#or to make some kind of progression from the most cringe-worthy to normal works

[helenapsent]

What's that trend of yours called...

Fine, I'll call it a "progression scale" or "years of work" I used to draw in my desk every freaking day, but then 21 started and….. the bird's tired, the bird's burned out in college, so-- -now burn out at work, but still drawing (not in a desk)0)) )

[thisisawesomeness1825]

oops, i (fake) love you, ch. 11

xi. Piper

Guilt is such a sad feeling, Piper thinks, as she watches Percy make sad glances towards the cafeteria doors, like he's half-expecting Annabeth will magically appear and smile at him. To be fair, Piper had only meant to keep Percy safe and away from harm (the blonde's name is literally a red warning in itself). But all Piper did was to worsen the situation, and possibly cause the break-up of a probable genuine relationship of one of her closest friends. So of course, Piper feels guilty.

"Do you really think they'd break up?" Piper asks their group, once Percy has left for class.

"Break up only happens when they're together in the first place," Rachel comments. "It's probably just a fraud."

"I don't know, but Percy seemed really sad."

"He's probably just good in acting," Grover comments sheepishly. "Or probably not."

"But what if they're really together?" Piper says. "I'm feeling loads of guilt now. Percy has been uncharacteristically quiet this morning."

"Maybe it's a facade. You said so that they looked awkward during the dinner," Leo says.

Jason shrugs. "They looked pretty genuine to me."

"Speaking of genuine," Grover tries to say while munching on an enchilada. "Juniper saw them together."

"Who?"

"Percy and you-know-who, duh." Grover takes a big sip of his milkshake. "She said she saw them getting out of the janitor's closet. Looking flustered."

Both Rachel's and Jason's eyes widen—totally not expecting such a turnaround of events. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I know! I didn't believed it at first because it was really unlike Perce, but I think Juniper is honest, I swear. You-know-who even told her not to tell anyone about it, but apparently, she trusts me."

"Well, she's not gonna trust you now," Rachel comments as she turns back to her food.

"Oooh!" Leo exclaims and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Look who's now getting some."

Piper shakes her head exasperated. "Can we stop referring to Annabeth as 'you-know-who'? She has a name and it will not kill you to say it."

"Uh-uh, it totally can," Grover supplies.

Piper glares at him. "Not helping, Grover."

"Maybe we should just wait it out," Jason says. "I mean, if we do something now, we might make it worse. Let's just wait for Percy to come to us if he wants to say anything about it."

"That's sensible," Rachel comments.

"That's actually a smart idea, Jason," Piper says. The blonde slinks back to his seat; cheeks flushed. "I'm glad at least one of us makes sense."

Annabeth

True to his word, Percy does try his best. If during the first few days of their fake dating, he's been nothing but an awkward and a blushing mess, he's certainly showing up a new side of him. A side that's probably more confident and well, more boyfriend material.

Not that she's swooning or anything (nothing can make her swoon, ever), but Percy looks more put together now. He no longer flinches when they hold hands, and now he's started initiating some changes to their fake relationship. One example is when he started coming over to her house in the mornings so they can carpool together to school ("Saving fuel is saving the environment, Annabeth. So, we're carpooling.") And just recently, he began walking with her to her classes like some dork (which earned amused glances from the students who were used to seeing them bicker like there's no tomorrow).

It first happened on the third day after they have both reconciled and declared a temporary truce. She's just finished putting her books and picking up her homework from her locker when Percy sidled up on the locker next to her.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey yourself," she replied, and turned to look at him. They were certainly doing better now compared to last time when they were still fighting like they were in a screaming match. And while they have adjusted to each other enough to tell knock-knock jokes (like acquaintances, not friends), there are still some lulls of silence when they have both nothing and too much to say.

Her reply drew a chuckle out of him. "Are you finished arranging your books for the day?" he asked.

"Yep. Unlike you, I suppose."

Percy crossed his arms in front of him. "Oh, I actually finished it awhile ago."

The thought was so absurd she actually snorted. The sound made the end of his lips twitch, like he's trying his hard not to laugh. "Really? I'm debating whether to ask you how you did that, but I'm afraid I already have an idea."

He shrugs in his most carefree way. "Y'know, just dump some stuff and see if it fits. Bam!"

Still the good old Percy. "I knew it was a crazy idea."

"Well, it works for me. Saves the time as well."

"For now," Annabeth commented. "That dump and bam thing you do? It will bite you in the ass sooner or later."

"Guess I just have to run fast so it can't chase me," he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes. A few years older and he still hasn't gotten over that.

She scanned over the hallway and noticed that it's still pretty empty, save for a few students loitering around. Understandably so since they are always 20 minutes earlier than the rest of the school.

With eyebrows raised, she looks back at him. "Is that the only reason you came to bother me today?"

"Oh, that? I'm just waiting for you," he said casually.

"Waiting for me? Why?"

"So we can walk to class together."

His reply stopped her short. What is he up to? "O...kay," she said slowly. "Where'd you get this idea?"

"Nothin' really."

"Really."

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, like the next words are going to embarrass him for lifetime. "It's just I've always seen Beck and Silena walk together to their classes. And I think we could be a lot more convincing if we do the same? I mean, just the other day, Silena asked me why she has never seen us together. I have a feeling she's now getting suspicious," he whispered. "It's really scary."

She nodded. "We better not have the school gossip snooping on us."

"Right on that."

They now begin walking towards their first class, which is mythology. And even though they're not holding hands, they were still walking quite close together.

Percy said to her, "Besides, I figured it wouldn't be too bad. Standing this close to me? This is like every girl's dream."

"A nightmare you mean."

"A nightmare is when you don't get to spend time with me," he said with a cheeky grin.

Annabeth stopped and pretended to gag. "Gah, I think I'm choking."

"You're crazy."

"Says who."

He just smiled and kept his hands in his pockets. A moment later, he nodded to her shirt. "That shirt looks nice on you."

"What? This shirt?" she asked, as she looked down on the plain grey shirt she pulled this morning. She hadn't given thought much about it, seeing as she's in a rush earlier.

"Yeah. It brings out the grey in your eyes."

"Oh, thanks."

"But I'd rather you wear mine," he said.

Her world stopped. That's just—

That's just plain bleh. Probably the sorriest line he could ever think of (except for the 'you make me wet' one, nothing beats that yet). But one thing Annabeth is sure of, he better stop with those cringe-worthy lines.

After a beat, Percy turned to her, clearly bubbling with excitement. "So, how's about that for flirting?"

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard."

"But it was nicer than the last time!"

"Yep, because those pick-up lines don't deserve to exist."

He pouted at her in annoyance. "I don't know what kind of swords you eat for breakfast, because damn, those words are sharp."

"I'm not actually a sword person. I prefer knives."

"Yeah? Good thing you didn't ran out of murder weapons."

"Ha-ha-ha," she deadpanned.

"Ha-ha-ha."

Annabeth shoved him. "Shut up. You know what's a good idea? Burn those pick-up lines. They are an abomination."

"Yeah? And here I thought I was making progress," he said. "Until you so mercilessly pointed it out, you heartless woman."

"You're just a big baby." She turned to him with a smile. "But seriously, you're off to a good start. These things you're doing lately are good. And yeah, cool off with the lines."

"Oh, thanks." He grinned at her. "Wow, you're now warming up to me. Just a little more, and I'll make you swoon."

"Ugh. I take back everything that I said. You're horribly confident for you own good."

"No take backs!"

"Whatever."

So yeah, they'd already started carpooling to school, walking to classes together, and holding hands. It's not much, but they're getting close to convincing the normal people. The school gossip Silena had also stopped her questioning and she now just drones on how interesting their love story is (always quoting 'Romeo and Juliet', as if Annabeth wants to be associated with such tragedy). Anyway, despite going through a rough start, Annabeth thinks they're doing pretty good. They just have to keep the act until Percy improves enough to make Rachel notice him. Which will probably take some time (keeping him away from pick-up lines is battle she is yet to win). So yeah, Annabeth Chase is doing the world a favor by fake dating Percy Jackson (and saving them the trouble of hearing those pick-up lines).

[itsswimmingtragedycollection]

The Dumpster Fire that is ‘The Order’

First of all, why is his show labeled as a horror? My humble guess is that it was intended for younger audiences?? I genuinely wanna know. Because, even if it was for teens, some blood and a few dead bodies does not a horror make.  Secondly, what the fuck? And I truly mean that.  I mean, the idea itself doesn’t sound bad at all. A college student joins a secret society and finds out his supposedly evil dad is the head of it? He’s also in a werewolf club that fights that same secret society? Sign me tf up. But the execution just takes a really weird turn.  From the get go, you kinda aren’t sure if the show wants to be takes seriously or not. And that question is never answered. Literally in the opening scene the letter changes from ‘we regret to inform you’ to ‘congratulations’ in front of Jack’s eyes and he has absolutely no reaction whatsoever to that peculiar development, which kind of screams ‘not to be taken seriously’ similarly to the whole ‘My evil dad killed my mom so naturally I’m gonna join a secret society, become someone important and powerful and eventually use that power to fight him.’ Who on earth plots a revenge along those lines? But then a second later, the plot falls back in the supernatural drama category.  To top it all off there’s a whole lot of ‘woke humor’ which most of the time comes across as cringe worthy edginess we’re all happy we outgrew after HS.  But, even if you could somehow get pas the not-so-subtle jumps from complete absurdity to realism, there’s nothing else to hold on to. No character, no relationship, no plot line we’re offered is strong enough to pull us in.  In fact. one of the most annoying things about The Order is that basically no character has a personality. I am 8 episodes deep (and I don’t intend to finish it because that’s how boring it is) and I still don’t know anything substantial about anyone. And can we take a second to just look at Jake’s relationship with Alyssa? What even is that? Are they flirting are they not, does he really like her or is she a means to an end, is she into him or his dad, why are they kissing and why does it look so uncomfortable, did they just cast two people with the least chemistry on purpose or is bad writing/directing? So many questions. If we draw a parallel between Jack’s progress with her and him being on board with the wolves, it makes even less sense. He needs how many episodes to decide to try and kiss her, but when it comes to dedicating your whole life to fighting bad magic, you go from ‘no way, you’re all insane, you made me kill an innocent man’ to ‘I pledge my life to the cause’ within two seconds.   Speaking of things that make no sense, I have to mention Jack’s ‘friendship’ with Amir. Don’t get me wrong, I get that we meet people and think to ourselves how that could grow into a beautiful friendship, but acting as if someone you just met is really your friend, and that odd flashback to like one beer they shared, when Amir was found dead, is just... I don’t even know what to say.  The Order as an organization is equally puzzling. Who are they? Why are they? What’s the purpose, what’s the goal, the mission? I can’t settle for just a group of magic users who follow strict hierarchies but kinda all look out for themselves and don’t really like each other that much. And occasionally sacrifice goats. And change people’s memories.(And they can revive a golem and ask it who made it, but the fact that Jack, who found out about magic like yesterday, sabotaged their spell somehow goes right over their magical heads. ) But essentially it’s for the good of the whole wide world.????????????? And the masks are what makes me think an 8yo came up with the whole concept.  If you thought the werewolf knights are any less confusing, think again. They hear noises when ‘bad magic’ happens and solve it by killing anything that moves. Heroes. Also, how do they know what they are supposed to do if they refuse to read anything? I mean, that’s not how a secret society, since that’s more or less what they are, works. Someone has to tell you, show you, teach you. Sure, you have the wolves inside you, but if you don’t know they speak a certain language, it’s fairly certain you don’t know a whole lot. And why is there only four of you? How can four knights take down an organization as big as The Order? Especially since their preferred method is violent murder, something that is not very subtle and does not go unnoticed for long, which basically ensures the rage of the entire Order falling on their heads before they even begin their so called mission. Once again: ????????????????? And what even does ‘bad magic’ mean? The term is so vague and abstract that I have a hard time understanding how can you form an organization that fights something barely defined. All magic can potentially be bad magic. What are the guidelines here? Help me comprehend.  The show also has a very odd relationship towards death. One can sort of ‘forgive’ the wizards and the wolves for being chill about it, but if someone was targeting and butchering people on your campus, wouldn’t you be at least a bit worried? We don’t see any students panicking, we saw one police officer, there were no measures taken by the college, unless you count turning Amir’s death into a bike accident. And just when you start getting used to being casual about it, Jack has a whole meltdown over killing someone the first time he turned. And then also his professor. But even that meltdown is not very convincing, since most of what he does is just screaming ‘I KILLED AN INNOCENT MAN!!!’ into the void, without a much deeper attempt to deal with that. Which is why I don’t get why the show even made an issue out of it.  I also don’t get Jack’s grandpa. Like not even a little bit. Because if you think about it, it’s not * that * unimaginable that a little boy would come up with the idea of joining a secret society to avenge his mother’s death, but it is * very * odd to imagine an old ass grown up who not only thinks it’s a good idea to direct your whole young life towards revenge, but encourages it to a point of making a detailed plan on how to do that, and basically spends your entire childhood grooming you to become a little rage fueled bundle of psychological damage. All of this is only scratching the surface of the mess that is The fucking Order, because the show is a giant entangled coil of nonsense and I barely knew where to start. It’s fair to say that the biggest buzzkill is failure to pick a direction and stick with it. You don’t have to look that close to see some of the influences. The biggest one being, obviously, The Magicians, followed by some Teen Wolf, there’s even elements from Scream Queens, a bit of Buffy, a pinch of the Craft, etc. Almost like someone decided to look up successful shows in the supernatural/fantasy/horror genre and just smash them all up together in hopes of making something appealing to the largest audience possible. Personally, as a * very big * fan of before mentioned The Magicians, I get the feeling that Netflix wanted to make something that could rival it, but better. Because TM is, dare I say so, one of the best, if not the best, shows of the decade. I honestly have not seen anything like it, that has the same platform, in literally a decade. If you have, please let me know. 

Whit the BDE, edgy, but in a good way, humor, strong political views, strong female characters, fun twist and turns that actually do manage to mix absurd with normal life in a magical, no pun intended, way, sexuality representation, but not in a ‘we just want to please the gays so they give us the views’ way, great male characters we wish we saw more of, compelling character development and so on. Tho the most likable aspect of the series is probably the take on overdone story lines, where they twist the narrative just enough for it to become actually relatable. We all are tired of super special chosen ones who save the world because they are soo special and specially chosen by gods to save the world and all the dumb boring unspecial people with their pure hearts and strong characters. And also find true love.  You see attempts at this within The Order on every turn, except that it doesn’t work nearly as well for them, precisely because they went for that AND MORE. More wouldn’t even be a bad thing if it was’t so all over the place that it just comes off as ‘WE WANT EVERYONE TO LIKE THIS, GIVE US ALL THE VIEWS, ALL OF THEM.’ I am very much inclined to think this is what happened, considering other stuff Netflix has put out there. (Mostly referring to endlessly stupid shit like YOU, which only has the intention of being controversial and attention grabbing, for the views. Tho they do have some fun shit too, don’t get me wrong.) So I guess what I’m trying to say is,  the though of making something like TM, is not a bad one,  I’m all for it, but you actually have to put a shit ton more imagination into it if you want it to work out. But that’s just my opinion.   

[mangled-dreams]

Something

Here is the final story for the Random Raffle winner @nerdyearthling7​ whom requested and Anti X Reader using prompts 15 and 22 of the most recent prompt list. Please, enjoy the newest tale: Something.

(15.  I’m sure that sounded different in your head, but please never say that again.

22.   He knew he was home when her(your) lips touched his.)

You cross your arms over your chest, watching Anti continue to argue with Wilford and Chase. You know this won't end well. Anti will get angry and fly off the handle. He'll brandish his favorite kitchen knife and try to stab Wilford because he looks similar to Dark then he'll go after Chase because he hates the bro-boy.

With a sigh you stand up and head over to the three men. You don't want them to start trying to kill each other and in the process hurting others around them...including you.

“... I will shove this so far up yer arse you won't walk straight for the rest of yer life.” You hear Anti say and it's obvious you came in at the wrong time. “I'll fook yer arse up.”

You cringe a little at his choice in words and say, “Anti, I'm sure that sounded different in your head, but please never say that again.” You watch his head snap around to you. You can see he didn't expect you to be right next to him.

“What are you doin' here?”Anti asks as Wilford and Chase exchange looks behind your back, not missed by Anti.

“I came to save the public from seeing three idiots try to kill each other.” you respond glaring at Chase then Wilford. “I think it's time everyone heads home for the night. Especially you, Wilford. I worry about you accidentally shooting someone.” you say sternly.

“Well, my dear lovely Y/N, if you worry so deeply for me, accompany me back to my humble abode.” Wilford says leaning into you. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“No. Do you even realize how angry Dark will be if you brought anyone without his permission into that manor?” you ask seriously. You know first hand how unpredictable Dark can be at times. Your hand creeps to the raised scare on your left clavicle. The motion doesn't go unnoticed. You regard Dark like anyone with a brain should, with extreme caution.

Anti glares at the other two, warding them away from their own desires to comfort you. Neither make a move towards you as he rests his hand on your shoulder. Anti doesn't say anything before transporting the pair of you to a pub he enjoys. One that reminds him of his homeland and one far away from Chase and Wilford.

You both appear in a corner booth dedicated and always open for Anti. You don't say anything as your mind still lingers on the accident that lead to your scare. At least, you think looking at Anti, the demon before you is pretty much what you see is what you get.

Anti watches you with a guarded expression. You can see he wants to talk but something is holding him back. You can make your guesses as to what holds the demons from the green lagoon, but without asking you'll never truly know. Part of you—a very large part, wants to believe he wants to ask you out, to ask you to be his partner in crime, but the other part—the one you don't really like to listen to tells you otherwise.

“You look thin.” Anti finally says when your gaze drifts away to look at the wall of photographs of Ireland and it's majesty.

You bring your gaze back to Anti. You know this is his way of saying he's concerned for you. “Thank you?” you respond in a tone he recognizes as you teasing him. “I'm fine, Anti, just a little tired. It's been some time since I've gone on a vacation, but what can I do? I have to keep after the lot of you.” you say softly, letting your gaze drift off to look around the pub and it's patrons.

Anti doesn't exactly know to react to your admission. Usually you put up a front of confidence and calm, but this is just Anti. You feel more like yourself around him. “Sorry, that was rude.” you say after a few minutes of silence. “I like working with you and the others.” you add softly.

“Do you?” he asks seriously, almost challenging you defend yourself.

Your gaze reaches his eyes, his beautiful green blue eyes. You smile genuinely at Anti. “I enjoy your company, Anti. Even when you're in a mood.” you tell him truthfully. You see a slight color tint his cheeks in the dim light before your attentions are taken away by the young red head standing at the edge of your table.

“Anti, would you like the usual?” the red head you know as Red asks. You look away from the obvious display of interest she has in Anti. You force yourself not to roll your eyes as she shamelessly flirts with Anti right in front of you.

It's not that she's flirting with Anti that irks you. Anti is attractive and –when the mood strikes can be very irresistible, but its the simple fact he's here with you. You may not be on a date, but do you not look like someone Anti would take on a date?

Catching your reflection in a well cleaned photo frame, you quickly compare yourself to Red and feel lackluster. This is why you can never tell Anti how you really feel about him. It's not the fact he's not exactly human, or the amazing powers he holds, nor is it the way he stuns you with his amazing good looks, no... it's you. You feel less than worthy of Anti's time or attention. You feel...you sigh, this isn't the time to be having these thoughts.

“Anti, I'll be right back.” you mutter slipping from the booth and head to the bathroom. You don't need to actually use the toilet, you just need to get away from Anti and Red's flirting. Walking into the single use bathroom you shut the door and lock the door. Your heat feels heavy in your chest as you walk to the sink and turn on the water.

You already know Anti will start drinking his ale, you'll humor him and take a few sips of something that tastes like dirty dishwater, tell him you're calling it a night, and walk home alone. Anti will stay at the pub until the early morning hours having fun with Red and probably end up at her place.

Squeezing your eyes close you push the thoughts again once more. Why you do this to yourself is a mystery...well, no... it's not. You do this because in a way it makes Anti happy. He enjoys your company for the most part. You rarely see him so at ease as when you're around. Even the others remark about it.

You play off their kind words because you know it upsets Anti in a way when they tease you. Any time the others start getting too close, teasing you about him, Anti seems to flip his moods like he's an electrical switch. So, to keep the peace you avoid getting too close to anyone in particular.

“Oi, you alright in there?” Anti asks slamming his fist against the solid wooden door. The sound makes you jump, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Y-Yes! Can't a girl use the restroom in peace?” you respond trying to force your body into a relaxed state again.

“You've been in there fer ten minutes. I thought you'd fallin' in. Come on out and share some spirits.” Anti coaxes. You sigh, give an uneasy chuckle and leave the bathroom to find Anti standing against the opposite wall from the restroom door. You glance away from him awkwardly.

“You just like chilling outside the lady's restroom?” you ask trying to pretend everything is okay. Anti doesn't respond to your question, instead he take you by the shoulder and walks you back to the table where there are a few pints of some dark amber colored beer and a slim glass of something blue. You look up at Anti with question.

“What's that?” you ask pointing to the blue water.

“It's for you.” Anti says urging you into your seat again. You scoot into the booth and stare at the glass then to Anti.

“What is it?” you ask again. “Just telling me that it's for me does not answer my question.” you add watching his smirk and lift a pint to his lips.

“Taste it.” he urges with the same smile before taking a long drag of his beer. You sigh and take the glass into your hand, looking it over again before pressing it to your lips and take a tentative sip.

It loaded with alcohol, you can taste that instantly, but there is also a slight fruity after taste which is quite enjoyable. You set the glass down and look at Anti. If you're not mistaken he looks like he's waiting for something. “This is really good, Anti. What's it called?” you ask take another sip, waiting for his response.

“Sexy bitch.” Anti tells you, watching as you gasp as you drink. It doesn't go over well. Slamming the glass down you cover your mouth, coughing as you struggle to continue to live. Drowning in alcoholic beverage is not how you want to die.

“W-what?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly as you look at Anti through the tears in your eyes. He looks concerned for you. “That's seriously the name?” you ask for clarification.

Anti chuckles, leaning back into his seat again once you're breathing normally again. “Yes, I knew it'd suit you.” He adds with a gleam in his eye you rarely see.

You want to question his intentions, but hold back your curiosity and instead take a slow sip of your drink again. You know you shouldn't read anymore into the drink he chose, but you can't help but wonder if he means anything more by it.

As the night progresses you find yourself laughing more freely and talking more openly with Anti. You'd shared a life long regret of yours, and earned one in return from Anti. You'd some how managed to shift your seating arrangement and find yourself cuddled up against Anti's side, his arms draped lazily around your shoulder.

Unable to help yourself, you lay your head in the crook of his shoulder. Your hand slowly turns the glass coated in droplets of water. You feel so at ease right now, so happy...

“Is'at so?” Anti asks startling you a little. You glance up at him in confusion.

“What?” you ask, your brows nearly touching. God, this man is so handsome.

Anti doesn't respond. He simply looks down at you with a gaze that makes you want nothing more than for him to kiss you, but you know it's not going to happen. “Com'on, we're dancin'.” Anti says taking you to the dance floor within seconds of the words leaving his mouth.

Your head spins at the sudden movement and you cling to Anti for dear life. When your head finally settles and you no longer feel like loosing everything in your stomach, you look up at Anti with curiosity. “You hate dancing.” You remember being at Wilford's weird throwback birthday party and asked Anti to humor you with a dance but he promptly declined.

“I don't like dancin' in front of others.” Anti responds keeping eye contact with you. You have to think about for a moment. You are in a fairly crowded pub.

“I call bullshit on that. We've been here so many times before and you've never asked, let alone just zipped me to the floor to dance.” You say, challenging his reasoning. You feel Anti's arm around your waist tighten a little.

“If ya didn't want to dance you should of said.” he tells you already pulling away.

You tighten your grip on his shoulders telling him not to go. “No, Anti, please, I didn't mean to make you upset, I just... this is nice. Thank you.” you say softly. You really don't want this moment to end. It's not often that Anti really touches you, not in weird or perverted ways, but just normal every day kind of ways. It's a rare treat when Anti actually gives you, or accepts one of your hugs.

Anti doesn't respond to your admission, simply opting to continue to hold you as you both sway to a song you know is by Mumford & Sons. It's not exactly a song you slow dance too, but somehow that knowledge is lost on you. At some point, more than likely due to the abnormally high amount of alcohol you've been consuming, you lay your head against Anti's chest, your arms sliding down his chest to rest at your eye level.

“Fallin' asleep on me?” Anti asks, chuckling. You feel his voice rumbles through your chest. You can't help the giggle bubbling in you.

“Me? No, never.” you say realizing just how tired you really are. “Actually, yes...I am starting to fall sleep.” You addend yourself before yawning.  You feel Anti chuckle and take you back to your booth.

Anti makes sure you won't fall out of the booth before going to the bar and paying his tab for the night with a card he took from Dark a few nights ago. He signs Dark's name, adding a few choice words before walking back over to you.

Anti helps you home. You've had plenty of nights that Anti hasn't seen you home, it's only when you've reached your alcohol limit that he ensures you make it back to your apartment. Unlocking your door you sigh, twist the knob, and give the door a quick shove. It opens flawlessly and you enter, flicking on lights as you go.

You drop your keys in a small crystal dish Dark had gifted you for your birthday a year ago before heading into your small cozy living room. Kicking off your shoes you toss your bag against the back of your couch on your way to your bed room already disrobing as you go. You follow the same pattern after each  night you retire after Anti takes you to the pub.

You have followed this routine so many times it sets you on edge when the door suddenly closes loudly. Jumping you spin around and see Anti standing in your apartment. Your face flames red when you realize you're without your blouse and Anti is standing in your apartment.

“Holy fuck, Anti! Why didn't you tell me to stop?” you shout dashing into your bed room to grab your night shirt. You hear Anti actually laughing in the living room. You poke your head out of the bedroom door your skirt still snug on your hips.

“I thought I'd crash at yer place t'night.” Anti says jumping over the back of your couch, his body almost floating through the air as you stare at him.

“What? Stay here? You never stay here, even when you're nearly black out drunk.” you say resting your hands on your hips.

Anti shrugs and settles into the cushions on our couch. “Tell me to go.” he challenges glancing at you. You glare back but don't say a word. If Anti wants to play this game, fine.

“Fine, but this is my house and after I change my clothes I'm watching a movie in here. You don't get a choice in what it is.” you say going back into your bedroom and close the door.

After a few minutes and a few trips into the kitchen you settle at the other end of the couch, a bowel of popcorn between the pair of you as you start up a classic Disney movie you've loved since childhood. Anti groans as the title comes across the screen. You laugh at his dismay.

“I warned you.” you tease happily, but already know you'll never make it to the end of the movie. You just really want to give back a bit of the frustration Anti gives you with his mixed signals and confusion actions.

“I know yer doin' this to annoy me.” Anti accuses. You laugh take a handful of popcorn and ignore Anti's complaints.

Repeats of you finding Anti seated comfortably on your couch begins to happen on an almost weekly basis. Not when you are expecting it, no. Anti seems to pop up in your house after a hard day. Ones where a few of the egos, or rather “personalities” are being overly needy and difficult.

“Anti? Are you here?” you ask entering your apartment and smell something delicious. Closing the door behind you, you remove your shoes and set your keys in the crystal dish and peek into your small dinning area to find a beautiful spread on your small square table.

You drop your bag next to the wall and look around for Anti. “Anti?” You call really needing him to explain this dinner. “Anti, are you here?” you call again peeking into the small bathroom then into your bed room for the man in question.

He's not in you room, but there is a elegant little black dress laid out on your bed. Deciding not to question it you close the bedroom door and change in the dress. As soon as you open the door back out to the living room Anti is standing there looking like he stole his clothing from Dark's closet.

You stand with your mouth gaped open in shock. “Wow... you look...really good. I always wondered what you'd look like in a suite. Now I do.” You say looking him up and down again. You can't stop from staring at at him.

“You don't look bad yerself.” Anti responds with a lopsided smile. You blush, looking away from Anti to the table behind him.

“What's the occasion?” You ask when Anti steps out of your path.

He looks to the table then to you. “You've been workin' so hard lately. Thought you'd like a nice meal.” Anti tells you, walking alongside you to the table.

“Where did you...”

Anti is quick to cut you off, telling you, “I made it.”

You stare in awe at Anti once again. You'd heard that Anti is more than capable to cook he just chooses not too for whatever reason. “Really? Wow, I...I feel honored.” You tell him, letting Anti seat you. You watch him move around to the other side and seat himself.

Within a few seconds of silence you quickly start up a conversation with Anti. Much like all your conversations they go from serious to ridiculous and back again within a few sentences. You enjoy these conversations. They allow you to see who Anti is as a whole rather than the persona he projects to everyone else.

You casually talk about your childhoods, Anti's very different from your own. He tells you about Ireland and just a tiny bit about his parents. You're engrossed in his history, engrossed in the fact Anti is letting you so far into his world.

You in turn tell him about your own hardships and difficulties. You tell him about your parents and friends, about your fears when you moved out of your parent's house. You share things you never thought you'd tell anyone.

“Don't laugh!” you snap as you laugh as well. “It's not that funny, Anti.”

“B-But you!” he can't even finish his sentence, too far gone to complete his thought.

You cross your arms over your chest, pouting a little. All you said was you'd like to Disneyland and do the princess makeover think they offer. After seeing it on THE BIG BANG THEORY it's been on your bucket list; and given who you work with, your life expectancy could be cut short at any time.

“Oh, stop, a bucket list is meant to be things people have always wanted to do before they bite the big one. It just so happens that one of mine is to dress up at Disneyland.” You tell Anti, defending yourself.

Anti slows to a light chuckle, his eyes trained on you. “Is that all a bucket list is meant to be?” He asks.

You shrug saying, “kind of. A large majority of people only complete their bucket list, or even start to do it just before you're dying. Like if a person has a chronic illness or a terminal disease that will end their life.”

Anti is silent for a time before asking you, “what else is on your bucket list?”

You think about it, your list isn't all that large. “Mainly just be happy. I guess spend a lot of my time with someone I love, maybe even visit Europe. The way you talk about Ireland, it really peeks my interest.” You shrug. “But I'll have to save up and get some time off before I can do all that.”

“Have you completed anything off your list?” Anti asks, watching you with a guarded expression.

You nod slightly, your head bobbing a little. “Yeah, I like to think so.” You tell him honestly. “I get to spend time with you.” You admit with a strong blush on your face. You keep your eyes down, but when you flick them up to look at Anti you can read the look of shock in his eyes.

“Me?” he asks not quite sure you're being truthful.

You nod smiling happily at him. “Have I done something to make you believe I'm lying?” you ask on a more serious note.

Anti shakes his head at you. “Am I someone you love?” he asks, and if you're paying extra special attention to his tone—which you usually are, he sounds a tad bit unsure about his own question.

You blush, looking away from Anti as you finally tell him, “yes, I love you, Anti. I enjoy your company, I think you're very attractive, but more than that, I love the way I feel around you. You make me happy.” You tell him, your voice low as you bashfully look at him.

“You do?” he asks, his gaze never wavering from your face. Shyness over comes you and you nod your head instead of use your voice. “Do you love Wilford or Chase, or Dark or...”

“Anti, please. Do you see any of them, hell, anyone else relaxing on my couch on a weekly basis? Do you see me let anyone else drag me to their favorite dive?” You bite your bottom lip before deciding to just go for broke. “If it's not obvious, I'm in love with you, Anti. Whether it's mutual or not.” you blurt out, sitting in the aftermath silence as he continues to just stare at you.

Minutes seem to tick by as you wait for Anti to respond to your outburst, to your confession of love. As the feeling that you've ruined everything slowly consumes your mind Anti moves. Well, he stands up from the table, his chair making an awful noise as it scraps across the floor. Without thought you hold your breath, watching Anti slowly walk across the small space to stand in front of you.

“Anti...I...”

He doesn't let you talk any further. Without warning you're standing, locked in his embrace as he tilts your head up to look into his eyes. “I'm holding you to yer words.” He tells you sternly before leaning into you, kissing you.

In all his years Anti had been searching for something to call his own, something that would ground him in his own living hell. He's known for a long time that you might hold that something in your grasp, that you are that something he needs, but even as he knew all this, coming to terms had been hard. He had so many others to compete against for your attention, for your affection. Sometimes he could read you, see that you held some sort of attraction to him, but you never acted upon that attraction. You remained just out of his reach.

He feared he'd lost you on multiple occasions, resorting to simply dragging you off into the pub he liked to call home when things didn't look to be in his favor. Like some neanderthal dragging an unwilling woman to his cave for his own perverse needs. He's more sophisticated than that, isn't he?

Pulling away from your lips Anti looks down at you. He sees everything he'd ever hoped to see in your face right now. The caress of your hand cupping his cheek fills him with hope. It spreads like fire in his chest to every nerve ending, every area of his body. Consuming him with peace.

For the first time he actually felt at peace. Like he's home...

You falter for words before hesitantly asking, “Y-you mean that you...”

“Yes.” Anti whispers kissing you once again and he knew that he was home with your lips touched his. This is his something, this is his reason; you. It'll always be you.

[rosepenwarrior]

A story of a single heart (testimony)

Prologue:

I was crowned "PRINCESS OF LOVE" twice in my life. The first one was when I was only 5 years old! It was at a some sort of pageant for kids in our barangay. While the second time that I got crowned was during our Hearts Day event at our church back in 2013. I was only 19 years old that time. I find it both strange and amazing, because I did not plan or expect to get crowned in the two times that I did. Like the first time was completely my parent's doing, entering me in the competition in the first place. I can't even remember the whole thing. The second was also a complete surprise! A little game was played to pick out the winner. We had to randomly pick a piece of paper that was actually half a heart. I can't remember the other details but apparently I got the winning piece. It's actually hilarious because I was the one who was put in charge to prepare the crown and flowers for whoever will win the title. Who knew that it was going to be for me? Anyway, I'm sharing this because it's quite amazing, right? I've only realized this recently, and I was honestly mind blown.

Grace to you reader! I have decided after much consideration to share the story of a single heart; with that single heart being my very own. I’ve also decided to use the term “single heart” instead of “single” or “singleness;” terms that I just find too used, because every time I hear it there’s this “poor you” or “poor me” kind of feeling that is somehow attached to it. Therefore, I decided to use a newer, more positive name for it.

Furthermore, I’m also writing this because I am entering a wedding season. A long one to be exact. It’s because my beloved sisters in Christ and some of my cousins are all engaged/about to be engaged, and are all lined up to be united in marriage. It’s honestly going to be one or two wedding a year starting this year! To add to that, I am also already booked as a maid of honor for two of those weddings (dream come true!), and hopefully a bridesmaid to the rest! If not, then to be a guest is as much of a privilege, too.

As the result of the wedding season starting also comes the rise of fascination and solicitude over people like me---single hearts. Mind you, I’ve been prayed for, interviewed, comforted, encouraged, etc. I appreciate every gesture though I find it quite amusing sometimes. Anyway, so that’s why I’m also going to try and address in this article some of the common questions and concerns thrown at me; hopefully, it would be an encouragement to all who reads this. Let’s start!

Past

I would like to begin with some stories from the past. Particularly back when I was not yet a born-again (referring to the biblical experience and not the denomination) believer. I want you to have an idea of how I was when it came to relationships. I have to warn you though that some of the things I’m going to share are a bit cringe-worthy. Two words, naïve and Christless.

I WAS OBSESSED WITH HAVING CRUSHES.

I had my first crush when I was only around 7 to 8 years old. His name was Hua Ze Lei from Meteor Garden (a popular Taiwanese drama). I can actually still see myself literally crying over the guy because I wanted to marry him so bad. It will also surprise you how many crush I had from that point up until high school.

Fast forward to high school, my first crush during my freshman year was a tennis player. I would ask one of my friends to stay with me after school to secretly watch him practice. It was my favorite time of the day!

There was also a time where I had a very silly brief fling with a foreign exchange student during our sophomore year. I even payed one of my friend 100 pesos for him to call that foreign student and make him talk to us. And boy did it worked! We became friends, we saw each other after class (in a group setting), and then when he left we still communicated over skype. Next thing I know, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes but left him in the air a few days after. There was no formal breakup, I just never went online again. It was because I got scared of the concept of being in a relationship. I didn’t want commitment; I just wanted the butterflies. But I am now very sorry of what I did to him, he was really a nice and sweet guy. I will never forget the time when he played for me a beautiful piece on the piano. I appreciate it more now than I did before.

The little rendezvous with that foreign student was not the worst thing I did. The worst was the time, out of my pure stupidity, I gave a handwritten letter consisting of a poem of confession to a guy that I had a crush on during my junior year. He was a senior and I was an idiot. The letter I made was so colorful and perfumed that it will shame every unicorns alive. My sister even pleaded with me not to give it but I still did. My friends supported me wholeheartedly, but I don’t blame them because we were all at the same level of foolishness back then. I cringe so badly to this day every time I remember it! I hope he burned it into ashes by now!

You might now be asking why on earth I acted that way to my crushes; well, I honestly wanted to show them that I cared. Even though I affirm that it was not love nor a proper affection but I really did care; even if it was at a very shallow and petty level. I cried over them, wished them well every day, and just really cared about them. Just to be clear though, I never went near any of them. I liked them but I’ve always preferred to like them from afar. When they start to get too close, I would literally freak out and just not want it anymore. They were my crush, but the moment they try to step out from that boundary I consider them as intruders. Besides, I was not that naïve to not realize that they only paid attention to me because they found out that I had a crush on them. Years after, I would find out that the reason for it was God’s preservation over me. If it weren’t for God’s preservation, I can only imagine what would’ve become of me if one of those pretty boys were successful to close in on me.

Present

Of course from the past we move on to the present. In this portion I’m going to share more of thoughts rather than memories. Let’s get into it!

I WENT THROUGH A PHASE OF HAVING NO INTEREST AT ALL.

When I became a believer I entered this completely opposite phase. From being obsessed with having crushes to absolutely growing apathetic at the whole idea of it. A shroud of indifference wrapped around me, and it came almost instantly. I got sober and just not interested anymore. I went through my college years having no crush at all. Although I still experienced admirations for a few, but it was never the same hype nor nature as it was back in my younger years. It was more of a “wow, they’re really good at what they’re doing,” rather than “I don’t know why but I just want to like him,” kind of admiration. Honestly, I did not go through any counseling, self-realization or had an experience other than my conversion that would have changed my heart about this issue. Come on, we all know how hard and how long it takes to break a habit but this particular one vanished like smoke.

In addition, I immediately learned of the “do not be unequally yoked” command, and I was more than willing to be committed to it. In fact, I was so committed that I did not only want to be unequally yoked but I also did not want to be yoked at all. I saw brothers in Christ and brothers alone. There was not even much effort from my part, it came naturally and I was not at all bothered by it. I never even mentioned it in prayer for the first few years of my walk in Christ.

THE DESIRE DID COME

The desire came gradually and inevitably. It came not because I finally started to like someone, but because I have grown in my understanding of love and marriage according to the bible. My favorite truth about marriage is that it is a picture of Jesus Christ’s relationship with His redeemed people (Ephesians 5:22-33). As a result, I’ve become more open to the idea of getting married but then again it is still too high of an endeavor for me to tackle full time. What I mean by that is if you ask me now if I want to get married, I’ll definitely say yes! But my answer will be limited to a yes. Simply because I am still growing in my understanding of marriage like in every other aspects of Christian life. And my progress, as I see it, is still in its very early stages. In other words, I desire to get married but I don’t know how to get married.

Besides, I’ve also understood that marriage is a gift just like singleness, and we all know that we are given different gifts according to God’s good purpose (1 Corinthians 7:6). No matter what happens, every saint is a bride---the bride of Christ (Isaiah 54:5). Likewise, every saint is entitled, in Christ, to fully experience love and marriage with or without a ring on their finger.

Lastly, I want to add that desiring marriage doesn’t automatically indicate discontentment. It’s unfair to think that single hearts are discontent when we desire marriage. But if desiring marriage creates in us a sense of discontentment then that’s where we need to slow down. Nonetheless, here’s little friendly advice to every concerned non-single people out there; it’s normal for us, single hearts, to desire marriage but please slow down with the assumption that we are either discontent or extremely lonely when we do so. Most of the time that is not the case. Also, don’t feel called by God to marry us off, as soon as you can, the moment you find out that we desire marriage. Don’t worry, we’ll survive. Blessed singleness, remember?

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

I’ve never thought that desiring marriage can get so complicated that there are days where it gets so close at ripping my mind apart. There are too many things to consider! From checking of motives, setting of standards, to anticipating and surrendering. Hard work, people! Hard work!

Let’s first talk about motives. Well, this is the main battle ground. One article is simply not enough to share to you how much God has dealt with me in the motive section. One thing I have learned that pretty much summarizes everything is the conviction that Jesus Christ ought to be the source, means, and end of everything---from our thoughts, words, works, endeavors, and desires; such as the desire to get married. If the end is not Christ then it is no prize, and if Christ is not the end then He is surely not the source nor the means also. That biblical principle is what God has been guiding me with in purifying my motives. Easier said than done, trust me. Thank God for His grace!

Furthermore, I highly recommend self-interrogation or introspection, whatever you may call it (Psalm 19:14). I do it all the time, but we need to make sure that we do it prayerfully and under the light of God’s word! Or else it might do more harm than good. One question that I always ask myself is why I want to get married. It’s so easy to answer, “For God’s glory!” or those other godly responses. While it can indeed be our genuine desire to obey and honor God with marriage, if we slide into complacency and lack vigilance, we might not notice selfish intentions creeping in. One good indicator is when we get impatient (I’m so guilty at this!). Desiring to honor God with marriage means we are willing to wait as He unfolds His will as to whether marriage is for us or not. Another red flag in our motives is when we grow to feel “incomplete,” (guilty again!) as if we need a husband to be to us and do to us what only God can be to us and do to us.

Consequently, we shouldn’t despair if our motives don’t change or get cleared up overnight or even months after. Sanctification requires a daily battle. Instead of feeling defeated, take it as an opportunity to put on the whole armor of God and go deeper in prayer. Alan Redpath once said that the conversion of a soul is a miracle of the moment, but the manufacture of a saint is a task of a life time (Philippians 1:6).

Now after motives, let’s move on over to standards! It’s actually funny because I was completely clueless at the beginning as to what kind of man I would prefer. It’s because I never really had a standard until I got saved. By the way, I am talking about a personal preference kind of standard because the scripture has already given some solid ones that everyone should apply. One is that the man or woman must be saved. As for my personal preferences (as guided by scriptures), I desire a godly man with similar convictions with mine. Like I want to know his heart for God, his convictions about marriage, family, ministry, etc. Then see how well we will meet both in similarities and differences. These are the things that really matter to me; Faith, convictions and then character. When it comes to character I never did decide upon it beforehand; I just honestly discovered by experience what kind of character attracts me. I’ve found out that I’m quite drawn to manly guys. The type that has a strong stance yet gentle in manner; a hint of humor won’t hurt, too! I also blush over a man who is a leader, humble, knows how to speak, goes deep and just really manly. I’m not a fan of men who takes too much time getting ready. I don’t know but I really have a thing for men that are manly and looks manly. Also someone who will be able to dance with my thoughts; that kind of man will be a dream come true.

Now that you have an idea of what I look for in a man, I also want to share the reality of my insecurities. I think it’s only fair to say that having such high standards doesn’t imply that I consider myself as someone who will fit the same kind of standard. I confess that ever since I’ve never been an ideal or a likeable material nor have I ever felt like one. Maybe because I grew up seeing girls around me getting liked and pursued; while I, on the other hand, was the girl that everyone seeks out for an advice or help in matters of courtship and relationship (I’m honestly pretty good at it!). That experience made me get used to the idea that I’m simply not a girl that someone will sincerely look at and see something special. I’m not trying to be humble, I’m just saying it as it is. I know God is working in me to deal with this issue, but as of the present I still can’t convince myself that I can be someone’s wife. Anyway, I don’t want to elaborate further about this anymore. I just want to share that a part of a single heart’s story is the reality of our insecurities.

To summarize my little story sharing, I want to emphasize important points. First is that we can still see a reflection of the past in our present. It can be for the good but it can also be for no good. I pray that all of us will be granted the wisdom to know the difference. Second, be honest with yourself and be honest with God. Pour your heart out to Him, tell Him everything even if He already knows it. Then let Him answer you through His word. Let Him teach you, cleanse you, and lead you. Lastly, remember that Christ alone ought to be the source, means, and end; being guided by this goal/principle will bring into light every false motive, it will set straight every decision, and it will purify every desire. Remember that if the end is not Christ then it is no true prize.

I’ve also included a link to one of my written out loud series (spoken word) entitled, “Dear You.” Please feel free to listen to it. I pray it will also be an encouragement! Thank you for reading and listening (if you did)!

The end.

-apG

Soli Deo Gloria

[regrettablewritings]

Dios Meme-o! (Rafael Barba Mini-Series, Pt. 8)

A/N: Hahahahahamanthisissooverdueiamaterribleperson!!! Thanks for sticking around and being patient with me!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Rafael’s lunchtime haunt was lowly lit and not very populated, as usual. The perfect spot to recollect his thoughts. (Plus that it was the sort of place to attract customers that generally laid outside of the meme-making demographic.) He took advantage of his extended lunchbreak in the relaxed watering hole by cutting into a grilled salmon, served with a small glass of scotch.

Normally, he reserved this type of beverage for the end of the work day. But after experiencing what was practically a breath of fresh air after nearly a month of drowning in a sea of jokes, poor Spanish, and sexualizations of his most unremarkable features, he felt he needed it. Just a tiny bit to assure that he had some kind of comfort in case it turned out that he had hallucinated that Lauren Carradine.

And yet, he was certain he hadn’t. Extremely certain, in fact. Sure, the Internet was freaking him out, but he highly doubted that it would be memes that would drive him beyond the brink of sanity and not anything else his job required him to face. If they had, then perhaps it was time to consider moving to a different field of focus.

It was the buzz of his phone’s vibration that ripped Rafael out of his uncertain reverie. And for a moment, his could feel his stomach flinch and his heart trip clumsily for a moment. It wasn’t likely Carmen or any of his bosses (they, surprisingly, had been relatively absent throughout the rise of his Internet fame). It could only be one of the SVU squad members. At this point, it didn’t matter whether it was yet another meme or if it was related to a potential case: It was all so very cringe-worthy in one way or another at this rate. But he knew he couldn’t hide within the recoil for long. Sighing, he eased the pressure on his eyes and unraveled them from the darkness.

The notification lighting up the screen said that it was from Liv: it was a link. The only thing she said was, “You’re still doing your job :).” Rafael’s brows furrowed. Liv wasn’t one to send vague messages, let alone to him. With no other choice than to proceed, he pressed down on the link and brought it to life.

In seconds, he was greeted with a blob familiar plain and simple font in a white box cast against a lavender background. It was a post, specifically that of one “Roseflarts.” His first instinct to wince had almost come to complete fruition as he prepared himself for the worst, only for the action to be halted just as quickly. This link wasn’t to yet another post going on and on about his veiny hands or pudgy stomach or making a fetishized mockery of his Latino heritage. It was something completely different, as first suggested by the fact that the very title of the post, in large lettering, read, “OMG I GOT TO MEET ADA BARBA!!!”

After his overexposure to far cruder titles, this one had actually come off as quite pure. Enough to where Rafael disregarded his usual distaste for the overuse of all-caps sentences and more than two exclamation points. It was in this rarely used practice of hope that Rafael dared to progress in his curiosity. However, he still continued to keep in the back of his mind that reminder of what doing so had gotten him the last time he fell down the Tumblr hole.

           “I was so excited but I got all tongue-tied – is that weird? Probably. He’s not exactly a celebrity but like?? He’s so sweet and serious and he really cares about the work he does! (Tho I might’ve been a bit of a creeper because I honestly saw the guy just minding his own business . . .) Anywho! I got to tell him how grateful I was that there’s someone like him out there fighting for someone like me, but I don’t think I expressed that to him very well or even enough.            Geez there was just so much to say and in so little time… I mean, how can you compile everything that he’s done in the span of, like, a minute? How can you tell somebody that he’s like a rare breed of person who still fights tooth and nail to try and get shit done? It’s already hard enough but after this craptastic year, it really makes you think and realize just how crooked so much of the world is... But to me, it says there’s always hope. There’s always some really neat, completely wonderful person out there fighting to make sure you get what’s right.            We need more people like him, but it falls on us to become those people. So until then, take joy in the fact that we have somebody fighting for us. But also remember to be thankful and pay it forward to others. ADA Rafael Barba is an example of what we want (aside from a fine-looking, well-dressed man): Courageous, ambitious in all the right ways, and know what to stand up for.”

The tags, aside from the usual “#ada barba”, read #thank you ada barba, #he could wipe the floor with drump’s ass, #iconic, #not all men: ada barba would never!

Perhaps it came from a twinge of vanity, but a small part of Rafael garnered the ability to crook a corner of his mouth upward. Rafael was no stranger to pride, though it would be safest to say that they tended to be odd breeds of such. In that moment, he felt exactly that: Pride born of something considerably odd – a Tumblr post, no less.

This, Rafael decided, was a pro to technology. The ability to expound upon what the mouth sometimes cannot. The ability to share experiences, to connect, to arouse the public with more than just lust, but with aspirations and determination.

It was perhaps out of habit that his thumb slid downward on his phone screen, heading toward the notes section of the post. As he scrolled down into the comments section, he came upon a flurry of replies:

           “DID YOU FEEL HIS TUM!? 😳😳😳”

           “What did he smell like?!?!?!”

           “PUH-LEEZE DESCRIBE WHAT TOUCHING HIM FELT LIKE!!!!”

           “okay but can someone PLEASE draw ada barba in cool warrior    goddess clothing leading a revolution of women scorned???”

Rafael pressed the off button on his phone, plunked it back down to the bar’s wooden counter, and solemnly returned his attention back to his food. Enough of that mess.

Con: The ability to expound upon what the mouth probably shouldn’t, and to miss the point entirely.

As he resumed eating his grilled salmon and sipping his scotch, a small smile lingered on Rafael’s face. He didn’t mind if anyone saw it, though.

. . .

And then a picture of him doing so popped up online.

[goldwaterscholarshipresearch874]

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[skywardsoul]

Dianakko Week! (day 2)

my second work for @dianakko-week Casual/First date!

Summary: Akko is feeling a tad nervous about her date with Diana

Notes: This particular piece takes place in a typical college AU. Nothing special, I just wanted to branch out a bit. Also, they are still in the UK, so they are using Celsius, not Fahrenheit.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12114093/chapters/27513036

FF.Net Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12655858/2/Dianakko-Week

“So, how do I look?” Akko asked her roommates, giving a slight twirl.

“Like an idiot worrying too much about what to wear,” came Sucy’s dry reply. Akko was less than amused with this answer.

“Lotte!” Akko said with a whine, turning to her other friend. “Sucy is being mean!”

The girl in question gave a nervous chuckle in response.

“I’m sure what Sucy is trying to say is you are worrying too much Akko. You look lovely,” Lotte said.

Akko perked up a bit at this, but her smile soon faded once more into a nervous frown. She turned back to her full body mirror, taking in her appearance. She wore a short, white skirt and a sleeveless red blouse. Despite having just bought the outfit for this occasion, Akko couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t enough, like somehow it looked cheap. Sensing her friend's discomfort, Lotte walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Akko, trust us. When Diana sees you, she’ll be speechless,” the orange haired girl said sweetly.

Placing her hand on Akko’s other shoulder, Sucy nodded in agreement.

“That lovestruck dork is obsessed with you. You could probably show up wearing a potato sack and she would gush about it for hours.”

“Sucy...,” Lotte began with a slightly disapproving tone.

Sucy rolled her eyes before responding, “All teasing aside your outfit looks great Akko.”

Akko let out a sigh of relief. She knew in her heart that her friends were right, but couldn’t help the insecurity she felt. She was going on a date with Diana-freaking Cavendish. The star student of the University, the heir to a wealthy family, and the most beautiful girl Akko had ever seen. Akko had harboured a crush on the British girl ever since she met her on her way to her astronomy lecture. She had gotten herself hopelessly lost trying to find the science building, and had been looking down at a map when she quite literally ran into Diana. From the moment she met her eyes, Akko felt herself fall head over heels for her. Thankfully, the girl was as kind and helpful as she was beautiful, and spent next to no time sending the blushing Japanese girl on her way. Akko didn’t remember anything from her lecture that day, her mind was too preoccupied, filled with daydreams of the platinum blonde.

Over the next few weeks, Akko had done absolutely everything in her power to “run into,” Diana again. From waiting outside her classes, to “coincidentally,” going to the same coffee shop as her. Luckily for Akko, Diana had been just as smitten, and was glad to spend time with her. Still Akko had been quite shocked, and very pleasantly surprised, when Diana had asked her out for what would be their first official date. Akko cringed internally as she thought back to how badly she had stumbled over her words, desperately trying to get out a coherent response. In the end, she could only offer a nod.

The Japanese girl was shaken from her thoughts as she realized that Sucy was trying to ask her a question.

“Eh? What was that? Sorry I was-”

“Spacing out again?” Sucy asked flatly, cutting the her off mid sentence. The pale girl rolled eyes before holding up a brush in her hand. “I was asking that if I could help you with your hair finally, if your done having a meltdown about your outfit that is.”

Ignoring the small jab, Akko nodded, a smile on her face. She pulled a chair from her desk to in front of her mirror, and plopped down into it. After she had told her friends about the date, they had offered to help in all sorts of ways, with Sucy surprisingly offering to do Akko’s hair. According to her, Akko’s normal ‘mess of a ponytail’ simply wouldn’t do for the date. As Sucy set about brushing out Akko’s hair, Lotte helped her apply her make up, and before long Akko was ready to go.

Standing in front of her mirror one more time, Akko took in her updated look. She didn’t often wear her hair long, she thought it was more trouble than it was worth, but had to admit that she looked quite good with it down. Akko couldn’t help but smile. She really did have some incredible friends. Thanks to them, Akko was finally starting to feel like she was ready for her date.

“Alright! No more worrying from me!” She exclaimed excitedly. “Akko Kagari is ready to sweep Diana off her feet!”

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

Akko Kagari decided that she was so not ready for this date. She sat in her chair, fiddling with her hands as her mind ran wild. Sure she had shown up to their regular coffee shop quite early, probably one of the only times she was early in her life, but she couldn’t help but grow more and more anxious with each passing second. What if Diana didn’t show up? What if she decided that Akko wasn’t as charming as she initially thought? What if this wasn’t even really a date at all? The thought had just popped into Akko’s head and she already felt her stomach flip out in dread. Had she misread the situation? Sure Diana had asked her if she wanted to grab a coffee with her, but what if she meant it as a friend thing, not a “I think you are cute and want to date you,” thing? If that was the case, Akko was sure she was about to make the absolute biggest fool of herself.

Akko had been so self absorbed in her increasingly negative thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed when Diana walked in through the door. When she gave a small cough to get her attention, Akko nearly jumped out of her skin. Diana couldn’t help but giggle at her startled reaction.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked smoothly, gesturing to the chair across from Akko.

“Diana!” Akko Shouted as she leap up. She could feel her face start to heat up before continuing, “I didn’t see you come in…”

Diana gave another giggle before sitting down, and motioning for Akko to do the same.

“I-I have to say Akko,” the heiress began, showing a rare, flustered moment. “You look quite beautiful…”

Akko felt her heart soar at these words. Sucy and Lotte had been right all along! Her worries were all but melted away when she heard Diana continue,

“But are you not...maybe a tad bit...overdressed?”

If she could have, Akko was pretty sure she would have melted into the floor right then and there. She was so wrapped up in worrying about looking her absolute best, that she hadn’t even considered that she could have been going over board. Looking at the other patrons in the shop, Akko could see that Diana was right. The shop had always been a small one, and with it so close to the university, it was highly popular with the students. There was practically no one else besides her that looked to be wearing anything beyond casual. Even Diana herself, Akko noticed, was in casual wear, although with her regal air she made any outfit look ballroom worthy. The blonde girl was wearing a beige sweater, with a white shirt underneath, along with a pair of black pants, and brown zip up boots. The date had just started and already she had messed up. Akko’s mind spun as she tried to quickly think of a game plan. Maybe she could go back home and change? Or maybe she could go back home, crawl under her bed, and never leave the house again. Yeah, that sounded good.

Diana must have noticed her distress, and spoke again.

“Not that there is anything wrong with that of course!” she said quickly. “You really do look absolutely lovely. It’s just- I usually- I don’t know, I guess I have an eye for these sorts of things.” the heiress gave a small frown. “I’m sorry, Akko. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Akko was quick to respond.

“No, no it’s fine, Diana really! I just feel a bit silly is all,” the brunette said with a nervous chuckle.

This made Diana’s smile return, as she leaned across the table and took Akko’s hands in her own.

“Don’t. You are fine.” Diana gave a sly smile before continuing, “The jewelry might have been a tad overboard though.” Diana broke into a fit of laughter as Akko gave her a playful pout in response.

After that, the date progressed very smoothly, if Akko did say so herself. The two spent a long time talking about practically anything and everything, and all the nothing in between. As their time together was starting to wind down, Akko decided to self evaluate how she did. While she had screwed up in the beginning, she thought she did a pretty good job in recovering. She was able to offer Diana all kinds of sweet compliments, and was even able to order Diana’s favorite drink for her completely from memory. That must have totally looked suave right? She felt herself grin proudly at her accomplishment. She was way wrong earlier. She could totally get the hang of this dating stuff.

Hearing Diana laugh again, Akko looked up at her date.

“What’s that look for?” Diana asked playfully. “Deciding which fancy outfit you will wear next?”

Akko blushed at the slight tease, shaking her head to clear her earlier thoughts.

“Nah, I was just-just thinking about some stuff..” she replied lamely.

Thankfully, Diana didn’t press the issue.

As the two made their way to the exit of the shop, Akko couldn’t help but feel sad that the date was ending. Sure she had been an absolute nervous wrecking going into it, but once she had gotten past that she couldn’t help but realize how much fun she had simply talking to Diana. She decided right then and there that she would extend their time together.

“Hey Diana, let me walk you home!” Akko said brightly.

Diana turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Are you sure about that Akko? My apartment is in the exact opposite direction of your dorm.”

Akko smirked at this, putting her hands on her hips proudly.

“I’m super sure! The distance is no big deal for someone as fit as me.” she said boastfully, a playful air of bravado about her. Being on the cross country team payed off in more ways than one.

Diana giggled at this, before putting a hand on Akko’s shoulder.

“I was more referring to the fact that it’s 10 degrees out and you aren’t wearing any sleeves.”

As if to prove the heiress’ point, a gusty wind blew, causing Akko to shiver. Moving to rub her bare arms she realized that maybe a sleeveless blouse wasn’t the best thing to wear in the middle of November.

“I see your point,” Akko conceded.

Diana gave her a soft smile, before pulling her into a tight hug. Akko could feel her face heat up again, just knowing that she probably looked as red as her blouse.

“Don’t catch a cold on your way back okay,” Diana whispered into her ear.

Akko could only nod dumbly in response. Leaning back, Diana looked her directly in the eyes, and proceeded to place a light kiss on her cheek. Turning away, Diana waved goodbye to the now stunned Japanese girl.

“Bye, Akko! I’ll see you on Monday!” Diana called over her shoulder, as she walked off towards her apartment.

Akko gave a weak wave goodbye, before slowly lowering her hand to her face, touching where Diana had just kissed her. All she could do was simply stand there in shock, as a feeling of absolute giddiness wash over her. It may have been bitterly cold out, the wind maybe have been blowing harshly, and she may have not been wearing sleeves, but as she touched her cheek, Akko could feel nothing but warmth.  

[sad-trash-writing]

Who’s The Hero Of Your Story?, Ch. 13

AO3 Link 

Jemma felt a sudden sympathy for all the creatures and plants she had experimented on in her years working in labs. She never knew being a subject of study could be so unpleasant. 

For what seemed like the hundredth time today, someone jabbed a needle into her back. Jemma tensed up to try to keep herself from twitching. One of her vines jerked up to wring the lab tech’s neck, but Jemma slapped her palm down over it and pinned it to the table she was perched on. 

Jemma tried to focus on the lab equipment in the SHIELD facility, rather than all the people in lab coats who were staring at her. There were things in this lab that Jemma had never even seen. Half of them she couldn’t even tell the function of. The shiny counters and shiny machines and shiny holographic projections made the lab Jemma and Fitz had been given look like an underfunded community college. 

Unfortunately, Jemma could only ogle the equipment for so long, before her eyes found another wide-eyed lab tech struggling to look like they weren’t staring. Jemma clutched the cardigan covering her chest a little tighter and stared at the tile floor. 

“You feel like a pincushion yet?” a familiar voice asked behind Jemma. Daisy sauntered into the lab just as the lab tech extracted the needle and told Jemma she could put her shirt back on. 

It was weird for Jemma to see Daisy this way. It was like she was in a half-way point between Quake and undercover-Daisy from the coffee shop. She didn’t have the long wig on, she had no dark makeup, but was wearing casual clothes, instead of her black tactical suit. It was a strange sight, but not entirely unwelcome; Daisy looked completely at ease here.

“I’m starting to understand why no one signs up to help with clinical testing trials,” Jemma replied, tugging her cardigan back on. 

Daisy chuckled. “Well, they should be about done with their tests by now. They just want to know what’s going on with—”

Daisy trailed off and gestured vaguely to Jemma’s back. 

“How did that even happen, if you don’t mind me asking?” Daisy asked.  

“Do you remember that lab explosion caused by Raina a few months ago?” Jemma prompted.

“Ye— Oh shit, that’s where I recognized you from,” Daisy said. “I remember that I tried to find you to check up on you after the explosion, but the hospital that the paramedic said they took you to had no record of you.”

Jemma cringed. “Yes, that was my first task out of the hospital.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Daisy said. “Hospital servers are notoriously difficult to get into.”

“Well, I had some help,” Jemma admitted. 

Daisy raised her eyebrows. “Is this 'help’ the same person who made all your gadgets? Because we might need their contact information. They could be very helpful,” Daisy said. “I’m surprised about your powers, though. When I first saw you, I assumed you were an Inhuman, like me…and Raina, apparently. Your powers seemed too…natural to be an accident.”

Jemma shrugged. “The plant itself was something I had been working on for awhile. It’s mostly doing its intended purpose, but it’s not meant to be embedded in a person’s spine to do so. The accident helped me figure out what it needed to actually work, though.”

Daisy scoffed. “I wouldn’t call that an accident as much as a homocidal escape maneuver. Which reminds me, why would you work for Raina right after she nearly killed you so she could escape?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Once my advisors found out about this, they weren’t going to let me continue my normal studies,” Jemma said. 

Daisy nodded knowingly. “Hopefully, these tests that we’re running will tell you some more on how those things actually work and if they’re negatively affecting you in any way.”

“Maybe they’ll be able to figure out how to remove it.”

“Remove it?” Daisy balked. 

“Yes,” Jemma replied. “Do you think I’m planning on having a giant plant growing out of my back for the rest of my life? Especially, after the publicity it’s gotten me.”

Jemma gestured to the newspaper one of the lab techs had left out earlier. The front page featured a large picture of Quake and Jemma on the roof top last night, far enough away to not be able to see facial features, but close enough that it was obvious who they were. It was shot while they were mid-kiss, shortly after shutting down the machine and the headline reads Superhero Girlfriends?: Quake seduces former villain, Vine Girl, to save city from mind-control plot. The rest of the story was just as bad. 

Jemma noticed a slight blush creeping up Daisy’s cheeks. “I’d just like to know how they got that picture,” Daisy grumbled. 

“Maybe the spiders on the roof work for the paper.”

Daisy smirked. There was a momentary silence, then Daisy opened her mouth to say something, but another voice interrupted her. 

“Daisy, May requested that you meet her in the training room.”

The voice belonged to Coulson, the man from the Quinjet whom Jemma was also informed was the director of SHIELD. 

Daisy glanced towards Jemma and looked like she was about to protest, but eventually just nodded and slipped out of the lab. 

“How are you feeling, Miss Simmons?” Coulson asked. 

“Fine, now that I’m no longer being poked and scanned,” Jemma said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

Coulson smiled gently. “Sorry about all that. It’s just protocol when dealing with powered people. We want to make sure we know where exactly everyone’s powers are coming from, in case there’s some kind of connection. You actually helped us uncover one such connection between Daisy and Raina.”

Jemma nodded. “Yes, the genetic component. But, my…power, I guess, isn’t genetic.”

“We know. There’s multiple ways that people we’ve encountered have come across their powers. Lab accidents are a surprisingly common one,” he replied. 

“Not surprising,” Jemma muttered. “Has your team made any progress on removing it?”

“Not yet, but I have some of my best people going over your tests. We’re confident that they’ll come up with something within a few days at most,” Coulson said. 

“Good.”

Coulson shuffled his feet awkwardly for a moment. “I also came in here to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Jemma frowned. She had done nothing worthy of thanks in months. In fact, quite the opposite. 

“I wanted to thank you for coming in. For a number of reasons really. First, because we’d rather have you on our team than working outside the law. And second, you being here has kept Daisy on base for the first time in months.” “Really?”

Coulson nodded. “Lately, she’s been off on her own, acting more like a vigilante than an agent. She pretty much only calls us when there’s something big happening and once it’s solved, she disappears again. It’s been nice having her back on base.”

“Then, you’re welcome for being enough of a nuisance to get your team involved,” Jemma replied. 

Coulson smirked. “That wasn’t all I wanted to talk to you about, though. I know you’re pretty set on getting that growth removed, but if you’re at all interested in keeping it, you could be a valuable asset in the field. Or if you do chose to get it removed, we could still use your skills in the lab.”

Jemma blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“I’m asking you to join SHIELD,” Coulson clarified. 

“Oh.”

Daisy chose that moment to reappear in the lab. 

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” Daisy chirped. 

“Just the future,” Coulson said. “I’ll give you some time to think things over, Simmons.”

Daisy watched him leave before speaking up again. 

“So, what were you really talking about?” she asked Jemma. 

“Oh, just…things,” Jemma replied. She hopped down from the table. No one really told her where to go once her tests were done, so she guessed she would go back to her holding cell until her results came in. Or she would play with the equipment in here, if she could get away with it. 

“Did he offer you a job?” Daisy asked. 

Jemma smirked. “With or without my superpowers, apparently.”

Daisy looked impressed. “You think you’re gonna take it?”

“Not sure. It’s an intriguing offer. There’s at least interesting people to work with,” Jemma replied with a smirk. 

Daisy preened slightly. “Do you think you’re going to keep the superpower, though? We’d already have a cute field name,” Daisy said, waving the newspaper with Superhero Girlfriends emblazoned across it. 

Jemma snorted. She felt her vines curling up her arms and around her waist and squeezing slightly, like they were giving her a hug. At first, she had wanted them gone as soon as possible, but now they almost felt like a permanent part of her body. She didn’t know if she could exist with or without them at this point. 

“I haven’t decided yet. But, I’d like to know more about what SHIELD is about,” Jemma said. 

Daisy held out an arm. “Then, allow me to show you around the base.”

Jemma smirked and looped her arm through Daisy’s. One of her vines slipped out of her sleeve and wove around their intwined arms as Daisy led her on a tour through the base. 

From what she had already seen, Jemma thought it seemed like a good group of people to work with. They were already working towards what Jemma had originally wanted to study for: making the world a better place. 

The pretty girl excitedly showing Jemma all the cool equipment they had and walking her through what seemed to be her home was merely a bonus.

[rhi3915]

Radio Ga Ga (Part 2)

Ok, so. I’ve come up with a part two to my BBC Radio 1 story. Hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. Enjoy! Also a big thank you to @mizpahes for constantly telling me I don't suck, and helping me better this story. You tha real MVP. You can find the first part here Part 1

You’ve spent the past couple of weeks attached at the hip to Nick. From being his shadow during The Breakfast Show, to actually eating breakfast with him in your apartment. The two of you have been nearly inseparable since you started working at BBC Radio 1. You’ve already declared nicknames for each other (you being his “li-uhl cornholio” due to your love of Beavis and Butt-Head, and him being your “bloody scallywag” due to his love of House, M.D., such terms of endearment) and established each other’s guest rooms as your own, respectively. You’ve never had a friendship progress this fast, but you aren’t complaining. Nick is one of the most loyal people you’ve ever met, and you don’t see yourself ever finding anyone who could top him. The only downside to becoming friends with Nick so quickly is that he’s already learned how to read you, and always knows what’s on your mind. This was so easily proven during one of your sleepovers.

“You know who I haven’t seen in a while?” Nick asks you out of the blue while the two of you lounge on your small, but comfy love seat, catching up on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air reruns.

“Hmm. I’ve got nothing. Not a clue.” You tell him as you pretend to try and read his mind.

“‘Aven’t seen 'Arry around in a bit.” Nick states with a frown plastered to his face.

You know he’s really cut up about it because other than you, Harry is the other big part of his life. Nick also sees him as a little brother that he always needs to look after. He knows Harry’s a grown man who can take care of himself, but ever since they met, Nick’s just always felt this protective instinct come over him when things pertain to the young bloke. Nick’s mentioned him off and on while the two of you started learning everything there is to know about each other. And of course for some reason, you always tend to blush incessantly at the mention of said Adonis’s name. Nick never seemed to notice though, until now. Did he always know, and was just waiting for the right time to bring it up? Or was he all about this slow burn torture? If you had to guess correctly, you’d go with the latter.

After trying to figure out the right response to Nick, you spit out, “No, you sure haven’t. Not since I met him at the station.”

That was probably the worst thing you could have said…

“Ooooh yeah…” Nick continues in a higher pitch, “the day you two love birds laid eyes on each other.”

You roll your eyes at Nick, while trying to contain the ever growing blush that rises up your cheeks.

“Shut up. He doesn’t feel that same way about me.” You huff out, not realizing the ammunition you just freely gave to Nick.

“And what way would you be feeling about a certain Mr. Styles, hmmm?” Nick states curiously trying to see how far he can push the topic.

You eye Nick warily. Should you spill your guts to him? He is your best friend. But he’s also Harry’s. Oh the dilemma…

“Fuck it.” You mumble out as you get ready to gush about the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on to the giddy man child in front of you. “Ok, so I like Harry, you happy?” You retort.

“I’ll be happier when you cut the bullshit, and tell me how you really feel.” Nick shoots back with a cock of his brow.

You roll your eyes, dreading the topic that’s looming over your head. No turning back now…

“Fine. Not only do like Harry, I’m like in love with him. I know we’ve only met the one time, but just staring into those green never ending pools he calls eyes could melt me down and turn me into a messy pool myself. I can’t stop thinking about him. I replay our whole meet cute on a loop 24/7. He’s really gotten to me. He’s invading my thoughts, and interrupting my social life because I can’t concentrate on anything else but him.” You suck in a gulp of air after spewing all those thoughts at once. “Please don’t tell him.” You plead with Nick, sadness and embarrassment written all over your face.

“Now love, why would you think I’d ever spill your secrets? I know Harry and I are like brothers, but I’d never betray your trust for him. You’re too important to me.” He continues, “Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sneaky little plan to get you two to end up together.”

“Nick!” You scream, worried about what he may do.

“Don’t worry. You’ll thank me later.” Nick smirks cockily.

And ever since that conversation, you’ve stayed extra observant with whatever Nick was doing. You didn’t want him catching you off guard with any surprises of the Harry variety.

***

About a week after your late night heart to heart with Nick, you finally stop feeling paranoid about his love hijinks. You can actually breathe normally when you come into work. You nod and waive to the receptionist, Francesca, knowing it irks her and you continue on to Nick’s office with a smug grin. As you open the door, you start to spill how your weekend without him was.

“Nick you’ll never guess who called me this weekend…” You’re cut off with a flirty “'ello, love” from none other than your wannabe love interest.

“Harry. Hi, how are you?” You attempt to ask in as calm a voice as possible.

“I’m great, but I’m more interested in who called you this weekend.” He prods with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, um, no one important. It’s stupid, really.” You say reaching for the best lie you could come up with.

Harry looks hurt and mumbles, “Mustn’t be tha’ stupid if your dying to tell Nick.”

Is that jealousy you sense? No, no way. He doesn’t feel that way about me. You ponder. Or does he?

To try and diffuse the situation you try and lighten the previous topic by telling him it was just a cringe-worthy phone call, and that he’d be grateful if you didn’t relay the secondhand embarrassment to him.

Harry just nods still feeling a hint of jealousy that it wasn’t him calling you up over the weekend. He didn’t even have your number for fuck’s sake, and that’s what bothered him the most. Flirting and getting a girl’s number usually came so easy to him, and yet here he was, completely awkward around you. No one’s ever had this effect on him before, and that’s what made him want to be with you even more. The two of you were in no way romantically involved, and yet he still got butterflies in his stomach when he talked to you. He was constantly thinking about you, writing songs about how you made him feel. He just didn’t get how you already had so much power over him.

Just as he’s finally mustered up some courage and is fixing to ask you if you had any plans this weekend, Francesca barges in.

“Hi, Harry,” the receptionist says lustily towards him while completely ignoring Y/N. “Someone brought doughnuts in this morning, and I figured you’d want some before they all ran out.”

“Um, that’s very kind of you Francine, but I’ve already had breakfast. Y/N might want some though.” Harry says completely oblivious of calling her the wrong name.

Francesca only gives him half a smile and then turns to walk out, purposefully passing you up and throwing the doughnuts in the bin.

Once the receptionist has left, Harry remarks, “Damn, who pissed in her Cheerios this morning?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he’s glad he did when you burst into laughter.

“I think that’s just her normal attitude,” you reply wiping tears off your cheeks from laughing so hard at his unexpected response. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Harry states with a wink in your direction. Finally gaining his courage back he continues, “I was however planning on taking you out this weekend if you’re available.” Damn that was smooth, he thought, glad the charm finally came back to me.

Just as Y/N is about to give Harry an answer, Nick comes into the office.

“Sorry that took so long,” Nick continues, “No one can make up their bloody minds about a freaking color swatch. It’s not even that big of a deal. Who cares what color the bathroom is at work? You’re like hardly in there anyway. Anything to waste my damn time…”

With a giggle Y/N spits out, “Are you done now, drama queen?”

Nick gasps incredulously, throwing a hand to his heart. “Well I’ve never felt so offended and betrayed in my whole life.” He giggles along once he’s gotten over his theatrical spell. When he finally settles down from his laughing fit he claps his hands together and states, “Well I definitely need some coffee to perk me up after that bullshit. Either of you want anything?” After you and Harry shake your heads back and forth Nick heads out, but not before spurting out, “Right, well I’ll leave you to horn dogs alone then.” Nick is very pleased with himself as he walks out.

Trying to hold back the embarrassment from Nick’s comment, you change the subject. “So, you were asking me a question earlier, yes?”

“You mean before we were so rudely interrupted?” Harry asks cheekily while you nod your head. “Ah yes, well I believe I proper asked you out, and now I’m just waiting for a response and silently praying that the answer doesn’t destroy me.” He doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but he’s relieved when he sees you chuckle, finding it kind of cute.

“Harry,” you start, “I would just like to say it’s about damn time.”

“So is that a yes?” He asks cautiously.

You start to giggle at how shy he tends to be around you. “It’s a definite yes.”

[persuadedproject-blog]

Chapter 8

     Wentworth was coming to see Virginia as a home. The Admiral’s research in Norfolk expanded as he discovered a system riddled with problems, so the Crofts rented a small house in the heart of Uppercross (just across from the gazebo). The Admiral, brotherly and welcoming as always, insisted that Wentworth should stay with them, as long as he liked or maybe longer. Although the initial plan had been for Wentworth to spend a couple of days with the Crofts and then head up north to visit with Eduard and his new wife, the charms of Uppercross held him in place. Besides the butter-slathered southern cuisine, the whole town practically embraced him. The old were hospitable, the young were enjoyable, and Wentworth had found in the town a worthy enough reason to put of his trip north to Eduard’s. 

As important as getting to know a new sister-in-law is, when a person is being flattered by an entire town, new priorities sidle into place. He was at the Musgrove’s Great House almost every day. It was impossible to tell who was more enthusiastic about the arrangement - the Musgroves to invite him, or Wentworth to be invited. Mrs. Musgrove was convinced that he as a single man must be incapable of fixing himself a decent meal when the Crofts were out and about, so with every visit she stuffed him full and sent him home with a plate of leftovers. Ever since she had earned her eternal seal of approval by playing with Oscar (he even got a happy yap from the rotund canine), the plate was joined by some form of baked goods.

     All of the Musgrove’s thoughts towards Wentworth were total and unwavering admiration; a fact made abundantly clear to Cap and to everyone looking on. This had just been established when Chuck Hayter, Hazel’s insignificant other, came to town to interview for a position as an associate veterinarian. He was confused to find out that distance had made the heart grow apathetic, even to the point of eyeing greener pastures. The poor guy had reason to regret leaving his relationship undefined and nebulous, particularly once he saw Hazel’s altered state of mind and - even worse - the handsome, job-having Frederick Wentworth. The loose state of affairs that had appeared to offer him freedom one minute was exactly what threatened his happiness the next (ah, commitment, you sneaky thing). The Musgrove parents liked CHuck well enough. He wasn’t brilliant in any way - he was medium height, medium build, medium talent, had a bit of ambition, and an alright but far from dazzling sense of humor. But he was a decent person, with a work ethic that put him through veterinary school on a combination of scholarships and gas station jobs. If Hazel liked him, that was enough for all of them. And she had genuinely thought she liked him - until Wentworth turned up. From that time on, Chuck was like a somewhat bland distant memory she texted once in a while, until said memory reappeared in her hometown.

    Which of the two Musgrove girls Cap prefered was still a mystery, despite Anne’s observational skills. Hazel was probably prettier (in a curly hair, effortless cut off jeans kind of way), but Louise had more nerve and a bigger personality. She did not know what he would find more attractive now, a more easygoing or proactive girl. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove had taken a hands-off approach when it came to their girl’s romantic life (either because they trusted their daughter’s judgement or had a misplaced trust in the young men they befriended), so the topic was not discussed in the Great House. It was of great interest at the junior Musgrove’s house, far more than the real headlines that it was Anne’s business to read. Cap had been in town for all of a week and a half, and Chuck for a day, when Anne began to be subjected to a nightly debate. After the boys went to bed, and before the older people scattered to their own interests, they would gather around the island in the kitchen to keep asking the same questions and making the same points. Every move Wentworth made was scrutinized, every blink, laugh, and look was somehow a sure sign he was going to ask out one girl or the other These debates were accompanied by ice cream (chocolate for Anne, banana pudding for Charles, and mango sorbet for Mary, who was trying to avoid dairy), but Anne found it difficult to swallow with the lump in her throat. Charles’ money was on Louise, but Mary was convinced he was after Hazel. Both agreed that he would be a great husband to either one. To the readers who are surprised that marriage was coming up this early in the non-relationship I would say that, unless they are part of an impossibly progressive society, a couple is immediately assessed for long-term endurance. Charles claimed he had,

    “Never met a more good-natured man in my life, and from what I have heard him say the government is paying him well for his work. I’m sure he’s only on the way to more recognition and higher positions. He’d be a catch for either one of them.”

    “He might could even run for Senate, plenty of ambassadors have done that. It would be a nice thing for Hazel, although she would enjoy lording it over me. Senator and Mrs. Wentworth! It doesn’t sound too shabby. Of course, he has no real Washington or political background, and I never know what to do with those farmer-turned-politician types.”

    “Like George Washington?” Anne asked dryly. She normally would have let Mary go on, but having to discuss the marriage of your soulmate can make you say and feel and do things that are out of the ordinary.

    It fit Mary’s state of mind to see Wentworth pursue Hazel, because that put an end to Chuck’s pretentious aspirations of being with her. She had decidedly looked down on him from the first time he came home with Hazel in his beat up sneakers, West Virginia accent, and wait staff job. He had taken two extra years to finish vet school due to a lack of funding, and even then he only managed to finish thanks to a loan from a kind friend.

    “After growing up in that house on the hill, with her father’s business and everything, I just don’t think they would be right for each other. She would be throwing herself away for a life of budgeting and part time jobs and...and I just don’t think a girl should make a life choice that will be a disappointment or inconvenience to the majority of her family. It would be giving the needy a connection to people who aren’t used to them.” Her husband could not agree with her - besides generally liking Chuck, he had had a helping hand himself to get the job he was in.

    “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Needy is not the word I would choose, try hard working maybe. He has a good shot at taking over the vet office here, a job his is perfect for by the way, and in a couple of years he can pay off that loan if he’s smart. He has more experience with farm animals too, which would be an asset to the whole county. Hazel could do much worse than Chuck, and if she ends up with him, and Louise gets Wentworth, I would be totally satisfied.” He then scooped up his bowl and went to eat his ice cream in peace, in front of a baseball game. As soon as he was safely out of earshot, Mary turned to Anne and said,

    “He can say what he wants to, but I think it would be awful if Hazel married Chuck Hayter. Bad for her, and worse for me - so we can only hope that Wentworth puts any thought of him right out of her head. I think he has already, she hardly noticed Chuck last night at the pool. I wish you had been there to see it, she trailed Wentworth around the pool, splashing and trying not to get her hair wet. As for Wentworth liking Louise, I think it is complete and utter guesswork. He definitely likes Hazel.” After a brief pause for reflection, she fumed, “But Charles is so sure! I wish you had been there, because you could’ve decided it finally. I am sure you would have taken my side, unless you were just determined to contradict me.”

    A cookout at the Musgrove’s was the next opportunity when Anne was supposed to observe the romantic rectangle, but the combined excuse of a raging headache and CJ’s shoulder feeling a bit sore was mercifully enough for her to stay home. The overall motivation was to avoid Cap and the maelstrom of emotions that surrounded him, but dodging the job of referee was an added bonus to her quiet, documentary-watching evening. Her conjectures on his feelings were without definite results, she thought the more important issue was that he make up his mind quickly, before either one of the girls got their hearts attached enough to be broken. Both of them were good-natured and had kind streaks, and she had to admit either of them would be an affectionate, warm partner. Where Chuck Hayter was concerned, she was by nature embarrassed by association when she saw girls flitting from guy to guy, or treating a relationship (undefined or not) frivolously. As if Anne did not have enough embarrassment or awkwardness on her plate, her sympathetic heart took on the cringing the whole situation warranted and she understood the bruising that flirtatious thrashing about could bring to both people. If Hazel was confused about her feelings for either man, Anne thought it would be best for her to get them sorted out in short order.

    Chuck had seen enough to be uncomfortable about his relationship status. Hazel had liked him for long enough, and he had been gone for a short enough time that he was sure it could not be totally over. He was perturbed at the rapid change that had probably been inspired by a mysterious but friendly stranger. The last time they had parted ways, it seemed like the thing she wanted most was to see him brought on by the local vet, Doc Shirley, who had been caring for the community’s pets for forty years now, but who was looking to train a replacement. It would be a good deal for both of them, and Hazel and her whole family had been awaiting his interview with suspense. At least, Hazel had seemed to be elated at the thought of Chuck having a local practice, but after just two weeks the wind had gone out of her sails. Even Louise could not listen to him long enough to hear how the interview had gone, because she kept flitting back and forth to the window to keep a lookout for Wentworth. Hazel could only at her least distracted give him divided attention. She seemed to have forgotten there were any other qualified candidates, or real interview.

    “Well, of course I’m glad - but I always knew you would get it. Dr. Shirley needs someone to take over, and he practically told you you had the job - is that him coming up the driveway, Louise?”

    The next morning, after her observational skills had been desired, Anne found herself in the company of the unavoidable. He appeared out of thin air in the living room, where Anne was trying to work and keep an eye on CJ (the miniature Charles had decided to use his aching shoulder to transform once again into a saddened invalid). Wentworth was just as surprised as she was. She was so surprised she started to stand up, then squat back down, then stand up again, all while mentally cursing the fact that they lived in the South, where no one locked the front door. Startled out of his normal suave, he said a little too loudly,

    “I thought Hazel and Louise would be here - Mrs. Musgrove told me they were with Mary.”

    “They are all upstairs, the girls are helping Mary pick out paint colors for the office, I’m sure they’ll be down in a minute,” Anne responded in one uncomfortable run-on rush. If she had not been in the middle of trying to diagnose CJ’s possible fever, she would have left the room to spare both him and herself. He graciously pretended to be fascinated with the view of Mary’s back yard at the window. Pine trees have never before merited the kind of attention he gave them.

    “I hope CJ is feeling better,” was all he said over his shoulder, and then he wisely stuck to the pine trees. She stayed, sitting cross-legged on the ground while CJ explained his symptoms. The screen door creaked, signaling the entrance of another person (what a relief! thank goodness the door was unlocked). Anne looked over, hoping to see Charles, but finding Chuck instead. Alas, she had looked for her reprieve too early. Chuck was about as pleased to see Wentworth as he had been to find Anne. This time, Anne did not try to get up, but she did offer Chuck a seat. His hands stuck in his pockets, Chuck said,

    “No thanks, I actually came to check on the goldfish?” Goldilocks was the children’s only pet due to Mary’s concern for her allergies, and she was much-beloved. Swimming had become a droopy activity recently, so Anne was glad she was getting some attention, even if the timing was not the best. Cap was finally lured away from his window, and tried to strike up a conversation with Chuck, who promptly wet-blanketed all conversation starters, and set himself to intently watching the fish.

    Another minute brought another (smaller) addition. Walter, a stout little guy with a fearless nature, whirled into the room. He made a beeline to the couch, to stake his claim on anything good or interesting there. He found nothing sweet or processed to eat, so he started to look for a playmate. Anne would not let him tease his sick brother, so he fastened himself to her, climbing on her back and hanging on for dear life. All her attention was on CJ, so she had a difficult time shaking him off. Once she tried, it became a game to him, and he hung on with all his might.

    “Walter, get down!” she commanded to no avail. “You stinker! Get down!” Walter found this hilarious, giggling and imitating Anne.

    “Stinker! Get down!” he shrieked gleefully.

     “Let her go now, Walter,” Chuck joined her entreaties employing the same tone he used on stubborn cows. “Come on, you can help me fix Goldilocks.” The little parasite only tightened his grip, but in an instant, Anne found herself released from his sturdy hands. Walter had been resolutely taken away to examine the fish before Anne realized it was Cap that had done it. After figuring that out, she was speechless, at first out of surprise, then because it would have been awkward to say anything after the time had passed. All she could do was keep paying attention to CJ while her feelings ran wild and shrieking around her head. It was so nice of him to step in to help her, but his complete silence during the act and the racket he and Walter were now making together made her completely sure that he was avoiding her thanks. Talking to her was clearly the last thing on Wentworth’s list of things to do, right under ‘kiss a Wookie’ and ‘burn my record collection’. These contradictions made for a confusing, painful bout with her own thoughts, which she could not really address until Mary and company finally came down. 

     Anne transferred the care of her patient and slipped upstairs. She could not stay. It might have been an opportunity to watch the four in all their sparks and jealousy, but she couldn’t stay for one second of it. It was abundantly clear Chuck had no desire to be friendly to Wentworth. It was almost funny how determined he was not to be impressed with him. But poor Chuck’s feelings, or anyone else's for that matter, were uninteresting to her until she could get a grip on her own. She was ashamed of herself and felt ridiculous at once again letting something so miniscule get under her skin. But, humiliating as it may be, she had to spend the rest of the morning in a quiet place, carefully directing her own thoughts until she recovered a more peaceful frame of mind.

Chapter 9: http://bit.ly/2uDSGyb

[yon-nyan]

The Shortcomings of Anime in 2017

Today, I decided to focus on my favourite pass-time (second to reading, of course): watching anime, but as I sat down to do it, I felt completely uninspired. This year has been a colossal titan of slumps and ruts, which has prevented me from enjoying many things that I normally turn to for fun and relaxation. Being able to watch anime definitely took a severe hit, but after deeper contemplation I have come to the realisation that the most logical reason behind my anime watching slumps have been the content that’s been available for 2017. Most of this year’s creations have been terrible and unpleasant, thus making it much easier for me to fall into an unintentional anime watching vacation.

I recently finished watching the first season of Inuyasha, which is a favourite of mine, however, it wasn’t always. While I remember having liked it very much upon my first watch-through, it wasn’t until this re-visit that I came to understand how much I love Inuyasha and why I love it so much. Long story short: it was fantastic in almost every single way. There’s great, consistent storytelling, amazing visuals that still hold up rather well, interesting and multi-faceted characters, and narratives within the series as a whole that could resonate with almost every sort of person on one level or another. It wasn’t a perfect series, most serials rarely are, but it was phenomenal and beautifully engaging. Modern anime sufficiently lacks many of the qualities that originally made me fall in love with the medium, qualities that can be found in a series like Inuyasha.

The 2017 seasons have mostly consisted of new additions to long-time familiars, and whatever new shows did sprout up, were laced with appalling tropes, poor storytelling, cringe-worthy humour, or it just focused so much on fan-service that it drowned out virtually everything else. While there are a few that have stood out and been remarkable, such as The Ancient Magus’ Bride, Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju, March Comes in Like a Lion, Sakura Quest, and Tsuki ga Kirei, (and a couple others) most of them have been so disappointing that before I could realise what was happening, I had stopped watching them almost entirely.

Modern day anime caters more to the Western spheres and audiences rather than what works in Japan, and has worked there for many years. As this medium gains more popularity, spreading farther and farther to the corners of the world, the demand for genuine and consistently original content seems to have diminished in the face of common stereotypes. You would assume that the opposite affect would happen, but it didn’t. A lot of people who have grown to watch anime in the modern age, did so in the wake of shows like One Piece, Naruto, and shows revolving around musical idols. There’s nothing wrong with these if they float your fancy, but they aren’t the only things that this glorious medium has to offer. Originality, pure and intellectual creations of brilliance, are unwanted because then they’re too different from these mainstream titles.

Common tropes, usually dripping with moe, and over-the-top action are the preferred flavours. If a show isn’t following these tropes, then they result to absolutely ridiculous storytelling dynamics simply for the shock value and to say that it’s “different.” A perfect example of this is Elegant Yokai Apartment Life. It was a series that had the potential to resonate with feel-good vibes akin to Natsume’s Book of Friends, but instead progressed forward with some of the worst, what-the-fuck moments that I have ever seen. Most of it was a horrid mixture of lacklustre stereotypes and forced, incoherent jaw-droppers (that were more boring than anything else) that made it seem like even the writers didn’t know what to do with it.

Tsuki ga Kirei was a phenomenal series about awkward first romances around the pre-teen age that was genuine and honest. Yet a lot of people didn’t care for it because it didn’t have fan-service, or due to its slow progression (it’s very much a story-driven title). Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju is a masterful exploration of rakugo, or Japanese verbal storytelling. It’s quite an intricate and beautiful performing art. The series exhibits traditional Japanese culture, while examining how it’s a struggling art form in contemporary Japanese society. But it’s quite unknown in many circles because it’s not filled with tedious action sequences, and focuses too heavily on a concept that is very much alien to Western audiences.

Another example is Sakura Quest. This show is mostly popular due to the fact it has cute young women in it. However, when I try to discuss other parts of the series that really drew me into it, aspects unrelated to the ladies or other cutesy things, I lose whomever I’m speaking with. This show is a marvellous piece on how small towns in Japan struggle to survive, particularly where tourism is concerned, when compared to much larger metropolitan cities such as Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. It shows the audience how many old-time traditions that Japan was originally built upon are being squished out of existence, and how these small communities are faced with the difficulties of keeping their traditions and heritage alive. But no one wants to talk about this, not when this character has big breasts and this other one is moe incarnate.

Look, I love anime, I really fucking do. I’m wholeheartedly stoked that anime is becoming much more than just a strange hobby that weird nerds do in the basement. The medium has a lot to offer, both artistically and scientifically (computer science). As someone who has a deep-rooted passion for exceptional storytelling, I must say that anime has exposed me to plenty of the finest narratives that I’ve ever come across. Nonetheless, I don’t want to see popularity strangle the brilliant potential out of the medium. Tropes are great when utilised with originality and creativity, but we need those things to keep anime great: originality, creativity, thinking outside of the popular box, allowing it to be genuine and true to it’s source rather than burying it in Western influences–those kinds of things.

While I didn’t set out to rant about my disappointments with anime in 2017, I am glad that I did so. I’m also very glad that it all came straight from the heart because a conversation like this needs to be genuine and real. In 2018, while I shall be more reserved about the offerings, I’m also going to be really hopeful. This isn’t the first time that anime has lost its way in the crowd of recognition and celebrity, and I doubt it will be the last. Nevertheless, I trust that it will find its way back to the masterful and innovative storytelling as it has plenty of times before… and if it doesn’t… in the words of Spike, “Oh well, whatever happens, happens.”

[thegloober]

The Emmys Awarded with Terrible Reviews and the Worst Ratings Ever

The Emmys came and went with a whimper and a marriage proposal on Monday night, leaving most television critics disappointed in just about everything: the hosts, the writing and the winners.

FX’s critically acclaimed spy series “The Americans” never won an Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series in its flawless six-year run, and “Killing Eve” star Sandra Oh did not make history as the first actress of Asian descent to take home the award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series. (But at least she made history simply by being nominated.)

Actually, even Oscars telecast director Glenn Weiss’s successful proposal to his girlfriend got slammed by the ladies of “The View,” so there was very little everyone could collectively delight in.

But before we get into all of the reasons critics hated this year’s ceremony, a few exceptions to this generality: Henry Winkler finally winning an Emmy for his performance in HBO comedy “Barry,” Regina King winning a trophy for her Netflix limited series “Seven Seconds,” comedian Hannah Gadsby hilariously presenting an award to a winner who wasn’t around to accept it, and a fun sketch handing out “reparation Emmys” to prominent black entertainers from the past.

The rest was generally met with a shrug, culminating in a landslide of bad reviews and news about all-time low ratings landing online Tuesday morning. Deadline reported only 10.172 million viewers tuned in — an 11 percent decrease from last year, which also set a new low at the time.

“The real problem was simply a preponderance of bad ideas and feeble writing, typified by a recurring series of skits featuring Maya Rudolph and Fred Armisen as bored and clueless Emmys ‘experts’ that set back the alt-comedy cause by decades,” The New York Times critic Mike Hale wrote, also dinging the producers for having popular animated characters Rick and Morty ask “How do you think ‘Atlanta’’s doing?” after the FX comedy had lost in five of its six categories.

As TooFab noted in our coverage, we expected more from hosts Colin Jost and Michael Che — the “Saturday Night Live” head writers who co-anchor “Weekend Update.” And we weren’t alone.

Vulture critic Jen Chaney described their performance as “more listless than I expected them to be” and complained they “somehow managed to suck the funny out of Maya Rudolph and Fred Armisen, which is a thing I did not think was possible.”

“Every time two people walked out to present an award, I thought, ‘Why didn’t they ask them to host this thing instead?'” Chaney continued. “Dave Chappelle and Neal Brennan? Would have been better. Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson? Also a stronger choice. Connie Britton and Eric Bana? Look, I don’t know if they have comedic chemistry, but I am willing to find out. Also, even though they didn’t present anything, I will sign any petition necessary to get Keri Russell, who was robbed of an Emmy for ‘The Americans,’ and Matthew Rhys, who was not, to co-host this sucker next year.”

In one of the more brutal reviews, Rolling Stone critic Rob Sheffield described the show as “toothless, flaccid, cramped and tedious.”

“What can you say about a show-biz gala where the highlight is Betty White picking up a lifetime achievement award? Or the guy who directed the Oscars dropping to his knees to ask his girlfriend to marry him? All you can really say is it was the Emmys —- now and always, the dorky underling of the glitzy award shows,” he wrote. “Bumping it to a Monday night is just a polite way of saying ‘Yeah, we got nothing’ —- kind of like bringing in hosts Colin Jost and Michael Che to do agonizingly bland ‘Weekend Update’ schtick. ‘Jesus Christ Superstar Live’ might have turned John Legend into an EGOT winner, but not even he could raise this ceremony from the dead.”

Ouch.

Hollywood Reporter critic Daniel Fienberg piled on the hosts, too, noting they “did a flat monologue and essentially vanished, confirming pre-show suspicions that the ‘Weekend Update’ anchors were ill-matched to the event.”

He also thought the new format for handing out awards made for awkward presentations, which are normally opportunities for writers and performers to liven up the evening with short and sweet hits.

“For the most part, presenters were shoehorned in as part of a rarely attempted innovation in show structure. Categories were introduced and clips were played and then presenters came out. Getting clips in always benefits awards shows, and I’m sure there’s some way that this improved show efficiency, but it left presenters doing banter between the reading of nominee names and the announcement of winners, a major momentum suck,” Fienberg wrote. “When the presenters didn’t have funny things to do, the result was both peculiar and awkward, like, why did they bother having Eric Bana come out onstage at all if he was just going to say “They make the news funny” and leave?”

Kevin Fallon’s Daily Beast review was bluntly headline, “The Emmys Telecast Was a Cringe-Worthy, Tone-Deaf Embarrassment.”

“From lackluster hosts Colin Jost and Michael Che to an unearned demand to be applauded for meager steps toward diversity and inclusion, this was the worst award show in years,” the critic wrote at the top of his blistering review, criticizing the show for relishing in the Emmys most diverse and inclusive group of nominees ever, then making viewers wait 75 minutes for a person of color to win anything.

“It was a show that treated its progress in nomination diversity as a finish line, expecting the telecast to function as a victory lap, cheering for a job well done when it should have fired a starting gun for the work just getting started,” Fallon wrote. “Most confusingly, however, is how the show opened with what was supposed to be a self-aware joke about the fallacy of that exact attitude, the one it then seemed intent on parading around like a proud peacock.”

April Reign, the activist who sparked the #OscarSoWhite movement, also complained the Emmys weren’t truly as diverse as the show was touting. Read her Twitter thoughts below, complete with fun GIFs and memes.

Let’s talk a bit more about what “diversity” is and isn’t, and whether that should be the goal. Last night, @TheEmmys Chairman/CEO Hayma Washington encouraged everyone to give themselves a round of applause for diversity. But… why? pic.twitter.com/wTzU9siKQh

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

We should start with the fact that @TheEmmys made history less than two years ago by making Hayma Washington the first…. THE FIRST…. Black Chairman & CEO. In 2016. But they want to be proud of their “diversity.” pic.twitter.com/IG4vSi54FP

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

I also want to make clear to @theEmmys and anyone else who is under a mistaken impression, that “diversity” doesn’t just mean “more Blacks.” That was never the point of #OscarsSoWhite. I’m sure that wasn’t the point of @JKCorden saying #EmmysSoWhite last night. #Emmys pic.twitter.com/z0rxgO9XXX

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

In other words, how many non-Black people of color do you remember during @TheEmmys last night? How many openly LGBT+ people? How many visibly disabled folks were part of the staff handing out awards? Right. #Emmys pic.twitter.com/ZztiEucJM0

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

I saw it described this way recently and really love it:

Diversity is inviting everyone to the party. Equity is making sure tickets are of a manageable price to everyone invited. Inclusion is asking folks to dance.

So… yeah. @TheEmmys were “diverse.” But go further. #Emmys pic.twitter.com/3KyDVsD8io

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

If you can count on one hand the number of people from a particular marginalized community that were on @TheEmmys stage last night, and still have fingers left over? You’re not doing enough. Especially w/ the shows on TV today. #Emmys <== Nor will this cutesy emoji do it. pic.twitter.com/gpMPjrixsF

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

To tout “diversity” improvements, when I can only remember two AAPI presenters (Constance Wu and Sandra Oh), to literally have a song & dance routine when I can only remember two Latinx presenters (Gina Rodriguez & Benicio Del Toro), seems to have missed @Theemmys mark. #Emmys pic.twitter.com/q2hAxAILGM

— April (@ReignOfApril) September 18, 2018

View Photos Getty Emmy Awards: See Who Switched Up Their Style for the After-Parties

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Source: https://bloghyped.com/the-emmys-awarded-with-terrible-reviews-and-the-worst-ratings-ever/

[her-bookshelf-tells-her-story]

Book Review - Four Weeks, Five People by Jennifer Yu

Genre: YA realistic fiction

Rating: 3/5 stars

Synopsis (from Goodreads):

They're more than their problems Obsessive-compulsive teen Clarissa wants to get better, if only so her mother will stop asking her if she's okay. Andrew wants to overcome his eating disorder so he can get back to his band and their dreams of becoming famous.Film aficionado Ben would rather live in the movies than in reality. Gorgeous and overly confident Mason thinks everyone is an idiot. And Stella just doesn't want to be back for her second summer of wilderness therapy. As the five teens get to know one another and work to overcome the various disorders that have affected their lives, they find themselves forming bonds they never thought they would, discovering new truths about themselves and actually looking forward to the future.

Review:

*Received free ARC of this novel through a Goodreads giveaway*

I appreciated certain elements that show up in this book, as a novel told exploring several multiple illnesses in teenagers. Told through the perspectives of five different characters over a span of four weeks, readers enter this therapeutic wilderness camp with Andrew, Clarisa, Stella, Mason, and Ben in the hopes (well, this was my hope anyway) of getting a realistic look into living with - and trying to recover from - mental illness as a teen under pressure.

Unfortunately, I was pretty underwhelmed by this. But before I go more into that, let me outline some of what I appreciated here (will try to make it spoiler-free!):

- It briefly spotlights the pressure teens feel from their parents to be "normal". While there's undoubtedly pressure from [Western] society as a whole to fit within certain acceptable standards of sanity, there's a more painful kind of intimacy through which we experience pressure from family and friends. Even if that pressure is misperceived, the stress of trying to be a good son, daughter, or non-binary/trans offspring is most definitely a stressor that deserves more recognition when it comes to teens struggling with mental illness.

- There were some really insightful/realistic passages in there through the perspectives of the characters. By insightful, I mean in their consideration of providing a realistic lens through which to view anorexia, manic depression, anxiety, etc. Just a few gem lines here and there were able to provide depth to what the characters were experiencing on the inside, regardless of how they portrayed themselves on the outside to the rest of the world.

- IT DOESN’T PERPETUATE THE GROSS TROPE OF TREATMENT CENTER ROMANCE. Disregarding any truth to the cringe-worthy trope of finding the love of your life in a psych ward or treatment center for a psychiatric disorder, I was really pleased that it is instead viewed with a more critical lens here. While these spaces are somewhat perfect to create long-lasting, intimate relationships with other people due to the emotional intensity of the environment, it’s also important to be able to understand the importance of boundaries and recognizing how relationships made between people who are ill can become unhealthy and ultimately harmful to one or both sides. And I do believe the author explores this rather well in the last half of the book.

Now, the overarching criticism I have regarding this novel is that there is an underwhelming lack of development, both with the plot and with the characters. Granted, a couple characters get some appreciable development by the end, but overall, the progression of this was disappointing.

I don’t necessarily support the criticism stating disappointment about the characters not recovering by the end or whatever, because that would have really made it unrealistic to me. Four weeks, people. You don’t recover with happy rainbows and a unicorn ride to the best future imaginable in four weeks.

But maybe the larger thing is that, by the end, it seems that the novel has explored the relationships between the characters more fully than their mental illnesses; which isn’t bad, necessarily, but might make the synopsis somewhat misleading?

In addition, I’m not sure the multiple-POV thing works. Splitting into five different character POVs made it difficult to form attachment to the characters. One idea: just totally kick Mason out of the story. Think about how much space that would open up. Because, for real, I’m not sure what his purpose as a character is. He experiences absolutely no character development - I would argue, based on his sections even at the end - and basically serves to be the asshole of the novel. Maybe he symbolizes the ignorant stigma so many people still place on those who struggle with mental health, but goddamn, you’d still hope by the end then that he would have learned something. But nope. Does everybody who spends time with mentally ill individuals come out on the other side more educated and sympathetic? Nah, I doubt it. But within the context of this book, I don’t think Mason’s character served any purpose, and that bothered me.

Description of the setting was also lacking. There was little mention of campers outside of the five MC’s block, and little mention of staff outside of those that attended them directly as well. Everything was confined, and especially in choosing such a setting for a book, you’d expect it to be expanded upon more fully, particularly in its institutional structure and all. Instead, there’s description of the physical setting - the woods, the Safe Space cabin or whatever - but little space given to explaining how the program is supposed to work.

I don’t think this is a bad novel. There are some bad novels out there that butcher both the treatment setting and mental illness through gross stereotypes. I don’t get that vibe here really at all; mostly, it’s just a lack of development. There could have been more. Which is weird to say considering how long this book is, because I don’t feel like it needs to be longer per say. I just find myself wondering how it could be so long and still feel so bare. It reads as kind of a skeleton outline only half filled-in. It could have done more in exploring the different mental illnesses the characters experience, it could have done more to explore the various factors that affect psychological health, it could have explained the wilderness camp program better, etc.

Kudos to the author for her debut novel though. Thank you for not butchering what it’s like to struggle with mental illness.