#so no one in the world writes like me because i invented an extra hook to the top of my 't's as part of my style

[n7punk]

the experience you describe of learning those is how cursive is generally treated in the USA. if you look up (american) cursive on google you'll get a bunch of stuff that looks like this:

but in my experience that's way too readable to be cursive. american cursive looks more like this:

which is totally incomprehensible, at least to my three (3) kinds of dyslexia. so honestly i would say your examples are borderline cursive/not cursive because they're closer to printed letters than what anyone's cursive looks here, but it could be the case for y'all as well that people's cursive doesn't actually look that readable IRL.

the defining feature of cursive that makes it so hard to parse is that every letter connects to the next one, which makes them a lot harder to pick out. i can't tell if y'all do that from the letter practice sheet (i think so?), but if you do, then i'd say the lowercase letters are cursive. when i was growing up, typically we would have writing sheets to practice print letters (your computer letters), and once we're doing okay at that, the cursive ones are introduced too (although that delay might have been done because of my dyslexia and people normally start both at the same time). I remember this distinctly because i was working on my cursive sheets for so much longer since dyslexia #3 meant i kept giving letters extra bumps and swoops and stuff and i couldn't read anything i'd written.

i'd say the capital letters you showed have some of the cursive ones i'm familiar with and but mostly look like fancy calligraphy letters. your lowercase letters are more consistent across the board with what we use, but like i said, too readable lmao.

im seeing that poll about learning cursive in school a lot on my dash and as a vietnamese im kinda bewildered bc what do you mean you cant read cursive?? because to us cursive is for capital letters only! the rest are normal letters. so ig our normal written letters are the american cursive, and our "computer" letters are your normal letters?

↑ these are the fonts we learn in school. The left are our normal letters, the right are our cursive. Oh and the thing is, these are the only fonts we actually taught a school, the "typing" font is just what we imitate from printed books. In elementary school we have "good handwriting competitions" where the participants write in the above fonts and are graded on how close it is to the table above. its like boring calligraphy

[bigskydreaming]

Bruce Wayne upon Henry Cavill returning to the DCU as Superman: 

“Oh, I see somebody decided to go and STEAL MY ENTIRE CHARACTERIZATION on his summer vacation. Nice. Boy scout, my ass. Well, don’t forget where you are now. You’re not in Kansas anymore. OR Middle-Earth. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant “the Continent” (look, all fantasy lands are the same, everyone knows that. Its called the United States of Narnia? Read a map?) Whatever. Just don’t go around thinking you’ll be bringing any of THAT role into this one. Stay in your lane, Kent. I do the brooding around here, and I DON’T share well with others. Ask literally any of my children. I even compete with each of them for their siblings’ time and attention, lmao like why would I share my stuff with you? I’ve never even adopted you, like even a little bit, helloooooo. 

Oh, and btw, I still have my anti-Superman armored suit down in the Batcave. Its filed in the Aisle of All My Mistakes, Obsessively Archived For Posterity and Also Memorialized In A Super-Healthy And Not At All Concerning Way That Has Nothing to Do With Routine Self-Flagellation Because Reasons, no matter what Dick has told you. He’s a habitual liar, picked it up from me. I’m very proud. In addition to my anti-Superman suit I also have a lifetime membership to the Can and Will Repeat My Worst Mistakes Like Clockwork and Learn Nothing From Them Ever Club, so despite how disastrously everything went the last time I got my ass beat by you even WITH ‘prep time,’ no matter what the reddit Rumbles thread started by my sockpuppet account claims - y’know, back when I was manipulated into seeing you as Satan by a supervillain who looked at my ego and paranoia and said well this looks so easy even I almost feel bad about weaponizing it for Evil? - well, Poor Life Choices is the longest committed relationship I’ve ever had in my life and I’m WAY too invested to back down on that front now. I’d just look flaky. 

So in conclusion to this impromptu Powerpoint presentation that I just happened to have handy despite zero advance indicators I might need it and suggests either that I probably SHOULD be tested for the meta-gene or else that I really AM an extra-dimensional Batgod and everybody should be wildly concerned about that, the point is I’m ready to willfully disregard ALL of the aforementioned self-awareness and life lessons that didn’t stick, 100% prepared to throw down all over again if I see even a hint of that lip curling in a derisive half-smirk that suggests ‘I am cursed to share this planet with incompetent dumbasses.’ Just because my legal department still hasn’t figured out how to trademark a Mood even when its mine and I basically invented it, I’m pretty sure, well, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna just stand idly by and let you STEAL IT when plagiarism is a felony that carries a five year sentence. Minimum. Probably. Idk. Look, in this particular universe I mounted machine guns on my car instead of ridiculous physics-defying grappling hooks. I lost sight of Proportionate Responses literal decades ago. This is not new information. Let’s move on.

 Wait, what? No there’s nothing to read into the fact that I make a habit of watching your lips. You’re an alien. I’m a detective. I’m documenting how the topography of your face shifts in response to each and every emotion-incited twitch, all so I can plausibly pull off my ‘I can see into a man’s very soul by deciphering his micro-expressions’ bullshit with you too. Its literally for Science? I’ll write a book on it someday. Maybe. And if I do there will obviously be zero subtext about why I detail Kryptonian musculature in vastly more explicit detail than I do the mechanics of heat vision, duh, like lmao you sound so unhinged right now, literally what even is your deal.”

Bruce, walking away muttering: Who the fuck does this guy even think he is? And just going around adopting random orphans he trains to fight bad guys and save the world? That’s MY move. Everyone knows that! Respect my brand and go get your own, asshole. Jeez.

* this is a joke post that is not in any way meant to speak to OP’s actual interpretation of any Bruce Wayne that matters, just a random expansion on DCU movie Bruce Wayne who I disavow for being the Ultimate Bad Take of that universe on account of what the actual fuck am I supposed to do with a Batman who has his car gun down random henchmen in the name of literally nobody even knows at this point. Like, hello? Now what are he and Jason supposed to fight about and be forever tragically estranged because of? You guys gotta THINK about this stuff before you just go around throwing hundred million dollar budgets at the first pitch to go “here’s how a Superman and Batman fight to the death can still win, actually.” No, but seriously. For real. I just really hate Batfleck’s characterization. Like, with the fiery passion of a hundred thousand suns all competing in the official Universe’s Hottest Supernova competition. And as you can see, I am super reasonable and rational about this and am definitely probably likely to change my mind about it if exposed to just the right counter-argument that I have just never considered or been approached with before. And ‘tis not even an objection to his casting, the aesthetics, not the DC movie universe as a whole. Nay. Nay I say, with much over the top ridiculousness to blunt the edge of any inclination one might have to treat this post seriously because Somebody On The Internet Is Being Wrong persists as a problem that occasionally besets us all. No? That’s literally just me projecting and my experiences are not actually universal? Huh. Weird. Not sure I like that. ANYWAY, to return to the afore-mentioned NAY I SAY(s)....my grudge match is against Batfleck’s characterization and Batfleck’s characterization only. Consider this my love letter to how absurd I find it, rather than an invitation to The Discourse as even my substantial history of arguing molehills into Mount Everests isn’t up to the task of expanding on a thesis that is basically just “I just think it sucks and I hate it, bye.”

[aellynera]

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is. 

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! I love your writing! I'm gonna send five prompts, I hope at least one of them inspires you and you have fun with them. Prompt #1: Wang Lingjiao (Wen Chao's mistress) interacting with Meng Yao in Nightless City, can be a ship but not necessarily (I... guess you could count shipping it as infidelity towards Wen Chao??? so def don't write ship if it makes you uncomfortable). Preferably WLJ pov, with her making numerous not always accurate assumptions about Meng Yao's role at Wen Ruohan's court, maybe sort of assuming he is to WRH what she is to WC and therefore approaching him with something like ~camaraderie (whether MY plays along or laughs her off I will leave to you)

ao3

Friends were a luxury that Wang Lingjiao had never been well-off enough to have, not when her tenuous position might be lost at any minute by a pair of seductive eyes or a new (not better) pair of tits, but it wasn’t like she was totally without any fellow feeling.

“Well done,” she said to the boy with Nie braids in his hair like he thought it’d make him something he wasn’t.

He blinked, surprised, and fixed her with the same pleasant, competent, I’m-here-for-your-pleasure smile that she’d seen him use on everyone else. “Lady Wang, whatever do you mean?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes. Sure, he wasn’t doing anything more stunning than getting himself some off-hours food from the kitchens, same as her, but there was no way he didn’t know what she meant. 

He knew. Oh, he knew.

“For selling something else,” she clarified, and saw the darkness creep into that bright and clear gaze he was always pretending with, hiding behind; he couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what she was saying now. Personally, she’d rather be on her back in Wen Chao’s bed than helping out in the Fire Palace, but it was the principle of the thing. “And drop the ‘lady’ shit while we’re in the Nightless City. There’s no point in pissing off Lady Ma.”

His face didn’t give away any obvious tells, like eyebrows shooting up or eyes going wide, but she could feel that he was surprised. “You – care about that?”

Ma Liyuan was Wen Chao’s wife, officially, and Wang Lingjiao’s official job was as her maid, except of course she didn’t do any maid stuff because she was too busy fucking Wen Chao. Still, she would have thought that this Meng Yao character would know better.

“Born in a brothel, were you?” she guessed, and his face closed up. “Don’t be so squeamish. She told me to do it, of course. If she can’t keep him, better that she control him through me than let someone from the outside sink their claws into him. Doesn’t mean she wants it rubbed in her face or anything, though.”

It wasn’t an uncommon story, and he nodded slowly as she went to pick out some food – she could get better fare when she ate with Wen Chao, of course, but he liked the illusion of her being dainty and pristine, as if you could get tits like hers without having a decent meal on the regular, and so she supplemented in private.

“Someone told me you were from Yingchuan,” he said from behind her. “Yingchuan Wang sect.”

“I am,” she said, tearing at the flesh of an apple with her teeth. “What, the intonation didn’t give me away?”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I thought – Yingchuan Wang is a cultivation sect.”

Gentry, he meant. 

“Sure is,” Wang Lingjiao said, and her lips twisted in derision. “What, did you think it was all fun and games after you get brought across the threshold? Did your mother fill your head with dreams of your legitimate father sweeping in and buying your freedom and hers, setting her up in a nice little courtyard and you in disciple robes, then seeing your merit and giving you the respect you deserve?”

He was quiet. Brothel girls, she thought to herself. Always the same old tune.

“My mother was a whore, too, only she did get brought in as a concubine,” she said. “Nice and official, past the threshold and everything. The official wives hated her, of course: shorted her on firewood in the winter and water in the summer, always gave her the worst pieces of cloth to make clothing and no allowance to buy anything else, gave us incense that’d give you itches and food that gave you the runs.”

“That happens everywhere,” he said.

“She got that nice little courtyard,” Wang Lingjiao said. “It even had a nice little gateway to the outside world – not for her to go out, mind you, that wouldn’t be proper for an official concubine. But it worked perfectly well for men to come in, with all the earnings flowing to the family coffers.”

She laughed at the expression on his face.

“It’s one pimp or another,” she told him. “Men always want something from you, always, don’t you know that? And when they think you’re already dirty, they don’t think too hard about what they’re asking. I was born inside the door to a proper legitimate father, never spent a day of my life in a brothel, and they still sold me out just the same as any madam – no, worse. The stuff these righteous bastards ask for is always ten times worse.”

“Worse?” he echoed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked him. “Even a whore that’s lost her charm still doesn’t have to do much more than lie on her back and spread her legs, but look at you – look at me. Running around catering to their every need, doing every nasty deed that they don’t want to do because that’s all we’re good for in their eyes.”

He grimaced.

“I’m in charge of getting new women for A-Chao’s bed, when he’s in the mood for variety,” Wang Lingjiao said. “And for getting rid of any accidents that might happen later, my own or others’. The Wen clan doesn’t believe in them, if you understand me; if he wants kids, he’ll get them through Lady Ma or nobody. And if a woman turns him down, it’s my job to punish her, or else he’ll start saying I don’t care enough, that I’m looking elsewhere…”

She laughed and took a bite of some pork.

“I’d do it anyway, of course,” she said, chewing. “All those little bitches that think they’re better than me, it’s a pleasure to knock them down to size. And surprise, surprise, once they don’t have their looks, suddenly they’re more than happy to come around begging at A-Chao’s door to see what they can get, since now the righteous ones don’t want them anymore…Peel off all that shiny exterior and it’s all the same underneath.”

Meng Yao didn’t like what she was saying, she could tell. Not that she cared.

“Find yourself a fool,” she advised him. “A-Chao’s not bad to me, all things considered. I’ve been by his side for a few years now and his tastes are pretty run-of-the-mill, not like his brother or his father; a bit of ego stroking - ooh, you’re so strong, so capable, I’ve never seen anyone as big as you, that sort of thing - and he likes coming on my tits. Sect Leader Wen, though? He’s too clever. You won’t be able to keep his interest for long, not even with those ingenious little torture machines you keep inventing for him, and then he’ll have you doing the real scut work.”

“I appreciate your consideration,” he said stiffly. Didn’t like his work being compared to someone like her, did he?

Men.

“I hear things about the brothels in Lanling,” she offered, just to needle him. “Not just perfume and flowers and a bit of witty conversation, not for men with all the money in the world; they like getting a little extra. If you’d gotten taken in the way you wanted, I’d bet that’s the job you’d get: you’d be seeing those women every day, bringing the women in smiling and taking them out crying – or worse. Some jobs you aren’t meant to come back from, after all; my best friend growing up ended up that way. You couldn’t even recognize the body as human below the neck.”

He was too well-trained to glare, but Wang Lingjiao could tell he wanted to. Someone like him, who signed up to do torture work, probably wouldn’t mind the bodies, she reflected, and shook her head.

“What’s Qinghe like, anyway?” she asked, nodding at his braids, actually curious. “Secretive sorts, and the one or two times my people acted as hosts to their inner sect disciples, they always turned down any offers for late night company.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said.

“Stop having a stick up your ass. I’m not saying you provided services yourself, and even if you did I’m hardly one to judge. I just want to know. You were close with that big man of theirs, their sect leader, weren’t you? Sect Leader Wen sure talks about it enough.”

Talked about it the way Wen Chao talked about Wang Lingjiao getting close to a woman he was pursuing, sometimes. There was really no accounting for taste – Sect Leader Wen could have any woman he wanted and often did, her and Lady Ma included, and even sometimes at the same time; yet what he really wanted, apparently, was to hear Meng Yao talk about Sect Leader Nie’s personal habits.

Probably he wanted the joy in breaking him or something. Wang Lingjiao didn’t make it her business to try to guess, though she supposed Meng Yao did.

“No way someone as sharp as you didn’t pick up some clues about what he likes,” she continued. “Come on, what is it? He like beating his whores or something?”

“He didn’t frequent whores,” Meng Yao said. “And he didn’t take lovers.”

He smiled, faintly, probably at her expression of disbelief.

“He liked slaughtering Wen-dogs,” he added. “Rather a lot. See that you don’t end up on the wrong side of his saber. He didn’t make allowances for women.”

Wang Lingjiao tossed her hair – there was no need to bring in blood and war into their perfectly nice conversation! – and huffed. “Oh, I get you. The marrying type, then?” she sneered. “The ones that’ll give you their heart and forgive you for everything, then end up wearing green hats for cuckolds when it turns out the one they like isn’t near as virtuous as them? What a fool!”

“I thought you said I should find myself a fool,” Meng Yao said mildly.

“You still have to be able to keep him,” she mocked. “If you could get someone like Sect Leader Nie on the hook, why would you be busting your ass here?”

That shut him up.

“Well, your loss is Sect Leader Wen’s gain, I guess,” she said, and put aside her plate without washing it. The kitchen staff could clean up for her. “Ugh, I can’t wait for this war to be over already. I miss the discussion conferences! Even though I had to stay back with the servants, at least you got to see some new people…that last one, with the archery, that was a fun one.”

She grinned. “All the sect leaders came here to sit at Sect Leader Wen’s feet, your father included. He asked all three of his housekeeping maids to serve him in bed, you know. All at once. Brave man, at his age…come to think of it, you might want to check the nursery. See if you have some siblings there. Who knows? Maybe they’ll grow up to be competition.”

Meng Yao said nothing.

Wang Lingjiao laughed again.

“Have fun in the Fire Palace, Meng Yao,” she said, sashaying away. ��Try not to end up on the wrong side of it.”

See? It was almost like being friends.

[aliveandfullofjoy]

So I was reading about the first Oscars ceremony, and it had a division between Outstanding Picture and Best Unique & Artistic Film, where Unique & Artistic was apparently meant to be an equal to Outstanding Picture but dedicated more for prestige artistic works. The next year, the two categories became one from then on, and Outstanding Picture was the only top prize. (If any of that is wrong, blame wikipedia.)

If the split had remained, and there was a more commercial-y movie top prize and a prestige art top prize, what are some notable movies that suddenly pick up wins?

okay wait........ this is a brilliant question and i am ashamed to say i’ve never really given it much thought until now.

idk if you’ve seen wings and sunrise but they’re both pretty great and they do represent wildly different kinds of filmmaking. while it’s safe to say Wings is the more commercial film, it has great craftsmanship behind it and it very clearly created the template for accessible, capital-i Important, and well-made best picture winners to come. 

and, full transparency, sunrise is one of my, like, top 15 favorite movies, so i’m hella biased, but that movie is a gorgeous and strange and thrilling piece of work. the title “unique and artistic film” is impossibly vague, but watching sunrise makes it very, very clear that it fits that bill for that category. and while we’ll, of course, never know what might have happened if that category had continued, it’s tempting to think that all the winners in unique and artistic film would be of sunrise’s calibre, but knowing the oscars... that’s clearly a fantasy, lol. while sunrise is a wildly inventive and artistic film, it’s important to remember that it was fully on the academy’s radar -- janet gaynor won best actress in part for her performance in the film, and it also won best cinematography. so while it’s tempting to think the academy would always recognize a truly unique and artistic achievement every year, in all likelihood, they probably wouldn’t stray too far from the movies that were already on their radar. 

so for this thought experiment!!

it’s probably safe to assume every best picture winner has to go in one of the two categories. there are only a handful of winners that stick out as maybe missing out on the big win in this new system, but only a handful. 

so uh. this is way more than you asked but i got hooked. here’s what i think might have happened if the two best picture categories had stuck around. as i was working through the years, it became clear to me that, unfortunately, in a lot of years, the unique and artistic film would likely end up going to the more overtly “prestigious” films, such as the song of bernadette or the life of emile zola, while their far better and more commercially viable rivals (casablanca for bernadette, the awful truth for zola) would win outstanding picture. the actual best picture winners have an asterisk next to them. what’s also interesting to consider is the importance of the best director category: most of the time, a split in picture and director will tell you what’s clearly the runner-up. those years, usually, give you a good sense of how the two awards would shake out.

Outstanding Picture / Unique and Artistic Film

1929: The Broadway Melody*; The Divine Lady 

1930: The Big House; All Quiet on the Western Front* 

1931: Cimarron*; Morocco 

1932: Grand Hotel*; Bad Girl

1933: Little Women; Cavalcade*

1934: It Happened One Night*; One Night of Love 

1935: The Informer; A Midsummer Night’s Dream (** this is one of the few years i think the actual BP winner, Mutiny on the Bounty, would miss out; The Informer was clearly the runner-up for BP with wins in director, actor, and screenplay, while Midsummer was seen as THE artistic triumph of the year, and with its historic write-in cinematography win, there was clearly a lot of passion for it)

1936: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town; The Great Ziegfeld*

1937: The Awful Truth; The Life of Emile Zola*

1938: You Can’t Take It With You*; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or Grand Illusion (** this one’s tough... Grand Illusion made history as the first non-english movie nominated for BP, and it clearly had a lot of support, but Snow White was such a monumental moment in Hollywood, and the academy clearly acknowledged that with its honorary award)

1939: Gone with the Wind*; The Wizard of Oz (** this is one of the first years with a clear runaway favorite for best picture, which makes guessing the way the other award would go very difficult! i’m leaning towards Oz purely because of its technical achievements, but i’m not confident about that choice at all.)

1940: Rebecca*; The Grapes of Wrath 

1941: How Green Was My Valley*; Citizen Kane

1942: Yankee Doodle Dandy; Mrs. Miniver*

1943: Casablanca*; The Song of Bernadette

1944: Going My Way*; Wilson

1945: The Bells of St. Mary’s; The Lost Weekend*

1946: The Best Years of Our Lives*; Henry V

1947: Gentleman’s Agreement*; A Double Life 

1948: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre; Hamlet*

1949: All the King’s Men*; The Heiress 

1950: All About Eve*; Sunset Boulevard

1951: A Place in the Sun; An American in Paris*

1952: The Greatest Show on Earth*; The Quiet Man 

1953: Roman Holiday; From Here to Eternity*

1954: The Country Girl; On the Waterfront*

1955: Marty*; Picnic

1956: Around the World in 80 Days*; Giant

1957: Peyton Place; The Bridge on the River Kwai

1958: The Defiant Ones; Gigi*

1959: The Diary of Anne Frank; Ben-Hur*

1960: Elmer Gantry; The Apartment*

1961: West Side Story*; Judgment at Nuremberg

1962: To Kill a Mockingbird; Lawrence of Arabia*

1963: Tom Jones*; 8½ 

1964: Mary Poppins; My Fair Lady*

1965: The Sound of Music*; Doctor Zhivago

1966: A Man for All Seasons*; Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

1967: In the Heat of the Night*; The Graduate

1968: Oliver!*; 2001: A Space Odyssey 

1969: Midnight Cowboy; Z 

1970: Airport; Patton*

1971: The French Connection*; The Last Picture Show

1972: The Godfather; Cabaret

1973: The Sting*; The Exorcist

1974: Chinatown; The Godfather, Part II

1975: Jaws; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest*

1976: Rocky*; Network

1977: Star Wars; Annie Hall*

1978: Coming Home; The Deer Hunter*

1979: Kramer vs. Kramer*; All That Jazz

1980: Ordinary People*; Raging Bull

1981: Chariots of Fire*; Reds

1982: E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial; Gandhi*

1983: Terms of Endearment*; Fanny and Alexander

1984: Amadeus*; The Killing Fields

1985: Out of Africa*; Ran

1986: Platoon*; Blue Velvet

1987: Moonstruck; The Last Emperor*

1988: Rain Man*; Who Framed Roger Rabbit

1989: Driving Miss Daisy*; Born on the Fourth of July

1990: Ghost; Dances with Wolves*

1991: The Silence of the Lambs*; JFK

1992: Unforgiven*; Howards End 

1993: Schindler’s List*; The Piano 

1994: Forrest Gump*; Three Colors: Red 

1995: Braveheart*; Toy Story 

1996: Jerry Maguire; The English Patient*

1997: Titanic*; L.A. Confidential

1998: Shakespeare in Love*; Saving Private Ryan

1999: The Cider House Rules; American Beauty*

2000: Traffic; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (** this is another year where i think the actual BP winner, Gladiator, might have missed out. it was a tight three-way race going into oscar night, and if there were two BP awards, i think this consensus might have settled, leaving Gladiator to go home with just actor and some tech awards.)

2001: A Beautiful Mind*; Mulholland Drive

2002: Chicago*; The Pianist

2003: Mystic River; The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King*

2004: Million Dollar Baby*; The Aviator

2005: Crash*; Brokeback Mountain

2006: The Departed*; Babel

2007: No Country for Old Men*; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

2008: The Dark Knight; Slumdog Millionaire*

2009: The Hurt Locker*; Avatar

2010: The King’s Speech*; The Social Network

2011: The Artist*; The Tree of Life

2012: Argo*; Life of Pi

2013: 12 Years a Slave*; Gravity 

2014: Birdman*; Boyhood

2015: Spotlight*; The Revenant

2016: La La Land; Moonlight*

2017: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri; The Shape of Water*

2018: Black Panther; Roma (** again, i think Green Book gets bumped out in this scenario, i think Black Panther is precisely the kind of movie that benefits from an award that’s seemingly more ~populist~ while Roma easily snags the unique & artistic prize)

2019: 1917; Parasite*

2020: The Father; Nomadland*

but of course i have no idea at all, and most of these are just my gut reactions lol. what a fun question!

[reading-while-queer]

Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Mixed Review Genre: Fantasy, Mystery, Dark Academia Representation: -Bi/pan protagonist -Jewish protagonist -Latina mixed race protagonist Trigger warnings: Sexual assault (in scene), rape (in scene), CSA (in scene), graphic violence, murder, drug use, drug abuse, drugging of another person, overdose, domestic abuse, medical abuse, violence by dogs Note: Not YA

Why is it that every time I read Leigh Bardugo, I love the book with a passion...except for one thing that makes me want to tear my hair out?

Here’s what seriously impressed me about Ninth House, Bardugo’s entry into New Adult. The pacing was phenomenal. The measured, perfectly timed revelations of information had me finding excuses to listen to the audiobook - taking extra neighborhood walks, doing extra loads of laundry - because I was so hooked. Then, there’s the worldbuilding. Bardugo managed to walk a delicate line, successfully suspending disbelief while still asserting that eight Yale secret societies do secret magic rituals to the benefit of the oligarchical capitalist machine (we all kind of suspected this was the case, right?). But the best part of the book, the part that had me recommending Ninth House in more than one group chat, was, of all things, the point-of-view jumps.

Rarely are point-of-view switches the star of the show, but I was so excited to see a genuinely original, intrinsic-to-the-heart-of-the-whole-novel use of that technical tool. The point of view jumps crank the volume up on the theme of the whole book. We start with the main character, Galaxy “Alex” Stern; she is the point-of-view character for the present semester during which the principal action of the novel takes place. Her upperclassman and mentor Daniel Arlington (or “Darlington”) is the point-of-view character for the semester before - all because something happened to Darlington. Alex is telling people he’s doing a “semester in Spain,” and all the reader knows is that her explanation isn’t strictly true. The point-of-view jumps being so strict (there is never an Alex perspective chapter during last semester, and never a Darlington perspective in the present) serves to separate the two characters from each other with a really incredible emotional effectiveness. The heart of the novel, for me as a reader, was yearning for these two to be reunited - and all because Bardugo holds the two character points-of-view separate across an unbreachable temporal divide. It’s a powerfully effective technique.

But let’s backtrack. Alex is a 20-year-old high school dropout from the west coast. As the story progresses, we learn that Alex can see ghosts, which is why, despite never finishing high school or getting her GED - or even applying - Alex is a freshman at Yale - contingent on her joining the secret society called “Lethe House” as apprentice (“Dante”) to the current leader of the society, Darlington (the “Virgil”). Lethe House is the governing body of the eight Yale secret societies that practice the magic that keeps the elite in power. These secret societies make books sell, make T.V. anchors charming and compelling, and open portals to other parts of the world - when they aren’t throwing over the top Halloween parties with magic designed to alter one’s perception of reality.

Darlington, by contrast to Alex, seems to belong at Yale. He’s from an old family, and he’s preppy and well-read. Most of all, he loves Lethe House and its history of keeping the secret societies from harming people in their pursuit of magic and power. That is, until he disappears just in time for Alex, only half-trained, to investigate the murder of a girl on campus.

The first three quarters of the novel are fantastic for the reasons stated above. Bardugo’s approach to mystery writing is effective. We have half a dozen suspects, most of whom, as elite ivy league magicians, are at least guilty of some misdeed. Having all your red herrings end up somewhat culpable anyway is a good way to keep your mystery difficult to solve until the end. We were off to a good start.

Unfortunately, in the end, Bardugo made the all-too-common choice to value “surprise” over the most compelling, satisfying solution. So while the reader doesn’t see the ending coming, that is at the steep cost of the ending not being justified by the rest of the book. Bardugo even has to invent new rules of magic off the cuff to justify the ending. When the rest of the book so painstakingly developed the rules of magic in a way that made sense and never felt overly expository, undoing all that effort feels like a monumental waste. And for what did Bardugo undermine all her hard work? A mystery that the reader won’t have all the clues to solve? It’s really okay - in fact, good - if the reader can puzzle out your story. It means your story has symmetry, internal logic, or perhaps, some sort of message.

This is what had me tearing my hair out. I know exactly how I would have written the ending of Ninth House to be the perfect conclusion to a stunning book. I know exactly what the message should have been. Is it somewhat ridiculous to say that Bardugo misinterpreted the message of her own book? Perhaps. But given the out-of-left-field-ending, the theme of the book ends up being a rather cheaply bought “No matter how traumatized you are, you can be a girlboss” instead of the message that the very structure of the novel itself was pointing to since page one: one of companionship, trust, and restoration (frankly, a better message for a novel with a main character who suffers so much loss and trauma. But, sure, “girl power” is a theme...I guess...)

Here’s what I mean by the structure of the novel itself pointing to a different theme. (Spoiler warning for the rest of this paragraph). Because the point-of-view switches in the first two thirds of the novel were used by Bardugo like two magnets being held apart, the only way to create a feeling of resolution was, so to speak, putting the magnets back together: getting Darlington back into the “present.” The degree of disconnect between reader expectations and the reality of the book is comparable to picking up a romance novel only to have the two leads decide to just be friends at the end. Bardugo set expectations - akin to genre expectations - but unfortunately Bardugo kneecapped her first book in the service of the sequel.

And then there’s the trauma. Alex’s backstory wouldn’t be the same without some level of trauma; it’s an important part of her character arc. Even the explicit presence of sexual assault on the page was justified in the case of Alex’s backstory - and I think that is rarely true. But when it came to a side character’s explicit in-scene rape, which was used as a clue in the broader murder mystery rather than treated as a crime in its own right, that tipped me over into feeling the trauma in Ninth House was more excessive than necessary for character development. The resolution to that side character’s rape is oddly cartoonish - like an over-the-top prank rather than justice - and again, the only reason the rape happens to the character is to give Alex more information she needs to solve the plot. Maybe that wouldn’t bother some readers, but for me, a book has to bend over backwards to justify showing me a character being raped. Bardugo does well earlier in the book when depicting Alex’s assault; the assault is the explanation for why Alex doesn’t view magic with the same childish excitement as the rest of Yale, and it’s part of what holds her apart from the entitled secret societies. It needed to be in the book. Everything else was gratuitous.

That said, there’s one thing still to address in this roller coaster of a review, and that is: wait, is this a queer book? I had gone into it assuming that it would be, mostly because all my queer friends were reading it. And the answer is….kind of? Knowing Bardugo’s history with putting queer characters in her books, I’m going to assume she wasn’t baiting when she had Alex claim to have loved a girl in her backstory. Which, in the context of the rest of the novel, would make Alex bi or pan. As a book that a lot of queer fans of Bardugo’s YA have read, or will read, it feels appropriate to review it here.

This was a mixed review from start to finish, but to finish up: if you are thinking about reading Ninth House, go for it! There is so much to like about this book. Take to heart that if you read and liked Bardugo’s handling of sexual assault in her YA titles, you should be prepared to be surprised by Ninth House. It is not the same. I would not have called her handling of sexual assault in Six of Crows, for instance, restrained - but compared to Ninth House, it absolutely is. Despite my strongly worded feelings about the ending, Bardugo left room to redeem herself in the sequel (which, if you ask me, is why the ending was so bad in the first place...). I for one will definitely be reading the sequel the second it comes out.

[uwua3]

i love your spoiled sakuya hcs and the juza hcs with the baker s/o, they were so adorable!! ♡ can i have hcs for masumi with an s/o who likes to bake too and they're trying to teach masumi how to bake by baking together?

ah, thank you so much!!! your support means the world to me, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work TT you’re even more adorable!!! for someone who knows nothing about baking, i love sweets too much so i cannot wait to do this prompt :D i hope to make you happy with this ♡

summary: for someone who didn’t eat sweets, masumi sure ate a lot of your baking

author’s note: i loved writing this despite my lack of baking experience TT please enjoy a tsundere! masumi and a reader who is doing their best :D thank you for reading~

word count: 4,121

music: if i could ride a bike – park bird, chevy, the girl i have a crush on – frad

all you need is love... and cookies!

🌸💌 usui masumi

ever since you could remember, you’ve always aspired to be a baker

you were the kid who walked by bakeries and had to push your face against the glass at the sight of pastries. you were definitely the type to admire and double tap every post concerning cute creations just because it made you happy. you filled your mouth with so much sugar, your dentist definitely had to see you every year

so when you proudly shared to the boys you were pursuing baking, you purposely left out the fact you had begged the bakery staff to hire you despite having no experience

(you were really only hired due to your clear passion for anything sweet, but an opportunity was a chance to do even better!)

at first, your part–time shifts at the local veludo way bakery meant you always had extras to take home. but now, you had acquired the position of an amatuer apprentince who spent all their time after school perfecting their craft

professional, well–done masterpieces wrapped in pristine, elegant white boxes became sloppy, edible creations with just as much love, much to the confusion and disappointment of the dorms

so when it became apparent that you weren’t naturally blessed with the talent to be the best baker in the world, it ate away at you ever since you stared back at the collapsed cake across from you (it didn’t take long before you were back on register duty for the day)

you could tell none of the mankai boys truly enjoyed your food when they couldn’t even force themselves to finish it (not even juza)

this meant you had practically taken over the limited space the kitchen offered to practice even more, focusing on exact measurements and mixtures just to mess up every single time

you were this close to giving up and binging bake–offs on tv to feel even more insecure of your abilities before you noticed something out of the ordinary this time

crouching down to look at the open fridge, you smiled despite the flour staining your apron and sugar you accidentally wiped across your forehead

the cupcake you made yesterday... that was nearly toppled over with uneven amounts of icing, perhaps your worst invention yet, was gone

did this mean... someone ate it?

you were about to close the door, before you noticed there was a note left instead in the place of the missing dessert

“you did a good job. don’t give up.”

your heart swelled with pride once you realized someone in the dorms genuinely believed in your skill. you squealed and performed a celebration dance in the middle of the kitchen, jumping up and down from the praise

you picked your head up and fixed the baker’s hat that was about to fall off, before turning the paper around and noticing something scrawled on the back

“you can’t substitute butter for cream cheese, you know.”

you blinked before reading it again, feeling a light bulb above your head. attempting the recipe you just failed with a new sense of determination, you realized you did mix up the yellow ingredients

oh... whoops!

(you were so involved and dedicated to your work that you didn’t notice a black–haired boy lean against the door frame for a second with a slight smile before leaving)

from then on, you didn’t give up, just like the note told you to!

every time you made a new product, you expected it to be gone the next time you took a break from the kitchen. you began enjoying the process more than anything, following recipes exactly with few, minimal errors

it helped every time the person who finished eating your dessert left truthful, straightforward reviews on the back of their praise! somehow, they always knew what went wrong and genuinely assisted you in trying again and again

your effort paid off! slowly but surely, you were able to make your favorites presentable, tasty, and worthy of sharing with others! the better you got, the more optimistic your attitude became—you could do this, you got this!

quitting was a thing of the past now, how could you give up when you’ve come this far? you knew you couldn’t have done it without that one fateful note from your first customer

the mankai dorm noticed your renewed energy at your passion and slowly reaped the benefits. you would put aside one of every creation of yours for the mystery critic, but offered the rest to the boys as a way to thank them for their continous support (even if it wasn’t through eating in the beginning)

yet, as you took the trey of muffins from the oven early in the morning to prepare quick breakfast for the actors, you frowned at the thought of one boy: masumi

no matter how many times you tried, masumi wouldn’t eat your food. it didn’t matter if you wrote his name on it with icing or specifically made a treat based on his favorite flavor, he wouldn’t take it. he’d barely glance at you with a resounding “no” in front of everyone before slipping his headphones back on

it was truly an awkward sight to behold. a quiet, seemingly annoyed teenage boy coming home late from a long day of school and an discouraged part–time baker still in their academy uniform and apron, holding a platter of something good, mind you!

as you individually wrapped each muffin and wrote each person’s name on a sticky note before moving on to pack boxed lunches for the high school students (yourself included), you hesitated on masumi’s before deciding to take that one and leave it for your secret food reviewer

if he wasn’t going to enjoy it, at least someone would

as everyone began waking up, you let out a sigh of relief after laying out all the food you prepared the day of organized by name. all in a day of hard work and the endless compliments from the sleepy kids and appreciative adults made it all worth it

for some reason, as masumi walked inside the kitchen with his headphones already on, you unintentionally let out a disappointed sigh as he walked past your beautiful display. not even a look, did he not like you?

(you strangely felt disappointed from the thought of masumi not liking you, you wanted him to see you as a friend)

after having breakfast together, you left with the high school boys, animatedly discussing whatever homework you guys had (which taichi never finished as he begged for answers) and upcoming classes

on the way out, maybe if you weren’t challenged by banri to see who could sprint to the end of the street the fastest, you would’ve noticed how masumi lingered behind to grab a snack. he opened the refridgerator to take a specific one, just for him

the mankai boys liked meeting up with each other at the local park once the final bell rang just to update each other on how the day went on the way home, but you always had bakery duty right after, rushing out of the doors to wave goodbye to your friends

“thank you for the lunch!” they thanked you again gratefully, wishing you well as you two went your separate ways. masumi was always at the back of the crowd and avoided looking your direction, moving on without a single word

as masumi led the way to pick up muku and yuki, sakuya walked by his side with a curious glance towards his blazer jacket. without warning, sakuya reached out to brush something off his collar

“sorry, masumi–kun! you had... crumbs?” sakuya trailed off quietly, noticing how masumi’s face was slowly becoming red. anyone would’ve missed it, but not his own observant best friend

when sakuya connected the dots on why masumi didn’t eat lunch with him and banri, he simply just hummed a sound of acknowledgement before joining in on the lively conversation between the o high boys

masumi turned his music volume up without looking at anyone, not seeing sakuya’s quiet smile

masumi didn’t even like sweets that much, but he ate the muffin? sakuya thought before eventually getting distracted by tenma, who nudged him with a concerned look

it wasn’t him he should be worried about, what about masumi?! sakuya turned before doing a full 360 with wide eyes. he rapidly looked both ways before grabbing tenma’s shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed

“tenma! did you see where masumi went?”

“oh, he said he had class or something?”

“class? for what?”

you finally clocked out for your shift, hanging your apron back up on the wall of hooks as you placed your name tag back with your uniform. before you could leave, you heard someone call for you to come back

oh no... were you... in trouble?! you gulped, turning on your heel to come face to face with your boss, who’s expression remained strict and stoic as ever. this was it, you were going to get fired and goodbye culinary school—

“rookie, you did good,” your boss started and you felt like you were on a sugar rush. did renowned, highly experienced head baker of the whole establishment just compliment you? before you could pass out from the praise in front of everyone, he continued

“but not great.”

oh. you were about to collapse, but for a completely different reason now. of course you weren’t that good...

“but good enough for this.” he passed to you a flyer with a ticket before leaving, not bothering to check your reaction. he was always like that, a man of a few words, it reminded you of mas—

wait, teaching a baking class?

you paused, bringing the paper closer to your eyes as you skimmed the headline and details beneath the cute promotional doodles decorating the design

the community center was holding a local baking class this evening (taught by employees of your own bakery!). it seemed like it was aimed at every person in any possible demographic with the large, easy–to–read font for the elderly and childish drawings for the youth

you wondered why you hadn’t heard of it before, putting the ticket in front of you to see your name and your lucky number on the pass. how coincidental, maybe this was a sign you should go

you looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat in front of you. your boss suddenly seemed much less intimidating but more... fatherly? he ruffled your hair and attempted a smile (it looked more like a grimance, but you appreciated the effort)

“you love baking, right? have fun, get some training in.” you grinned and forced him into a hug. “thank you!” you responded, squeezing him tightly and ignoring how you were this close to being put on the early bird rotation

“get off me before i fire you.”

“yes, chef!”

when you put back on your baker’s apron and travelled with the rest of the staff to the community center to help set up, you were practically bouncing with uncontrollable energy in the back seat as you watched the evening lights turn on throughout the town

this was a sign! you had improved so much, you got promoted to teaching a community baking class because you’ve made it that far! nothing could ruin this!

or, so you thought

when you perfectly laid out the set of ingredients and utensils ready for each station, you glanced at the list at your side to see who your partner would be

as you read down the columns, you were internally hoping maybe for a sweet, wise grandmother who carried candy in her vintage purse. or, even an enthusiastic, blabbering child whose parents watched on from the side with maternal pride and love. anyone, really!

you hummed to the tune of some family friendly music from the radio, the bright yellow lights illuminating the makeshift kitchen as you somehow ignored the team’s volleyball practice happening upstairs

you followed your finger on the paper, landing on your name with a smile. yet, the look on your face completely disappeared as you double–checked to make sure it was yours

the name besides yours was blank? while others signed their full names, your partner either didn’t exist or had no alias to go by

“chef?” you asked your boss, causing him to look up from the front of the room with a blank expression. right... he was still your scary head pastry chef that definitely had multiple chances to fire you at this point

“um... how come the name for my station is blank?” you nervously questioned from his soulless stare before he rubbed his forehead with a sigh, as if burdened to actually think this time. then, he snapped his fingers together so suddenly you were startled

“there’s a kid who’s been going here for a while now, but he never tells us his name. you got him tonight.”

wow, that was the most the boss ever spoke to you, or in general

“do i make myself clear, rook?”

“yes, chef!”

you didn’t dare question him any further, just obediently wiped down your glistening metal table and avoided his harsh hawk eyes at any time possible

when the clock hit 8pm, you giddily tried your best not to hop up and down as you watched people stream into the kitchen. most were regulars, you noticed as the team happily greeted their typical partners

luckily, the list of attendees had increased so you were now a certified local teacher to the public. you tried to look the part and not smile too wide, hiding your obvious excitement at the new role. you glanced around with an eager look, trying to locate the kid your boss referred to earlier

“are you looking for your partner?” your co–worker randomly asked, walking up to you out of no where. you blinked multiple times, trying to see if they were talking to you before confirming they were, smiling nervously from the rare interaction

“yeah, i’m really excited!” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you kept your eyes on the door. your co–worker nodded, waiting for their guest as well as they leaned against the wall, crossing their arms casually

“you should be. he’s a real natural at all this, you know, despite doing it for such a short time.” they commented, not saying any more once they waved to their partner coming in. you turned towards their retreating figure, about to ask for more information before you felt someone move next to you, their eyes trained on your back intensely

right, nothing could ruin this for you, not even—

your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the whole mixing bowl you had been playing with

—masumi

masumi blinked, before spinning around to quickly try to make his way out of the room. you didn’t think before you acted, impulsively latching onto his black jacket sleeve and wincing at his sneakers skid to a stop on the floor

“listen, i know you don’t like me, but—” you mumbled, feeling less confident by the second the more he stared at you over his shoulder. it was the first time he had his headphones off for more than a minute around you, you didn’t know what to say to someone you barely knew

“you think i don’t like you?” masumi spoke for once, his deep voice shocking you but his words were an even bigger surprise. you were about to respond before the head chef began class, your boss ordering everyone to get ready or be left behind

(a few lighthearted chuckles travelled throughout the room but you shuddered internally, knowing boss wasn’t joking)

masumi seemed to debate between leaving and embarrassing you completely in front of your staff or staying to endure a painful, awkward two hours with you before he sighed, putting on his own apron without looking at you once

you didn’t have anything to say, maintaining the large distance between you two with a frown

maybe one thing, or person, could ruin this for you... how did he end up being your partner?!

as head chef went around to introduce the recipe for tonight, you didn’t know what to do. you had never talked to masumi one on one, he usually hung back with sakuya or trailed after izumi seeking validation. what could you say to someone who supposedly didn’t care for you at all?

when chef let the groups start, you picked up the cookie recipe and thanked whoever was listening it was something you could make in your sleep. you were about to start before masumi peered over your shoulder, trying to read with you

right, you had to work together with masumi or else you’d be the worst teacher ever

you slid the paper to the middle of the table, reading the first step out loud and masumi was already on it, moving to preheat the oven to 375 degrees without hesitation

you stopped, looking at him with slight shock once again. he was strangely good at taking orders without questioning a thing, you thought he would’ve given you at least some attitude

(maybe, he wasn’t as mean as you thought he was)

he returned, flicking the highlighted black hair out of his face with an unreadable look to his eyes. he waved his hand in front of your face, breaking your haze as you blushed from getting caught staring

“what’s next?” masumi bluntly asked, and you were quick to focus again and immediately went into your professional mode, missing the way masumi admired your dedication before pretending he was getting busy

without wasting time, masumi was whisking white flour, salt, and baking soda in a small bowl while you were consistently swirling a cup of butter over a saucepan, both of you working oddly well together without much words needing to be exchanged

huh... maybe he wasn’t all that bad. of course masumi was a good baker, what wasn’t he great at?

yet, you didn’t think he liked it. he didn’t eat too much sugar to begin with, what made him want to learn how to bake in the first place?

“i haven’t seen you teach here before.” masumi said, trying to start the conversation. you did a double take, wondering if he was serious or just plain condescending before you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the butter

“chef wanted me here for the first time tonight.” you awkwardly responded, feeling the tense silence in the air even as other stations around you loudly chatted with one another. masumi nodded, seemingly paying attention even as he whisked with precision you wished you had

“must mean you’ve become a good baker.” masumi replied and you couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the note you were going to come home to in the fridge

“hopefully.” you simply said, trying not to sound bitter as you didn’t let the rest of your sentence leave your mouth. you wanted to ask how masumi would know that if he hadn’t even tried any of your pastries, but you didn’t want to start anything

when the butter browned, you moved it to a heatproof bowl and continued the process, cutting up small blocks of butter again to add it to the brown butter

masumi looked over your shoulder again with a hum of approval (you deny ever feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest) before going back to his task, mumbling something that made you freeze in your steps

“looks like you didn’t mix up the butter and cream cheese this time.”

your breath hitched as you gripped the bowl, eyes wide as your thoughts ran a mile a minute. masumi picked up on your stillness, turning to ask if you were okay before you whipped around to look him in the eyes

“what?” you breathed out as masumi looked any where but you. before you could continue to interrogate him, you felt a looming presence behind you with a familiar bark

“rook! get back to work or go home!”

you and masumi quickly got back to your positions, already scared by your chef’s loud booming voice as you two did your jobs with fear as your motivation

“yes, chef!” you called out, masumi following your example as you two followed the recipe perfectly, even as you snuck in a glance at him every time you thought he wouldn’t notice

when you pushed the parchment–lined baking sheet into the oven and closed it gently, you took a moment to breathe in and out, trying to process the exposed truth that was between you two now

you couldn’t believe it: masumi was your first “customer” ever. he was the one who encouraged you to keep baking with genuine praise and heartfelt comments about what you did right. he helped you improve with useful criticism on things you did wrong and furthered your growth as a baker. without having him, you wouldn’t even be here

but you couldn’t help but think, why?

why did he want to help you? you thought he didn’t actually like you... did he want to be, your friend?

(maybe, even more?)

you jumped up and nearly hit your head on the oven bar, making masumi hurry to your side with a slightly startled expression. you were about to apologize before he laid his hand against your head, unintentionally coming closer, concerned about why your face was so red

you barely managed to get out the excuse about the heat from the oven, but you knew he doubted it as he slowly nodded and stepped back. you followed him back to your table to clean up, but you couldn’t keep it together with the rapid beat of your heart and permanent blush on your cheeks

did... did you like masumi?

was that why you were so disheartened every time you offered sweets and he didn’t take any? is that why you always made an effort to be friends with the mysterious student before eventually giving up when he didn’t respond? oh my god, did you always like him this way?

you turned to look at him again but this time, he was already staring at you. you were about to run and hide forever from the embarrassment before your co–worker from before showed up, recognizing masumi and greeting him like they were best friends

“i see you’ve met the kid. he looks mean but once you get to know him—” they reached up to knock their fist against masumi’s head fondly, ignoring the way masumi grumbled dramatically about his hair, “he’s a real sweetheart.”

you forced an awkward laugh before going back to cleaning, noticing how your co–worker kept going on, missing the way you were acutely eavesdropping on the conversation

“you impress that person, yet?” they joked, to which masumi silently glared at them to shut up. they didn’t whatsoever

“come on, you’ve had to at this point! what kind of guy takes baking classes just to help their crush?”

beep! the oven sounded, causing you to rush over to escape the discussion. it was all coming together and it didn’t take long before you connected the dots on what’s been happening the past few months

when you came back with your glove mitts on, you placed the trey down and let the cookies cool down, standing side by side to admire you and masumi’s creation

as masumi opened his mouth to compliment the work, like he always did, you beat him to it

“... you like me.” you dropped out of no where. cue the silence, again. it was like this whole bonding exercise didn’t even happen, you could feel masumi about to tug on his headphones. yet, you kept talking and saying all the things you’ve always wanted to tell him

“you ate my food every day, even if you don’t like desserts that much, because you like me.”

quiet, again. he wasn’t saying no, he couldn’t say you were wrong because you were right

“you took baking classes to help me, because you like me.”

you wanted to be more than friends with masumi, you knew that now, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt the same way

you got your answer when masumi picked up a cookie and split it into two evenly, offering the other half to you with a flustered appearance, like this was his confession

you took the cookie and knew, this was the start of something sweet

(“hey, finish cleaning already, rookie! i don’t pay you to be in love with your boyfriend!”)

(“yes, chef!”)

you received the first note with masumi’s name written at the end

“we should bake together again.”

[nekojitachan]

For some reason I was inspired to write more of ‘The Real Thing’. No clue why....

I thought this was going to be really short, too. Ha.

We’re starting to move things along, time-wise and plot-wise. Seriously.

Last part can be found here.

*******

“So, uhm, how are things going there? I mean, outside of the games, you Ravens are on the usual winning streak and they’re already talking about you making Court with the way you’re shutting down the goal whenever you’re playing, but with classes and… uhm, well, with Nathaniel?”

If Nicky didn’t sound as if he expected Andrew to yell at him at any moment, Andrew would tell him to fuck off and hang up. However, Nicky insisted on sending him care packages (and sappy A/B/O books, which Nathaniel continued to ask him about and allowed Andrew to invent ridiculous answers in return) and checking up on him, so… so Andrew humored his cousin.

(Or something like that.)

“I should make the dean’s list this semester and Nate’s fine,” Andrew said as he fought the urge to tap his fingers against the top of his desk.

“Hmm, just fine? He’s your soulmate.”

Once again, Andrew wished that he could have slit Riko’s throat before the prick had announced to the world that Nathaniel was his soulmate, even as at the same time he felt a deeply buried hint of satisfaction over knowing that everyone referred to Nathaniel as ‘his’.

He needed a drink.

“He’s fine,” Andrew repeated. “Still breathing and has all of his limbs.” All of his very attractive, very flexible limbs.

“That’s not- oh fine.” Nicky was definitely sulking on the other end of the line. “You could be a bit more romantic about finding your other half, you know.”

“Why? He’s my other half.”

“Exactly.” Nicky’s tone softened as he spoke that word. It was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Uhm, you hear from Aaron lately?”

Andrew didn’t say anything as he thought about how his twin continued to avoid him.

“Ah, yeah, okay.” Now Nicky sounded sad. “He’ll… he’ll come around. It’s difficult, not knowing where one’s soulmate is when everyone else has found theirs,” he tried to explain. “He’s feeling a bit jealous right now.”

Why would Aaron feel jealous? Andrew had moved away from California and given up any chance of a family he might have with Cass because of his brother (even if it included Drake), had gotten rid of Tilda for Aaron (who really should pay attention when making bargains), had joined the Ravens… well, partially because of the scholarship extended to Aaron (and partially because of the north star mark on his left forearm).

“It’s time for practice,” Andrew lied, unwilling to talk anymore.

“Oh, okay. Tell Nathaniel I said ‘hi’! I can’t wait to meet him, maybe during the holiday-“

Andrew hung up on his insane cousin before Nicky could go any further with that ridiculous plan, then completed his English homework. Ben had gone off to one of the study rooms to talk to his family, and returned a few minutes before the afternoon practice started (for real) with a disgruntled expression on his face.

When Andrew arched an eyebrow over the way his roommate slammed his books onto his desk, Ben huffed and shook his head. “Riko’s being even more of his ‘I’m the captain, do what I say or else’ self.” When Andrew’s drug-induced smile flattened, Ben shook his head again, that time with more vigor. “Nate wasn’t involved! He went after Jordon because of his performance this morning, and then got even angrier when Kevin tried to step in.”

As long as Nathaniel was all right. “What else is new?” Riko had become a nagging little bitch (more of a nagging little bitch) as the season progressed, as he became obsessed with ensuring that the Ravens led not only their district but the entire Class I division in points, as he excelled in both the collegiate and professional leagues.

Which meant that he became a bitter little bitch whenever he felt that he wasn’t given his due as the best striker in all of Exy, whenever someone stole his thunder (especially if it was his own partner) or if he believed that his teammates were lacking. Which meant that the Ravens had to put up with the psychotic prick’s mercurial moods.

Had Andrew said moods? More like tantrums.

At least as long as Andrew continued to either shut down the goal entirely during his time on court (not always possible) or limit the other team to one or two points, then Riko left him (and Nathaniel) alone. Well, the prick wasn’t happy when he ‘politely’ (meaning didn’t shove a knife in their ribs) reminded people to keep their fucking hands off Nathaniel, but it was still possible to play a game with a concussion or broken fingers.

Ben managed a weak chuckle at Andrew’s statement, then they left for practice; Andrew didn’t see Nathaniel or Jean in the locker room, which meant that they were already out on court. That wasn’t too much of a surprise since as part of Riko’s ‘perfect court’, they were expected to put in extra effort (to live up to the ‘perfect’ part), but it also meant that a certain prick expected more of them.

Andrew didn’t exactly run out of the locker room, but he managed a fast-paced ‘saunter’ that got him to the court before the rest of the team. He was just in time to notice a very familiar flush to his soulmate’s cheeks and gleam in those startling blue eyes as Nathaniel watched on while Riko tore into Kevin about – well, Andrew didn’t really give a shit about what, just stopping Nathaniel from getting into trouble.

“Why don’t you-“

“There’s my sweetpea!” Andrew called out right before he used his racquet as an improvised hook to draw Nathaniel towards him; Jean jumped at the loud noise then scoffed at his actions. “Got a kiss for your honeybun?”

“I’ve got a knife for your belly,” Nathaniel gritted out, yet he allowed Andrew to ‘reel’ him in. “What did I say about calling me that?”

Andrew pretended to think about the demand for a moment. “Okay, snugglewoogums.”

Behind them, Jean tried to turn a chuckle into a cough while Riko finally stopped berating Kevin. Nathaniel gave Andrew an incredibly pained look before he shook his head in defeat. “Fine, stick with the first one,” he spat as he ducked his head.

Aware of Riko’s attention on them, Andrew allowed his grin and tone to take on a salacious edge. “I told you I always get my way.” He smacked his soulmate on the ass with the handle of his racquet, well aware that he’d get an earful (and more threats about being filleted) later on, while Riko grinned in approval.

“It seems we finally found someone to tame our wild #3,” Riko taunted; for a moment, Andrew worried that it would set off his soulmate, but Nathaniel glanced over at Kevin, who had hurried to get the rest of the team ready for practice (and away from Riko), and seemed to decide to let the snide comment slide since things had settled down.

It was the usual Ravens’ practice after that (of which Andrew was So. Damn. Bored); going over the Ravens’ drills (and being caned by Tetsuji for any mistakes), followed by learning a new play or two (and being caned for not paying attention) and then a few scrimmages (and more caning for mistakes). Riko was quick to pounce on any players he felt weren’t up to the team’s demanding standards, to the point that Andrew was certain that he wasn’t the only one looking forward to the next time the asshole left for a Wildcats’ game.

As expected, Nathaniel dragged Andrew off to a table in the far corner of the dining hall after practice; no one paid any attention to him eating with his soulmate and Jean anymore, while Ben was fine having his meals with Leif and Toby (who actually said more than two words at a time to him). Jean sat with his back to the other Ravens, which helped to block any curious gazes, while Nathaniel glared as he jabbed a chopstick at the grilled tofu lying on top of his bowl of seasoned rice. “Laying it on a bit thick earlier, weren’t you?” He pitched his voice low so it wouldn’t carry very far. “Honeybun?” There was enough malice in the ‘nickname’ to choke a horse (too bad it didn’t choke Andrew and give him an excuse to skip dinner).

Andrew grunted as he contemplated flinging his own piece of tofu as far across the dining hall as possible. “Oh, did you and Valjean want to be beaten for pissing off Riko today?” It was a bit of a low blow to drag Jean into things, but the best way to prove his point.

Nathaniel appeared guilty while Jean gave him a warning look for such dirty tactics, which Andrew ignored. “He’s being a real asshole to Kevin lately for no reason.”

Other than being a jealous, insecure prick, but what else was new? “Kevin’s a big boy, let him take care of himself.”

“Kevin can’t fend for himself once off an Exy court or outside a press conference,” Nathaniel muttered, which made Jean chuckle. “But whatever,” he said when Andrew narrowed his eyes. “You done with your homework for the day?”

“Yes, you?”

Nathaniel nodded. “You… uhm, coming back to the room with us?” He kept poking at the disgusting slab of tofu while a hint of blush spread across his sharp cheekbones.

Despite the fact that Andrew basically went to Nathaniel’s room every night after dinner (unless it was a game night), he nodded and forced his attention on his own dinner while Nathaniel murmured ‘good’ and Jean looked as if he was about to get up and leave the table in disgust.

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

Once they reached the relative peace and safety (relative) of Nathaniel’s room, he pulled out the German language books which Nicky had sent Andrew (oh how his cousin had been delighted to know that Nathaniel had wanted to improve upon his slight knowledge of the language) so they could work on it that night; they’d taken to alternating between German and French in the last few weeks. Between Andrew’s eidetic memory and Nathaniel’s almost uncanny ability to learn languages, they were progressing rapidly between the two.

(Andrew wanted to know what the hell his soulmate and Jean were saying all the time – and to be warned by Jean if necessary – and to talk to Nathaniel privately.)

Andrew sat on Nathaniel’s bed, all too aware of how close they were to each other, as they went through the lessons that Nathaniel had worked on earlier that day and his pronunciation (which was damn good). They were in the middle of a short dialogue (asking for directions) when Nathaniel’s phone pinged, which was a rare occasion; almost everyone he knew was in the Nest, and his father certainly didn’t bother to talk to him.

Nathaniel’s brows drew together in a puzzled expression as he looked at his phone; Andrew noticed how Jean paused in reading a book to give his partner a worried glance. “I won’t be able to watch the game on Friday,” Nathaniel announced after texting back a response. “Ichirou wants me in the East Tower to translate.”

Andrew felt a wave of… of something dark and possessive and primordial slam into him as a wide smile spread across his face. “Oh, how wonderful, fun Moriyama time. Will Nathan be there to play as well?” He could easily (oh so easily) remember the bruises which had littered lovely ‘Nat’s’ face after his last father’s visit.

Nathaniel twitched at the response, which earned a muttered curse from Jean. “I… no.” Nathaniel shook his head, which caused the workbook in his lap to slip onto the bed and his dark auburn curls to flash through the air. “He doesn’t… not when Ichirou… no.”

The incoherence was a sign of how upset he was, as was the way his hands twisted in the hem of the overlarge black sweatshirt he wore; aware of how he was the cause of such disturbance, Andrew found himself reaching to thread his fingers through those mussed curls without a thought, to leaning forward until he felt his soulmate’s breath warm against his face, until he could see the flecks of pale grey swirl in those icy blue eyes….

A manic part of him urged him on to kiss his soulmate, to feel something, to take whatever he could – for a moment he almost gave into it, too. Then he noticed the naked emotion on Nathaniel’s face, the odd mix of trust and confusion, and found himself leaning back even as his hand wrapped around his soulmate’s nape.

(NathanielwasapipedreamwasmaybetooperfectforhimbutifhetookhimnowlikeTHISthenhe’ddefinitelyneverknowifadreamcouldbecomereality)

“Be certain,” Andrew said, his voice thick for some reason. “Because I feel that I’m due an introduction with your father for some reason, an introduction where I have a very sharp or heavy object in my hand which I make very familiar with him many, many times.”

His soulmate gazed at him for several seconds as if trying to make sense of the words before he gave up and rested his forehead on Andrew’s shoulder. When Andrew glanced at Jean, the French bastard shook his head. “I’m putting my money on the Butcher, not a runt like you.”

“He’s an old man,” Andrew sneered.

“An old man who’s used to fighting off overreaching fools. Up your game, Minyard.”

Andrew gave him the bird while he combed the fingers of his other hand through Nathaniel’s hair; once he realized what he was doing, he forced his hands away from his soulmate. Nathaniel blinked at the loss of contact then slowly rose from the bed. “Aah, it’s late,” he said as he walked toward the bathroom.

Jean waited until the door closed behind him and there was the sound of water running to lean forward and gaze at Andrew. “He doesn’t say much about what happens up in the Tower, but I know that Ichirou doesn’t let Nathan touch him,” he told Andrew, his deep voice quiet in the small room. “Kengo doesn’t stop the bastard at all, but Ichirou does.”

Andrew thought about that as he gathered up the German language books then placed them on Nathaniel’s desk. “Why?” Why did Ichirou protect Nathaniel?

Jean shook his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t think Nat does, either.”

Yet another question to add to the growing pile of them, but at least Andrew knew that Nathaniel should be safe that Friday. Should. He’d have to wait for a better answer after their game with the University of Vermont’s Catamounts.

(When he was alone, with his soulmate, without any drugs in his system….).

Except things didn’t exactly go that way – Andrew should be used to life fucking up his plans by then. After all but shutting down the goal except for one point during his time out on court, he’d dealt with the usual post-game bullshit, showered, changed and was about to head to Nathaniel’s room (well aware of the clock ticking down on his drug-free moments) when Akagi insisted that he follow the assistant coach to Tetsuji’s office.

He was ready to ignore the man, except Aaron’s name was mentioned.

Well aware that he hadn’t seen his brother in class that morning, Andrew pushed aside the urge to tell the Moriyama lackey to ‘fuck off’ (along with the growing sense of nausea) and tagged along; the rare burst of true anger helped to push back the withdrawal that sunk vicious claws into his nerves until they sizzled with an aching itch that wasn’t quite pain.

Not yet, at least.

Andrew found his twin, bleary-eyed and reeking of alcohol, standing hunched over as to make himself appear even smaller in Tetsuji’s office with some middle-aged man who turned out to be the Dean of Science. He stood there and listened while Tetsuji basically talked the man out of evicting Aaron from Edgar Allan because of the stupid prank he and his ‘friends’ had done due earlier that evening to the stabilizing effect (what a fucking joke) he had on one of the Ravens’ most promising players, and that Tetsuji was certain that he could find something to keep Aaron busy so such an incident wasn’t repeated.

From the look Tetsuji gave Andrew, he knew that such a thing better not happen again, and that he’d be paying for the ‘Master’s’ intervention.

“How could you be so stupid,” he hissed in German while the two men hashed out the details of Aaron’s new ‘work study’ position.

Aaron wavered on his feet while he shook his head. “I didn’t- why the fuck do you care?” he whispered back.

Because the Moriyamas never did anything for free. Because the price better not involve Nathaniel. Because Andrew was always cleaning up for his twin. “You were supposed to stay out of trouble.” Andrew had done what he could to keep track of his brother while on campus, but that task had grown almost impossible between juggling classes, being a Raven, Nathaniel, and Aaron ignoring him the past few weeks. “Not break into-“

“You have everything,” Aaron turned to give him a look that was pure jealousy. “They’re already talking about you making Court, you found your soulmate, what else is there? I’ve got nothing.”

He certainly didn’t have any brains, Andrew thought with growing bitterness. He had a scholarship to pursue his dreams of being a doctor, he had the brother he’d begged for along with the second chance of a future. ‘Nothing’ indeed.

However, it seemed that Tetsuji and the other guy were finished, so away Aaron went, leaving Andrew to find out what he owed for his brother’s latest folly. “I suggest making him clean the bathrooms,” Andrew said as he struggled not to fidget from the growing drug withdrawals.

Tetsuji regarded him in that flat, ‘you are worthless to me’ manner which made him such a cheerful fellow for a few seconds before he leaned back in his big leather chair. “I know about the deal you made with my nephew, both about Nathaniel and being off your medication while on court.” His thick brows drew together very slightly, the only hint of disapproval on his usually mask-like face; if it were during a practice session, Andrew would expect the bastard’s cane to be brought down on him at any moment. “You shouldn’t need any incentive to do your best during a game, but one can be… irrational in regards to their soulmate.”

One could also be irrational as fuck in regards to their psychotic nephew, but Andrew (for once) kept his mouth shut, considering what had happened in the past few minutes, and considering the reference to Nathaniel.

(Oh, was it difficult, though.)

Tetsuji nodded once, as if pleased by his silence. “Your performance on court is exemplary and has helped the team to have one of their best seasons in years. Upon comparing it to how you play during scrimmages, I believe you were correct when you told Riko that you play best when off your medication. That’s why I’ve had Dr. Gale submit a recommendation that you’ve improved enough in the last few months and no longer need it.”

That… was not what Andrew had expected to hear. “He can do that?” He was supposed to have weekly sessions with the psychiatrist, per the whole court sentencing thing, but one of the very few good things about having signed with the Ravens was, due to the hectic practice schedule, after attending a couple of them, the weekly visits had just… stopped. Dr. Gale would swing by the court once a week to technically ‘see’ Andrew, but that was that, and nothing else was said about the matter.

“He already has; along with the recommendations from your professors and me, it’s expected to be approved.” Tetsuji gave him an intent look. “You’ll be checked in to a local rehabilitation center over the winter break and return in time for the spring semester to play unmedicated.”

On one hand, Andrew felt an odd fluttering in his chest at the thought of being off the damn medication early, in no longer having to take it (in being done with it earlier than expected after he’d found Nathaniel). On the other hand, he was being told to do something, and while he wasn’t the twin studying medicine, he could do a quick bit of math and realized that winter break didn’t give him a lot of time to come off an additive drug.

(But Aaron had done it, so why couldn’t he?)

His innate nature to do the opposite of what he’d been told struggled with the fact that this was what not only he owed to keep Aaron at Edgar Allan but was what he wanted as well; after several seconds, he gave the ‘Master’ a curt nod.

Tetsuji nodded once in return. “Prepare accordingly,” was all he said before he motioned for Andrew to leave.

Andrew didn’t waste any time doing just that.

Nathaniel appeared anxious when he reached his soulmate’s room but didn’t ask any questions. He took one look at Andrew and got out of the way as Andrew went straight to the bathroom so he could take the damn medication (only for a little longer) and get ready for bed. When Andrew came out several minutes later, it was to find that Nathaniel had switched out the sheets for him on Jean’s bed.

“Uhm, everything okay?” Nathaniel asked, his expression uncertain.

Andrew took a moment to check that his soulmate was unharmed (at least physically), that the only bruises on him were a couple fading ones from practice earlier in the week. “Long day.” He was too tired right then to talk about Aaron, Ichirou and winter break, too… it was too much. It would wait until morning.

Yet all Nathaniel did was give him a slight, earnest smile and went to fetch something from his desk. “Okay. Ah, here.” He handed over a small bundle wrapped in a black cloth napkin, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “There were snacks and since it was Ichirou… I was able to bring something back I thought you might like. Good night.” That done, he hurried over to his bed.

Andrew stared after him for moment before he unwrapped the napkin to reveal a large chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting drizzled with caramel, topped with a chocolate raven. Despite the slight upheaval to his stomach from before and the fact that he’d just brushed his teeth, Andrew felt his mouth begin to salivate and sat down on the bed so he could spread the napkin over his lap.

The cupcake was delicious, was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks, was a chocolate overload that made him want to groan in delight. Once he was done licking the last trace of buttercream from his fingers, he glanced over at his soulmate, who was pretending to be asleep. “Thanks, sweetpea. Next time, grab at least two.”

Nathaniel made an adorable growling sound before he spoke. “Sure, the more poison, the better,” he grumbled before he jerked the bedding higher up his narrow shoulders.

Andrew began to count the days left until winter break as he crawled beneath blankets.

*******

Excited for what happens in the next few parts. I always knew how this was going to end, but had a flash of actual dialogue the other night and... YES.

[recurring-polynya]

I hoped you would reblog that! :3 A fic after Aizen arc, where Ichigo DOES NOT lose his powers, and seireitei is in full party mode. Someone asks where Rukia is. Renji's like "she went to get snacks". and Orihime, tipsy as hell, just blurts out "Of course you know where she is! You're so cute together!!" and everyone is either like "yeah true" or "WAIT SINCE WHEN?". aka the dorks get peer pressured into realizing they should date already By Everyone. Feat. Women's Society paparazzi.

Hey, so you know how always spend a ton of time on my really long fics and don’t post them until I’m all the way done so that I can make everything internally consistent, etc, etc? What would it look like, as your therapist would say, if I just wrote some nonsense and posted it? And if I feel like writing more chapters later, maybe I will? To post something with a 1/? Also, what if was Canon, Never Heard of Her? and also full of things that do absolutely do not belong in Soul Society (like potato salad?) What would that look like?

Anyway, here you go @unohanadaydreams. I’m sorry it took me so long to do this and also I also messed up your prompt a bunch (I figure that everyone knows how bad Renji has it for Rukia and wouldn’t rag him about it, so I switched ‘em), but I think I captured the spirit of it, along with the spirit of that filler episode where everyone makes movies.

Enough! Enough intro! Here it is!

Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!

“HELLLLLLOOOOOOOOO, SQUAD 10!” Inoue Orihime yodeled, flinging herself into the courtyard, where a barbeque of epic proportions was gearing up.

“Orihime!” Matsumoto screamed.

“YO!” Kurosaki Ichigo announced, stumbling in behind her, arms raised victoriously. “What has two thumbs and just saved Soul Society?”

“This guy!” Orihime squealed, trying to point her thumbs at Ichigo as he also tried to point his thumbs at himself.

Ichigo squinted at the hands waving around his general vicinity. “How many thumbs do I have? Hey, hey, Ishida?! Did I grow any extra arms while I was fighting Aizen?”

Sado Yasutora suddenly plunged through the gate behind them panting and out of breath.

“Are you two drunk?” Captain Hitsugaya demanded.

“My new best friend Captain Doctor Unohana Retsu gave me the good stuff, because I am the Hero of Three Worlds, possibly Four,” Ichigo explained. 

“Painkillers,” Chad gasped. “He’s on a very high dose of painkillers. It’s…okay… I'm… keeping an eye on him. He’s still really fast, though.”

“What about Orihime?” Rukia demanded, from where she was trying to sculpt a bowl of potato salad into a diorama of herself defeating Rudabone. Or possibly Chappy. “She wasn’t even hurt.”

“She was very nervous about Kurosaki,” Uryuu explained, sauntering up next to Chad. “So Lieutenant Kotetsu gave her some of Captain Unohana’s home-brewed ginger beer, which was… allegedly non-alcoholic?”

“I feel so powerful right now!” Orihime chimed in. “Like my body is filled with thousands of dubstepping bees!”

“I literally cannot feel any part of my body, right now,” Ichigo chipped in, “but at least I didn’t lose my Soul Reaper powers while performing the Final Getsuga, like some sort of contrived plot hook.”

“Why is it called the Final Getsuga, then?” Orihime asked.

“Beats me!” Ichigo hooted.

“It’s because Europe had just released ‘The Final Countdown’ when I invented it, and that song slaps!” Isshin shouted from somewhere near the kegs.

“DAD!” Ichigo shouted. “Dad, I have something to tell you! Also, Rukia, you are like my other dad, if I had two dads!”

“I am not,” Rukia protested.

“Maybe Byakuya is like my other dad, then, which would make you my sister.”

“I am definitely not,” Byakuya protested. (Did you, gentle reader, think that Byakuya would not attend one of Squad 10’s infamous keggers on the occasion of Aizen’s defeat? You were incorrect. Byakuya is a great fan of Matsumoto’s guac.)

“Listen, Dads,” Ichigo insisted. “I defeated Aizen and I think that definitely means I should get to borrow the car on Saturday, but also, Orihime proposed to me and I said yes , we are now engaged to go to the movies the next weekend that we are back home. Which is why I need the car, you see.”

Orihime dabbed.

“My precious son, I am so proud of you!” Isshin announced, throwing his arms wide. “But you can take the bus to the movies like a normal teenager.”

“Way to go, Orihime!” Rukia congratulated, abandoning her potato salad to perform an elaborate handshake/high-five routine with Orihime.

“This is so exciiiiitiiiiiing!” Matsumoto wailed. 

Ise Nanao sidled up to Kusajishi Yachiru. “Madam President,” the Vice-President of the Shinigami Women’s Association intoned gravely. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

Hisagi Shuuhei sidled up to the other side of Kusajishi Yachiru. “Are you thinking about a special Seireitei Bulletin feature, presented in cooperation with the Shinigami Women’s Association–”

“–'Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!’” Nanao and Hisagi chorused in unison.

Yachiru blinked. To be honest, she had mostly been thinking about the red bean dumplings she knew Captain Hitsugaya had hidden somewhere earlier, and had not been paying much attention to any of the goings-on up until this point. This may seem to stretch belief, but you have to understand, gentle reader, that this amount of shouting represented a pretty typical day at Squad 11.

Yachiru bounded up to the former ryouka. “Hey, Pencil!” she demanded. “Are you and Muscles dating?”

“Chad!” Ichigo yelped, grabbing at his own hair. “You sneaky person!”

“Uryuu!” Orihime gawped, clapping her hands over her cheeks. “You sly dog!”

“No,” Uryuu corrected stiffly.

“You are mistaken,” Chad added.

“He’s way out of my league,” they said at the same time.

There was a long silence.

Uryuu looked up at Chad out of the corner of his eye.

Chad looked down at Uryuu out of the corner of his eye.

Ichigo was making tiny, excited claps.

Orihime was bouncing.

“Doooooo iiiiiiiiittttttt,” Captain Kyouraku said out of the side of his mouth, pretending like nobody could tell it was him. Everybody could tell it was him.

Rukia straightened up to her full height. “Do it, you dorkuses. The Women’s Association will pay for it. If these two dummies can get their act together, you haven’t got any excuse.” She glanced over at Ichigo and Orihime, who were gazing longingly at one another, and promptly did a horrified double take. 

“Errr…” Uryuu waffled.

“I understand if you’re uncomfortable participating in a Soul Society-related activity,” Chad offered an easy way out.

Uryuu opened his mouth, looked at Chad, and closed it again slowly. “I’ll take their money and waste it frivolously. That is within my moral code.”

“YAYYYYY!” Orihime squealed. “Triple date! Can I be an honorary member of the Shinigami Women’s Association?”

“What do you mean, 'triple date’?” Rukia tried to interrupt.

“Yes,” Nanao proclaimed. “But it will be three separate dates, covered as a three-part series.”

“In the World of the Living,” Shuuhei broke in. “The readers are crazy-go-nuts for the World of the Living.”

“Who is the third couple?” Rukia pressed.

“Genius,” Nanao threw a finger gun at Shuuhei. “Matsumoto, you’ll do host segments? Pre- and post-date interviews and such?”

“Give me a clothing budget and you’ve got a deal” Matsumoto agreed.

“WHO! IS! THE! THIRD! COUPLE?!” Rukia demanded.

“You and Renji, obviously,” Orihime replied. “You two are sooooo cute together! I bet your readers would love that, wouldn’t they, Lieutenant Hisagi? If Rukia and Renji went on a date in the World of the Living? Rukia’s like a princess or something here, right?”

“They will go apeshit , Hisagi replied breathlessly. "You have to understand that Abarai is actual very well-known among the Bulletin readership for his incredibly popular column, 'Let’s Do Shikai!!’ This is essentially the Soul Society equivalent of David Beckham marrying Posh Spice.”

“I…. don’t know who that is,” Rukia stammered.

“How do you know who those people are?” Uryuu asked, perplexed.

“I read Living World newspapers,” Hisagi excused with a shrug.

“Rukia, do you have something to tell me?” Byakuya frowned.

“No!” Rukia yelped. “I’m not dating Renji! I have no interest in going on a date with Renji, even though he consistently moves Heaven and Earth for me and we have really similar taste in craft beers and he’s objectively, like, smoking hot. I refuse to go on a date with Renji. Don’t ask me any more questions.”

“Where is Renji, anyway?” Ichigo frowned. “I don’t hear him shouting, so he must not be here.”

“He went to go pick up a bunch of snacks for Matsumoto because he’s a sucker and I’m sure he stopped off to trade out his sunglasses for polarized ones because he says they’re better for late afternoon glare,” Rukia excused very quickly.

“Rukia,” Ichigo noted, suddenly sounding a lot more sober. “Listen to yourself.”

“Soooooooo cuuuuuuuuuuuute!” Orihime repeated, exaggerating her lip movements.

“She’s not wrong,” Uryuu pointed out.

Chad did Big Shrug Arms and nodded in agreement.

At this moment, the man in question strode into the courtyard, carrying several grocery bags and wearing a pair of polarized sunnies. “Hey, party people!” Renji greeted cheerfully, somehow managing to hold four overstuffed grocery bags in one arm while he fished something out of one of them. “Why’s everyone so quiet?”

“Hey, Abarai, will you do me a big favor?” Hisagi asked innocently.

“Yeah, sure,” Renji agreed. He found whatever he was looking for. “Oi, Ruki-Ruki,” he called, tossing a small paper packet to Rukia. “They had those melon-flavored gummy salamanders you like when you get hammered.”

Rukia caught them easily, her cheeks flaming red.

“'Ruki-Ruki’?” Ichigo mouthed to her, making the most judgemental face he could manage under the influence of Unohana’s Special Sauce.

“So, what’s can I do you for, Shuuhei?” Renji asked, trying to find an empty spot to deposit his bags.

Shuuhei told him.

“Oh,” said Renji. He looked over at Rukia, who managed an awkward, sheepish half-smile as she clutched her candies. “Well, shit.”

[stardew-imagines-me]

I sent in an angst ask but I also wanna do a cute one so here it is! What kind of inside jokes do Harvey, Elliott, Penny, Maru & Shane have with the farmer? Like if farmer says a certain word they instantly start laughing and it’s because of some inside joke.

Some fluff to mope up that angst ask, we stan UwU

Elliot

• The first time you had been introduced to Elliot, he had been completely taken aback by how elegant and charming he was. It made you very nervous to say the least. When he smiled towards you, and complimented your appearance, all you could do was return his hand shake and blurt out the only thing that came to mind.

- “You- you have very..n-nice nostrils,” the moment those words had escaped your lips, you had slapped a hand against your mouth. Luckily, Elliot laughed deep in his chest, having to lean on his knees in order to catch his breath

• since then, whenever you come to visit Elliot, he never fails to mention how gorgeous and open your nostrils look today

Maru

• You enjoyed hanging out with Maru, never failing to watch her experiments and test out new technology she had created

• she had been talking about this incredible invention she had been working on for months that just needed a few more weeks of testing and programming to complete

- you were excited, always enjoying seeing what Maru had to come up with

• while stopping by to finally see her new project, your eyes landed upon a semi large object that stood in the middle of her work station

- you marveled at what it could be, seeing as it was plugged into the wall and a silver lever was hooked on top of it

- when Maru came walking in, she watched you stare fascinated at the contraption in front of you

• “wow! Maru, this is amazing! What does it do? What’s it called? How do you use it?” You asked excitedly, looking over when she didn’t respond

- she looked at you with such a blank expression that you grew concerned. That was, until she opened her mouth

- “uh... that’s an automatic can opener,”

• that Christmas, she had bought you the same can opener with a little note attached to the box it came it

- ‘you seemed so excited, I knew exactly what to get you this year. If you need help using it, just ask me <3’

Penny

• “I don’t... I don’t know what any of this means,” you explained quietly. You had been on a reading day with Penny while Sam and Jas played by the lake, opting to read one of the books Penny suggested out of sheer curiosity

- when you opened the book, you grew frantic when you found that you couldn’t read any of the weird symbols. It had seemed like a completely different language

- a few minutes in of just staring at the text, trying to decipher what it was trying to see, you looked at Penny and sent her one of the most painful and distressed looks you had ever made

• when she peered over at your book, she looked at you again. “... it’s upside down,” that set you into full panic. Flipping back to the cover and confirming that it was, indeed, upside down

- you groaned loudly as Penny stifled giggles next to you. Suddenly, your will to live had vanished in just mere seconds

• every now and again Penny will gift you books, always writing to double check which way you’re reading it in the cover

Shane

• “whats a desktop?” you asked Shane one day as you sat across from him in the saloon. He had stopped sipping at his soda to look at you

- “what?” It was like you had asked the most confusing thing in the world. “What’s a desktop?” You asked again, stirring the coffee you had ordered around hesitantly

• he looked at you as if you had grown two heads. “You mean a whole ass computer?” He looked at you incredulously, watching the moment the gears started turning in your head

- “the thing you used at your last job? Before you became a farmer? Literally the only thing you use in that soulless job you worked?”

- “oh... oh yeah..”

• you hide your face in your hands, contemplating your entire existence as Shane laughed at your stupidity

- “you’re spending too much time with the crops,”

Harvey

• “are you serious?” Harvey looked a mix between horrified and amused. There you sat, blood pouring out from your arm with a bandaid placed smack dab in the middle of the open wound, doing as about as much as a flimsy bandaid can do for a gushing wound

- “well uh, I don’t know, I just figured that I could at least try,” you shrugged, bandaid falling off into the little pool of blood on the table next to you

• it took a few hours of basic medical education; basically Harvey explaining why bandaids don’t always work. And you leaving with nearly a dozen stitches

• every now and then when you come in for checkups, Harvey will ask if you need some extra bandaids if ever break your leg

- you can tell he’s proud of his joke

[theangrypokemaniac]

Since no one cares about Alola I can therefore say what I want.

Team Rocket's Pokémon are all worthless toss. That's such a surprise from this oafish writing team.

Remember when Jessie and James had two each, to offer variety? Permitting them even that is too much focus nowadays.

We don't what anything interesting going on, thank you. Repetition is what we and they deserve.

Arbok, Weezing, Lickitung and Victreebel are spinning in their graves.

Stufful was missing for three years and she displayed not the slightest pang of concern until its belated invention. Given her temper she ought to have torn the island apart searching for her baby, but no.

Not bothered about Bewear. It shouldn't really be in this list as it didn't belong to them, although catching has no value anymore.

A bit thick are we? Or conforming to the usual parental standards?

Well, she's sufficiently neglectful that she let it out of her sight long enough for it to be crushed under a tree, then was too idle to come to the rescue. In consequence he was obliged to wait days until one of Lusamine's lackeys arrived.

She's 'Mama Bear' though, isn't she?

It's based on a red panda, is partly the colour of a black bear and as strong as a grizzly, but all that is a mere cover for its true nature as a Bear-Face Ham.

The modern pretence is that everyone's a vegetarian (are they balls), and Ursa Major lives on fruit, not, you know, flesh.

Just because it there's no hibernating in the tropics doesn't mean it can get by without a salmon now and again.

The name is stupid, since a red panda is not a bear. A play on words isn't clever if based on what it isn't.

They should've called her 'Pandamonia', or 'Pandour', which is a brutal soldier.

It is at least redeemed by battering the klepto cockroach into the next dimension. Good on 'er.

Mind you, this is Alola, a cesspit of incest, so it's probably some sick arrangement, like Bewear being slipped the length by that previously unmentioned Oakie-Dokie clone.

He's the spit of Jimmy Savile, thus every depravity is on the table.

Where's Stufful's dad? He buggered off too?

What kind of name is 'Stufful'? What's it made from, 'stifle' and 'suffocation'? 'Stuffed'?

Thanks for that. Whenever I see its ovine face I'm reminded of taxidermy.

Were Ursa Minor and Bewear described as mother and son, or were they 'friends'?

A series of games involving breeding and the 'anime' is too squeamish to even imply animals live in families.

I don't care either way for Stufful, but I'd like it better if its mouth wasn't a camel toe.

I understand it's a sea creature, and the contents of the oceans are their own brand of peculiarity, but looks like a limbless, undead spaniel plagued with extra teats. Its 'ears' resemble distended mammeries.

Hey, remember that interesting, original Pokémon James had called Victreebel? Let's do it again! And again! AND AGAIN!

Victreebel is a venus fly trap: an anomaly in nature as a carnivorous plant. It makes sense that the Pokémon version would be a bit more full-on in catching a meal.

New law: Team Rocket are required to collect monsters as ugly as themselves.

Hurting James was its personality quirk, particularly to it, fitting its nature, its 'thing'. It was never meant as a template for most of what he caught in the future.

Something is funny if it happens once, and can be now and again if done with a least a little flair.

Nothing repeated as a constant leaden thud is remotely amusing, but this is an unknown fact to Nintendo bone heads. They think certain events are utterly hilarious in themselves and require no finesse in application.

They have a checklist of moments obligatory to each episode, which explains the plodding lifelessness. Tick 'em off to keep the fans from being ticked off. All we supposedly care about is each gong struck, not how we got there.

At least Victreebel used to vary its behaviour:

Occasionally it even did as told without any chomping preamble.

It didn't do the exact same action every single time it was involved!

Mostly it swallowed James.

How long was it once Victreebel was chucked out on its leafy arse before Cacnea arrived?

Oh look, it's a Grass Pokémon and attacks James!

Sometimes it ate Jessie.

Carnivine got in on the action before Cacnea's run was even up: kick 'em when they're down why don't yer?

Oh look, it's a Grass Pokémon and attacks James!

Now we have Mareanie. Wasn't there a few in between? No, shush, they don't exist anymore.

Every bloody time it came out, it turned round and punctured him.

Every bloody time.

Ah, it's not a Grass Pokémon. That makes it totally new!

Oh yes, it's the complete opposite of Victreebel. It's Poison instead. Not like it at all.

Every bloody time it came out, it'd gnaw his head off.

Every bloody time.

That's endearing.

Oh but it is! It's just showing him love!

As that makes it alright!

If a muscular man squeezed his girlfriend so tightly he cracked her ribs, is that 'sweet' because he 'meant well' but his feelings overwhelmed him? Or is it A.B.H.?

Every bloody time it comes out, it injects James's head with toxin until it swells up into purple pustule of disease.

Every bloody time.

I never took Victreebel's assault as affection. To me they were real attempts to devour James, especially with the accompanying frenzied screech. Interpreting that as a positive emotion is bizarre to me.

At soon as James found it wedged in a Breeding Centre cage and opened the door it grabbed him, which appeared to be Victreebel lashing out in anger for what'd happened in the intervening period.

What Mareanie does is worse than the other three put together. At least they delivered mere bite marks or pinpricks, but it infects James!

Whole episodes of this programme have involved a Pokémon falling foul of Poison Powder and being on the verge of death, with all done to preserve it until Ash hunted down the cure, but now it's a big laugh, apparently.

Not one character ever has the wits about them to carry an Antidote, otherwise the writers wouldn't be able to fall back on the tired old race-against-time scenario, which is no such thing as we know they won't die.

Is it likely that James is always going to end up picking a violent Pokémon, of all the individuals of a race, of all the lifeforms in the universe?

Aren't his allowed to come with their own personality, or is there a set pattern they must follow, and when caught they absorb it, for fear they might be memorable?

Mind you, it's interesting the reactions these abuses provoke:

Victreebel eats James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Cacnea impales James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Carnivine chews James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Mareanie poisons James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Meowth claws James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Jessie beats James: Aw, it's so kyewt!

Jessibelle whips James: EEVUL BITCH!!!

Mimikyu should be opposed for breaking it's own world.

To us, Pikachu is the most famous Pokémon, belonging to Ash, the protagonist, and the franchise's mascot.

To them, Pikachu is just another middling Pokémon hundreds of young Trainers catch, and holds no greater value.

It's blatantly a reference to Pikachu's real-life status, acknowledging itself as fiction. No Pokémon would hold the same significance for this design to work but him.

Otherwise why would Mimikyu, when it has the choice of every Pokémon that exists, and, if meant to be a believable world, every Pokémon we don't know exists, choose Pikachu to ape? Why wouldn't it pick a Legendary?

Alola Pikachu is looking off colour.

It's not even this specific Mimikyu, it's the entire species!

What, they work to a hive mind, incapable of individual tastes and opinions?

Do they all hate Pikachu too, even though the entire mouse population of Alola has been rounded up by that loon and trapped in a valley, or were we lumbered with the lone demented obsessive with a severe complex?

Is it well jel that Pikachu's a real one, whereas it can only manage to knock up a bog-standard costume with a face daubed by a chimp paralytic from scrumpy?

Well stop imitating it then! Invent your own design!

Oh come on. The animators can't even do that, hence its creation. You can hardly expect it to display inspiration if born from its absence.

I wonder if it hates Raichu. And Pichu. And Plusle and Minun. And the rest of the Pikachu derivatives, although it is one.

(As an aside, I don't know why Raichu, Marowak and Exeggutor were redrawn for this era, but not Pikachu, Cubone and Exeggcute. Why does the sweaty climate affect only evolutions?) 

Here's an idea: make Shiny Mimikyu have a different get up, not colour.

You can have that free, Game Freak. I'm too lenient with yer.

Presumably, Mimikyu hatches (already dead?) in all its eye-bleeding nastiness, and instinctively reaches for the discarded yellow bedsheet and pack of crayons that just so happens to be nearby, and the scissors to make the peep holes.

Them inbreds know how to litter.

Flippers?

Nah, it's probably hooks.

How is it born aware of a Pikachu's face, and why is it compelled to copy them?

Knowledge of his own ugliness is innate, thus he must cover his nakedness before it lays waste to the forest inhabitants.

Yet if you breed 'em, it emerges wearing it, like the cloth formed from left-over albumen and stained with yolk!

What's it reaching with? Paws?

Mittens?

Oh, and there was a deceased specimen in the series, so it's either a ghost, and nothing but bedsheet, or a zombie, and it's repulsive carcass has upped the ante by putrifying.

Even its name doesn't fit. Apart from the unsightly spelling, what's 'Mimikyu' about? It's not mimicking me.

Mimikyu? It should be Mimikchu!

And you know what? Even Nintendo agree their own inventions aren't good enough, because they made return almost impossible.

They hate these more than they do even the pre-Unova Pokémon, most of whom were condemned to a dark existence within the iron corridors of H.Q. and haven't been seen since.

• Growlie is such a beloved figure in James's life he's been involved all of twice.

• Dustox got pensioned off.

• James was practically bullied into gifting Cacnea to that cloying bitch Gardenia.

• Whilst he still tecnically owns Chimecho, it's as lost to him as any of them.

Remember Seviper, Yanmega, Carnivine and Mime Junior?

Hell, remember Woobat, Yamask, Frillish and Amoonguss?

Or Gourgeist and Inkay?

Of course, since the makers appear to have the Reverse-Midas Touch, Team Rocket still took that useless, wincing lump Wobbuffet to Galar instead of dumping it over the sea. Apparently we're stuck with it forever.

Arbok, Lickitung, Weezing and Victreebel got shafted, but THAT survives?

Yes? That's more the writers do. In current canon these Pokémon never lived at all. Dead memories in the haze.

[tazzmanien]

The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System Review

Okay let see, as some of you know I only started to read this novel because Mo Dao Zu Shi left an empty spot in my heart and I needed a quick fix. Well, quick it was, fixing did not happen. Why you ask? Because instead of one obsession, now I have two. So before I write my review just a little thing I really need to get off my chest, SV was not as good as MDZS, but I never expected it to be and it was still very great. That’s all the comparison I’m gonna do. If you want me to compare more let me know and I will gladly do it. It seems I love to write about those stories.

Sorry for the length of the review, I’m just that obsessed. And warning: SPOILERS AHEAD

Looking at the novel overall, it was a very fun read, with a few really sad elements and lots of weird love story aspects and colorful characters. It was very easy to read, even though it had its weak parts, I laughed so much that I would recommend it to everyone.

The good:

I can’t say much about the writing quality, as I was only able to read the translation. But the translation seemed like it’s easy to read, so I’m guessing the original is similar. The development of the story was easy to follow, even though it started off so weird, that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to understand a single thing. The story had everything I love, from scifi to fantasy to horror to love to friendship to family, like a really fun mix. Usually mixing too much doesn’t always turn out good, but this writer is really good in combining all the elements.

I looooooved the whole part with the system. I adore stories where a regular boring human gets dragged into a story (book, movie, whatever) and needs to survive without being discovered. So much potential for humor and disaster. And this is exactly what this book has delivered. I was laughing so much while reading. I will also write about this in the bad some more, but even though we never get to know what the system is, it was written in such a matter that I was easily able to accept the fact that there is this weird system, like in a game, telling our main protagonist what to do. And that says a lot. I’m usually one of those people complaining when things don’t get build up properly or explained well. So I must say, you got me here.

Overall all the parts where the novel would cross to the real world or characters go from the real world into the novel were so entertaining that I’m so hooked now and would love to read more stories with such elements.

Characters, oh those were the most fun to observe. Well the writer did not invent anything new. You have all those characters with all sorts of typical strengths and flaws and sad backstories, like in any other story. Like not a single character would contrast with all the existing characters of any other story, except for the fact that the writer switched things up so much that it felt quite new. You ask what I mean? Well look it is quite rare to see this weird combination:

The main character is this normal millennial dude getting dragged into a fictional story where he is supposed to play the villain. Our main is nothing like a villain would be, he has so much heart, but is also completely unaware of it, that is hurts observing him. Being a decent human being and the fact that he doesn’t want to end up deformed like the original villain would, he does everything necessary to get on the good side of the other main guy (who is the protagonist and good guy of the original novel). Now, being someone from our boring normal world, who never fought or did anything remotely similar to what the villain in the story did, you would think he would be a complete disaster in the body of an immortal cultivator of a Xianxia novel. But funny enough he isn’t! He is a composed, wise and strong person on the outside who seems sophisticated and educated and detached from all failure caused by feelings of any sorts. But on the inside he is just what we expect him to be, the most panicking weird dense idiot I’ve ever seen. He is soooo relatabel on the inside it hurts. But on the other hand he is also so far from what anyone of us would be in such a situation, as he seems to have everything under control on the outside even though he is such a mess on the inside. He almost never breaks character and he manages to solve all problems somehow. I would have died 100 deaths if I were him. I even suspected that the moment he got dragged into the novel, he snatched Luo Binghes halo as a new protagonist (halo: like the main protagonist simply never loses and cannot die and gets everything he wants in the end). Just think about it, how else would he have managed everything he did. Everyone even loved him by the end of the story! I could write books about this character, but I’m sure you are already annoyed so I will keep it short. I love Shen Qingqiu with all my heart and I aspire to become like him one day.

Lets get to my demon boi Luo Binghe. He is originally supposed to be the “good” guy of the story. Come on guys, have you ever read a story where a demon who kills and has a harem is a good guy? I was so confused while reading the summary of the novel that I thought, they must have misunderstood things, but no, they didn’t, he actually is this really bad demon who does really bad things and still is the most lovable thing ever to exist. He is like a Labrador when with his Shizun (his teacher and our main guy Shen Qingqiu) and a killing hell hound when with anyone else. He is strong, intelligent, most handsome and charismatic bastard, but such a lovely little smitten princess for his Shizun that it’s comical. One simply has to love him. So of course our Shizun never stood a chance in not falling for him.

And this exactly if the best thing about the story and it’s main plot to be honest. Those two idiots getting together, while one tries to “rewrite” the original story so that he gets his happy end. Who would have thought that this “I just want to survive and would do anything to do so” strong teacher, yet weird millennial and straightest straight to ever straight in straight history would fall for the bad and strong demon boy who falls to his knees and cries of love every time he sees his Shizun. I know many stories where the teacher and disciple fall for one another and very often they are opposite in character. But those two idiots are so weirdly colorful that opposite would not even beging to explain how complicated their relationship really is. Depending from which angle you look, they could seem like the complete opposites or like a mere mirror reflection of one another. Or depending on where your own heart stands, you could say they don’t fit together at all or you would think they are the all time biggest OTP. And I adore this complexity!!! It drives the story.

Some other characters of the story were also very well written and gave the story some much needed drive. And like with our mains, no character was simple or regular. The whole story about Airplance Shooting Towards The Sky is just so... I have no words really. Maybe one day in the future I will write about him, but for now just take my word for it, that some other characters were written amazingly. I truly think that the writer has a brilliant talent in creating beautiful multidimensional characters and I must say this is the best thing about reading her novels.

All the other side plots were good. Some were needed to help the overall story line and others were just a nice cherry on the top. But the main plot remained the best in the end.

Also the subplot or let’s call it the actual meaning of the whole novel is so brilliantly implemented that you would not focus on it when reading, but still fully understand it nevertheless. It is like a criticism and love letter to fandom in general. It is so self aware that one gets whiplash at times.

The bad:

I had quite some open questions at the end of the novel and even though in general most characters were created brilliantly, many characters were left out in the end and many story lines were simply never really developed much. So let’s just say Shen Yuan would have went nuts reading it ;) (Shen Yuan is the millennial getting dragged into the novel and in his original life he used to review novels and complain a lot about this particular novel)

I was so happy that there were the extras to the novel, that gave us at least a little bit of background information about some characters and a few nice moments between our main pair. I mean in the main novel the pair does get together but then out of the blue the story ends and we don’t even get a real confession or anything of that sorts. Yes yes, I know the fact that our dense Shen Qingqiu is willing to stay with Luo Binghe and says it out loud is a huge confession of its own, but you know I really would have loved to read about a kiss or something, because I’m a sucker for those. 

Still even with the extras, some plot holes remained and the one that sticks out to me the most is THE SYSTEM. What the heck is it? Where does it come from? What’s the point of it? Who controls it? Like any information about it would be really nice? Don’t get me wrong even without this information I was easily accepting its existence, but now that I’ve finished reading everything, those questions start to bother me. Well I guess my own head canon making machine will have to work now. A pity I’m not good at writing, otherwise I would overflow AO3 with them, just to fill the holes. 

I also feel like, if I had not read another Xianxia before or if I had not a general understanding of the whole fantasy part, it would have been a difficult thing to imagine the world the story took place in. All those peaks and all those “magical” happenings (cultivation stuff) would have confused the heck out of me. I’m just guessing a) the novel was written for a specific reader group who already understands the general idea of Xianxias or/and b) the skills of the writer weren’t as developed as they are now back when she wrote the book.

And even though many things were not explained or plot holes remained, still some chapters were dragging. But to be honest I don’t want to sound a though I’m complaining to much, as the overall flow was still very decent.

Conclusion:

I love this novel, even with all its flaws. The main characters will forever have a special place in my heart. I will definitely read it again one day and I would recommend it to anyone in the blink of an eye.

On a side note, I feel a little reluctant in hoping for an adaptation of the story in China, because of the censorship. If you censor the whole love aspect of our main pair, the story would loose so much of its beauty in my opinion that it would be just okay. I know the actual main plot was not the love story, but I admit this is what I live for. But who knows, The Untamed managed to end up like a beautiful interpretation of Mo Dao Zu Shi, maybe the manhua or a donghua or a live action adaptation of SV would turn out better than I can imagine. I’ll stay open minded.

[woolishlygrim]

Winter Weebwatch #1

So, because it is Good when I get to have opinions about things, I figured I’d try out doing a bunch of mini-reviews for the current season of anime, doing a new batch of reviews with each episode and seeing how they evolve and change over time, whether some do better, or some fall behind, or if I end up dropping any of them (and by any of them, I mean Plunderer).

The winter anime season is kind of a dead zone: Since it starts in January when everybody’s starting to get busy again and Christmas has screwed over their sense of work-life balance, it’s the season with the lowest amount of viewers, and so it’s the season where the shows tend to be noticeably low effort and low budget. It’s telling that, despite having huge franchises with a lot of brand recognition, Sunrise and A-1 Pictures put Gundam Build Divers Re:Rise and Sword Art Online on hiatus for the entirety of the winter season, choosing to take the hit that comes from a three month hiatus instead of wasting twelve or thirteen episodes on the Death Season, The Season Where Shows Go To Die.

So by and large, what we’re reviewing here are either the shows distribution companies didn’t care about, or the shows distribution companies did care about but couldn’t get a channel to pick up in any other season. We’re also not reviewing all of them, because there’s like ninety and my store of time and opinions is finite, so we’re reviewing seven.

While the intention is to follow these seven shows through to the end, what will probably happen is I might drop a couple that aren’t keeping my interest, and pick up a couple that catch my eye. If I pick up new ones, then whatever I pick up will get some kind of bumper review covering several episodes.

Also, I really dragged my heels getting this done, so most of these shows have already aired their second episodes. I’ll be trying to put out the second episode reviews a lot quicker, so that I can be relatively current by the time the third episodes roll around.

Anyway! Week 1, first episodes.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★★☆☆

Infinite Dendrogram has a terrible and ridiculous premise that crumbles into dust if you examine it for more than 0.2 seconds, and I kind of don’t mind that at all.

The show follows Ray Starling, a player in the titular Virtual Reality MMO, which promises infinite possibilities owing to its two unique selling points: The first, that all the NPCs are fully-fledged AIs, meaning the world ‘exists’ distinct from its players or any manned oversight, with quests emerging naturally from the NPCs’ wants and needs, and with NPCs able to permanently die; and the second, that each player character has an Embryo, a superpower generated using their personality as a model, with infinite possibilities.

This is an inconceivably dumb premise. Leaving aside the obvious game balance issues with the Embryos, it’s clarified early on that this AI technology is unique to the game, which means that some game company discovered the technology to create fully conscious, sapient life, and decided to use that technology to create a video game (and in doing so, directly led to the deaths of thousands of those sapient lives).

But I … kinda don’t care? Infinite Dendrogram’s episode was fun, lively, not terribly original but consistently engaging, and managed to introduce five characters who I actually kind of like while telling a self-contained episodic story with good stakes and nice pacing. It feels like Sword Art Online if Sword Art Online was written by a competent writer and also not just a delivery system for creepy, irritating fanservice, and that’s pretty nice.

Also, bonus points for actually making the in-universe game look fun? We’ll call that one another advantage it has over SAO.

ID: Invaded.

★★★★☆

ID: Invaded has indisputably the strongest first episode of this season of anime (really first two, as it aired both episodes one and two back to back), by a gigantic margin. A video called ‘Defending ID: Invaded’ floated by my youtube dash a few days back, so clearly some people don’t agree with me on that, but that’s fine. It’s okay for them to be wrong.

When ID: Invaded picks up, a young man awakens in an empty white void full of floating chunks of a city, with his own body in pieces and no memories. Pulling himself back together, he realises, upon seeing a dead body of a young woman, that his name is Sakaido, and he’s a detective here to solve the woman’s murder.

Sakaido, it quickly turns out, is exploring a cognitive world formed out of a telepathic link with the killer, with a team of investigators in the real world watching through his eyes and picking out evidence to find the murderer with. When the murderer, a serial killer called the Perforator, kidnaps a member of the investigation team, the race is on to find him before he can kill again.

So, ID: Invaded has kind of mastered the art of dripfeeding information in a way that gets a viewer hooked very quickly while steadily delivering a series of twists and turns, and recontextualising the story and the mystery (which, it rapidly emerges, is not the mystery of the Perforator, but rather the mystery of Sakaido himself). It’s gripping and inventive, with a strong if slightly convoluted premise and a lot of interesting material to set up going forward in the series.

In a nice touch, director Ei Aoki turns the mental worlds Sakaido visits (two in the first two episodes) into homages to other surrealist anime directors, mimicking both their compositions and their cinematography. The world of the Perforator draws marked influence from the works of Mamoru Hosoda, an apprentice of Hayao Miyazaki and one of the original creators of Digimon Adventure; while the second world visited pays homage to the works of Akiyuki Shinbo, best known for the unsettling surrealist landscapes and equally unsettling cinematography of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Fate/Extra Last Encore.

Pet.

★☆☆☆☆

Pet looks like a cheap OVA from 2004. Let’s just get that out of the way, it looks bad, but in a really inoffensive way where it just kind of looks cheap and outdated.

It’s … fine. It’s okay. If you’ve ever had a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, you basically know what Pet is like. If you haven’t ever had a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, go and have a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, and then you’ll know what Pet is like.

The first episode doesn’t really give away anything about the premise of the series, save that it involves psychic criminals, but it tells a decent self-contained little story about a guy who learns something he shouldn’t and is then psychic-ly tormented before his memory is eventually wiped.

There’s also just not a lot to say about Pet, though. It fulfills its function as a work of storytelling, and it doesn’t really ever do much more than that, at least in its first episode. It finds its comfortable niche in just being very average and unremarkable, and sticks there, being average and unremarkable.

Of all the first episodes I’m reviewing, Pet seems the most passionless. It’s such a middle of the road piece of art that I struggle to imagine why it was even made. It doesn’t seem like it’s trying to sell merchandise, it doesn’t seem like a passion project, it doesn’t really seem like much of anything. It feels like someone asked a creative writing class to write a short story about psychic criminals, and then one of those stories was turned into an anime episode.

Plunderer.

☆☆☆☆☆

Plunderer offers a moderately interesting premise that literally nobody watching the first episode will even remember because oh good god, from the second scene onwards the entire episode is just non-stop sexual harassment and assault, first from the protagonist to the deuteragonist and then from the antagonist to the deuteragonist, and I hated it. I hated it so much.

In a bizarre turn, when the protagonist sexually harasses and attempts to sexually assault the deuteragonist, it’s played as wacky comedy, but when the antagonist does basically the exact same thing, it’s played with all the sense of horror that those actions warrant.

I just … don’t really get how I’m meant to ever sympathise with the protagonist after this. I don’t know how you rehabilitate a character in the audience’s minds when our very first introduction to him tells us that he’s a sex pest.

Also something something numbers something something die if your number reaches zero something something magical items who even cares what the premise is, my patience for this show ran dry thirty seconds into the second scene.

If I had a way of representing it, I would give this first episode a negative number of stars.

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen.

★★★☆☆

Let it just be noted that ‘Sorcerous Stabber Orphen’ is the most unintentionally hilarious anime title of the season, so there’s that.

A remake of a 1999 series of the same name, Sorcerous Stabber Orphen follows Orphen, a disgraced former sorcerer turned small-time crook and moneylender whose ill-advised attempt to commit marriage fraud is abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a dragon crashing through the roof of his potential bride/mark’s house. This isn’t just any dragon, however, but Orphen’s sister, Azalie, magically transformed after a spell gone wrong, leading Orphen on a quest to turn her back into a human before the sorcerers of the Tower of Fang can kill her.

Side note: While he names himself ‘Orphen’ because he is an orphan, I’m not misspelling the name, that’s how it’s spelled in-show. This is everybody’s fault except mine.

So, this first episode rather shows the age of its source material. It looks very much like a spruced up late 90s anime made with current day animation techniques, and that’s actually not a bad look for it. It’s also not really a good look -- Megalo Box this ain’t -- it’s just kind of a … look. Which is there. It exists in a state of Neutral Retro.

As first episodes go, though, this is probably one of the emptier and slower ones, somehow managing to cover less of its plot than even Plunderer (although it wins out on a massive margin the basis of that plot not being 90% sex crimes), because seemingly not only is its animation style cribbed from late 90s action anime, but so is its pacing.

What’s there, though, is pretty fun. None of it is dazzlingly original, it probably wasn’t that original even in the 90s, but we get introduced to a likeable cast of characters, we get a decent central conflict set up, and the worldbuilding is, while bare bones at present, at least interesting enough to hook a viewer who likes fantasy.

Also, it’s called ‘Sorcerous Stabber Orphen,’ so, you know. Extra star just for that, man.

In/Spectre.

★★☆☆☆

I’m not sure what In/Spectre is trying to be, and it doesn’t seem to be sure either.

The marketing set it up as an atmospheric, brooding supernatural mystery. The first third of the episode frames it as a romantic comedy with emphasis on the comedy. The second third of the episode switches back to atmospheric, brooding supernatural mystery, only for the third third of the episode to switch tracks yet again, this time to an action comedy with an emphasis on the action.

I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with this show. I get mood whiplash constantly, as it veers from genre to genre like a drunk driver on the freeway. By the time the last third of the episode hit, I felt completely unmoored not just from the plot, but from how I was even meant to interpret the characters.

It’s not bad at any of those genres, either. The romantic comedy section was actually pretty funny, the supernatural mystery section was suitably ominous, the action comedy section established stakes and followed through on them pretty well. None of it was blow-me-away-amazing, but it was all competent, it’s just that there’s no coherent sense of tone to any of it.

Darwin’s Game.

★☆☆☆☆

Full disclosure, I completely forgot I was watching Darwin’s Game. I finished these reviews, thought ‘haha, well done, I’ve reviewed all six shows I wanted to review’ and didn’t remember that there was a seventh on my list until I saw its name come up on a streaming website.

That’s a large part of why I’m scoring it so low. It’s better than In/Spectre, Pet, or Plunderer, it’s probably at least as good as Sorcerous Stabber Orphen, but at least those shows actually made some kind of impression on me. Darwin’s Game is good, but I can’t exactly justify giving two or three stars to a show that had such little impact that it vanished from my memory as soon as I stopped actively watching it with my eyes, like some kind of middling Doctor Who monster.

So, Darwin’s Game follows, um. It follows … a guy … with a name that I can’t recall … who is unwittingly dragged into a death game played in the streets of Tokyo. With each player given Sigils, seemingly magical abilities that they can use to gain advantages in the game, and with points exchangeable for vast sums of real money, the players of Darwin’s Game are set to the task of hunting down and murdering other players. Unable to back out of the game, Some Guy finds help with, er … with … a person … whose name I also don’t recall … and …

God, trying to recall the details of this show is like trying to recall what you had for dinner last week just after a severe head injury. You know, but the details just aren’t there.

I’m kind of at a loss as far as opinions go, because I don’t … know? If I think hard, I can remember the order of events that happened in the first episode, but I can’t remember what, if any, emotional response I had to them. All of my memories of this show are a blank, emotionless void, this is like asking me to review Solitaire. Like, I guess it was fine? I guess? 

I can’t remember the main character’s face or voice.

Note to self, write all Darwin’s Game reviews from now on immediately after watching the episode, otherwise all recollection of it will melt like ice cream in a heat wave.

I’m still giving it one star, though, because I refuse to put it on the same level as Plunderer. For a start, the main character doesn’t belong on some kind of registry.

[reading-while-queer]

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me, Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

Rating: Great Read Genre: High School, Realism, Graphic Novel Representation: -Lesbian protagonist -Asian American protagonist -POC as secondary characters Note: Characters have sex, non-explicit Trigger warnings: Break ups, toxic relationships, cheating, unplanned pregnancy, abortion

Laura Dead Keeps Breaking Up With Me is a great piece of fiction, and I can’t recommend it enough.  As YA, it is perfectly balanced - it doesn’t talk down to its audience with tacky “teen speak,” or reflect on an LGBTQ experience more accurate to the author’s high school years in the 80s or 90s than to teens today.  Nor is it an “issues” book about coming out or self-acceptance.  Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me is a realistic high school story that has something new to say.

The novel takes place at a high school in liberal Berkeley, California - being out at school is a fact of life for the main character, Freddy, and her friends.  That is not to say that it is a non-issue, as homophobic bullying exists even in the most progressive places - and the novel makes sure to hold onto that thread of reality.  Freddy’s school isn’t a fantasy world, but a real pocket of American culture.  As someone who came up in one of these pockets, I was always seeking a reflection of that experience in the books I read - Laura Dean is that book.

Freddy is dating Laura Dean, who, as the title suggests, keeps breaking up with Freddy.  Yet they keep getting back together.  Laura leaves Freddy for periods of sexual exploration with others, then inevitably shows up again, only for Freddy to accept her back and begin the cycle anew.  From the start, Freddy knows something is wrong.  Yet the elation of Laura Dean wanting her back draws her into Laura Dean’s sphere again and again and again… even when Freddy isn’t having fun.  And even when her relationships with her friends begin to suffer.

Laura Dean is what I look for in realistic high school fiction.  Tamaki puts in the effort.  It is all too easy to say “Here’s my book about a lesbian.  Her character traits include… being a lesbian.” But Tamaki makes sure that Freddy is a real person, even though the plot of the book is so intrinsically tied up in Freddy’s romantic life.  It’s in the little details: Freddy uses tabletop gaming terminology less than fluently because her friends are into it, but she isn’t.  She cultivates weird hobbies (cutting apart stuffed animals and sewing together the mismatched parts with her friend, Doodle).  She even talks to the stuffed animals and gets imaginary responses as a cute quirk to her character, which again, makes her feel much more real than your average protagonist.

Part of what makes Freddy such a good character isn’t the quirks and detail, though - it’s her flaws.  Freddy is so starved for positive attention from her neglectful girlfriend that she drops responsibilities to her friends, either forgetting dates or straight up abandoning a hard conversation because Laura Dean wants to hook up.  It’s not glamorous - but it’s real.  And it makes Freddy’s redemption all the more sweet, knowing how hard it was for her to get there.

Laura Dean’s character is also incredibly real.  There is a part of her that is larger than life, as seen through Freddy’s eyes - she’s drawn on the page very dramatically (which also has an element of reality to it, if you’ve ever been 18).  Having a crush on someone can paint their every movement or “Hello” into something special.  Laura Dean delivers lines like, “That’s right.  And you’re going to say yes.  Because I’m irresistible.”  But while Tamaki and Valero-O’Connell make Laura Dean a Casanova, they also bring her back down to earth.  Laura Dean makes dorky jokes that don’t land, calling Freddy “My lady,” as she gives her a french fry.  And of course, she’s a chronic cheater who breaks up with Freddy whenever Freddy becomes inconvenient.  While Laura Dean is not given a sympathetic eye by Tamaki, she is still much more nuanced than an ordinary villain.

The cast of side characters is also rich, their traits and flaws shining through just as brightly as Freddy’s and Laura Dean’s.  Doodle’s arc especially.  Doodle’s arc might have seemed too much like a “twist” if not for the prolonged attention Tamaki and Valero-O’Connell give to the gaps in Freddy’s knowledge about her friend.  “I have to talk to yous” that are never followed up on, long, lonely glances across the cafeteria - we know something is up with Doodle long before Freddy does.  The fact that Doodle’s “twist” is a “twist” at all is really only a condemnation of how far Freddy has let her friendship deteriorate.  The other side characters have their own worlds in motion, too - the girl who works at the donut shop is saving up for college.  Freddy’s coworker is an older lesbian with a bone to pick with certain lesbian celebrities who never officially came out.

Freddy’s friend Buddy is especially interesting.  He’s gregarious, high energy, effeminate.  He invents new slang, and appears to be ruled by whim - but he, more so than anyone else in the friend group, puts effort into maintaining group cohesiveness - joking around after he’s targeted by homophobic bullying in order to put his friends at ease, but also taking it upon himself to be the one to tell Freddy the hard truth, that she has not been a good friend to Doodle.  What makes Buddy even more compelling is that, while Buddy is the voice of reason and positivity to his friends, Buddy is not necessarily able to see reason when it comes to himself.  His relationship with Eric isn’t developed (not that it has to be!) beyond one or two snippets, but the biggest scene they have together is a fight.  Eric is going to a family event and doesn’t want to bring Buddy because he doesn’t want to focus all the attention on himself and his relationship.  Buddy, meanwhile, is out and proud, and feels hurt (perhaps insecure?) that Eric is lying by omission.

So much of my attention was focused on Buddy, despite his role being fairly small, because I was not sure if I was going to like him.  At the beginning of the book, he’s the playful, fun friend - all his lines are funny.  Since he’s also the only fat and only Black character in the main friend group, it seemed clear that he was going to be the “clown” - yet Tamaki and Valero-O’Connell put in extra effort with his characterization that Eric, for example, doesn’t get.  Buddy sits stony-faced across from the school bully as the bully is read the riot act by a teacher - but through text message, he’s his cheerful self (or facade?), texting “GAY POWER!!!!!”  His fight with Eric reads much the same - a way to contextualize and humanize a character verging on stereotype.  For me, I was ultimately satisfied with Buddy’s characterization - but I would love to hear other takes on the character.

All this to say that Tamaki and Valero-O’Connell put the effort in for the sake of creating a realistic world for Freddy, and their effort makes all the difference.

One last parting thought: a pitfall of realistic fiction is that, sometimes, the author gets lost in the flow of portraying “reality” and forgets that their first job is to write a story.  Laura Dean has no problem with this - Laura Dean has a satisfying character and plot arc which ends in a huge moment of catharsis.  I fully recommend Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me.  It may the most true to life portrayal of high school I’ve ever read, the writing will knock your socks off, and you’ll want to read the whole thing in one sitting.

Having reached the end of this review, I still haven’t done Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me justice - this comic is like nothing I’ve ever read before, and I believe it is the herald of a new era of LGBTQ art and writing.  No joke.

For more from Mariko Tamaki, visit her Twitter here. For more from Rosemary Valero-O’Connell, visit her Twitter here.

[jbuffyangel]

Timeless 2x11 Reaction: “The Miracle of Christmas Part 1 and 2″

And thus Timeless is officially over. How did the writers fair with the series finale aka The Timeless movie? Pretty freakin’ fantastic.

Let’s dig in...

It’s been several months between Timeless’ Season 2 finale and their series finale tonight, so the writers wisely include a “Previously on Timeless.” We flashback to all their adventures while Unhappy Future Lucy (who looks a little scary if I’m being honest) narrates. It helps because I seriously forgot her mother is dead. (They kill Susanna Thompson on every damn show!)

The beginning is a little jarring because storylines I expected to happen in a season or two are all happening RIGHT NOW. My brain needs time to downshift, but I eventually adjust.

First things first - dealing with the third point in the love triangle, Garcia Flynn. Timeless isn’t interested in drawing out the shipper war because Wyatt and Lucy are kind of a mess. They require some screen time so they are fixed in a realistic manner. 

Scary Future Lucy gives Present Day Lucy and Wyatt her diary. Spoiler alert: Lucy hooks up with Flynn. Spoiler alert: They break up sometime down the road because she is really in love with Wyatt. They play out Lucy and Flynn’s entire relationship in under 3 minutes. I’m not joking when I say they breeze through three to four seasons worth of triangle.

I love Goran Visnjic, and while I adore Lucy and Wyatt, I was never opposed to Lucy and Flynn. I mean yeah he’s a murderer. That’s a real negative, but it’s friggin Goran Visnic. Have you seen this guy? He’s so hot. Where Dr. Luca goes so goes my nation.

Kidding aside, the writers convey the depth of Lucy and Flynn’s relationship with just a few lines, which is an impressive writing achievement. I love how Flynn is all “I can’t believe you date me because I tried to kill you a bunch of times.” HAHAHA. Classic. And true! Ah the joy of television romance. But it ain’t gonna be you Flynn, so mosey along big fella. 

Jessica is not pregnant. UGH. I HATED THIS STORYLINE SO MUCH. 

I appreciate the writers giving it a fast and hard death, but this is one of the ways I think Season 2 went wrong. Timeless is a show that defied the typical television tropes and that’s what made it so interesting in Season 1.  However, I think their Season 2 renewal, and desire to snare more viewers, created a “throw everything, but the kitchen sink” mentality. 

They used every romance trope they could think of in Season 2 to see what would stick. It was just... not good. I don’t blame Timeless anymore than I do any other show that does this (and it’s pretty much all of them). It was just disappointing to see the show move in this direction, when previously they’d been so good at avoiding those kinds of storylines.

Flynn sacrifices himself by going back to 2012 to kill Jessica, so Rufus never dies. REDEMPTION ARC BITCHES!!! YESSSS!! 

Seriously, he is so bad ass. Flynn puts a couple bullets in Jessica (plus one extra to be sure) after a ninja knockdown fight. He knows the effects of traveling to his own timeline will kill him... or something. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Then he watches 2012 Flynn with his beautiful and living family through a window before he dies. 

Flynn leaves a goodbye letter for Lucy that pretty much says he loves her, but he knows she loves Wyatt and he wants her to be happy. So yes, GARCIA FLYNN sacrifices himself for Rufus, ensures Lucy and Wyatt find the happy ending they deserve even though he is in love with Lucy, helps stop Rittenhouse and save the world. I AM SO EMO ABOUT MY BOY RIGHT NOW!

As for Lucy and Wyatt, they tiptoe around each other for most of the two hours. Wyatt thinks she ends up with Flynn and Lucy doesn’t want to be second choice. They are the only two who remember the Jessica history. Dear God, can we all forget too? Everyone is pretty much, “Why aren’t y’all together because y’all were together before and it was perfection?” So meta.

Wyatt almost dies in an explosion while delivering a baby during the fall of North Korea. Yes, you read that correctly. WYATT LOGAN IS HERE TO SAVE NATIONS AND DELIVER BABIES!

Lucy realizes she almost lost Wyatt and they are wasting time worrying about the past. 

This part of the finale feels really predictable to me. There’s no way they are killing off Wyatt, especially after Flynn dies. Lyatt is endgame, so the two characters dancing around it for so long feels like prolonging the inevitable.

“After that explosion I thought you were dead. And for a moment I saw my whole life without you and my world ended Wyatt.”

But damn though, what a speech Lucy gives him. 

Honestly, it is slightly annoying she did most of the talking because Wyatt is the one who screwed up. At least he offers up a “I wanted to pick you Lucy, but I felt I owed Jessica because she was my baby mama” explanation. Of course, we all knew this. 

Lucy accepts Wyatt’s “I am a big pine tree” explanation because facts. Things really get cooking with some Lyatt mistletoe kissing. 

Source:  sisterzelda

Ah, a time honored holiday trope I will never grow tired of. Then they have sex

BUT CUT AWAY TOO SOON! Boo NBC!

Rufus is alive, but doesn’t remember being dead. Jiya remembers Rufus being dead, but he doesn’t remember Jiya living in Chinatown for three years in the 1800s. I think. 

Jiya is concerned she’s no longer the woman Rufus fell in love with (re: see three years of trauma). I argue Rufus fell in love with a bad ass and Jiya is still most certainly one. It is frustrating how quickly they had to go through her physical and emotional trauma from Chinatown. Ugh, this is some seriously important drama that could have been a multiple season deep dive. Stupid cancellation.

Rufus and Jiya realize they are still perfect for each other, because they are perfect for each other. They start a company together and become billionaires saving the world. Jiya’s hair color is extremely pretty in the final scenes too. I feel this is very important detail to include. I heart them. 

Source:  katie-mcgraths

Lucy and Wyatt discuss how they don’t want to become scary Lucy and Wyatt from the future and THEY DON’T BECAUSE OF FLYNN. They get married, Wyatt works for Agent Christopher on special projects, and Lucy is a tenured history professor who focuses on important historical women. BECAUSE THERE AIN’T NO TIME FOR THE MEN! That’s right fellas. Drink your tea and wait your turn.

Unfortunately, Lucy is not able to get her sister Amy back. She gives an poignant speech about grief and loss, which could be the show’s mission statement. This is how you write a series finale:

"Everybody loses someone they love. And no matter how badly they want to they can't get them back. In spite of that they find a way to go on. That's everyone's history." 

What connects all of time is our humanity. We are born. We live. We love. We suffer grief, pain and loss. We find joy. We endure. This is the thread century after century. In the end, we aren’t so different after all. 

THEN LUCY AND WYATT GET MARRIED 

Source: @splitscreen

AND HAVE TWIN GIRLS NAMED FLYNN AND AMY. 

Source: @splitscreen​

ALERT!!!!!!!!!! MULTIPLES CONCEIVED! IT IS THE DREAM! EVERYTHING IS AMAZING!!!! 

The final scene is 2023 Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus traveling to 2014 to tell Garcia Flynn about the time machine. Lucy tells Flynn he doesn’t lose his humanity even though he never gets his family back. He is the hero the team and the world needs in the end. It connects the beginning and end of Timeless so seamlessly. This was probably always going to be the bookend. I just wish we had a few more seasons in between it.

They hint at a future time machine being invented by a young girl Rufus took an interest in at the science fair. The morality of the time machine is debated between Agent Christopher and Connor. She wants to destroy it, but Connor argues they need to keep it so they can stop others from abusing its power. You can’t un-invent something. Someone sooner or later will create the same technology Connor and Rufus did. They have a responsibility to make sure time travel is not abused and another Rittenhouse does not rise. So, the time machine is kept, covered, guarded and waiting.

Do I think we’ll see a resurrected Timeless about this girl and her time machine? No. I don’t. This is the last stop on the Timeless train and, while it was a wonderful ride, it is over. Actors are released from contracts. Writers, producers, crew, etc have all moved on to other gigs. It’s a freaking miracle they even made the movie. (Apropos episode title).

Timeless approached the series finale the correct way, which is what’s important to me. They didn’t leave a bunch of loose ends. The world was saved and I saw all our beloved characters living their happy lives in peace. I need to know these characters are going to be okay, so I can say goodbye. 

Thank you Timeless for the insightful way you approached history, your cast of wonderful characters, humor and unflinching honesty. I look forward to the streaming deal so I can rewatch again and again.

Source:  yasmin-khan

Stray Thoughts

The finale is one EPIC Lucy speech after another. My girl runs this show.

Nobody was dressed appropriately for a North Korea winter. 

It looked like the mother threw her newborn into Wyatt’s arms as her son came running to her. LOL Nice catch, soldier.

"I've loved you since the Alamo." Girl is that ever right. 

Don't mock. Saint Christopher is for REAL. He has helped me out of many jams.

Hahaha. Wyatt said m'am. That's how you know it's the end.

[peacefulwriter88]

One That Got Away - Chapter 3

Steve Rogers x OFC Ariadne Bellamy

Chapter 3: Fool Me Once...

Universe: Marvel Canon

Rating: M for Mature (Language, Sexual tones eventual)

“You had what!?”

If one was listening really hard, beyond the sound of low chatter and laughter, the sound of glasses tinkling as they were refreshed with new beverages, they could hear the distinct voice of Nel Descarte before he took a sip out of his own glass of champagne, hand mid grab from the shrimp roll he was about to snatch from a waiters tray.

Nel was handsome in the kind of elite, New York gay art curator way one would suspect. His dark sage suit clung to his copper toned body perfectly, his sinewy frame built out in the fabric. His dark, lustrous hair was gelled back perfectly, his eyebrows trimmed and his hands manicured accentuated by the expensive watch on his wrist. It was Friday night and Sotheby’s Annual Newcomer Gallery had kicked off for the season and Nel, an art curator, had pressed that Ellie and I join him.

He was an old friend of ours, Nel. We had met at NYU our freshman year and the three of us had been as thick as thieves ever since. Ellie had jumped on the opportunity of attending despite her blasé attitude about art - I had been out most of the week and she was getting a bit stir crazy from being at home alone. Ellie, the natural homebody, had taken the opportunity to throw on a simple black sweater dress to compliment the natural curves of her plush body, matching heeled boots to set off the lock. Her wavy brown and gold hair sparkled in the light and like everything else Ellie did, her makeup was immaculate. She giggles into her own glass, her long eyelashes tickling her cheeks as her eyes jump between Nel and I.

“Steve Rogers, the actual Captain America, was making it all but apparent that he was into her and this one over here closed him down.”

Nel looks at me, again, shaking his head and tsking.

“You wasted all of that great potential on what? Principal? Lady love – you don’t allow fate to step in to just push it away.”

I shift my eyes to the portrait we had walked to before, tightening the red shawl that I had loosely thrown around my shoulders closer to me. It was in that moment I wished I had kept my blazer to cover the thin straps of my ivory blouse, to cover up the low v-line of the silk shirt but I had come over to meet the pair straight from work and didn’t want to look business professional. It was bad enough I was stuck with my pencil skirt. So I opted for the shawl that Ellie had brought with her and used it as coverage from my friends judging eyes.

In all reality, I didn’t want to think about Steve Rogers. The whole meeting had gotten underneath my skin more than I cared to acknowledge. The fact of the matter was, Steve was an interesting man. Beyond his obvious handsome features and kind eyes, he had an allure of mystery behind him, this inquisitive knowledge that I wanted to dive into and get to know more and I didn’t know why. Perhaps because of his boldness.

There was something about a man that knew what he wanted and went for it that always got under my skin. Especially if I was the object of that affection.

Which was why, hours later, I had been pissed to realize I let a good thing like that walk out of my life. Having Ellie, and now Nel, remind me of it wasn’t going to help my self-loathing.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I mumble underneath my breath, taking a long sip of champagne, keeping my eyes focused on the art piece in front of us.  

“You don’t want to talk about? Well tough titty honey,” Nel swipes two new glasses just as I’m throwing back the rest of the one I was sipping, exchanging my empty glass for a full one, “You can’t have someone as fine and respective as Steve Rogers hit on you and not expect me to pry.”

I chuckle underneath my breath, shaking my head as I turn to him

“Ellie said it all,” another sip. “Apparently Captain America was hitting on me and I froze up like a goddamn Popsicle.”

Nel watches me speculatively as we move on to a new painting. Its complete trash – literally – it's things that people have thrown away in trash cans glued onto a canvas and then painted over. Ellie squints at it, puckering her red lips before deciding to chug the rest of her champagne and look for another glass and I try to ignore the piercing gaze from Nel. Because I know exactly what he’s thinking.

I never freeze. Not when it comes to a man – an attractive man I am highly attracted to. I was the queen of being a heartbreaker. Not the other way around.

Not usually.

I couldn’t explain to him how it felt different looking into Steve’s baby blues. He had a quiet fierceness to them, a timely knowledge that I felt stripped me to my bare existence. There was more to him than a chiseled face and a need to save the world. More than that shy, golden boy charm that made others swoon. There was something else, I couldn’t put my finger on it and I didn’t like that I couldn’t.

He might actually be a fair match to me.

“You sure it wasn’t all those muscles on top of muscles that got you all tongue tied?” Nel finally asks, his eyes still unwavering and I scoff, looking over at him.

“What do we think of this piece?” I opt to redirect his attention but he doesn’t fall for it. Instead he looks over at it, mimics my earlier scoff, and then returns his attention to me.

“I tire of fake modern artist trying to re-invent modern art.”

“Why? Because it’s not an 18th century French scenic landscape?” I counter and he narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head.

“Don’t come at a champion when you’re still a trainee baby girl.”

“C’mon Ariadne, you know Nel got over that French phase the minute he stopped fucking French boys.” Ellie chimes in, reading the tension and trying to dispel it. I can’t help the laughter that escapes my lips as I wink and nod at her, ignoring the dramatic way Nel cover his heart as he looks between the both of us.

“Don’t make this about me. I’m still grieving Pierre.”

“It’s been three days.” Ellie says pointedly and I nod.

“Three long days….” I echo and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make this about me Ariadne. Don’t shift the subject because you were the one too afraid to give the Captain your digits.”

I sigh and move on to the next painting, ignoring the way Nel’s voice trails out after me though he doesn’t follow. He was right of course. So was Ellie. Maybe I was a bit mournful and thus dramatic that I had been a spaz but it didn’t matter. Things always moved in the universe with good reason. I was a year ripe out of my last relationship. Travelled a lot for work. Was trying to help plan my brother and his bride to be’s wedding. The last thing I thought I needed was to get involved with an international celebrity and defender of our planet.

I walk toward the bar, because even though the champagne’s expensive it’s not hitting the spot like I’d want it too. I needed something smooth and bitter…..grey goose vodka with a spritz of lemon and an olive for that extra bite. Ellie had spent the week teasing me about the love story that I could have had and more importantly, the love story she could have had with the Captain’s best friend. Not Sam she made a point to say, Sam was more Nel’s type whatever the fuck that meant. She was bitter I didn’t get closer to Steve to hook her up with Bucky.

Which anyone else might find selfish but I couldn’t hate her for. If the tables were turned, and I wasn’t a closed up clam, I’d probably be the same about Steve.

I’m so lost in thought though, placing my empty glass on the counter that I almost miss him.

He doesn’t miss me.

“Ariadne, right?”

Sam’s voice is smooth like the chocolate skin that covers his body, his irises just a few shades deeper. He has kind eyes, eyes that’s seen too much of the world but refuses to be let down by it. From the little I picked up at breakfast he was light hearted, funny, but knew how to pull out wisdom from humor and I could see why Steve and him were so close.

He was a good compliment to his fairer friend.

“Sam ‘the Falcon’ Wilson…..who would’ve guessed it.”

I lean in for a hug though I don’t know why – we weren’t longtime friends – but Sam doesn’t care and hugs me back earnestly.

“What are you getting?”

I smile as I lean into the bar,

“Extra dry slightly dirty martini.”

“Classy woman,” he signals for the waiter before returning his attention back to me. “What brings you out to such an elite event tonight? You don’t strike me as an art show kind of girl.”

I give a mock scoff though I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, shaking my head and biting my lip.

“First, I’m a woman – not a girl,” the low oooee that escapes his mouth attracts a little attention as I turn, leaning against the bar and watching my friends who have already forgotten about me, “And secondly, just because I can easily write out the best predictions for next week’s football games – and will probably be 80% right – doesn’t mean I’m not also refined and enjoy on reflecting about nice pieces of art.”

I don’t mean to come off cocky but I knew the things I was good at in life and I hated when men in particular didn’t think I could balance like sports and….being a woman? I don’t know but it’s a trigger, Sam gives an interesting look my way before saying,

“My bad I meant no harm in it.”

We stare each other down, not wavering until Sam cracks a smile, causing the dam of laughter to escape from the both of us.

“I see, I see, you’re pushing your personal biases onto me. I get it. Getting judged as a black female sports writer isn’t what I experience every day of my life.”

“Of course I am. Isn’t that what the man teaches us to do, to deflect our insecurities onto others?” He grabs the bartender’s attention, again, waving them over and quickly ordering before returning his attention back to me.  

“I guess they do. Really though, what brings you here? Not to be rude but you don’t strike me as the artist and gallery hopping type.”

He chuckles underneath his breath, nodding before saying,

“Touché. Honestly a friend. I come to support the art and in return I get free drinks,” our drinks arrive just on cue and he careful hands me mine before grabbing his beer, “I have no idea what’s going on most of the time. Or what art I’m looking at.”

I nod as I take a sip, drink in his attire.

“Well you look superb. That’s half of the journey at places like this,” another chuckle out of him, “But to be fair this isn’t that kind of gallery. Occasionally Sotheby’s will host these amateur nights….opportunities for art curators to check out fresh new talent. See if it’s anything they’d be interested in. If so, both parties gain something, a new partnership and new art. If not, there’s always next month.”

Sam eyes glint with something akin to understanding,  that flicker when things start to come together as his mouth shapes into an O.

“Oooooo that makes sooo much sense. I’ve been wondering why I get dragged to these things so often.”

He takes a sip out of his beer, furrowing his eyebrows,

“So you might know a thing or two about art?”

I give a nonchalant shrug, grabbing my drink.

“Maybe a thing or two.”

He nods his head, raising his brows as he looks over at me,

“So… you mind teaching me a thing or two? It would be nice to impress my friend for once; he thinks I never pay attention to these things.”

“Because you don’t.” I counter and he laughs.

“C’mon. I’m trying to pay attention now.”

I give a deep sigh, looking back over at Ellie and Nel who were looking at another painting, un-phased by my disappearing act.

“Why not. I’m a bit over my friends as it is for the moment.”

He offers his arm and smiles at me,

“Perfect.”

Sam Wilson was probably one of the funniest people I have met in a long time.  While I tried to talk him through technique, stroke styles (that phrase I regretted every time it escaped my mouth) and influence he made light of the subject matter, always asking what I would be willing to pay for it. Despite his banter, he was also picking up on some things, and it’s through my second martini that he moves beyond pricing points and more about the themes of the paintings. His interests grow more and more so that by the time we make it to the last painting in the section we are in, we both do so in agreed silence, trying to read the piece.

It’s a painting of a couple leaning into each other, backs to the audience in a tight embrace. They are looking out into the city – a Central Park Manhattan view, with the landscape of skyscrapers evolving through time. Some older, dirtier, industrial influenced carried until a modern time, airplanes flying in the sky and the clean gleam of skyscrapers with current, modern businesses embroidered into the buildings. I can’t see the couples faces but there’s something about it, something that makes me feel…

“Melancholic.” The words pepper out of me as I walk forward to it, drinking in the strokes of the drawing, the careful way each line has been crafted, oil spread. It’s a large painting, about the width of your standard bookcase almost the height of a door but the size just helps lends to the effect of the scene. Dark, gritty with the precipice of hope at its helm. I tell as much to Sam and he nods slowly, his dark eyes looking at me curiously as he asks,  

“What else?”

“It makes me sad initially but also hopeful. That there’s greatness in the things that are lost in time and the couple willing to be embraced by it  and it makes me wonder what they think. Why are they stuck in time, unchanging, unmoved, forced to watch time change and unable to change with it. The only security is not being alone….it’s beautiful. Really. A really talented artist must have invested a lot of time into it.”

“Oh he did…”

Sam chuckles as I snap my head to him and ask,

“You know who drew this?”

“Yea of course I do. It’s my buddy who keeps entering these things….”

I raise an eyebrow, moving back to look at him.

“He’s entered pieces like this and no one hasn’t asked him to create more….this is top of the line. Far better than a lot of the things here that are just asking and begging to be selected, to scream that they are not alone, to show that they are original. You telling me that he’s rejected big shot names just to continue to submit paintings?”

Sam laughs, taking a long sip of his beer.

“Yeah.”

I watch him, before returning my eyes back at the drawing. Trying to understand the artist by trying to understand the art. The way the hand of the man clutches the woman, almost squeezing her as it appears her hand falls lightly on his. The way she leans into him gently and I can imagine her calming him, assuring him it’s okay. Women adapted a lot better than men, they must, they carry life and it’s the only way to guarantee that life will move on. It’s all here, in this frame, fear and uncertainty and insecurity that is hidden behind confidence, ease.

“Your friend must want to be heard. To share what he’s unable to say then. Not a starving artist by choice, but a selective artist because he wants to breath truth. But for who…it’s hard to say.”

Sam leans in a bit.

“What do you mean?” he’s looking at the painting again, deeply like me and I take another sip.

“I can’t tell if the artist is trying to unveil some truth about human experience for other humans, or trying to unpack their experiences, trying to grapple with what were all trying to understand I’m being human. I don’t know…seems complicated this piece. Is the artist complicated?”

“Like a goddamn rubix cube,” Sam mutters but now his eyes are drinking it in. “I just thought it was about the loss of things.”

“Sure it’s about loss. But there’s something deeper. There’s not sorrow over this loss or change. There’s fear and maybe a sprinkle of sadness but not sorrow. There’s an understanding that things flow differently – they change and you can’t fight it. And the artist is trying to understand what that means for the world. What it means for them. Its complex…..it makes you question things. It’s making me question things. Which is why it’s melancholic. But what do I know…I just get trashed helping my friend select painting I think would be good for his gallery.”

I shrug as I take another sip stepping backwards. So focused on the painting that I hadn’t realized that someone has walked up behind me, until my backs pressed into their chest and I lean my head back, resting my head against the defined muscles as my eyes fall into ocean blue orbs.

Oh.

Steve Rogers was dangerous in his star spangled uniform. Was even more achingly attractive in street clothes.

Nothing could have warned me for this man in a suit.

It’s not even a full suit, nice pressed pants. A nice, crisp dark blue shirt that did wonders for his eyes. A simple black tie.

It’s enough to make my breath hitch, to cause me to squeeze my thighs together so I’m not unloading a gallon of my attraction onto the gallery floor. I’m flustered as he captures me easily, steadying me and the arm that holds my martini as his other hand finds my hip. The vodka is strong, it allows his cologne to overwhelm my senses and to allow myself to relax under his touch, to fall back onto him with ease as my eyes drink in his chiseled jawline and his pulse point from beating against his neck. I wanted to mark him, to claim him for my own and the thought jostles me.

“Oh! I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to….”

I’m at a loss for words, again, as I blink up at him stupidly but he simply smiles back at me gently, eyes unwavering as his hand that isn’t on my hips slowly trails up my arm, causing goosebumps in its wake.

Shit. Too much vodka. I had too much fucking vodka and champagne in my system for this kind of intimate touch.

“Don’t worry about it. Not every day I get to run into a beautiful woman twice in one week.”

His voice is low and light, humorous and gravely and I bite my lip subconsciously, causing his eyes to flicker down to it before they are returning to my own.

I’m sure I had fuck me eyes all over my face and the realization makes me blush, embarrassed out of my goddamn mind. Drunk flirting with Steve Rogers wasn’t going to make my self-pity cause any better.

“I’m really not this high maintenance. I was just admiring this.” my eyes flash back toward the painting.

He smiles, his eyes breaking from mine and looking over at the painting and nods.

“I heard.”

“Y…you did?” I force myself to push my forehead off his chest, from the confines of his arms. Away from him and though I still feel like I’m swimming I’m able to steady my mind, trying to push the smell of his cologne from my memory and clear my throat.

“Super soldier hearing.” Sam says, rolling his eyes though he smiles at me and I narrow my eyes at him. He knew. He fucking knew the whole damn time that Steve was lurking.

This was a goddamn set up.

“You have an artist eye. You sure you aren’t a curator. Or a secret artist?”

Steve is still too close to me, his arms brushing against my own and I shrug, shaking my head.

“No, no, not even if I tried. But I have this good friend of mine, and he works for the Met and he really knows his shit and you know he’s taught me a thing or two.”

“Just a thing or two?” he raises a speculative eye before another deeper voice booms across the space.

“Steve! Sam! There you are.”

The man that strolls over is tall, about as tall as Steve and Sam. In this space, with its suits and nice dresses, he stands out with the dark Henley he’s rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans to match. His hair is longer than Steve’s, brushing against his neckline and his beard is in a scruff, cool blue eyes dancing between our group. I would be lying if i didn’t say that James “Bucky” Barnes wasn’t attractive. He was the kind of charming bad boy that i wanted to get under your skin for a few months and then let each other loose for both your sanity.

I could see easily why Ellie was attracted to him.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” his voice is huskier than Steve’s, smoother and has a twist of charming wickedness as he smiles down at me. It makes my heart palpitate for a few seconds, makes my breath hitch a second.

This man would destroy Ellie.

….I needed their pairing to happen.

“Steve, you didn’t tell me you were going to leave to go flirt with some cute dame.”

“Oh brother.” Sam snorts, finishing his beer and rolling his eyes as I extend my hand out,

“You must be the famous Winter Soldier.”

He flinches from the words, but doesn’t skip a beat to grab my hand, his lips skimming against the sensitive flesh as a smile stays on his face,  

“Must be. And who are you?”

I take a sip out of my martini, finishing the last drip as I pull my hand away,

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over at Steve who is watching curiously.

“She’s a fireball.” He says, amused and Steve nods in agreement,

“She’s something.”

“And she’s also still standing in front of you. Now you’re boring me and I’m out of a drink. So maybe work on that game of yours while I go and get another.”

I walk away, aware that they are both staring at me, trying my best to keep up my most confident stride despite the alcohol swimming in my body.

How did I go from no prospects in my morning to three handsome men in the evening?

The universe had a funny way with playing with my heart.

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