly. Crawly was feebly going to ask someone to groom his, and in return he’d groom theirs, because discrepancies in their wings proved to feel bothersome and sometimes painful. 

Vulnerabilities were bad in Hell. Crawly was taught this very quickly. Luckily, he was assigned to Actively Permanent Earth Assignment- Human Temptation and Soul Corruption, so the only one he would have to worry about be attacked by for being different was humans. 

But, a space launch, something piercing the atmosphere from inside it and going out instead of the other way around was astounding. There were very few things that could say they’d broken the Earth’s atmosphere, that had started on Earth. Meteor showers and all gave the title of ‘breaking Earth’s atmosphere’ a bit less impressive than it sounds. Nonetheless, as the children chattered about the upcoming Halloween at the end of the month when they should be memorizing vocabulary words (Crowley was hiding as a snake from the ceiling, listening intently to conversation in a class of second-years), they were also getting the demon to think about Halloween. 

And, suddenly, Crowley had an idea. 

Crowley tried to be an optimist. His usual problem was turning from a human to a snake when he was overwhelmed or processing a lot of things, but he was already in his snake form, so he wasn’t going to do that. It was unlikely he’d accidentally turn human, because turning human required concentration. Despite that, Crowley calmed himself down in the vents above a classroom in the form of a snake, because he had wiggled around excitedly when he had gotten an idea. 

He wiggled back through the vents and into Mr. Crowley’s office. A venus flytrap sat in a pot on his desk, a gift from a student who he would be a guidance counselor to this year. He wondered if she gave all her teachers venus flytraps at the beginning of each school year, or it had just been the one with sunglasses and a snake tattoo, but he liked the plant. Whether she had or not, she seemed perfect for his plan. She was that type without a lot of friends, not much to do, and could be easily swayed to something with a sparkly sign. She had already somehow found that plants were something she liked, and venus flytraps specifically. If she liked ‘scary’ plants that ate insects, she’d be a perfect candidate for his plan- acting as a substitute one day and teaching kids how to use a ouija board. 

Bless, maybe he should have just become a substitute teacher. They would be given the things the kids needed to learn. He’d have to find another time and place to do it, but the substitute teacher thing was a good idea. 

The girl, her name was Annabelle, was in year six, and had some odd fondness and likely a place to grow venus flytraps, unless she bought Mr. Crowley a venus flytrap. Either way, she’d be perfect to make into a student of the occult. She’d probably confide in it due to her trouble making friends and acquaintances in school. The pieces were falling together. Now, the question was, what class of hers to make the teacher take a leave of absence from? Probably whatever class she liked the least, she’d hate to see her favorite teacher replaced. They’d already been in school for a month, she must know who the teachers she’d liked most were.

Only problem was, who did she like most? Crowley wasn’t the type to put feelings in people’s minds like Hastur, the whole point of temptations is that you make something look good, and the human makes the choice. Forcing them to do something defeated the whole purpose. It wasn’t a temptation, it was a command. Crowley rather liked humans’ whole Free Will thing. He couldn’t go around putting thoughts in her mind, or changing what teachers she liked. He wasn’t even doing the substitute teacher thing, right? His train of thought was a jumbled mess. 

This was going to take some work and effort. Maybe he should have just forced the Main Office in the school to include a unit about hedonism, or something. 

The schedule in the school had changed during the summer, unexpectedly. Crowley had joined, and he had the schedules altered to add a study hall. Maybe he’d start a club about the occult, get people excited for the Unholy And Evil Holiday That Was Halloween, and he’d have plenty of tempted souls by the time either he got bored of school or the project was a bust. He’d wind up doing something later. 

The plan was set up, and Crowley went to speak to Anabelle one of the days before the fourth of October, 1957. Although this wasn’t the only date like this, Crowley looked at his life as a series of Befores and Afters. There was Before the Fall, and After the Fall. Before meeting Aziraphale. Before realizing he could lie on reports. Before he realized he was looking for Aziraphale in the thousand years between Eden and Noah’s Ark...and After. Before Christ and After. 

Before ‘Holy Water Insurance’ and after. 

There was a new event, although those listed do include quite a bit more. Before humans breached the atmosphere with Sputnik 1 and After. 

Sputnik 1 is usually a footnote, nowadays, no, not a footnote, it does get some mention, it marked the beginning of the Space Race, the way we affectionately refer to it as, so it’s not a footnote, but it’s otherwise hardly mentioned. Believe me, it’s worth the google. 

Since our current 1957 Crowley isn’t aware of things that get more attention, he qualifies Sputnik 1 as a significant event. Maybe, one day, humans will go in their little spaceships like Sputnik, fitted for human life, like good movies from earlier in the decade, where humans travelled the stars...here the humans were, right now, with a real space probe. 

Even if Crowley couldn’t see his creations without a telescope, maybe some of those cosmonauts would. Humans were smart, with maths and science, they’d figure it out. Something more pessimistic in Crowley said they’ll figure out mutually assured destruction first. 

He didn’t like thinking about that. 

Alone in his office, sitting in his designer chair, which he preferred to stand on dramatically instead of sit on, he put his hand to his mouth to stop himself from crying because humans were going to see the stars. 

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

Summer 1958

Occult Club was a bust. Crowley expected that, honestly, but it hurt now that it was the end of the year and he’d hardly accomplished anything. Well, he says he didn’t accomplish anything- he acted as a substitute multiple times throughout the year and ignored the lesson plans, teaching kids how oujia boards worked and the pleasures of spending other people’s money. He also had an incredible Halloween, where he dressed up as dragon and tempted children to steal candy from other children. They wound up giving him most of it, so Crowley was satisfied. He had also made progress with Anabelle, who had moved at the end of the year after summer started. She had gotten interested in the occult, but also into snakes and reptiles because Mr. Crowley had a pet snake. That’s why he had the tattoo, no other reason. 

The last day of school, Crowley, with no mortal possessions other than a venus flytrap he’d acquired at the beginning of the year, stayed in the building to cause trouble with other teachers who were moving their supplies. He’d accidentally convinced one of the teachers in an unexpected therapy session to tell her husband that she didn’t want kids, she’d been scared to the whole time because her husband wanted them. He wished his coworker the best and helped her move things to her car. 

He waved as she drove off, and looked back up at the sky, which was dotted in stars. On the first night he’d been on Earth, there weren’t constellations. Well, they existed, but they hadn’t been identified. Crowley sat down in the grass for a little while and stared at the sky.  The school was pretty far from any major city, so there wasn’t any light pollution to get in the way. Just him, the atmosphere, and his creation hanging above him. 

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

March 1969

Hell had never really given up on the Move to the States! Thing, and he couldn’t exactly tell them that moving to the United States was quite literally the last thing he ever wanted to do. One, humans were sinful enough, and the States were a perfect example of how humans could do horrible things, without demonic temptations. And, Aziraphale didn’t live in the States. Oh, and another reason, God had a stupid american accent and he refused to live anywhere where he’d constantly hear people who sounded as annoying and stuck-up as Her. 

Reading the words manned spacecraft in big black letters in newspaper headings and on telly hadn’t sunk in when he first read them, but he thought for a couple of hours and stared at his television set when he woke up two weeks ago. Crowley, being a very odd snake-demon-man, liked to avoid the cold months by sleeping them off. He didn’t always do it, but he liked to escape the cold sometimes and ‘hibernate’ from November to February.  The BBC had done a TV special recapping the events of all human activities in space, from intercontinental missiles in 1957 to the recent Apollo 8 entering the moon’s gravitational orbit. 

Humans were gonna see the stars. Please don’t let me down, Crowley hoped. Humans, you’re so smart. Use that big brain of yours for something productive, something good. 

Despite the bit with the apple, Crowley didn’t like to think of himself as some loving hand guiding humanity with every step. He was more like their uncle that gave them a million-pound check and told them to have fun. 

So, March 1969, Crowley staring at the telly he had in his flat. Watching an odd news broadcast recapping the history of the space race, even if it wasn’t called that yet. One of his projects in 1967 was still paying off, so he wasn’t in a hurry to do any work, he didn’t need to jump out of bed and do anything. When the helpful recap by the BBC finished, he flicked through some channels. He could go and do a temptation on some unsuspecting human, but he didn’t feel like it, and it was still cold. 

Something else he could do was reassure his presence to Aziraphale, show that he hadn’t killed himself with the holy water. Not that Crowley had even thought about it, but Aziraphale had been so scared. They’d exchanged phone numbers in 1941, Crowley dropping Aziraphale off, and doing everything he could to get Aziraphale to invite him inside. He’d turned the car off, got out of it, and rested his arms on the top and continued the awkward conversation they’d had in the car. It hadn’t worked, and Aziraphale gave him the strangest, most pained look, and headed inside the bookshop, closing the door. 

So much for olive branches. 

Of course he’d still hold a hand out for Aziraphale if he ever decided to turn up. But Crowley wasn’t going to wait for him to come crawling back. Crowley had an immortal life to live, people to tempt, movies to watch and places to be. He absolutely would be Aziraphale’s friend again if the angel wanted. 

He wasn’t, absolutely wasn't going to focus on you go to fast for me, Crowley. 

He’d be going slow by staying away from him, but leaving his hand out, right? Thinking about his, uh, affectionately named Driving Speed Problem was upsetting, so Crowley decided he didn’t want to think about it. 

Cool! Crowley wanted a new thing to think about. Something that wasn’t Aziraphale. Clearly failing at this, Crowley walked over to his safe, looking at the numbers 4 and 0, the two numbers he’d need to hit to open the safe. The tartan-patterned holy water thermos was in there.(5)

No. I don’t want to think about Aziraphale. Maybe I should do some temptations- that got him thinking about the Arrangement. 

Breathing heavily, and growling like dog, Crowley impulsively kicked over a potted plant in anger. The ceramic pot shattered, and the soil in it spilled, the recently planted seeds spilling out as well. Seeing the result of his little tantrum, the anger that had built up in Crowley dissipated like smoke in the wind. He snapped, and it was a pristine, perfect little ceramic-potted plant. The pieces disappeared and the soil was perfect now. Crowley would love to say his miracle to fix the plants also got rid of the sudden tears in his eyes or solved the problem if his little tantrum. 

Very unbecoming of a demon, Crowley sighed, the weight of the world clearly on his shoulders. He wiped his eyes, he hadn’t cried much. Human corporations were cruel and swift, so Crowley’s head started to hurt. He decided, very masculinely and in a way that didn’t compromise his cool-guy look, that he didn’t need aspirin or need to try miracling it away.(6)

Ever since the Driving Speed Incident, and Crowley ‘decided’ he ‘didn’t need Aziraphale’, although he was 100% willing to be his friend again, Crowley decided to be his own demon. He had a bookshelf of books he liked, some of them gifts from Aziraphale, some of them gifts from author friends, some stolen, some purchased. Two years ago, Crowley put the books in storage, and made his bookshelf another wine cabinet. There was wine you didn’t need to refrigerate (Crowley thought) so he kept his non-refrigerating wine in the ex-bookshelf. 

Books and reading were for nerds who liked books and reading. Crowley wasn’t a nerd who liked books and reading. Not very demonic. 

Something that was demonic, and it wasn’t because Crowley made the stars in Heaven, and he liked outer space, no sir, something that was demonic because it might lead to WW3 and could do plenty of temptations for him, was space exploration. 

The astronomy-enthusiast demon bought a ticket to Orlando, the closest city in Florida to the Kennedy Space Center that very same week. It would be his third time to America, and he was a demon on a mission. Not one to pass up an opportunity like this, Crowley very helpfully informed Hell of his upcoming trip to the States. Pencil-pushers in Hell could probably check off a box on a checklist, and Crowley had an idea. He wasn’t moving there, but a plan was forming in his mind. 

Two Weeks Later, Mid-March 1969

ORLANDO, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES

The snake-demon-man should have considered himself lucky he’d only visited the warmer parts of America. California, Georgia, and now Florida. He’d always fancied the idea of visiting New York, especially since he received a commendation for the chaos caused by the Prohibition. He didn’t like the city until the country allowed alcohol again, but since the 21st amendment, he hated the States slightly less. 

The point was, the three states he’d visited now, were some of the warmer ones. Despite the time being March, it was always agreeable temperatures. He’d struck up conversation with some american on the plane, and they’d said to him some meaningless Fahrenheit garbage about seventy degrees even during the winter. He resisted the urge to make fun of him for using such a poor system of temperature measurement, but he smiled and thanked the man. 

Look, Crowley thought. If it is seventy degrees outside, everything is on fire. Nothing was on fire when he left the plane, but being a demon, fire still on his mind, made one of the wheels catch fire unexpectedly by the time everyone had already left. It would cause some delays and people would be tempted into Wrath. See? It all works out. 

A bit sad to leave his beloved Bentley behind, Crowley had assured himself the temporary absence of it would be better than the trouble of moving it to a foreign country for a temporary visit. He stole a car from long-term parking (he didn’t feel like talking to anybody today to get a rental. The plane had drained him of energy for social interactions for things as horrible as humans.((It’s always planes that show the best and worst in humans, innit?)) Having to hear another person talk to him today might make him snap.) and so the demon made his way to Kennedy Space center. 

The car he’d stolen had personal items left in there. Crowley prided himself on his ability to drive, unaware most of the work was done because that’s how Crowley expected cars to work. He would just make his car (any car, really) drive magically as he took a nap in the backseat, but he liked the freeing feeling of driving. It was a middle-finger to Hell, in a way. Today, however, Crowley did feel like taking a nap in the backseat. Well, I say backseat, more like passenger’s seat. He climbed into the seat on the left and was very surprised to see the steering wheel on the passenger’s side. Right. American car.(7) Somebody had said to him american cars were screwy.

One of the personal items left in the car was a newspaper, which Crowley read as his stolen car fermented in Orlando road traffic. It drove itself to the Kennedy Space Center, ignoring any obstacles in it’s path. Crowley miracled up a newspaper from home (London) when he finished up the american one and read curiously about the transition to the third Doctor on that show on telly he’d heard about. The american newspaper had also included a section on the cancellation of Star Trek. He’d watched it since it came out, but he hadn’t watched Doctor Who. He had heard of it, though. It was supposed to be some kid’s historical show. Sounded dumb. 

Kennedy Space Center. Something Crowley appreciated about humans was their ability to decide that something was somebody else’s problem. Crowley paraded up and down the halls of the imposing white building, an ID badge for the nonexistent job of “Apollo Project Upper Transfer Manager”. He wondered if he should do an american accent, and he’d tried to do one in the men’s bathroom in the mirror, but failed utterly. He stopped after that. Crowley didn’t feel like being embarrassed by doing an accent in an empty bathroom in Kennedy Space Center, he had a job to do. Before leaving the bathroom and theatrically readjusting his tie, he tried one more line in a failed american accent, thinking about a movie he’d watched: “Get your stinking paws off me you d- oh, no, I can hardly do that.” and “You maniacs! You blew it up!” before succumbing to embarrassed laughter, dropping the accent halfway through and giving up.(8)

Movies, Crowley had determined one time, were one of humans’ best inventions. 

Speaking of movies, and maybe american accents, Aziraphale could do a scarily accurate one. Crowley had suggested being ‘Not Mr. Fell’ as a way to scare off customers, in 1803, when Aziraphale got his first not-customer. Aziraphale realized he didn’t want to sell his books, and having a bookshop was counter intuitive to this sentiment, but he’d already gone through the trouble of making it a bookshop. It wasn’t like humans were required to buy books, so Aziraphale would just make sure, on the odd occasion a human tries to make a purchase, that they don’t. Simple enough. 

No. Crowley was not going to think about Aziraphale. He was his own demon, about to pull off the temptation of a lifetime, sometime before the americans put a man on the moon. 

“Mr. Crowley. Nice to meet you.” A man had extended his hand. Coming back to reality, standing in the middle of the hallway, Crowley shook the hand of the gruff-sounding man in front of him. Crowley had left the bathroom and stumbled around, looking for someplace important. He hadn’t had a specific idea of what he was going to do when he got to the Space center, just that it should be enough to get Hell off his back. 

Another thing that Crowley liked to think, was that he knew how certain types of people were, and this was to his advantage as a demon, a tempter, a creature of sin, who was in awe of all the fancy technology in the building. It’d be a shame if a group like this wouldn’t be able to do the projects they wanted. A big group of smart minds in one place. 

Maybe the terminology should have been ‘cursing’ humans, because as much as he tempted humans into doing bad things to corrupt their souls, he also often did a lot of curses- cursing the bathrooms empty of toilet paper, which pissed people off and often made them late to places when the situation was dealt with. Making them lose their keys, the little things. 

The man was very polite, and he laughed at a couple of Crowley’s jokes, told him he had a sexy accent, and may have been flirting with the demon. As lunchtime rolled around, he talked about how his father had fought in both of the wars, and it felt like World War 3 was just around the corner. They did bomb drills every week at his son’s school, as if the radiation wasn’t going to get you if you hid under the table. 

Every day, for the whole month, Crowley showed up at the Space Center and clocked in, 9-5. He checked into a hotel, because you can’t plan something as important as Crowley’s current idea with six hours of sleep. 

Well, Crowley said he was coming up with something. He had a dumb little notebook where he scribbled things into, including doodles of planets and stars. Words like tempt people into wrath by destroying projects?? Causing power-outs -flat tires to important people??

Ideas like that. Crowley could technically do worse things to slow down the project, he could tempt some of the workers to sleep with each other and hope that a jealous housewife kills in revenge, he could plant a fake soviet spy, since americans were so concerned about their size-measuring competition. Crowley could do all manner of horrible thong and curse the project, and people would definitely sin along the way. -But he didn’t want to. Beelzebub had suggested to ‘bring more of those atom-bomb thingzzz to zzpace and drop zzem from the zzzky!” 

Nuclear threat sounded promising, but a lot of effort. Although, war with nuclear weapons now would mean Armageddon, though Crowley never pictured humans doing it without an antichrist. Something he remembered from yet another brochure he’d acquired, a brochure acquired in 1000, to celebrate the (rough) last thousand years of Heaven’s snivelling and miserable existence. The Earth would exist for six thousand years, and it shall end in fire and flame. The antichrist would be sired, and probably be able to use his powers on his eleventh birthday. He’d start armageddon, Hell would defeat those harp-pluckers up in Heaven, and it would be fire and torture for all the dead human souls.

So...Crowley would know if the antichrist was born yet, right? Had Hell not told him? He needed time before the end of the world, he had to unload long-term stocks, do a couple of things on his bucket list, lots of things. Unless Hell had told him the antichrist was born and he just forgot.

Uhh...can we mark that down as a possibility? ‘The antichrist has been born, but I just forgot.’ Crowley considered the possibility of that. Low chance, he determined. He was fairly sure the antichrist wasn’t born yet. 

The realization that Crowley didn’t want to do any temptations, that he wanted everything to go right, for humans to land on the moon came at the end of March. George Victor, the friend, had invited him for a drink at a bar after work. Hesitantly, Crowley accepted. The only reason being because american beer wasn’t as good as british beer. Nothing else to do with drinking or what Crowley thought about or what he reminisced about when he saw a good 200-year-old chateauneuf du pape. 

Crowley’s work at NASA continued. 

Some, maybe most of his time, when he wasn’t ‘working’ was spent sleeping. He’d very much liked to have slept for another fifty years after the war and working for British Intelligence had been exhausting. Not that he regretted it, but it was exhausting. 

Since Florida wasn’t in the same spot as Britain, you could see different stars when you sat outside on a clear night. Maybe he should have visited the States sooner, you could see this one collection of stars that he’d never seen with his naked eye on Earth before. Crowley was lying on the top of his stolen car, staring at the sky. Did the people he’d stolen the car from want it back? Likely, they expected to have their car back when they returned home. Where were they visiting, Crowley wondered? Orlando must be their home, or at least the closest airport. 

Crowley wanted to go home. A month of work at NASA and he hadn’t done anything. Along with his goal of accomplishing some sort of temptation while he was there, and getting dangerously close to telling his friend about Aziraphale and his life ‘back home in England’, things hadn’t turned out the way he wanted. 

In an impulse decision, deciding he had nothing to show for himself, Crowley erased George Victor’s memory of him. George had lamented his life to Crowley, about how he and his girlfriend had gotten into a big fight, broke up, and didn’t talk for months. As much as Crowley didn’t want to think about Aziraphale- he knew he couldn’t stay away forever. Crowley drove back to Orlando, parked the car back where he’d found it, cursed cars with steering wheels on the left, and got a flight back to London-Heathrow. 

Well, technically, Crowley did have something to show for himself, but he wasn’t sure it would work. George had made a comment about how landing on the moon could backfire, it might be a show of dominance to other countries at the risk of pissing them off, and the nuclear bombs might start falling again. Crowley was fairly sure that if Apollo was successful, it wouldn’t be seen like that, but there was always this fear about it. 

“Maybe you’re thinking about it the wrong way. Maybe the States need to be more aggressive. America should claim the moon for themselves, put the flag on the surface or something.” 

Not that Crowley thought it would go anywhere, but George Victor must’ve told somebody else before Crowley wiped George Victor’s memory. Crowley would just have to wait to see it came to fruition. He hoped not, the idea of the americans ‘claiming’ the moon seemed odd, but he’d just have to wait. 

JULY 15th, 1969, LONDON

A flight back to London, of course, and Crowley had learned some stuff about astronomy during his time, which was better than having gotten nothing done. He flattened some people’s tires before he left, a fantastically demonic and sinful act. 

In a bar, thinking about how a temptation had gone wrong in June, Crowley mumbled to himself and looked around the building. He’d gone to see a movie earlier that day, and it felt like the movie was screaming out to him, TALK TO AZIRAPHALE. Maybe something had reminded him of George Victor. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the angel out of his thoughts. 

Being a mature and responsible demon, Crowley hid those thoughts deep down and tried not to think anymore about Aziraphale. 

JULY 16TH, 1969, CROWLEY’S FLAT

Watering your plants while irritable wasn’t fun, Crowley almost wound up talking to himself in his empty flat. He kept turning the telly on and off, seeing if there was any news about the moon launch. When the time came, Crowley sat very still, on his uncomfortable couch, and watched the broadcast. He was completely silent, snakeskin boots on the couch, hugging a pillow. Sunglasses off. 

Crowley had dreams about making the stars in Heaven that night, all those years ago. 

JULY 20TH 1969

Any available telly had been crowded around almost every hour since the launch a couple of days ago. Usually, any bar that Crowley went to would be filled with loud chatter, but it was all hushed whispers as the BBC reported on three tellies in the building how the mission had gone so far, showed interviews from american scientists at NASA, and had a feature about the personal lives of all of the astronauts. 

Poor footage from Apollo 11 was being shown. The talking got louder as time went on. Crowley was sitting in the Dirty Donkey, a pub he wasn’t a stranger in. Impulsively, Crowley rushed to a telephone box across the street and dialed Aziraphale’s number. 

“Crowley?”

“Aziraphale, where are you? Actually, doesn’t matter. Find a telly. Any telly. Just a close one. You live in Soho, there must be one in a nearby. I don’t care if you need to break into someone’s house, but you need to find a telly.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand-”

“Aziraphale.”

“Okay. I’ll find a telly. What channel would I be looking at? I still don’t understand what I’m going to be watching.”

The demon in the phonebox took a deep breath. “Find the BBC, it won’t be hard. It’s the moon landing.”

“Moon landing?”

“Yes, moon landing!”

There’s some silence. 

“I’ll find a television set, dear boy, and call you back.”

“Wait!-”

Aziraphale hangs up. 

That hurt. Crowley walked back across the street, and sat down in a seat. Quiet as a mouse, Crowley watched the start of the landing at The Dirty Donkey. The nearest phone was the telephone box across the street, so he didn’t know if Aziraphale was watching it at all. 

Entirely captivated by the low-res footage, Crowley didn’t acknowledge the hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” 

Aziraphale.

“Mind if I join you?” This startled Crowley, suddenly looking up. Everyone in the bar shushed him, and Crowley patted the seat next to him welcomingly. 

“I don’t mind at all. Sit down.”

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

1- “I’ll talk about this later. Hang tight. “

2- “Relatively. Couple of hundred astronomical units.”

3- “He hadn’t had any influence on Thomas Edison. Humans and electricity were a match made...somewhere.”

4- “ Heaven doesn't use measurements as stupid as miles.”

5- “Crowley was under the impression Aziraphale had never lied to him. There were moments like “We’re not friends!” or “I’m fine.” but Aziraphale usually said it in a way that was obvious he was lying. He would be stressed, or cold, and very unlike himself. But Crowley was 100% sure Aziraphale didn’t lie to him about important things. He had 100% certainty the water in the thermos was holy. This assumption (the first one) was wrong, Aziraphale had lied to Crowley with a straight face in the past and Crowley totally believed him. Aziraphale did feel bad about lying. Not because lying was wrong, but because he was lying to Crowley.”

6- “Crowley didn’t expect miracles to work on the headache. Therefore, they didn’t. He still tried, but he never expected it to work. Do the math.”

7- “You may be asking, if Crowley expected the steering wheel to be on the right, why didn’t the car behave accordingly? Some things are beyond demonic magic because they’re genuinely that horrible. This is a common theme in the United States. American things being ‘genuinely that horrible.’”

8- “Planet of the Apes is still, to this day, one of Crowley’s favourite movies. He doesn’t like it more than any of the James Bond movies, though. 21st century Crowley happens to like Tony Stark.”

[spectraspecs-writes]

“Be Right Back” and the Internet

Ive been watching Black Mirror recently, since I’m a sci-fi writer and having that new source of “ooh neat” is important in my line of work hobby. And a couple nights ago I saw the episode “Be Right Back.”

For those of you who don’t watch Black Mirror, “Be Right Back” centers around Hayley Atwell and her partner, whose name I forget but he’s from somewhere in the Northern UK. They are very close and he is very active on social media. The day after we meet him, he dies in a traffic accident. Hayley Atwell is understandably very upset, so her friend signs her up for this program. The program uses an AI to scan the deceased’s social media, get a feel for how he talks, and provide a way for people to talk with their dead loved ones. Which Hayley Atwell does.

The place where the episode descends into the Twilight Zone isn’t what I’ve been thinking about. I’ve been thinking about the internet, and internet speech.

With the exception of longer posts like these, which have perfect grammar and spelling, and tend to be as verbose as I am in real life, in addition to messages, I do not communicate on tumblr the way I communicate in real life. My most recent post about the bag of apples on my table and the apple woman they put on the bag - I would not, in real life, say that I very much do not like something. That’s not how you construct sentences. I would say “I don’t like this” or “I really don’t like this”, or even “I don’t like this very much”, which itself has a different connotation than “I very much do not like this.” Tumblr has also failed to capture the fact that I sometimes switch accents while talking, just for the hell of it. I may switch into my Scottish accent, or a British accent, Welsh, US Southern, New Bost-tralian (which tumblr certainly couldn’t capture because I made it up.)

Could this AI in the episode capture my niche interests? Certainly. The episode descends into the Twilight Zone because Hayley Atwell’s partner didn’t talk about his niche interests or inside jokes so much on his social media. But that’s what tumblr is for. But I’m a lot gayer on tumblr than in real life, simply because it’s easier through text. I’m a lot more obsessed with things on tumblr. I’m a lot more autistic on tumblr - most people in real life can’t tell I’m autistic, because they see me and interact when my medication is working, and because I put forth an effort. People who see me later at night, after 5, can tell I’m not the average bear. My medication has worn off and putting forth an effort takes more energy.

On the converse side, I burst into song a lot more in real life. I do a lot more improvised comedic things in real life. Lord knows I quote John Mulaney more in real life - if I see an opportunity I am quoting whole John Mulaney sketches verbatim. Not that I do these things more in real life because I feel more myself in real life, that’s not the case. It’s just a lot easier in real life. Responding to sounds is something I do well.

What my point was going to be, and I’ve gotten away from it, is that an AI like the one in “Be Right Back” could certainly capture the truest expression of my personality. But it would fail spectacularly in trying to grasp my real life speech patterns. I’m a very verbal person. I talk a lot. The sounds I make are critical to knowing me. I’m a hell of a lot funnier out loud than I am through text, because I have spent most of my life cultivating my humor and my personality through sound. The episode discussed how the AI failed to grasp Hayley Atwell’s partner’s personality (his name was Ash, I remember now, but the actor’s name - Tim Lake? I think? - largely escapes me still.) And since it seems like his major platform was Twitter or something like it, that makes sense. That’s very much a public facing platform. But all this AI would have to go on for me would be tumblr, and as such it would capture my personality fully. What Ash’s twitter captured well, though, was his real life speech patterns, and there this tumblr fails spectacularly. Anyone who talked to me through this AI would get a very different version of me than the real one. And y’all would have no trouble with that. And neither would my real life best friend. But my mom would be thoroughly shaken up by the Specs AI, and would wonder why this program that promised to bring me back, left the me she knew somewhere behind.

[lightsandlostbells]

The greatest gift Skam France has given me so far is that I can’t help but see Daffy and Imane as Angela and Phyllis from The Office when Phyllis managed to take over the party planning committee from Angela.

Good: I like the girl squad.

Less good: Contrivances that come with doing a close remake.

Clip 4 (post-cabin return)

Yann saying some “not like the other girls” bullshit is aggravating but I mean … it’s very much something a teenage boy would say. I’m not really going to hold it against him. Character flaws are good. Also, if I’m being optimistic about the show, you could say they’re going to knock down all this “girls are superficial” crap with the formation of the girl squad and the power of female friendships, so potentially it’s there on purpose.

On that note, I want to give the remakes the same trust I had in Skam at its best; the thing is, I’m not sure it’s earned it yet, because it’s such a close remake that I can’t actually get a sense of this production’s own values. If the series were to write a new season about Daffy or Alex or Yann from scratch, what would it be like? The one thing Skam France has really done to build some trust on its own merit, IMO at least, is cast more POC; other than that, their choices have made me trust them less (not casting actual teenagers is the biggest one for me). Skam broke the audience’s trust in certain areas, but it also did a number of things right that created the trust in the first place. People were disappointed in S4 partly because S3 had handled so many sensitive issues well. Anyway, this will be easier to discuss later in the season as it is still early.

Emma smiling after Yann compliments her is the most I’ve liked her so far and the most natural the actress has seemed, as well as the most chemistry this couple has had.

Clip 5 (Manon and Emma in Spanish class)

I like Manon. She has a different vibe from Noora and seems a bit softer and less sure of herself, whereas Noora seemed outwardly confident and outspoken. Noora was confident enough to correct the teacher and Manon was all “I’m just trying to be nice” (although lol, mentioning that Emma didn’t do her homework is throwing her under the bus a little).

Here’s a minor example of how scene flow and motivation sometimes seem muddled, though. In the original, Noora rescued Emma by being all, “Here’s the mistake you made, teacher” and Eva was like ???? How did you know that? and Noora explained that she lived in Madrid. Whereas in this version, this is like …Manon speaking very good Spanish, from what I can tell? But not presenting herself as an authority like Noora did, but it’s still treated as this thing that needs an explanation. Like maybe Manon is just gifted at Spanish? That’s not exactly unusual. But I might be missing some other context lost in translation, I’d like to know if there’s something I didn’t notice (like IDK, Manon’s Spanish accent is different from the one typically taught in French high school Spanish classes). It’s not a huge thing, just something that seemed a bit off.

Not trying to start a ship war or anything but Noora/Eva was way way WAY gayer in this scene. Remember when Noora was talking to the teacher in defense of Eva and Eva stared at her as if she’d seen the goddess of her dreams? Remember when they looked at each other afterwards and there was a ton of eyes flitting down to each other’s lips? That was a thing that happened, very blatantly. The whole “Eva wants to be friends with Noora” thing was SO much more drawn out, over the first three episodes and ended up having a bunch of parallels to the later canon couples on the show (Eva stalking Noora’s Facebook vs. Isak checking out Even and Sana checking out Yousef). Like by all means, board that Manon/Emma ship and set sail, I can see it from Manon’s end, but nothing came close to Eva’s heart-eyes. H!

I mean this is throwing down the gay gauntlet to Skam France. Bring out yer lesbians.

This is not a substantial comment at all but I am in love with Manon’s white cardigan.

Clip 6 (girl squad UNITES)

Okay, I wanted to talk about this clip in particular, because I went back and rewatched the scene in the original, and I was really impressed at how good Julie’s directing can be. I think we know she can pull off the big showstopper moments, but she’s also great at getting the little details that you don’t even think about until you’re actually analyzing the scene. Conversely, there are parts in the remake that come across as contrived.

I was a little worried about Daphne/Daffy in the first episode, but I liked her more here. “Liked” in the sense that I felt better about the actress, not that she was at her most likeable here.

So the introduction of Imane to the group.

The original scene does something where Chris enters and is in the frame on the left and says, “This is Sana, she wants to be on the bus” (paraphrasing) and then the camera slides over the empty space to reveal … a Muslim girl. There’s kind of an element of surprise which is certainly how Vilde reacts; I don’t want to speak on behalf of Norwegians, but I wonder if it wasn’t done for the audience as well? Considering the attitudes about Muslims and russ not mixing in S4. (I mostly just want to mention this shot because I think it’s effective. The remake makes Imane immediately visible next to Alex.)

Vilde is instantly taken aback and appears to eye Sana up and down. Her first question is to ask how Sana and Chris know each other, which in this context doesn’t seem like friendly small talk, but disbelief (”how could you two possibly know each other?). Her obvious discomfort and the sudden tension is what I think makes Sana reply sarcastically about meeting at the mosque. Then we have the incredibly awkward moment of Vilde asking whether Sana can participate in russ as a Muslim. She never actually accepts Sana into the group during this scene.

In the remake, when Alex asks if Imane can join them, Daffy’s discomfort is less obvious (it’s there but it’s shorter and less pronounced from an acting perspective) and she says yes. Yes, she also says a bunch of dumb shit 10 seconds later. But the first thing she says is agreeing to have Imane on board. That should immediately set a different course for the scene, because even though Daffy is being ignorant, she is at least superficially accepting Imane into the group. Her asking how Imane and Alex know each other is therefore not quite as hostile in this context, but Imane makes the same comment about meeting in the mosque. So … did Imane manage to pick up on Daffy being uncomfortable anyway because she’s used to microaggressions? Because she figured a bunch of white girls would instantly question why a Muslim girl wanted to be involved? Or is she just making a joke by way of introduction? All of these are plausible explanations, but this is part of the problem with doing such a close remake. You end up keeping the dialogue and events the same even when the execution - the directing and acting and staging - doesn’t really flow or match. I don’t need to be force-fed explanations for why someone says or does something, but I also am not sure much thought is going into some of these interactions besides “it happened in the original.”

Just a note about the directing: In the original scene, after Sana is introduced, Julie puts the camera behind Chris, and has Vilde keep looking over to her, both for guidance (”can you help me out with this situation”) and in a “why did you bring her” sort of way. It’s a pretty interesting choice that adds an extra complexity to the scene; it’s not just this racially tense conversation between Vilde and Sana, it’s also adding the silent conversation that Vilde is trying to have with Chris and taking note of that relationship. Especially I think Vilde does feel stupid after Sana makes the comments about the mosque and the stoning. I mean, she was being ignorant and I can’t say I feel bad for her in this moment. But Chris is her best friend in the group, the only one she’s close with so far, and Chris is loudly and obviously laughing at a joke make at Vilde’s expense. Chris has taken Sana’s side, in a sense, making it a sort of betrayal to Vilde. How could you invite someone like that to be on the bus with us, how could you laugh when she’s making fun of me?

The remake doesn’t have this extra layer in its direction; it’s shot in a pretty straightforward way, the conversation between only Daffy and Imane, really. And that doesn’t mean it’s bad, but it does show how different directorial decisions can add subtext and layers in the smallest of ways.

There is a more lingering shot of Daffy toward the end, which does not bother me nearly as much as the lingering shots of Lucas, because a) Emma is sitting there anyway and b) it’s not revealing anything we couldn’t have guessed about Daffy’s state of mind from her dialogue and attitude in the rest of the scene, while the bits with Lucas hint at something that he’s hiding.

OK, I have to mention this, too. Does Imane go to parties? If so, wouldn’t it be likely one of the other girls would have seen her at some parties? Especially for Daffy who would surely see a Muslim girl and go “does not compute.” If not, then why does she want in on this one specific party all of a sudden? It made sense for Sana to want in on this specific cultural event, that has a lot to do with proving herself and tying her Norwegian/Muslim identities together, and saw the girl squad as an opportunity to be on a bus when Pepsi Max and other groups would likely reject her. It makes less sense here for Imane to … want to be popular? If she wants that, then what was she doing before to achieve that goal? Is this a new aspiration of hers and if so, what motivated that change? Does she just want to make bank on this party? But overall, it’s just murkier why Imane would want in on this random party, especially a party thrown by the school losers. Unless she just wants friends, which is fair enough!

All of this could potentially be really interesting if they explored it. Maybe they will have Imane talk about her reasons by the end of the season. And honestly, if I hadn’t seen this story already, I probably wouldn’t question it at this point. My issue is that I get the feeling they’re not going to account for this shift in motivation and just do a shallow find+replace on the situation without taking into account the different context.

That said, despite all of this, I loved Imane right off the bat. And Alex!

But like … garr, the setup of the whole hitting-on-Lucas gag is SO much more contrived than in the original, like Chris was actually standing there while Vilde was talking to Eva. Isak was sitting directly in front of her. Her flirting fit the scene while this other conversation between the girls was happening. Alex is super cute and charming and if you look at it charitably, it’s a nice establishing character moment? But less charitably, it’s an attempt to shoehorn in a moment from the original even when the blocking and directing doesn’t fit. (It reminded me of Julie’s comments in the script for 3.5 about how she changed the locker room scene because of the way the room looked, and the blocking made it difficult to film what she wrote, so they re-did the scene. I hope they feel free to do that here.)

Clip 7 (girl squad PLANS SOCIAL DOMINATION)

I don’t have much to say about this clip because it felt like a bit of a non-entity compared to the original. The original clip felt very much like an establishing scene for Sana as a character more than anything. Sana had all the answers, never hesitated, spoke so confidently, and the longer it went on the more you were astonished by this girl, until she was nodding in satisfaction and essentially congratulating herself for a job well done while the other girls sit around her in stunned silence around their new queen. I do like Imane but because the clip was so much shorter, and felt kind of perfunctory, it lacked that specific punch. Even the way it ended, like YOU HAVE TO DUMP YOUR BOYFRIEND, felt more like a ooooOOO wacky cliffhanger, what will Emma do? sort moment, more than an emphasis on Imane.

There’s one little moment I like, when Alex and Imane are talking at the beginning and Manon looks over at Daffy who gives her this look and small smile, like it’s friendly but there’s also some exasperation and disappointment behind it, “this is not the way I imagined this going” kind of feeling. It’s the sort of tiny and subtle beat that I want to see more of in the show.

Maybe I’m missing something because I don’t speak French, or I’ve missed it in the social media, but when is this party supposed to be?  Because I thought the synopsis for the show said that they would be planning the party over the first two seasons?

General Thoughts:

One thing I will say is that it’s becoming clear that pacing matters. Not just the pacing of the clips as spread day by day, but the pacing within the clips themselves. I think part of the reason Skam felt really natural to us is that events took time to unfold, the show was not afraid to have long pauses or silences and to let moments breathe, to let tension build or realization dawn or slowly change the tone of a scene. With Skam France it’s apparent that the scenes are often rushed. They’re just plowing through the dialogue.  If there are time restraints that mean the show has to air within a set amount of time, then there was unnecessary stuff this episode that could have been cut to make room for more important content.

The reworking of the russebuss into a generic party is pretty contrived as many have noted, but I want to get an answer on when the damn party is supposed to take place before I comment further.

I like all of the girl squad so far except Emma. Sorry! I’m not trying to drag this actress, she’s just … not there. I can’t imagine her pulling off the vulnerable moments later in this season. I would be happy to be proven wrong.

The thing about Lucas is that I don’t necessarily think he’s a bad actor, but he seems like the most obviously “acting” and the least natural and so far he doesn’t quite fit in what’s supposed to be a hyper-realistic teen drama. I could see him doing a good job in a different type of production like a stage play where everything’s heightened and dramatic.

But I also saw some people who speak French be like nah, he’s pretty bad so (shrug). I do think you can kinda see him think “here’s my line” and “here’s where I hit my mark” in his scenes.

[thats-entirely-too-much-tuna]

Notable things from Two Broken Fingers

1) Sound of Nothing gets its second mention this episode (Scott mentions it in Space Rabbit, and now we have Tina talking about it). Also, in the second episode, Bob makes some passing remark about Suzie helping out at the motel when the “music people” come to town. And Scott has Lux DuJour posters in his room. I mean, I’m not saying everything is connected, but eVeryTHing iS ConnEcTeD.

2) Tina is just constantly snacking, and as a bisexual, I can say that this is accurate representation, yes, good, I’m here for it.

3) Samuel. Motherfucking. Barnett. I’m stopping myself from going too far into detail, because this post is going to be long enough as it is. But when you rewatch the episode, every time you find yourself squealing or almost crying because of him, know that I am right here, squealing and crying with you. I will say only this: “Nothing. Fineness.” *walks away* 

4) Dirk in that shirt. 😍😍😍 His collarbone. Also, when he was leaning against the filing cabinet talking to Todd, I don’t think I’ve seen a gayer image in my life.

5) Two Broken Fingers? More like six broken fingers, know what’m sayin’? 😏 

6) Bart saying she was trying to take control of her life. Gotta love those parallels. Also gotta love her Suzie impression. But how the fuck did she get the bell, and a new outfit? “Find the lady and I’ll give you the bell. Find thE LADY AND I’LL GIVE YOU THE BELL.”

7) I don’t even know where to begin with the conversation between Tina and Farah, but I was literally scREAMING. Tina is bi. She feels that Brotzly vibe. Other sexualities remain unclear. And then later, in the car? “I like intense,” Farah Black said in a sultry tone, biting her lip as she looked out the car window, Tina gazing at her from the driver’s seat. 🙏🙏🙏Thank you, Max Landis, for my life.

8) “Heckin’ dang it.”

9) That is Them. Max, you troll.

10) Dirk to Friedkin: “Fate and chance are not mutually exclusive.” Todd to Dirk: “Fate and chance don’t cancel each other out.” 👀👀👀

11) “Was that your British accent? That was awful.” “I don’t do accents–” “No, I love it.” BURY ME, IT’S OVER. 

12) We saw the Mage use the Vensa spell at the quarry to make a dead body vanish. And that’s the spell Suzie used at the book club. So basically, Suzie poofed away all her high school friends. Suzie, wyd?

13) One of my favorite running gags on this show is ruining scenes that would otherwise be intense or dramatic by asking the questions that any sane person would ask in that situation. Dirk, you’re doing God’s work.

14) I’m intrigued by these new Dirk/Vogel parallels. For one thing, Vogel used the word “truthing”, much like Dirk’s “strategic no-truthing”. Maybe this is a thing among Blackwing subjects? Similarly, when Vogel is crying to Amanda in the tub, he says that he messed up. In the preview for next week’s episode, Dirk says the exact same thing to Todd on the phone. 

15) Alan Tudyk remains scary good, and Hannah and Osric both made me want to cry. They all took their scenes to the next level, for real.

[forgetspecifics]

Such Sights are Bright - Chapter 5: Maybe I’ll just Fall

Yang somehow has the most eventful New Year's experience of her life, drunk Blake makes her dramatic return, and shit gets a little too real.

Other links: Ao3 FF.net

Notes:  YOOO SORRY 9,600 words hopefully makes up for the wait?? (insert it's over 9000 joke)

January (Winter) /

On New Year’s Day – well, morning – Yang did not have a hangover. She’d made sure to avoid that; where Sun got alcohol for a bunch of teenagers was beyond her, but it had been difficult to bear witness to the wonder that was drunk Blake. One would expect that Yang would’ve easily gone back to her irresponsible persona, but, one would be wrong.

Because getting drunk and losing your inhibitions was not conducive to keeping a secret.

She should have kept her friend under a more watchful eye, but to her own credit, she tried. She later suspected that Sun was working against her; refusing everything he shoved at her in those stupid red cups – he couldn’t get Yang to confess under the influence, so Blake was the next target. It wasn’t Blake’s fault that she was a lightweight, nor was it his, but he was going to be in trouble once Blake woke up.

The party was tame, in her opinion. Herself, Blake, Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren and Nora had been invited to Sun’s place while his parents were out of town. Neptune was also obviously present, and so were the boys’ friends Scarlet and Sage. Nobody too crazy, though Nora was accountable for about fifty percent of any craziness; Sun himself thirty-five percent, and the rest of them all contributed to the remaining allocation. It had gone well, until her friends forgot the concept of privacy.

Yang blamed Sun the most, purely because he used Nora as an outlet for announcing possibly the worst party game in existence – Nora couldn’t refuse a game – and so she watched helplessly as truth or dare finally came to claim her poor soul. That was, until Ren saved her by asking her if she’d like to sit it out with him. He had a knack for telling when people were uncomfortable, and it was an understatement to say Yang was not comfortable with being at the mercy of Sun.

There was not much she could do as Blake; already pretty tipsy, was roped into the game. Dares were passed around; Nora daring Pyrrha to kiss Jaune, Neptune daring Scarlet to eat wet bread – she’d never seen somebody gag that much – and as expected, Sun wasted no time in asking Blake truth or dare. Yang didn’t know she’d been holding her breath until Blake finally said truth. At least there would be no kissing dares, not that she approved of dragging non-participants into the game. Truth was hardly going to get him any good information, since Blake did not like her.

But alas, from the couch she and Ren sat upon, she heard the monkey Faunus ask the cat Faunus, “Blake, if you had to kiss someone in this room, who would it be?”

Yang was instantly fuming at the blatant attempt to embarrass her, and words had promptly slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Oh, fuck off!”

In turn, the outburst caused the circle of friends on the floor to swivel their heads to look at her. Even Ren looked a little surprised, and that was saying something. It took all her willpower to not go over to Sun and smack his arrogant smile off his face when he had said, “Something, wrong, Yang?”

She would have given him a piece of her mind, if not for the fact that Blake giggled and proceeded to whisper-yell, “I already kissed Yang!”

Everybody gasped – it was like a soap opera – save for Ren and Yang herself. Because she was livid.

Sun on the other hand, was living. “I was right! You two are gayer than a rainbow!”

“That’s not true!” Yang found herself standing, heart racing. “It was a kiss on the cheek,” she realised she’d admitted that it was kind-of true, but still. It didn’t mean he was right. If she was honest with herself, she had no idea why she was bothering to deny it anymore, but then again, Blake was right there watching her.

“You only kissed her cheek?” Nora asked, sceptical of both of their behaviour.

Blake shrugged. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

“I see,” Nora replied. “Alright, people. Lock them in the closet!”

“I thought we wanted them to come out of the closet, not go in it?” Jaune said, misunderstanding her literal meaning.

“We are not locking them in a closet, Nora,” Pyrrha interrupted, sending a disapproving look to her orange-haired friend, “let me handle this.” The tall girl had wasted no time in whisking Yang away to talk in private.

Yang quickly broke down her situation to the only girl that she could trust to keep her secret. Pyrrha was at least understanding of what she was going through, but her advice was something Yang already knew would come.

You have to talk to her about this.

She just put on a brave face when they returned to everyone in the midst of dancing dumbly to some music, but it had been hard to keep it up when Sun had shimmied on over into her personal space.

He kept his voice discreet. “Dude, Blake wants you. Why are you making this so hard on yourself?”

Why was she? She looked over at Jaune who had taken Pyrrha’s hand, both of them looking quite content. Nora even had Ren doing ridiculous dance moves with her too; Neptune and Scarlet were surprisingly dancing in-sync, and Sage was spinning a laughing Blake in a casual waltz. There were cute couples and good friends, though she felt a pang of jealousy of seeing Blake with someone else. And it was ridiculous.

Her eyes watched Blake move. She was less graceful than usual, but all the more attractive; she was carefree. “I need to figure this out on my own.”

Sun placed his hand on her shoulder. “What more is there to figure out?”

It took a moment, but she looked him in the eye. “How the hell I’m going to tell her.”

“You’ll think of something. Go dance with her,” he smiled goofily.

Though she hadn’t quite forgiven him, he did have good intentions, and he was finally letting up. He followed her over to Blake and Sage, intervening one last time.

“May I borrow him, lady Blake?” Sun mocked Scarlet’s British accent, cutting in on the dancing pair.

“Why of course, mister Wukong, sir,” Blake did a much more accurate impersonation, as Scarlet exclaimed something nonsensical about Sun – boi was the affectionate term – in his signature birdcall. Blake then turned to her and offered a hand.

“Would this lady like to dance?”

Yang ignored the slight blush she felt adorn her face, but let a smile grow on her lips unbidden as she too spoke with a faux-accent too. “Why, it would be an honour!”

They took turns leading each other in a waltz to eighties classics – Scarlet had said something about hauling oats? – and Yang found it progressively harder to keep Blake from falling over her own feet. It reminded her of their outing to Ozpin’s. Alcohol dismantled Blake’s restraint then, and it had not let her get away this time, either. She had no doubt sober Blake would have never said that she’d kissed her. There was every possibility that unlike herself, Blake didn’t want to admit she was attracted to Yang, and if it was true, that presented…a problem. More of a problem than she already had, that was.

Being so focused on enjoying the moment with Blake, Yang almost forgot what day it was until someone remembered to switch the TV onto the local news station. The countdown to midnight was approaching fast as the group gathered around. She was getting ready to count along; at least she wouldn’t mess up like every other year she had been wasted.

She was about to chant ten, just like everyone else, until Blake completely stole her attention by whispering in her ear.

“I think it’s your turn to kiss me.”

It was funny how a few words could take her breath away. Not funny like ha-ha funny, but funny like she would never forget it for the rest of her miserable life.

Ten.

Yang barely choked out a response. “What?”

Nine.

“Come on, Yang,” she had only provoked Blake to practically cling to her.

Eight.

Maybe she could make it out alive of this. “You’re joking?”

Seven.

Blake was not joking. “Everyone else is gonna be doing it, it’s tradition.”

Six.

Goddamn kissing traditions were the bane of her existence.

Five.

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek,” Blake said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Four.

“Not everyone-” Yang began to turn her head, but was stopped by grabbing hands.

Three.

“Don’t look at them, look at me.”

Two.

She shouldn’t have listened to her, because now they’d made eye contact and even though Blake had said cheek, Yang was thinking of everything but. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, you know.”

But Blake wouldn’t know. She probably wouldn’t even remember this. And she seemed at least a little desperate, and it made Yang really wonder if Sun was totally right.

One.

“Happy New Year!”

It was well after noon by the time the black cat Faunus woke. Although, to her, she felt more like death reincarnated. “I feel awful,” she groused, still wrapped in a thick fleece blanket and struggling to sit upright in the chair Sun had pulled out for her when she’d stumbled into the kitchen.

For her sake, he kept his voice down, whether or not he knew she had extra ears to be mindful of. “You’re a lightweight, Blake. You were drunk, like, an hour after you got here.”

Too tired to refute that she was, in fact, a lightweight, she was more concerned at the length of time he’d mentioned. “But I don’t remember the whole night! Oh, God, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say anything stupid,” Sun’s smile was reassuring, but, his words weren’t.

“What does that mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“You were all over Yang like white on rice,” he leaned against the kitchen counter, still jovial.

Blake knew very well that Sun had been convinced that she and Yang were an item, but this was bad if he was telling the truth – what had she done? “I was what?”

“You,” he pointed at her, “were all over Yang.”

He took her silence as a sign to keep talking. He must have thought she didn’t understand what he was saying, but really, she was just trying to wrap her pounding head around it all.

“Take it from the Chinese guy, rice is white all over. Yang’d back me up. She’s Chinese too, we like rice,” Sun rambled, “but we like all kinds of rice, so maybe I should have used a different analogy,” he added, thinking he’d confused her.

A different voice chimed in, “You’re generalising your own culture, Sun.” It was then that Yang walked in on their conversation, oblivious as to why they were talking about rice. “You’re finally awakey, Blakey. How’s the old noggin’?”

In a knee-jerk reaction, Blake turned her frustration onto its source. “Don’t call me that.”

Yang recoiled at the hostility. She knew how hangovers could be bad for moods, but even for Blake, that was harsh. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. It’s Sun’s fault,” she said, happy to direct Blake’s ire onto their mischievous friend. He suddenly looked a lot less carefree now that he’d been blamed.

“Clarify,” Blake demanded over Sun’s spluttering.

“Everything you drank came from the monkey bar,” Yang resisted laughing at her own joke for once – even though it was a good one – and proceeded to boil a kettle to make some calming tea for her friend. Sun hadn’t even thought of that, since he was probably too busy being sneaky.

“Did you just make a pun outta me?”

Ignoring Sun, Yang sat down with Blake. “There wasn’t much I could do. Everything I took away from you, he replaced just as fast.”

“Throwing me right under the bus, here,” Sun said, cowering and meekly laughing when furious amber eyes locked onto his.

“That’s the plan,” Yang leaned back in her chair, tempted to let this play out. “Pour the lady some tea, would ya? It’s the least you could do.”

Stuttering in agreement, he promptly delivered a steaming mug to a very irritated Blake.

“Leave us,” like a queen would order a peasant, a disgruntled Blake shooed the apologetic boy away. More than happy to escape, Sun gave Yang a thanking-prayer motion behind Blake’s back.

“What happened last night?” Blake cut to the chase before Yang had a chance to say anything.

“Is that what you were talking about?” She was in no rush to discuss it, but she was curious about the whole rice thing.

“Sun said…something,” Blake wrapped her hands around her cup of tea, but did not drink. “I trust you’ll at least tell me the real story.”

“Nothing happened,” Yang didn’t even look at her. When she did, though, she seemed nervous. “Well, not nothing, but not not nothing?”

To that, Blake said nothing – nothing was an appropriate response to more nothing, but she did raise an eyebrow slightly.

Yang sighed. “What did he tell you?”

“Apparently, I was all over you like white on rice,” Blake recounted in her signature monotone, ever the face of nonchalance.

“So that’s why he was talking about Chinese people and rice,” Yang tried to lighten to mood to no avail. She’d have to tell Blake sooner or later, and it was going to be sooner.  “He got you drunk because I refused to get drunk. He wanted one of us smashed, and you were a much easier target to get a confession out of.”

Under Blake’s bow – which had managed to stay secure – cat ears stood attentive. “You don’t mean?”

“I do,” Yang nodded. They both knew, that with Sun, it was always about their relationship. “It sorta worked, too.”

“I’m never drinking again,” the Faunus muttered.

Yang contemplated what to say. This could end up being a very awkward conversation that she wasn’t sure she was ready to have. She tried for honest with a bit of humour. “Long story short, you announced you’ve kissed me before, and everyone went nuts.”

Blake’s cheeks became rosy as she went on the defence. “Why would I do that? It’s not even true.”

“I said the same thing,” the blonde shrugged. “Nothing came of it…until it was time for the midnight countdown.”

“We did not kiss at midnight,” Blake’s face had become hard to read, but to Yang, she sounded kind of disgusted. It was disconcerting.

“Do you think I’d take advantage of you like that?” Yang hadn’t meant to sound so defensive, but honestly, that’s how she was feeling right then. Blake had never acted this way before, even during conversations with similar topics.

“You wouldn’t have the chance to,” the Faunus said hastily, “I wouldn’t…do that.”

Her emotions were beginning to bubble under the surface, and Yang couldn’t stop them showing for long, she knew that. “I hate to break it to you, but it was your idea.”

Blake moved her cup tea to the side so she could lean forward on the table. “Yang, tell me what happened.”

“You kept insisting when it was counting down,” Yang growled, making it abundantly clear that she hadn’t asked for it herself. Why should she be interrogated for something when she had been the one that was pestered? “It was just a kiss on the cheek, like you said.”

“That’s it?” Blake leaned back. Rubbing her temples, she sighed in relief. “Thank God it wasn’t anything worse.”

Worse?

It was happening again. This was it – this was what it felt like to have fallen for someone that you really shouldn’t have. She didn’t know that it would hurt this much to have her fears confirmed, and it made her so damn angry. “Oh yeah, wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea after throwing yourself at me.” She was mad at Blake, and she was mad at herself.

“Excuse me?”

Blake feigning innocence did nothing to quell her internal rage. Was she really that clueless about what she said and did?

“I’m sorry,” Yang said with fake politeness, “I didn’t realise that sober Blake and drunk Blake had different sexual orientations.”

There was still no reaction from her friend; no retaliation. Indifference was something Yang despised. It was just how she imagined Raven would act.

“Yang, you’re overreacting-”

“I’m overreacting? I’m not the one pretending it didn’t happen! You can’t even remember it, but I do!” Yang remembered everything; every betrayal in her life. She stood and the chair legs scraped on the floor, no doubt hurting Blake’s sensitive hearing – if her shouting hadn’t already.

“I waited around to see if you were okay, but I guess I didn’t need to. Enjoy your tea,” she ignored Blake’s face as it turned to shock and pulled her jacket on. She was leaving. “Happy new year.”

Heavy steps travelled to the front door, followed by a slam, and a motorcycle engine revving then peeling out.

Blake heard Sun curse in the other room, and he took tentative steps towards her. She felt like crying. He asked, “I guess it didn’t go well?”

A beat passed before her tears fell.

Fast forwarding to five days later, it had been the longest amount of time that they’d not seen or spoken to each other since they met.

And it was driving Yang crazy.

While she hadn’t outright admitted anything, she’d done a lot worse than that. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Blake’s face; every time it made her feel like an idiot. Emotions had gotten the better of her, and ruined everything.

She was lucky she hadn’t taken a spill the way she drove home that day – reckless and too pissed off to care much about consequences. That was where her luck had run out, though; as the days progressed she’d gotten more irritable and clumsy. Every night she’d lost more and more sleep, and tonight she felt it’d be completely sleepless, with her brain going over everything in her head again.

It was probably because Blake hadn’t contacted her – not in her own anger, and not even to apologise. So, Yang stayed silent too. It was childish, but for once in her life, she couldn’t help but act that way. Once again, Raven’s past actions were affecting her life. It was a shitty excuse to behave that way, but everyone was a product of something – it just so happened that she was a picture-perfect product of abandonment.

Why had her mother bothered to have a kid just to leave it behind?

And why had Blake bothered to be so reassuring about being accepting of homosexuality? She’d been open to flirting, comfortable with it, she flirted back. Was it really just the alcohol talking?

So what if it was? She already had conceded that could be just it – but it didn’t make sense to Yang. If she wanted answers, she’d have to talk to Blake. It could ruin their friendship, but at this point, it might be too late to save it, too.

Although…Blake had flirted with her at other times. Maybe there was hope.

The spark of optimism made Yang hastily pick up her phone, but as soon as she tried to call Blake, her nerves returned. She settled for re-reading the text messages she’d received from Sun. It was easy to tell that he’d overheard their argument – it was hard not to – so he hadn’t been grilling her for an explanation. No, he texted her a few hours after she’d taken off to chastise her for making Blake cry.

At least he was still on her side – well, he still was convinced they were perfect for each other. He’d been sending her different ideas on what to do, and she appreciated the effort, but it was easier said than done to fix her mess. A little teamwork sounded appealing at the moment, since her own courage was waning.

Yang started to type out a plea for his help just as the phone came to life. The contact photo she’d set of Blake stared at her – she had refused to smile for the photo – and Yang was just about ready to go into cardiac arrest. An opportunity had just presented itself to her. She could take the chance…no.

She had to.

Yang answered the call, but failed to speak.

“Yang?” Blake’s voice brought her back to Earth. She didn’t sound angry.

“Hey.”

“What- um, what’s up?”

Yang had never heard such a bad attempt at a conversation starter. But it also meant that she wasn’t the only nervous one; nor the only guilty one.

“Oh, y’know,” she said casually, “just…missing my best friend.” She heard a muffled laugh.

“I miss you too,” Blake said quietly. “I know it’s kind of late-”

“Eight-thirty isn’t late,” Yang interrupted.

She heard Blake sigh through the phone. “It is when I’m asking if I can come over.”

“Come over as in, tell me how much of a jerk I am…or impromptu sleepover where we paint our nails and stay up all night talking, come over?”

There was a little contemplative hmm. “How about both?”

Yang finally felt relieved for the first time in days. “I wasn’t sleeping tonight anyway. Come on over.”

“See you in a bit, then,” Blake said, hanging up.

That had been easy. There was no animosity. But had it been too easy?

She quickly updated her little sister of the situation via text, feeling like she could use a bit of Ruby’s everlasting encouragement.

Stepping out onto the curb, Blake took the box that Sun held out to her.

“Thanks for the ride, Sun,” she smiled at him as he gave her a thumbs up, “and the pizza.”

“You know I only did this on the condition that you guys fix this mess and stop avoiding each other! My boss would kill me if he found out, then he’d fire me.”

“You better get going, then.” Blake was grateful that her and Yang’s mutual friend cared enough for both of them to help her out. He delivered pizzas part-time; it was the perfect way to get to Yang’s in the evening and have an icebreaker. She waved goodbye to him and walked up to Qrow’s front door.

Hopefully it won’t be the last time I do, she thought. After knocking, it wasn’t long before she heard the lock click and found herself face to face with the latest person in her life she was afraid of losing.

Steeling her resolve, Blake presented the warm box to Yang, “I brought apology pizza.”

“Was I supposed to get you a bribe too?” Yang asked with a small laugh, taking the food and motioning her inside, out of the chilly air.

Blake felt that their back and forth joking from earlier was a good sign, so she kept it going. “You mean you didn’t?”

She must have sounded more serious than she intended, or Yang was just too nervous to realise it was sarcastic. “No, no! Wait right here,” Yang held up a finger with a big cheesy grin, “one second.”

“Yang-”

“Uh-bup-bup!” Yang disappeared down the hall, still holding the pizza.

Blake busied herself with removing her coat and beanie. “I was joking,” she said to herself.

Arms behind her back, Yang returned in a matter of seconds. It was impressive how easily she was able to think of anything, let alone something believable, to get for her.

Yang flourished, presenting a single purple flower. “Voilà!” She used the French term energetically, holding it out for Blake.

It was a little odd to think that someone like Qrow, or even Yang, had a vase of flowers in the house. Nonetheless, it was a lovely shade of purple; Blake focusing on the petals before realising it was the same colour as Yang’s eyes. Even though she knew Yang hadn’t prepared it, it somehow felt more thoughtful than sauce and cheese on bread.

Blake accepted the flower, fighting the warm flush that was threatening to creep up her neck. She wished she had known that a mere flower could produce butterflies in the pit of her stomach. “Merci beaucoup, je l'aime,” she thanked Yang in French, hopeful that it would distract the blonde from noticing her reddening cheeks.

“Whoa,” Yang gawked, clearly not expecting it. “Pardon your French!”

Blake deliberately rolled her eyes. “Pardon is French, Yang.”

“Sooo, you speak French? That’s kinda hot,” Yang said despite the implications – Blake was glad Yang wasn’t going to be afraid to speak her mind around her, but she definitely had lost the battle with her blush when Yang wiggled her eyebrows.

She allowed herself the satisfaction of talking again in French, just to see Yang’s confusion, as payback.

Yang responded the best way she could to a foreign language. “It’s hot, but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Blake repeated herself, in English. “Yes, but the pizza is getting cold, and that is a waste of a free pizza.”

“Ah,” Yang replied.

Blake shouldn’t have been surprised, but Yang then spouted a sentence that was assumedly Chinese. Raising her brow, she silently asked for a translation.

“I said, I don’t wanna waste free food,” Yang winked, and led her to the pizza that was sitting in the kitchen next to a vase of the purple flowers her gift had originated from. Perhaps her friend did like floral decoration. As lovely as the flower was, Blake didn’t really have anywhere to hold it, nor did she particularly like the idea of letting it wilt.

Blake carefully slotted its stem back into the vase with its kin. “I’ll retrieve this when I leave.”

Yang looked a little disappointed that Blake’s flower was now just another set of petals in the arrangement again, insignificant.

“I promise.”

Yang nodded after hearing that, and opened up the pizza box, grateful for the edible distraction. She was also pretty hungry; having been fretting too much to bother eating. Consciously, she avoided jumping right into the awkward conversation they were going to have to have. “Where’d you pick up French?”

“I was allowed to choose a secondary language to learn in my home-schooling. Little Blake thought it was the language of romance,” she held back a laugh at the speed Yang took and devoured a slice of pizza.

“Aw,” Yang said still chewing, “what does Blake think about it now she’s all grown up?”

Blake took her own helping of pizza, smiling wistfully. “I think I was young and naïve.”

“Well, that’s just depressing.”

Yang wasn’t wrong. It was sad, how hopeful she’d been as a child; it was a far cry from her present self. “It’s wasn’t meant to be uplifting, Yang.”

The blonde just stared at her. The scrutiny of her gaze was intense. “You are such an enigma, Blake Belladonna.”

“Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved.” Knowing Yang, she was going to take that as a challenge. Yet she seemed to ignore it, picking up the pizza box once again and audibly sighing.

“Let’s go sit down on the couch and get the hard part over with. The suspense is killing me,” Yang walked away, her mood having switched from laid-back to serious.

As they got comfortable, they both fidgeted. Blake wasn’t expecting an apology. People never seemed to say sorry to her – for anything.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of line, about everything.”

Yang was constantly surprising her, and now was no exception. She was different to other people in her life. She isn’t him; Blake felt terrible that she even had to remind herself of that when Yang had never done anything to harm her. She had intended to be the one apologising, and wasn’t going to withhold it just because Yang had also felt guilty.

“And I’m sorry too,” nonetheless, Blake was still clueless about certain details. “I don’t know what I said, but I made you upset, and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

Yang gave her the tiniest hint of a smile. It was enough to calm her frayed nerves, and it was certainly much better than the shouting she’d gotten last time they spoke.

“It’s not what you can’t remember you said,” Yang let out an airy laugh as she took another helping of pizza. “None of that was bad, even if it made me really confused.”

Blake followed her lead, taking her second helping as well. “I didn’t start speaking in French, did I?” She thought it was funny, but on second thought, it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise that she could speak French just now, if she had already done it before.

“No, I meant it made me confused,” Yang said, not bothered by talking with her mouth full of food. She did however, finish chewing before adding quietly, “about my feelings.”

“Oh,” Blake was not quite prepared for such honesty, and giving such a lame response almost made her cringe.

“Yeah,” Yang had a face of discomfort, doing the cringing for them both. “Blake, I’m not mad at you anymore. I was, but only because you acted like it wasn’t a big deal. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

In her mind’s eye, Blake could see that angry version of Yang towering over her in Sun’s kitchen. The blonde had been intimidating, and that brought unpleasant feelings to the surface. It also made her realise that just because she had never experienced it, Yang had always had the ability to act that way. She’d knocked over Cardin Winchester, after all. But, sometimes, words could hurt more than physical violence, and she’d hurt Yang with her own, and vice versa.

She deserved to be scolded; reprimanded with scathing words that would teach her a lesson. Instead, the only thing Yang was doing was seeking her forgiveness. This was what she wanted, but nearly all her life, she’d been taught that humans only wanted to hurt her.

“How can you not be angry with me anymore?”

“My anger was misplaced, Blake,” Yang glanced her way before lilac irises became focused on something distant. “I let it get to me because I have this stupid idea in my head that everyone that tries to disregard me is doing the same thing my mother did when she up and left me. She wasn’t fair to me…but I wasn’t fair to you. You’re not her.”

For once, the strong passion that Yang usually spoke with was gone. Replaced with a gentle sadness that broke Blake’s heart. Yang knew exactly what it was like to have somebody that was supposed to take care of you break that promise; both of them had unintentionally let their past experiences affect them in the present.

“Yang, it’s not stupid, and it’s not your fault.” Blake, against her better judgement, moved closer when Yang became downcast. The need to reassure Yang when she was vulnerable won out over possibly making the same mess all over again.

With the utmost care, Blake placed the palm of her hand on Yang’s cheek, guiding the blonde to look at her in the eye. She tried not to think about how soft her skin was, or that it was warmer than hers, or that if you stared long enough, you would see a ring of deep, rich burgundy surrounding purple irises.

“None of it is your fault,” she repeated, and she’d say it a thousand times over if that was what it took for Yang to believe her. If she could be convinced that her past did not define her, then she owed it to Yang to reiterate that she didn’t do anything do to deserve abandonment.

Blake felt Yang lean ever so slightly into her hand.

It felt like they were frozen in time, along with Blake’s breathing. She didn’t dare move, lest everything shatter before her eyes. She would not let up until Yang knew she meant her words; she would not hurt Yang again.

“Okay.”

Suddenly, Yang was smiling and Blake could breathe again. It wasn’t exuberant, nor was it done gleefully. It was small, but appreciative.

It was beautiful.

Blake embraced Yang; not just because she wanted to, but because she was scared she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing something more. She just couldn’t do that to her.

“Thanks, Blake.”

She sensed that Yang was still not quite ready to let go, and she was happy to wait.

“Can I just ask you one thing?”

At Yang’s tentative question, Blake felt her heart beat a little faster. They’d done well so far; come to an understanding, and everything was forgiven. What else was on Yang’s mind?

Upon separation, Blake tried to keep her expression as measured as her words. “That depends on what it is.”

Again, Yang was hesitant. Blake had never seen her this way before. “Why were you so worried about us…about what might’ve happened?”

Upon contemplation, Blake found that it was an easy enough question to answer – but the easy answer was going to make things complicated, so she chose to be truthful without a specifying a reason. “Because, despite what I said or implied, it would have been a very big deal. There is nothing that would change the fact that I trapped you in an uncomfortable situation.”

She hoped Yang understood. At least one of them would understand what was going on in her head. If there was one thing Blake was sure of, it was that she had never been more unsure of herself in her life. She’d laugh at the irony if it wasn’t so frustrating.

“Hey, we all make mistakes sometimes,” Yang reassured her, smiling again like her normal self.

Blake huffed. “What is it about alcohol? It’s like it wants me to embarrass myself.” She hadn’t made any mistakes. Drunk Blake had made all the mistakes! If she didn’t drink at the party, she wouldn’t have acted the way she did.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Blakey!” Yang relaxed into the couch after taking another helping of the dwindling pizza. “I’ve done way worse things with half the amount of booze,” she commented casually.

“Such as?” Blake inquired, grateful that Yang was always trying to cheer her up. She would have been in trouble if Yang had tried to press her for more answers.

“You don’t wanna know, and I don’t wanna remember.”

Yang cried in indignation as Blake swatted her arms for such an incriminating response. “That is hardly reassuring, you party animal.”

“It’s not like I did anything that wild,” Yang added hastily, fending off the Faunus’ hands, “there’s no raunchy stories!”

Golden eyes rolled, a heavy sigh following the halting of Blake’s hands. Then, Yang grinned, looking much too happy for her own good.

“That I can remember!”

“Yang!” Blake cried, resorting to outright shoving the blonde’s shoulder. She knew Yang did these things on purpose, and Yang knew that she would always react this way. The cackling of laughter that always followed was quite telling of that.

“Okay, okay!” Yang said, letting up and rubbing her arm, as if Blake had the capacity to even remotely hurt it. “At least you didn’t call me a jerk like you were supposed to.”

Blake stared at her friend with stern eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face. “Oh, there’s still plenty of time for that.”

After the girls’ stomachs were sufficiently stuffed, and they’d embarrassedly recounted how both of their lives were uneventful and lacklustre the past few days – totally unrelated to one another’s absence – there was finally a lull in the conversation.

Yang was caught off guard when Blake decided to save them from an extended silence.

“You know, I was pleasantly surprised to see that bouquet of flowers in the kitchen. I just didn’t take Qrow as the type.”

“Those are mine, actually. I couldn’t resist Carnations ready to bloom, and I bought them for…” Trailing off, Yang never elaborated. Blake didn’t know if she had been about to say they were bought for a specific reason or a specific someone.

“I mean, they’re, uh, a nice colour?”

What Yang wasn’t telling Blake was that on New Year’s Day, hours after she’d regretted how she treated her, she’d gone out to try and find the nicest flowers to apologise to her with. Only after she purchased them had she realised she had no clue where Blake lived, and by then she had deflated and lost all her resolve, so she gave up and brought them home instead – if only to remind her of her immense failure.

“You know what type of flower they are?” Blake was giggling now.

Yang pouted in response. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not,” Blake said, even though she most definitely was. “It’s just cute.”

Yang’s pout was replaced with her arms crossing. It’s cute. “In that case, I’ll only talk about flowers from now on.”

Blake did not laugh at her again, but she was still at least mildly amused. “I had no idea your knowledge of flowers was that extensive.”

“Dad likes to garden,” Yang explained, “me and Ruby had our own sunflowers and roses to take care of too.”

Before she could get made fun of anymore, Yang tried to bring the conversation around to something more useful – useful meaning trying to come up with some sort of way to break it to Blake that she was totally gay for her. It sounded much easier than she knew it was going to be, but at least she had a good segue.

“Speaking of, it’s almost Spring! Do you know what that means?”

Not willing to play a guessing game, Blake’s answer was technically accurate, but lacking in effort. “It means…it’ll be March soon.”

Yang rolled her eyes, fond of the Faunus’ talent for never-ending indifference. “It means you won’t have to suffer in the cold anymore.”

She wanted to remind Blake that the weather would soon be much more suitable to doing activities – outdoor activities (which Yang was also fond of). She had begun to think that it’d be best to bring up the conversation on how she felt while walking around town in the sunshine with Blake; maybe going out for lunch, yada yada yada.

She’d asked Qrow; as he was a long-time resident of the city, if there were any places to visit in the springtime. He’d shrugged, claiming he knew none. That hadn’t necessarily meant there was none, he just didn’t care for parks and the like. All Yang had gotten was the excuse that they always say in Canton you Canton-joy yourself. It was a good pun, but not very helpful. He’d not bothered to ask why, in particular, Yang wanted to go to nice places – but the questioning looks he’d given her said it all.

It was then apparent she had nobody to turn to – well, except her friends. As far as she was aware, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ren and Nora had grown up in Canton, or in the surrounding area at least. Scarlet and Sage were also an option, and Sun was likely to gather his own friends to help her out (she hoped). That meant she had six knowledgeable people, plus Sun and Neptune, as possible wingmen/women.

Yang was broken from her fantasy thoughts of the perfect date-but-not-a-date by the subject of them.

“I have you, so I don’t have to suffer in the cold at all,” proving herself right, Blake made herself quite at home snuggled up to Yang’s warmth. “Spring is useless to me.”

Yang wasn’t really willing to reject that statement, if she was being chosen over warmer weather. Still, she had to find a convincing truth to get Blake to go out with her. “But haven’t you heard? This Spring will be the best!”

“And where did you hear that?”

“Oh, everyone’s been saying that.” Nobody had been saying that. “It’ll be our first Spring as friends! We can go on walks in pretty parks, and have picnics. Oh, I have this great sandwich with cottage cheese I think you’d like. And there’ll be flowers, butterflies, birds, and bees!”

Yang’s enthusiasm for the flora and fauna was not shared by Blake.

“What is it with you and bees?” The ravenette asked incredulously. It was something she’d been wondering about for a while now – she hadn’t ever met anybody with such an affinity for insects.

The blonde was shocked and appalled, dramatically insisting, “Have you seen bumblebees? They’re so cute!” That was not enough on its own though. “Plus, black and yellow,” Yang gestured between them both, referring to their hair (and general favouritism) of the colours, “is a good combo.”

A small cough came from Blake, though she quickly retorted, “Maybe you don’t need me, then, if you have bees,” rejecting the idea of humouring Yang’s obvious hint about the two of them.

“I do love bees,” Yang cooed. “But, let me tell ya, I always wanted a cat. As a kid, I used to see the Maine coon cats around town and think, ooooh they’re so big and cuddly! I might just get one, if you leave me.”

Blake abruptly snorted, finding that slightly ridiculous. “And it will be black with yellow eyes, and you’ll name it Blake!” She faked excitement and went along with Yang’s plan, if only for a second, just to shoot it down with her trademark sarcasm. “Oh, wait. You already did that.”

Yang harrumphed. “You got me, there.” So she hadn’t realised how dumb that had sounded. At this rate, she’d put her big foot in her big mouth and let something even stupider slip, like the only cat I ever want to cuddle is you, Blake. There was a part of her that thought she’d get in trouble for that, but Blake had made jokes about her feline features before – funny ones, that had made Yang laugh. She’d missed laughing with her.

“Can I just say, I feel a lot better now that we’re friends again,” Yang said aloud, not having considered how it might have sounded. “Not that stopped thinking you were my friend! Just, you know?”

Blake hummed in agreeance. “I know. I never thought we would be friends in the first place, but now I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you.”

It served as a reminder that Blake held no animosity towards Yang for their differences or the reason for their slight falling out. It also made Yang wonder what the hell was going on. Surely she wasn’t that good of a person to be trusted this much, and certainly not by someone that grew up being told humans like her didn’t even exist.

The only explanations Yang could think of was that she was a better person than she realised, or Blake was holding herself back for some reason. And she’d be damned if she didn’t figure out which one it was.

“Well, if it’s anything like the last couple of days, it’d probably suck.” Yang took her assumptions from how miserable she’d been – and considered herself lucky if Blake felt the same way.

“Is that an indirect way of saying my life would suck without you?”

“Totally,” Yang laughed, “and, since you’ve been gone, I can breathe for the first time!”

“Are we just making obscure references to Kelly Clarkson now?”

“No, Blake, I’m totally serious.” Her constant snickering said otherwise. Abruptly, as she was well capable of, Yang abandoned an amused Blake on the couch to jump onto the coffee table. Taking care to not step in the pizza box as she brought her feet down like she was performing to an arena of people, Yang brought her fist to her mouth, dramatically miming the greatest singing Idol of American history. “How can I put it, you put me on, I even fell for that stupid love song. Yeah, yeah, since you been gone.”

Blake smiled at the blonde that was shimmying on the table; her hair bouncing, legs working in those stupid short shorts of hers. If she wasn’t enjoying watching Yang having fun and her nonsensical antics, she’d have gotten up there too – okay, maybe not. It wasn’t her house, or her table, to dance on.

Yang continued on. After all, they were having fun, and they needed it after everything. “How come I’d never hear you say, I just wanna be with you,” she sung to Blake, knowing it wouldn’t come off as a real question. Even though, deep down, she could relate to it. Yang tried not to think about that, though, pushing it out of her mind.

Blake held up a finger, catching Yang’s attention. “That song was about breaking up.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Yang seemed to deflate, her happy energy fading.

“I enjoyed the show nonetheless. Very entertaining, great stage presence. I’d vote Yang Xiao Long to be the next American Idol.”

“If only they still produced it, and not trashy shows about trashy people’s lives,” Yang sighed, stepping down to the floor, “oh, except for the Bachelor. I’ll binge watch that any day of the week.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Blake replied, not one for reality shows that pitted numerous people against each other for the heart of a single person.

Yang’s phone buzzed with a text in the confines of her bra, the girl almost forgetting she’d put it there (her shorts lacked the luxury of pockets). Earlier, she’d hurriedly messaged Ruby; who’d known about her sulking the whole time, that Blake was trying to make up with her. Her sister had sent a well-wishing back, but not before asking, you mean kiss and make up? And then make-out? with a kissy face as well. Yang appreciated the girl’s positive attitude, but she hated how good Ruby was at poking fun at her.

When she opened the text, it was a simple question:

Have you told her yet?

She was about to reply, until she did a double take at who had sent it, Abs Wukong; complete with a banana emoji next to his contact name (he’d taken the liberty of making his own nickname). She wasn’t even annoyed that Sun was trying to help this time, she was more worried about how he knew that she was with Blake. Another buzz brought another message from the monkey Faunus.

Your welcome for the pizza, btw!

Slowly, her brain made the connection in her head, but before Yang could once again scold Sun for his constant nagging, Blake interrupted her train of thought.

“Are you trying to set your phone on fire by glaring at it?”

Yang realised she had been practically glowering at the screen. At this point, she was not willing to admit that she and Sun had been arguing for almost a month about something that involved Blake without her knowing.

“Sorry, I’ll be one sec,” she began furiously typing while trying to think of a legitimate enough excuse. “Just tryna help Rubes with…” Yang trailed off, as her priority was to reply to Sun.

You’re* as in, you’re going to explain what you know RIGHT NOW!

In a time of improvisation, Yang learned her mental capacity was severely lacking when she finished her sentence with, “…uh, a homework problem.”

Oh, yeah. Real smooth.

“Right,” came Blake’s disbelieving drawl.

Yang chose to ignore her. She didn’t have a better lie than that anyway, even if it was terrible.

Sun replied, I was just the bribery guy I swear! Blake asked me to help win you back ;)

Honestly surprised at that revelation, Yang decided to grant mercy – everything had turned out fine, anyway. Blake had reached out to Sun, of all people, to help her. After the things he’d said about them, and done to them, it didn’t make sense to ask him – unless Blake was hiding something. That was always the answer to things these days, and, it failed to make Yang feel any better. Regardless, if she were to have Sun as support, criticising him wasn’t exactly the way to keep him on her side

I guess I owe you one, banana boy. TTYL. She sent off her last text before tucking her phone away again.

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just blatantly lie to me, since you look a little conflicted,” Blake had the sincerity to sound concerned; an invitation in her voice that she was open to talking about it, but Yang was in no state to discuss anything just yet.

She needed to plan.

“I’m not lying,” Yang said entirely unconvincingly; voice much too snappy to be credible.

“So, Ruby needs help with homework on Winter break?” Blake questioned in turn, not really caring about what excuse she was getting. Yang was suddenly behaving oddly, and she didn’t like being kept in the dark after recent events. What were the contents of those text messages that’d so drastically changed her mood in a few minutes?

Noting that Yang couldn’t make eye contact with her, she patiently waited for an answer. She wouldn’t demand anything, no. That wasn’t how friendship worked. Especially when Yang allowed her to keep as many secrets as she did. She’d wade through whatever obstacles Yang threw her way slowly, surely, not pushing too hard – because Yang usually caved, anyway.

“She…has extracurricular activities?”

“Yang,” Blake called softly. It failed to garner Yang’s attention, the blonde just standing awkwardly with her hands by her sides. The Faunus, not wanting to risk an argument, dropped the subject. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, I think I need some fresh air,” long legs started inching towards the hallway. “Is- is that okay?”

Truly baffled, Blake wanted nothing more than to pursue the issue and Yang – but she had been in the same position before. Sometimes, people just needed space.

“Sure, Yang. Take your time,” Blake wore what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Fair warning though, if you’re gone too long, I’ll find a book to read and you’ll have that to deal with.”

What she said was in jest, as Yang knew all too well how difficult it was to get Blake Belladonna to put down a book when she was enthralled with a story.

She knew she had said something right when Yang smiled just slightly, replying, “I’ll take my chances.”

And Yang had meant it, because time ticked away slowly; agonisingly, her absence approaching half an hour with Blake having held out on picking up a book. Concluding that she’d given Yang plenty of space and time, she only had two choices – wait even longer, or join her outside. The fact that it was positively freezing outside at night didn’t make her decision any easier, but one of Yang’s discarded hoodies was sitting in the living room.

That about sealed the deal for Blake; she’d be better prepared to sit out there with her friend if need be. Picking up the dark navy hoodie, she realised it was much too large for herself, let alone Yang. On the front, worn letters read Maine State Police; the garment tag had the name T. XIAO LONG scrawled over the care instructions tag in waterproof marker.

It was Taiyang’s, then. Blake wondered if Yang had taken it specifically because she would miss her father, or she had already claimed it before moving – not that it mattered. It was rather unimportant, really. Practically wrapped in the hoodie, Blake ventured to the back of the house in the dark, easily spotting Yang sitting out on the paved patio. It wasn’t hard to see such a blonde mane, even in low light.

Blake opened the door; hinges announcing her presence with a slight creak, and from shadows she slipped into the moonlight. Yang didn’t move, but when Blake entered her peripheral vision and sat next to her on the cold stone she finally addressed her.

“I thought you said I would have to deal with you stuck in a book, not you stealing my clothes.”

She spoke with a fondness that Blake could appreciate. If there was one thing about Yang, it was her uncanny ability to exude a comforting aura.

As usual, Blake danced their familiar conversational waltz, with a witty comeback that was almost instinctual. “Your clothes? Since when does your name start with a T?”

“You can’t steal the hoodie that I already stole,” Yang protested, as if it was obvious.

“Consider it a loan, then.”

Yang simply hummed noncommittally, barely taking the time to look at Blake. Her eyes were trained on the clear sky; stars visible – but not to the extent that it was anything to write home about. Cities tended to have lacklustre star displays. Blake wondered if Yang was used to better views in Maine; she had mentioned she grew up in a small and mountainous town.

While she had the chance, Blake let herself observe Yang uninhibited – it was often hard to catch her distracted like this. Being able to see more than the average human at night had its advantages, but she had to remind her brain that she shouldn’t stare for too long, no matter how much she would have liked to. Blake could have sworn she caught Yang’s eyes reflect a trail of stardust that flickered by in the dark sky.

Proving she wasn’t insane, Yang quietly asked her if she had seen the shooting star.

“Yeah, I did.” Convinced that the universe was intent on teasing her temptations, Blake tore her eyes away before she dug an even deeper hole and fell right in; pining after someone she couldn’t have – that was a very bad idea, and she needed to stop and move on.

“Not that I mind,” Blake tugged on borrowed long sleeves to keep her fingertips warm, “but you’ve been out here a while.”

“I was just thinking about some things, lost track of time, I guess.”

Blake found Yang’s answer too vague to be of any help. “And…are these things bothering you?” She asked an equally vague question, hoping that Yang would bite and play ball with her.

The blonde did bite, but immediately threw the ball back in to Blake’s corner. “Do you want the long answer, or the short answer?”

“Either one is fine.”

“Short answer, yes. Long answer…” Yang paused to think briefly. “Uh, hell yes.”

Despite being struck with the desire to be able to try and fix Yang’s problems, Blake was well aware she was terrible with problem solving; even if she knew what the issue was. There was not much she could do but be empathetic.

“I’m not going to tell you to confide in me, since that’d make me quite the hypocrite. I also don’t have words of encouragement, because I know that some things are just frustratingly difficult to deal with. Talking about it might not solve anything, but it might help you feel better.” Blake had learned that over the past few months. Having someone new to trust was something she’d appreciated after losing many people dear to her heart. “I always feel a little lighter after opening up to you.”

She also had begun to feel a lot more than just lighter; more than what was strictly platonic, when Yang had responded so well to all her history. Her brain, trained by many years of White Fang gospel, rejected those feelings so vehemently. She battled with the confliction that she continued to grow more attached to Yang every time they were alone, especially as of late – her drunkenness on New Year’s Eve had shown cards that she had tried so hard to keep to her chest.

Convinced enough by Blake’s answer, Yang spoke again. “Do you ever have a problem that should be easy to deal with, like, the answer is right in front of you…”

Blake felt a shiver that she would blame on the cold, not on how Yang seemed to be reading her mind.

“…but something is just making it so much more complicated than it needs to be?”

If only you knew, Blake thought. Instead of saying that, though, she tried to be more helpful. “I think that if the answer is easy enough, you should say to hell with whatever is making it so complicated.”

“I think my attitude is rubbing off on you, Blakey,” Yang’s shoulder bumped slightly into Blake’s, their bodies in much closer proximity than before.

A simple thank you would have sufficed, but Yang loved to use that infernal nickname. Blake rolled her eyes. “Oh, drat. I don’t think they’ve found a cure for sunny-little-dragon-itis.”

“Well, I’m glad there’s no cure for your sass. I love it when-”

“I’m feisty. I know,” Blake cut in, as if finishing Yang’s sentence for her would alleviate the constrictions in her chest she knew she would get from the often-stated compliment.

Yang stretched her legs and slowly stood from the ground, briefly swiping any dirt from her behind before reaching a hand down for Blake to help herself up with. “Taking my clothes, giving me advice, and finishing my sentences. What did I do to deserve you?”

Blake, feeling much too embarrassed to worsen her erratic heartbeat and warm cheeks with a real answer, parroted Yang’s response from earlier once she was upright. “Do you want the long answer, or the short answer?”

The laughter that it elicited from Yang, along with the fact that she hadn’t released Blake’s hand from her own, served as the final push over the edge.

Oh, yes, Blake was falling for this wonderful human, and she had no way of stopping it.

Notes: Song: 'Sleepin'' All the delay for this was about 80% in my control, my bad. Most of what I had written for a long time seemed filler-ey (maybe it still reads that way, idk) and felt like I was taking two steps back with their relationship with only one step forward to make up for it. I hope it turned out alright! P.S. see how many references to voice actors of characters you can spot, I put a few in! *wink* Also, I figured people would be watching RWBY though, and wouldn't miss me that much lmao. Hope y'all have been enjoying Volume 5! I certainly have. I post all my thoughts and episode 'reviews' on my personal tumblr. Any updates on my writing progress can be found on my writing tumblr. here's hoping they fuckin mention Blake in the episode that's about to come out!!also I know the real months are almost catching up with my story timeline and I hope real time doesn't get ahead of me! comments will help encourage me <3 thank you for reading!

[little-blue-bi-blog]

Moving In

dream daddy au, bbs

__

Tamara Fong, teenager, daughter of Evan Fong and soon-to-be high school graduate. She wasn't adopted, he had settled down with a sweet woman.

About a year before they were going to move, something had come up. Angelise Fong, married to Evan Fong, had to rush off. She was a police officer and apparently they had found a body of what appeared to be a killer - boy, they were wrong. It was one of her ex-boyfriends, and he had gotten word of the marriage of her and Evan. He had dealt with it for months, then pulled the trigger. Every guy that she had gone to investigate with agreed, "You should have given him a chance." They didn't know that she had dated him, but he became abusive and demanding, her husband was the opposite. He yelled because he always played video games.

After Evan had heard of what happened, he went down to the station. He and Tamara both. They started blaring "Turn Down For What" and jamming, soon the police realized who they were and went out to laugh.

And now here they were. Moving into a new house, one without the memories, one without Angelise. Evan wasn't too sad, he missed her immensely, however. Both him and Tamara looked at the new house as they approached, grinning.

Tamara looked at Evan. "New house, Dad! You excited?"

"I have to make NEW friends, Tam, I'm ecstatic," Evan replied with a hint - well, more like a fuck ton - of sarcasm in his voice. He looked around. "Maybe they have a coffee shop around here. That'd be nice."

"They do! I checked, it's s'posed to be a really good one, too! Run by two guys, one Irish and.... a Hispanic-y dude? Who wrote this?"

"Bottom le-"

"Jonathan Denis. Jonathan Denis wrote this."

Evan shrugged and unbuckled, opening his door. "He sounds adorable. Any pictures?"

"Jeez, Dad, you sure you're completely straight?"

"I'm bi, we've been over this. Your mother knew when she married me."

They both got out completely, grabbing a few bags (including one from Chipotle), and went to the front door. Evan unlocked it and pushed it open, a clean interior being revealed. "Oh my God, that's a neat fuckin' house! Look, Tyler!" A Southern accent with a hint of insanity spoke, laughing.

"Fuck off, Jon. Someone moved in."

"You have a nice garden! I have a kid too! A dog!"

Tamara gasped and dropped the bags, forcing me to put mine down and dragging me over. "We're the new family!"

"I need to unpack!"

Jonathan grinned and held out his hand. "I'm Jonathan, I live across the road, this is Tyler, he has a dog named Kino, and-"

"Jesus, calm down, Jon," Tyler interrupted. He smiled and put out his hand to Tamara. "I'm Tyler, I live down the street, you have a fuck ton of neighbors. Good luck with us. Oh, and if you'd like to, we can all grab our friends and go out! Coffee shop is actually run by someone in this place, too. They're cool. Kind of."

Evan laughed and shook Jonathan's hand, Tamara doing the same to Tyler. "Woah! Dad, this guy is huuuge," she whispered, Jonathan laughed and winked. "In multiple places I've heard." "What the fuck."

"Kelly said so!"

Evan nodded and glanced at the house across the street. Adorable blue house, sidewalk leading up, plenty of flowers, and a dog staring at us through the window. Jonathan turned and waved. "That's my Baby...."

"Dad. Dad. Dad, you've found a friend. Keep him for the dog."

Tyler waved. "Anyway, I need to get going, feel free to stop by whenever you see a ton of people, like, on Saturday or something. I'm having a party."

Jonathan nodded and waved at Tamara. "And don't worry about messes, they're normal for about half of us."

Everyone started to laugh, Evan took the time to examine Jonathan. He had a pair of black skinny jeans and a blue tank top, a pair of black sneakers as well. Tyler had on a wilder outfit, zebra stripe pants, white shirt with Wildcat printed across the front. White sneakers pulled it together.

Jonathan waved and went to start walking across the street, Tyler went to walk down the street.

Tamara looked at Evan and smirked. "They seem nice, riiiight?"

"I'm not going to date anyone at first sight, kiddo."

"But Daaaaad, I need someone before you go to college! Wait... I... I think I messed up..."

Evan laughed and went back to the front door, picking up all of the bags. He walked inside. "Tamara, something about coffee?"

"Father, please, you know me."

He rolled his eyes and set down the bags, grabbing his wallet. He nodded towards the street. "Come on, then. Coffee at that-"

"It's called.... The Coffee Potato? What even is that name?"

"Isn't one of the people, like, Irish?"

Tamara shrugged as she followed along. "Possibly, Pops. Guess we'll never know." They pointed out little things as they walked, spotting a man with the top of his hair dyed blue, a man yelling because of a game, two women walking a brown toy poodle, and a man getting out of a truck.

Although they saw plenty, it only took them about ten minutes to get to the coffee shop. It was a nice size, although no one was really in there from what they could see. Tamara almost immediately ran in, Evan tapping away on his phone.

Tamara looked a lot like her mother. Short hair dyed purple, however. Small body but big heart.

A lanky man walked from the back. "Hello! I'm David, I co-own this place," he said happily, clapping and waving. He had an Irish accent that made him sound a lot happier. A short Hispanic man ran after him.

"David! I told you to watch the brownies!" "Sorry, Lui..." David slipped off a brown apron, showing his Rick and Morty tee shirt and all of his black jeans. He pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "Cute hair."

Tamara smiled. "Thank you."

Lui cleared his throat. "I'm Lui, David and I stay down the street, weird looking house."

Tamara held out her hand. "I'm Tamara, this is my father, Evan. We live across the street from Jonathan." Both Lui and David burst into laughter. "Fockin' hell, you don't know how he is? He's really gay, gayer than Craig!" "I'm bisexual," Evan mumbled, both the others stopping. David picked up Lui.

"We are too, he's just..... it's the way he acts. It's hilarious." Tamara laughed and nodded. "He seems like it."

Lui motioned towards the counter. "I'm guessing you two actually wanted coffee?"

Tamara and Evan nodded. "I'd like a cappuccino, she'd like a-" "Same thing, please," Tamara interrupted.

Lui nodded and ran off to make their order, David looking outside. "It's gettin' late, can I go home to Joe and Tony?" "No, Nogla, you can't." Evan tilted his head, David knew the question too well and answered quickly. "It's my nickname. Most people call me David, though, he calls me Nogla because he thinks it's cute and 'fits my personality'."

Tamara grabbed Evan's hand and dragged him off to a table, sitting down. "Really? Nice! My friends call me Tam, or Galaxy." Evan looked at her. "Really? Hm."

Lui rushed back out and set down the coffee. "Woo! Record time!"

"Good job, Shortie." "I can lift you, David. Try me." He pat the top of Tamara's head before rushing off to the back.

David smiled. "He wants a new video game so he's working extra hard." "That's what he is," Evan mumbled, smirking. Tamara flicked his head. "No sexual innuendos, father." "How about we go get the dogs and go to the park? It seems like it'd be fun," David suggested, everyone agreed. Except for Lui. He screeched and ran to David, jumping into his arms.

"'Nother spider?" "It's huge!"

"Like me?"

"Fuck yourself, David! But go kill it!" David giggled and set Lui down before going to the back.

When we actually did get the dogs and went to the park, David sat beside Tamara, both on the ground, and started to pet Joe and Tony.

Until Evan got hit in the head with a ball.

A man with red hair rushed up. "Oh my God, I am so sorry, my kid kicked the ball and he is so freaking strong," he explained, Lui looked up. "Calm down, Brian. Knowing your kid, he liked doing that. Isn't he around eighteen?"

"...... he's eight." "Close enough!"

A small boy walked up and waved. "I'm Jake."

"Jacob, go talk to-"

"Cute kid," Tamara said with a small wave. Jacob blushed and shrugged.

Evan put out his hand to Brian. "My name is Evan and that is my daughter Tamara, we just moved in not too long ago."

"We still have to meet a lot of people!" Tamara nodded and rubbed her eyes. She gasped. "My eyeliner! It was perfect!"

A laugh came from behind us before a dog ran up. A dalmatian.

Tyler ran up. "Kino, no!" A blonde woman followed, still giggling. "I feel you, kid......" Tyler looked at us. "Hi. I know you." "Hi, Tyler."

"Brian." "Tyler, be nice," the woman whispered.

"Kelly, please."

The conversation continued on for a bit, then everyone split up and went home. Evan and Tamara spent a bit to finish putting together furniture, only about a bookcase and a chair.

When they were finished, they simply plopped onto the couch and turned on the television. Family Guy was on, surprisingly.

"Doesn't it come on later?" Tamara asked quietly, only earning a small shrug from her father.

"Doesn't matter..... I love you." "Love you too, Dad."

xxx - little_blue_bi

[helenhuntingdon]

endgame thoughts & feels !!!

Im first thoughts so anyone who EVEN accidentally clicks on read more and doesn’t want to see spoilers even v accidentally so first they will actually read about my bladder rather than see spoilers

I STFG IRL I CAN GO MORE THAN 3 HOURS W/O NEEDING TO PEE, LIKE THIS HAPPENS REGULARLY??

BUT AS SOON AS I SIT DOWN IN THE CINEMA I NEED TO PEE!! I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO NOT PEE FOR 3 HOURS EVER IN A CINEMA, I CAN JUST ABOUT MAKE IT TO THE END OF A 2 HOUR FILM

AND THEN EVERY SINGLE FILM I’VE WATCHED IN THE CINEMA, KNOW THAT I NEEDED TO PEE FOR HALF OF IT AT LEAST

(LBR WE ALL KNOW I BOUGHT DIET COKE BC I’M A FUCKING IDIOT NEVER AGAIN WILL DIET COKE AND ITS LAXATIVE CAFFEINE TOUCH THESE LIPS)

so anyway

I did not have a gr9 cinema experience bc of fucking english children behind me (I had 3 hours also to decide that english children are particularly the worst, their parents will never just tell them to shush)

3D glasses wearing also is just distracting, maybe bc I don’t wear glasses, or bc they’re just dark? but lbr they put it out 3d first so anyone who wants to watch it w/o getting spoiled will HAVE to watch it in 3d and spend more money UGH

saw aladdin trailer though and tbh I can’t believe ppl’s outrage was over will smith when that was the least bad thing about it come on??? not bc it’s bad otherwise but it looks dull, like all these remakes are uninteresting af

*takes a pee break now*

okay actual film!!!:

- even though he’s really not my fave and Idc like most the time I’m glad there was a clint barton arc bc otherwise it’s just ridic he’s been one of the avengers for yearssssss but hardly had a sl except for us finding out he’s married to linda cardellini lucky bastard

- carol’s haircut made me gayer   so gay

- (was natasha’s red and blonde hair supposed to be like a mess or was it supposed to be like ~style in 5 years?)

- and yeah one of the only things I knew about the film was there would be some gay   and I am glad of that

- but as soon as I saw the hulk in knitwear in my heart I knew the hulk should absolutely 100% be the most gay!!! especially as they drew a line under him and natasha thank god (mark ruffalo would love to be a gay hulk the woke bastard we all know it)

- so anyway headcanon hulk is dating that gay guy

- it’s practically canon to me tbqh they just couldn’t fit it in (or I’d have peed myself)

- Thor was me in a half-apocalypse - kill someone, get drunk, grow a beard

- Tilda Swinton was there being embarrassing... obvs I didn’t see the Doctor Strange film (did anyone???) so I didn’t have to SEE that but then they were like eh no one cares about the thing everyone was calling racist then right? and put that racism in an avengers film THANKS (and then a japanese man got randomly brutally killed NICE)

- I also haven’t seen GotG or Antman films or that Spiderman film lol so there’s so much to do w/ GotG scenes I don’t understand (my pee break was in their stuff) but I’m glad Nebula and Gamora were in this the most though the Gamora stuff was still a mess and the time travel stuff w/ that??? fucking confused by it BUT I liked the Antman stuff and the trailer for the new Spiderman film looks good so maybe I’ll watch those!

- is Gamora back to dead now what happened to Nebula should I have paid more attention or were these genuinely confusing things? Im it was 3 hours I can’t remember what happened to ppl I’m least interested in

- RIGHT the scene then I loved the most perhaps was Thor and his mother??? I wouldn’t have expected this Idk but when Frigga called him a failure... and it was like harsh lol but mother b like that - but then she was like bc we’re all failures ;; and Idk I find that a lot more comforting than someone telling me I’m not a failure... rather than the truth of ofc I’m a failure but we all are and always will fail at things in life! that was fucking philosophical

- cap said ass lol

- the bucky mentions being like shook were like aw wow

- but then also peggy I love her so much seeing her even was ;;

- but actually then did make me mad but not for everyone else’s reasons but bc I loved agent carter ffs!!! and seeing peggy and jarvis then was like   but we don’t know what happened between agent carter and those scenes ffs??? and how did howard go from being dominic cooper to john slattery in that time like wow disappointing lmfao

- benny cumbers had like one line and all I could think @ it was his american accent is shit

- and then the srs stuff~~~

- the natasha and clint scene was then the most emosh thing about the film for me then like a seriously underdeveloped rship but you knew they were gonna fight over which one of them got o do that and I think, as the character who had the least left to give, it was the right one

- and of course it was the other character’s time to go as well like I expected it earlier even I would’ve been annoyed if he didn’t die lol sorry not bc I h888 so much bc it’d be the right time?? you can’t just keep milking a character until he’s a useless caricature he needs to have an ending

- thor’s ending was vaguey I thought he might go after jane I guess natalie weren’t interested though

- but valkyrie god!!! king she is the future

- hulk had like no end so will he still be in it

- the closure for hulk should’ve been he’s gay okay hear me out he’s always had the inner turmoil he’s always had two sides at war w/ himself then he accepted both and is both okay actually that sounds bi hulk is bi

- so yeah then steve also had to have an ending and lbr I was expecting him to die so even if I shipped steve and bucky 5ever I never thought that’d happen even though that’s bc I thought he’d die lmfao (I guess he will now~ at some pojnt~) but the ending was nice, Im it ended on a nice music and it was a happy ending???

- (I’m still mad tbh at not enough fucking peggy and Im sharon carter just ceased to exist I guess)

- other than a couple of sad bits it was predictable and a happy ending and that’s exactly what I want ffs except w/ some unpredictableness obvs!!!

- sam!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will love captain america 5ever whomever he be!!!!

- so then my biggest issue was actually where was more captain marvel??? thank god they didn’t make carol str8 I guess at least she looked gayer, fucking baby steps????????

- and wakandas ffs duh where were they all sobs Im the wakandas and carol are THE most badass lmfao but okay

- like bless the carol seen like peter like but how will you get over there carol lol um she can literally just fly over there easily come the fuck on but then all these women had to help her and carol just looked all ok awk I could just fly over there but this is nice Im I won’t ruin the movie’s girl power scene thx yall

- but anyway they are all the fucking future ;; I wish there was more of that and more hints of what to come but it was an end to old heroes obviously

- the new heroes gotta be gay though and bi all over the place

- hulk is an lgbt icon, to me and me only, thank you and goodnight