#so turns out I can see threads via links even if I don’t have the app

[dreamings-free]

Louis’ wrecked tank top after the Austin TX show

Helen Seamons on threads 7/7/23

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Evie, what do you think of the article in the Tullamore Tribune? Have sent it to you via text message. Big news here at home. Must speak to Caroline soon. Saw Jackie Doyle’s husband at the butcher with a cast on his leg this morning, says he had the foot reversed over outside his house. Ouch! Love mam.

Mam, did you send a link to the article or a photo of the paper? Either way neither has sent. It’s probably too many megabytes, don’t worry about it. I’ll chat to you about it when I’m home next. 

“Texting your other boyfriend?” Jude says casually, his back to me as he zips himself into the only pair of trousers he brought on holidays. 

“It’s my mother, she’s obsessed with some article she saw in the local paper, I don’t know what it is, probably that the parish priest has died or something, God knows, but the article hasn’t sent.”

“You could ask her to email it maybe?”

“Ugh, it’s not even worth it, the computer at home is barely usable and I’d have to use all my roaming minutes to coach her through that process. I’ve already tried to tell her that texting is expensive.”

He puts his shoes on, “Does she know you’re in Cyprus?”

I pause, “I can’t remember. You can turn around now,” I smooth out the lightweight linen of my new dress, “What do you think?”

Jude pretends to pass out, collapses onto his bed and then slides onto the floor, “Evie,” He groans, “You’re a babe.”

“Get up, you clown,” I snicker, “Why are you always so dramatic?”

“Where did you get that?”

“The market in Paphos.”

“Do a spin for me,” I do, and he clutches his heart and rolls over onto his front. 

“Get up! You’ll get dust all over your clothes.”

“You’re right, my only nice clothes too,” He pulls a hair, probably mine, off the front of his shirt, “Something with buttons on it, imagine. I bet you didn’t think I had threads like this.”

“I like it, you look smart. You should wear more shirts with buttons.”

“I would only my fat fingers always fumble them,” I glance at his hands, the most nimble, dexterous and beautiful hands I’ve ever seen on a man and roll my eyes, “Alright, get up, we have to leave now.” I head for the door while he scrambles across the floor to grab a hold of my waist to stop me, “Wait, let me have another look at you.”

“You have a whole evening to look at me,” I protest, hoping my voice doesn’t give away the fact that my entire body is prickling from that look in his eyes, and how much I like seeing him on his knees in front of me. “Come on, we don’t want to keep the guys waiting.”

He tightens his fingers around me, and with a kiss to my belly, says “Here’s to a great last night in Cyprus.” 

The restaurant that Claire booked is spectacular. Located in the ruin of an old church, it showcases a perfect, uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean Sea. Aphrodite’s Rock is highlighted perfectly by the setting sun, and the full moon behind it appears enormous as it rises from the glittering horizon.

We cheers with our wine glasses when our drinks arrive, and all of us, tanned, gorgeous and tired, look out over the beach and take languid sips of our drinks. Nobody has called me out on the fact that I swore I wouldn’t order wine and then did anyway when I realised I’d be the only one not having something to drink. 

“Claire,” Jude says, ankle to knee, one arm draped over the back of my seat. “Why is it that your parents had a house out here the whole time, and you still decided to spend a summer in Shane Healy’s mobile home?”

She laughs, “Because I was seventeen, and the idea of being on holidays with my parents was really embarrassing,” a waiter brings our food over and places it down in front of us, “I thought it’d have been a bit more craic to be with my friends instead, and like, yeah obviously it wasn’t the most glamorous holiday I ever had, but I still had a good time.”

“She made the right choice,” Shane says, placing a hand around her shoulder. 

Jude grins, “And this is the first time you’ve had friends here?” 

“Yeah, actually it is.”

“Well, hopefully not the last.”

“Agreed,” I say enthusiastically, “Let’s do this every year, this has been just amazing from start to finish.”

Claire smiles and quickly picks up her fork. “Let’s eat, will we?”

The food is amazing. I have scallops and Jude has Monkfish, but we end up sharing with each other like we usually do, with me putting half of my food onto his plate and him putting half of his onto mine. I try some of Claire’s linguine too, and even a little bit of Shane’s steak despite the fact that he’s not entirely on board with the idea of sharing, as usual. The conversation is so good, it flows as easily as our drinks, and just like at the very best times with friends, everything is easy. I laugh when Claire drops a ribbon of pasta onto her lap, at the face that Shane makes when I hold out the bottle of wine to him and he says “Go on, you’ve talked me into it,” and as the evening settles down and the full moon rises in the sky I’m filled with a rare kind of contentment, like absolutely everything is alright in the world. 

“It’s so sad that we’re leaving tomorrow,” Claire laments as our empty dishes are cleared away, “It’s just been so nice to be with all of ye  and have a little bit of time away from college and all of that, you know, like you don’t actually get these kinds of breaks very often.”

“True,” I say, “But there’ll be so many more, this is really just the start of it now, I can just feel it.”

“Yes…” she says, and she looks down into her lap. Her lips part as though she wants to say more, but then she doesn’t. I watch her exchange something unspoken with Shane, and as he adjusts himself uncomfortably in his seat the very first seeds of uncertainty settle in my guts. “What?” I say, “Was that awkward of me to say? I didn’t meant to imply that I expect you to put us up in Cyprus every year or something, no, I just meant like-”

“No, it’s fine, Evie. I wasn’t thinking that,” says Claire, “It’s just, like…” She trails off. 

“We wanted to invite you on holidays with us because we have to tell you something important,” Shane says. “Something that’s good, like. It’s not bad news at all, it’s just…”

“What-” 

“Shane’s been scouted,” Claire blurts out, “By the AFL. They like the way he plays football, so they want him to go play professionally, like.”

I’m already out of my seat and reaching over the table to hug him before the last words have left Claire’s mouth, “Oh God, Shane!” I cry, “That’s amazing, I’m thrilled for you, what the hell, that’s like the best case scenario, you must be so happy,”

“I am, yeah,” He says with a big awkward pat on my back, “Sure it’s good news.”

“It’s amazing news, wow, you kept that one quiet.”

“Well we weren’t really allowed to talk about it until it was fully confirmed,” Claire explains, “You know, just in case anything fell through at the last minute, but like, yeah, at this point it’s fully confirmed, it’s happening.”

“Wow, oh my God, I’m stunned, I just-”

“Hang on a second,” Jude says, “Just to confirm, the AFL? So you’re moving?”

I look at him and then to them and back again, “Moving?”

“Yeah,” Claire says, and tears suddenly spring into her eyes, “To Sydney.”

“Australia?” It’s quiet for several moments after the word leaves my mouth, and nobody even says yeah obviously, Evie, what other Sydney is there? You dope. My hands start to tremble. 

“Yeah,” Shane speaks carefully like he’s afraid to spook me, “Oz, like. We’re going in September.”

“Four months?” I cry, “That’s all we have left, four months? What am I going to do when you’re gone? That’s crazy, guys, it’s so far, you can’t just go.”

“Evie, it’s his one chance to do this, we have to try.”

“I’m finishing my degree, I’ll be qualified so I’ve a backup plan, but like, I’ll spend a few years trying to get the football thing going, and if it doesn’t work out that’s fine, I just really need to give it a go.”

“A few years is a long time.”

Claire grabs my hand, and I suddenly feel like a toddler who is throwing a tantrum and needs to be managed. “We’ll be back all the time, for Christmas and different things, and you can always come out and stay with us.”

My lip is trembling, and I realise that she is crying, so I cry too, and let tears careen down my face while the waiter comes back with dessert menus and awkwardly places them in front of us. “It’s good, Evie. This is what we want.”

“But your degree,” I whimper, “Aren’t you going to finish it?”

She laughs thickly, “I couldn’t give two shits about my degree, chick. I’m only in college because my dad paid the fees for it, I’m useless.”

“But-”

“I’m just doing what I’m supposed to be doing, this is what I want, and yeah, I’m sad that I’ll be leaving Ireland but I find it exciting too at the same time. Sure we’re only young, there’s loads of time to try things out,”

“No, I’m happy,” I mop tears from my cheeks, the napkin coming away glittery. “Obviously, I’m really happy, this is amazing…”

“Amazing,” Jude echoes. 

“…I’ll just miss you both so much.”

“We’ll miss you too.”

“I never imagined that this would happen.”

“Me neither,” Shane says, “I never thought that the AFL would want me, honestly.”

“Oh of course they would,” I throw my eyes skyward, “Shane Healy, extraordinaire. The most talented man on earth.”

“Dunno about that, now.”

I try to smile, but I end up grimacing hideously instead, teeth clenched, eyes overflowing with tears, “What will I do without you?”

“You’ll be grand, you don’t really need us,”

I don’t think either of them realises how much I do. Who will I confide things in? Who will give me advice that’s hard to hear? Who will take me to doctor’s appointments, force me to get in shape, cook dinner with me, braid my hair, tell me I’m doing alright when I feel like I could fall apart at any minute? 

Jude strokes his thumb over my knee beneath the table, “It’s bittersweet, you know? I’m happy for you, Shane.”

“Thanks man,”

“Let’s focus on the time we have left. We have a whole summer before you guys leave, and I really think we can make the most of it, and look,” he turns to me, “We can visit Australia, I’ll take you there, yeah, the flight is long but it’s worth it. It’s amazing, you’ll love it, actually, you’ll all love it. This is something to really look forward to.”

I understand that he’s being optimistic, as usual, but a little toxic part of me wishes that he wouldn’t be, that he’d say something about how it’s too hot in Australia, how the spiders are as big as cats and the food is disgusting just so there’s a chance that Claire and Shane might stay, but I know it’s far too late for that kind of thing. 

“It’s so great,” I say through my teeth, “It’s a big change, but it’s just amazing.”

Claire smiles at me tearfully from across the table. “I know,” She mouths. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying so much,” I fan my face as though it’s actually going to achieve something, to dry even a friction of the torrent of moisture on my face. With every blink I feel my mascara transferring onto my lower lids. “I think I just need some air.”

“We’re already outside,” Shane points out, and Claire thumps him on the arm, “That’s not what she means. Go on down to the beach for a walk, Evie, it’s fine. We can just finish up here, and you can text us when you’re feeling a little bit better.”

I get up from my seat, “Okay, I’ll just… I’ll just go down there now, I’ll be fine. I’m delighted, really, it’s just a surprise is all, I’m grand.”

“We know, it’s okay.”

“Wow, what big news,” I try to laugh at myself but the sound that comes out of me is more like a wet rattle. “Fab.” I partially shove my way through other diners to get out of the restaurant, absolutely loathing myself for having such an intense reaction. I wonder what is wrong with me during the whole walk down the sandy bank and towards the beach, and I hate myself even more as I face the sea and hack out one huge, outrageous and unjustified sob. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[juniette13]

Hi! I have two questions about your version of Genshin: First, if you could turn your version into a game, what would its battle system be like? Or would it be the same as the original? What will the role of Childe and Fatuis be in your version?

TYSM for the questions! I love talking about things like my rewrites LOL

So for the battle system, I’d probably have it be turn-based, this could probably be because I just really like turn-based combat, it would be akin to Persona 5’s combat (I’ve only been able to play P5) or Baldur’s Gate 3 combat (Cause I’m obsessed with that game)

And an unrelated side tangent (Sorry I just love yapping LMFAO) I would have the OST be various jazz subgenres (Cause I absolutely love jazz and it has so many subgenres)

And if the rewrite did have anime openings, I would have the music be songs by 4hero, that resonate with the respective themes of each arc

I even have a list of the songs! I’ll link them in their titles

Escape That - General Series Opening (Would be made after the series ends)

Another Day - Mondstadt arc (First ever opening)

Golden Age of Life - Liyue arc

Hold It Down - Inazuma arc

Look Inside - Sumeru arc

Star Chasers - Fontaine Arc

Natlans arc theme is undecided

Ways of Thought - Snezhnaya arc

Bed of Roses - Abyss arc (Final arc)

I’d def want the openings to be like somewhat trippy, but heavily associated with their arcs (Via imagery)

Now about the Fatui, I definitely don’t want to reveal everything about them from the get-go, it honestly feels like Hoyoverse ruined their mysteriousness by oversaturating the game with Fatui appearances, alongside showcasing every single Harbinger within one video

I would keep them pretty mysterious and slowly tear away the threads to reveal their true nature and how they work

They’re on pretty good terms with the nations at the start of the story, having citizens believe that they have nothing but pure intentions

Some Harbingers are assigned nations to keep a close eye on, just so the nations are secretly monitored

The friendly facade will begin to slip away during the Liyue arc

During the Mondstadt arc, they’ll be foreshadowed

Now they won’t be the cause of every single problem behind the nations, I feel like Inazuma’s plot was shot in the foot because they just had to have the Fatui be the reason Ei’s such a tyrant, I feel like it wouldn’t hurt to just not have Fatui meddling occur in every single freaking major story arc

Now I do have some changes planned from some Harbingers that I can list out as of now

Pierro - I plan on keeping Pierro’s face and plans obscured, I only wish to reveal a bunch of the information surrounding him later on in the series (Since he’ll eventually become a major villain)

There is more about him that I have planned, but I’m hesitant to share, because I am heavily considering turning my rewrite into a webcomic, and I wouldn’t want to spoil major story beats before the rewrite even has a chance to breathe and soar

La Signora - I don’t want her to get killed off early on, cause I feel like that was done by Hoyoverse solely for shock value

Pantalone - He’ll be heavily involved in the Liyue arc

Scaramouche - I don’t want to give him a redemption arc TBH, I feel like my rewrite Childe deserves it more than him

It feels like Scaramouche only got redeemed so he could be extra marketable and whatnot, it feels cheap NGL

Plus I see no harm in a character being consistently a bad person who won’t change their ways, those types of characters are so much fun LOL

Childe - I’m heavily considering getting him a redemption arc where he learns to stand up for himself and to surround himself with the right crowd, as I feel like making him be a really recent newbie, who most of the Harbingers do not like

I plan on having the Fatui be the antagonists, but not the ultimate orchestrators

Oh and each arc will have a main group/team (OFC my Persona 5 hyperfixation is leaking in LOL)

I have the Mondstadt crew planned out, here’s the list

-Lumine

-Jean

-Venti

-Kaeya

-Lisa

-Amber

-Razor

Oh and my notes for my rewrite is super long LOL, my friend likes to call it “The Genshin Bible”

Anyway thanks for the ask! I really love rambling about my projects!

[evintide]

✧.   get to know the author !

name : zeta

pronouns : she / her

preference of communication : im’s via tumblr atm! i’m on discord but i am EXTREMELY shy so that is currently saved for mutuals at the moment.

most active muse ( s ) : as of right now midna is my main gal! though i’ve been feeling very tempted to pick up lumine since it’s been awhile. i have a few other muses that are burning a hole in my pocket (along with an oc or two) but they’re either a) a passing fancy or b) i feel... way too embarrassed to even think about offering them to anyone. LOL.

experience / how many years : as if i didn’t feel old enough turning 30 in June LMAO... i would wager at LEAST twenty or so years at this point, but i’ve had a lot of irl things that took me away from writing for stretches at a time during all of that.

best experience : hooo this is hard... probably back when i was writing in my original fandom and i found a writing partner with an awesome au that i just clicked with really with. we don’t talk much any more but i still care for them deeply, and i loved working off their ideas. we even had a single thread that continued for MONTHS. wild to think that i had the mental stamina for that! also i was in a group chat (same muse) and someone mentioned that our thread (albeit a short one) felt very in character and i was just. beyond touched at the time. small things like getting asks and stuff were always a big treat too! (and still are!!)

rp pet peeves : when people don’t give me anything to work off of. rp is a two way street, and while i know not every reply has to be a novel or move the characters in a certain way every time, if i’m left carrying the scene on my own it dries up my interest very quickly. also, not fully rp related but over complicated blog themes. i love themes! coding is absolute wizardry to me and people who can make and/or edit stuff beautifully are magic! but if i have to highlight the page to try and see where links are or have to copy/paste text onto a text document due to eye straining colors? nah dog. i’m outtie.

plots or memes : i ADORE plotting! not every detail has to be hashed out but getting a feel for the direction for the rp or if there’s some sort of idea you’d like to talk about and experiment through writing? LET’S GOOOOO!! though that can also easily be brought up or be inspired by memes so! kinda both? is that an acceptable answer?? i’m admittedly prone to getting super hyped to talk about plots and then... have my mind go blank from a stage fright response, LMAO. so having memes to work off of can be INCREDIBLY handy for me. the two more or less go hand in hand in my book!

are you like your muse ( s ) : yes and no? IT’S A BIT HARD TO EXPLAIN. but at  least one thing midna and i share is that we care very deeply but expressing it, especially through words is. very difficult. or we make it more difficult than it should be. :,D at the very least i know for a fact ALL of them would disown me the minute i started spitting puns (which is very, VERY often.)

tagged by. @hyruin thank you friend! ♥

tagging. @riwrite @twilitae @cyclebound @legendryhero @silenthime @calamight and anyone else that reads this! >:D

[randomclicheusername]

Image: 20th Century Studios

The beauty of science-fiction

Slap on your tumbler seatbelts because I’m going to get  philosophical about genetically-engineered autonomous avatars.

The walking jackass now turned into Quaritch. You know, the antagonist played by Stephen Lang is back in… blue?

How?! Why?! Didn’t he take an arrow to the heart worse than a Skyrim guard who used to be an adventurer until an arrow took their knee out?

Due to the magic of sci-Fi science, he’s back and bluer than ever!!!

His return is believable. I mean, we’re already suspending our belief to accept the idea that you can link your mind to an avatar to infiltrate a sentient, civilization established alien society.

Jake Sully, the protagonist of the franchise, original body was mortally wounded. Granted, his consciousness was permanently transferred into his avatar via the Tree of Souls and not via humankind’s technology.

Yet, it was humankind’s technology that transferred Sully’s consensus over to the avatar. They just had to maintain his human body in order for the avatar to keep functioning or the connection would be lost.

So, it isn’t much of a leap to imagine that they would already have the capabilities to copy someone’s consciousness, memories and personality and hold all that biological data until they improve the technology to store that data into an avatar without needing the hosts’ original body to be maintained.

Thus I do not feel that Quaritch resurrection was cheap. I feel that it enhances the franchise moving forward on whole because it allows an intimate story to continue to be told amongst a planet-conflict between the original inhabitants and humanity.

It also plants the seeds to multiple potential plot lines that add spice to the overreaching story.

This Quaritch, isn’t the on that died because the memory was saved before the OG Quaritch died. He even says in the film that he’s not even the same guy but just has all that information stored within his now blue skull.

It’s oddly a new character while also being an old one one. His baby is now a sixteen year old who feels more connected to the indigenous community than his own species.

The boy never knew his father. Now his father is back. That internal conflict is evident. It bleeds through the 3D IMAX screen. The kid has a chance to meet his father and a possible chance at a relationship.

Spoiler apart: Quaritch survives in the sequel (his son saved him) thus that internal conflict is threaded through the franchise now.

Not to mention, Quaritch wants a relationship with his son too. He realizes that he has a second chance at life and an opportunity to maybe change.

He could’ve slaughter one of the Navi but listened to his son Spider to not proceed. He wanted his son to escape with him towards the end of the movie. He made genuine effort to bond with his son and cared for his safety.

The OG Quaritch didn’t have that capacity. Granted, Avatar Quaritch did kill Sully’s kid. So, both characters will still have serious beef and another conflict to be threaded through the franchise.

Will Quaritch evolve from a villain to an anti-hero? Will his son teach him the error of his ways and he goes out in a heroic blaze of glory? Will he just be more emboldened to become even more villainous? Would Quaritch begin to sympathize with the indigenous population due to his son?

Don’t you see? There’s an untapped potential in character growth with an avatar Quaritch than we had with the human Quaritch. This untapped potential is also beneficial to other character’s own growth.

Also, if such technology existed in the real world then it would fundamentally change society as a whole. People could change their body’s or transfer to a younger version of themselves. Maybe people would be able to transfer their consciousness before death thus a sort of cheat to immortality.

It also leads to certain questions beyond the scientific variety.

Who would have access to the technology? Will it be gatekept from underprivileged segments of society? What happens if it falls into the hands of someone that would be a  genocidal dictator that could rival the atrocities committed by some of the worst in humankind’s history?

How could the technology be abused? Rewarded? What kind of ethical dilemma could arise from its utilization?

What if such bodies, avatars or whatever form the technology takes… is viewed as not sentient when they are? Will it become a futuristic form of slavery? What happens if multiple of the same consciousness exist?

I highly doubt James Cameron would answer any of those questions in his movies. Yet, they’re questions whose potential answers could be worth pondering upon.

I don’t know if I personally would allow my consciousness to be transferred even once or continuously. I wouldn’t even behind to know how to answer those questions as the implications are massive.

Would such a technology demean the value of life? Yes… but a thing doesn’t lose its value because it lasts. It retains its value by being unique. One of a kind.

Also, how does one label or classify a body but not human, and now a memory made real? As sub-humans? Demigods? Still human in soul? Or a pale imitation? Would you still have rights?

There’s a frightening side to that possibility. Maybe it’s ethical to disallow a creation of such a thing to avoid the negative consequences.

It’s a shame we’re not going to explore any of that in the story of Sully and Quaritch. I don’t think Cameron has the foresight to explore any of that. If he did had interest in exploring that uncharted ground then we would’ve seen it by now.

Yet, it’s fun to think about all that. Run scenarios of implications within your imagination. That’s the beauty of science fiction.

[brawlqueen]

psa, lil info on m.izuki & ai.ba.

updated my rules a little bit nothing major, and also i think i’ll probably make a generalized post on the use of ‘ai-balls’ aka aiba, the artificial intelligence that miz.uki has in her empty left eye socket after the explosion in the cathedral. also i really....don’t want to color in all grey even if my girl didn’t deserve more trauma. aiba is someone she generally shares with date because while i’m happy with ai ro.leplayers to write out most of the story, save mi.zuki is heavily involved in the case, not just ‘seeming’ to look like herself, i can follow a lot of the canon for ai.ni if you’re comfortable because i do want to explore all of mi.zuki’s emotions and reactions to things. 

the experimentation divergence / shoko giving her up to ‘fix her’ to chikara part won’t change, but basically ai.ba, ( the golden eye? that’s her when she’s in mi.zuki’s eye socket ) can read thermographs which detect lies with 100 percent accuracy, x-ray mode, thermo mode, is essentially a computer that can immediately access information from videos, locked phones, texts, hack computers, etc, a.iba is basically limitless almost in what she can do, but she does have a battery! and in less than a few seconds. she is linked in mi.zuki’s brain wirelessly via the nerve behind her eye socket, so even if she comes out in her cute hamster form miz.uki can still communicate and use her!

 this makes mi.zuki able to anticipate moves and situations and also see what normal people could not, as well as pysnc - aka going into someone’s dreams, where ai.ba takes the white haired humanoid we know and love to find clues or memories that may help crack the hb case. basically, as if mizu.ki’s abilities / prowess wasn’t terrifying already, ‘it’s her turn to use the ai-ball’. it also means ai.ba and m.izuki talk to each other within mi.zuki’s brain, unheard by anyone. 

ex: aiba: to your left (insert an approximate distance) ex: aiba: use a certain type of bullet (insert aiba transmitting to mi.zuki an exact scenario before it happens  / calculation of how to solve a problem be it a fight, a sticky situation, and it be 100 percent accurate if mi.zuki follows ai.ba’s instructions. 

i’ll elaborate on this more in a post but! just some ooc stuff. mizuki is lethal and very much a terrifying foe due to...frankly being op and we didn’t really know why until a.ini, now we do! but this makes her kind of terrifying. aiba even remarks that mi.zuki doesn’t necessarily need her in implications later in the game by going to help date saying she is the ‘strongest one there’ by millions of miles. note this is the twelve year old who by then was already crushing and taking down armies of armed gunmen and thugs in certain routes by herself, and now? now she’s eighteen years old so imagine the ability increase. basically superwoman as a detective.

i’ll make a master post and link of this sometime, maybe a link to my headcanons, but over all, aiba is very important because in threads she’ll likely have something to say because in a.ini she is mi.zuki’s partner! although really i think mi.zuki was scary enough . . . ! we love a tiny blueberry who can take down armies of men and lift things three times her size or more...okay probably lots, lots more.

[mistresspandora-archive]

Tossing Trolls Back Under the Bridge (Comprehensive Information about Blocking Options on Tumblr and Reporting Harassment on AO3)

Since Tumblr clearly doesn't take hate speech and harassment seriously, I thought I would put together what I know about blocking users even when they send their harassment through anon asks.

Since internet trolls are generally histrionic annoyances that thrive on attention, the best thing in my experience is for the entire fandom to close ranks and slam the door in their face. (I’m also a fan of getting the last word, so I tend to lead with expletives and THEN block to my heart’s content). This isn't me expecting anything of anyone of course, just a possible strategy for when this happens again. Always take care of yourselves and do what is best for YOU ❤.

All of this is based on my experience as a user, I’m not actually affiliated with either tumblr or AO3.

First of all, block judiciously and without remorse. You can do that from mobile or desktop by going to the user's blog, clicking the little person icon:

And then clicking Block.

Click report too if you need to report harassment or hate speech or something. Blocking will prevent this user from interacting with you while they are logged in under this account.

It looks like they can still interact with your posts via side blogs (or via the main blog if you haven’t slapped that one), so in cases like our sock puppeting pain in the ass, you'll have to play whack-a-troll for a while. (Why yes I did just link to a list of the sock puppets that Tumblr refused to take action on.)

But even when you block them, they can log out and send you anonymous asks (unless you have that feature turned off). Personally, I think we shouldn't have to turn off anon to avoid death threats and homophobic slurs (are you listening yet @staff ???) But that’s just me.

So what about these nasty anonymous asks? Well, when you go to report them, Tumblr gives you a total runaround, don’t actually let you report the message, and then they send you an automated email that basically says, "aw too bad we can't do anything about it." Don't waste your time, @staff have proven they don't care about anonymous hate speech and death threats.

But! You CAN block the IP address! First of all, do NOT answer the ask. Because then you give the troll attention and more importantly lose your chance to block them.

From your inbox, click the three dots, then click block. Yes, you will probably get an error message. For whatever reason, it takes a few minutes for the block to go through. Then the message will disappear.

The catch is, if you block the IP address via anonymous asks, the troll can still interact with you when they're signed in (unless you have also blocked their account).

The final point: the troll can still get to your posts via other people's reblogs, unless that other person has also blocked the troll. You'll see that there are notes, but Tumblr will hide the specific activity from you.

AO3 is another story. 

You can't block users. You can delete comments and freeze threads. Or you can disable comments or turn on moderation (again, I personally don’t think we should have to do that). You can reply to the comment with whatever you like. As long as you include a clear statement not to comment on your work, if the same person continues to comment on your work, it constitutes harassment per the AO3 terms of service. Ergo, it is reportable and they can take action.

AO3, in my experience, is very responsive. Small but mighty, that's them. Please do not spam the abuse team (see the last sentence re: small). This is a comprehensive post I made last year about reporting abuse/harassment on AO3. 

I know the troll did some squawking on Twitter too. But I don’t use Twitter, I hate Twitter, I refuse to sign up for Twitter. Feel free to reblog with your relevant knowledge for other platforms as well. 

My inbox is still open if you’re feeling isolated. 

Always be generous with your love 💖

[marimopeace]

there's a limit on how much you can be an isekai intellectual...

a bunch of analyses have been popping up before me all day so i wanted to throw my hat into the ring. all love to ppl who are exercising their creative minds + ppl like geoff here who just talk about these things because of fan interest but i feel like there reaches a point where exploring the "types" of isekai is pointless? i've seen ppl list out the different types of villainess revenge isekai or fantasy mmorpg isekai but eh why fit them all into separate boxes like that?

i think it's easier to think of isekai as a "type" (genre) of itself with only two categories: 1) a focus on isekai (lit. another world) 2) tensei (lit. to be reborn). this allows for a variety of applications and thus tropes that ppl see so many trends of!

with isekai - in another world

you see everything from:

pure fantasy (inuyasha, digimon wait maybe not the best example but in my childhood mind i count digimon as pure fantasy, fushigi yugi)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (.hack//legend of twilight, sao ugh, log horizon, overlord (LOVE OVERLORD!)

otome game-esque worlds >>> this is where it gets complicated with "villainess routes" since i admit there are multiple villainess tropes but this is why it's nice to not think of this as a "sub-type/genre" bc it frees you from those complications! (the saint's magic power is omnipotent, the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap soso cute!, the savior's book cafe in another world, i'm a villainous daughter so i'm going to keep the last boss wait i can't remember if she's reborn in this one lmaooo see this is why rules make everything hard)

with tensei storylines - being reincarnated/reborn in another world as *insert character/role*

you see...

the same tropes!!

pure fantasy (a returner's magic should be special, reminiscence adonis, the lady and the beast, light and shadow, i can't think of a manga off the top of my head for this ah)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (so i'm a spider so what i stan kumoko so hard, her majesty's swarm, can't name another off the top of my head ah i hate lists shorter than two things...)

self-insert based games/novels (fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess, who made me a princess, death is the only ending for the villainess, the villainess wants to marry a commoner, honestly games vs novels are different applications but i'm not in the headspace to try to remember a bunch of both lol)

*insert line break to give random ppl a break from scrolling but tl; dr just enjoy things for what they are no need to micro analyze*

similar variations occur in both genres (if ppl want to be super technical i guess i'm arguing that isekai itself is a massive genre that has the "another world" subgenre and "reincarnation" subgenre tl; dr) so i think it's honestly a huge pain to try to separate all these trends into so many different types of stories. for me personally it's easier to not get overwhelmed by this gigantic umbrella of "isekai" that spans light novels, manhwa, manga, and mobile games by just stripping each story down into its trademark tropes (aka character archetypes, story structures) and slapping "oh this is a person going to a world that's not ours" and "this person gets reborn as blank in another world". none of this "omg this power fantasy is such a this kind of isekai moment" or "there are 14 different types of villainess revenge stories and this series fits into this" bc AH labels! limitations! circle-jerks via ppl trying to compartmentalize everything and sound smart for leaving a comment on story analysis instead of ooh-ahhing over a character's face! dividing things into light novel manga vs manga vs korean manhwa ft. female characters!

the last bit is mainly why i feel frustrated by ppl's insistence to group everything?

the video linked at the beginning of the post (honestly good video essay, i enjoyed it, i just kept thinking in my head the whole time "marimo these are tropes do not take the genre talk literally") has a baby comment thread talking about "korean isekai manhwas" as a genre featuring nothing but reincarnated villainess' and i can't.

like i cannot acknowledge that as a genre of any sort. the energy i felt reading through some of those insights takes me back to 2012 when all yt americans discovered k-pop and deemed all korean music k-pop from then on! (ppl still do this now, yes you are seen and don't talk to me pls i don't like you. k-pop is korean pop music and nothing less and nothing more. take a few seconds and try to parse apart aspects of korean culture instead of slamming everything into a monolithic label that has the letter k and a hyphen.) it feels so odd to see a bunch of young ppl on ig and tiktok acknowledge korean media that happens to be in the form of a webtoon as "oh stories all about young girls becoming villains in stories they made/played" bc it feels so reductive u.u

(positionality disclaimer that i'm praying isn't actually necessary: i am a 3rd-generation korean of japanese descent do not fite me i am exhausted irl of ppl asking for validation/verification bc massive shove off.)

breaking news! korean manhwa...is just as multifaceted as japanese manga...bc how can comics as an art-form not have multiple genres...huh such a shocker?!?! same likely applies to media in other parts of the world like chinese manhwa and french comics--not my place to explain either of those i just know those industries exist bc of wakfu and donghua shows by Tencent.

at the end of the day it's not like analyzing any kind of isekai is wrong--absolutely not!! i think it can be super fun to think about how isekai elements complicate a story (MCs trying to go back home, ppl from the og world, reincarnation plot-twists) or maybe even bash a series for including some kind of other world element when they could have just written a super fun fantasy.

insert marimo's brief ramble that hey you can get sick of truck-kun's hitting disillusioned guys who happen to be super duper smart or girls who happen to be master chefs/craftsmen but transporting a fully-grown being into a fantasy setting is the ultimate cheat code for making mundane modern technology seem cool and overpowered, and being reincarnated as a fully grown person in a world with a pre-made story/game set-up completely bypasses the need for an author to slowly flesh out world-building in a natural progression so isekai is actually a really smart writing tool it's just that there are some series where the author didn't use it well at all and it's cheesy or clearly isekai was misused as a vehicle for character/story development and it was pointless *DEEP BREATH OUT*

in this essay i will argue...lol i am such a culture studies major!! if i were an english major i would be talking all about writing but here i am having a side-tangent about world-building via someone being reborn wow i love this for me (don't get me started on when an author has someone reincarnate as a baby and the story is mostly them having warm fluffy moments with their family--typically father figures--and getting lots of powers i could and would and probably will rant about east asian toxicity)

but anyway am i crazy????? like yes for being passionate about the technical use of a word like genre (i am a scorpio rising let me be fussy pls) but i don't think it's a lot to ask for ppl to not unironically see "villainess revenge isekai" as the definition of korean manhwa.

idk as someone who resonates with why japanese isekai is so popular domestically + why a lot of korean manhwa feat. the same tropes (it's not for great reasons lads it's actually depressing tbh) i'm just starting to feel kind of pained by the generalization and need to separate "cute japanese girl in an otome game"/"japanese boy finds a harem in another world" from "korean girl dies and comes back as a villainess" bc they are just! applications to the same story device!!

recommendations for any who makes it this far down below <3

// also gladly recommend any of the examples i've listed in the above rant as i've read/watched all of them and adore them v much! //

save me princess

super refreshing fantasy manhwa ft. a princess and her ex-boyfriend having to save the world!

the beginning after the end

an AMERICAN web novel turned into a comic (but see it being not korean/japanese doesn't really matter when you just consider isekai as a genre...isn't it nice to not overthink it?) ft. a super-powerful wizard king reincarnated into another world and starting from scratch--gives mushoku tensei vibes but huge twists!

the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion

love love LOVE this story--read the title and you'll learn how this girl reincarnated as the character raeliana in a book gets married to a duke!

trash of the count's family

such a good novel!! a guy gets reborn as a lazy oaf and he takes the hero of the story under his wing...plot twists come up later on!

this time i will definitely be happy!

v good and refreshing for a shorter series! she's been reborn 3 times and remembers every time the hero's stabbed her in the back, and now she just wants to break up with him!

silver diamond

older manga but v good adventure w intrigue! a boy who loves plants get sucked into a desert world with demonic lizards and a mysterious bodyguard by his side. shonen-ai not BL but wonderful vibes nonetheless + great side characters!

the princess imprints a traitor

adore everything in this from the world (not in that way this society makes me so angry) to the machinations at play and the dynamic between the fl and ml

[nikosheba]

The Mystery of the Vanishing Elf

First of all, this is not my meta; I’m posting this on behalf of Azh, who wrote it and wanted it on tumblr. (They did say I could take credit for bothering them to write it, and for helping kick around ideas, so I will :D)

Link to the meta on AO3

[all page numbers from the 2007 HarperCollins edition of The Children of Húrin, ISBN 978 0 00 724622 9]

Thanks to starlightwalking for beta-ing!

So I just finished reading the Children of Húrin—which, let’s be honest, I was mostly reading to get the expanded version of the Túrin and Beleg content.  So at first when I started reading the second half — after Beleg’s death — I figured the reason I was less drawn to the text was because, well, Beleg was dead and therefore was less present in the narrative.  After I’d finished the book and put it down, though, I realized it was a little more than that.  Beleg wasn’t just less present. He was completely absent. This is no exaggeration: between the last mention of Beleg’s name in Chapter IX (“The Death of Beleg”) and Túrin’s death, when Gurthang asks to forget the “blood of Beleg my master” there is a single mention of his name, and it’s only a passing description of Gurthang itself as “the Black Sword of Beleg” (pg. 237).

Túrin never says his name again.

What’s going on here?  This is, quite frankly, bizarre. The entire first half of the narrative pivots around the relationship between Túrin and Beleg.  Beleg is the one who finds Túrin when he’s just a child his mother is sending to Thingol in Doriath. Beleg is his friend when’s growing up on Doriath — one of two really mentioned, the other being Nellas — and when Túrin is grown and goes off to be with the marchwardens, “Beleg and Túrin were companions in every peril” (pg 86).  When Thingol and Mablung and everyone else are ready to assume the worst of Túrin, it’s Beleg who shows up with Nellas to tell them what really happened, and it’s notable that this means Beleg didn’t see what happened; he just implicitly trusted Túrin and was the only one to do so.  They care about each other a lot. There is a brief portion of time while Túrin is with the outlaws that they aren’t together (that’s a whole nother post in itself) but Beleg returns to Túrin on Amon Rudh, “in this way, Beleg came back to Túrin, yielding to his love against his wisdom.  Túrin was glad indeed, for he had often regretted his stubbornness; and now the desire of his heart was granted…it seemed to [the outlaws] there had been a tryst between Beleg and their caption.” (pg 139).  These boys are in love. It’s textual.  There’s only one other character Túrin is described as loving in a similar way, and it’s Níniel (Niënor), whom he marries.

In fact, it’s staggering that Níniel is the only other one (pg 218 “Turambar restrained himself no longer, but asked her in marriage”), because there is a very big elephant in the room, and it’s the person whom Níniel is occasionally compared to, Finduilas.  Finduilas is mentioned three times in the text after her death, including twice by Túrin himself in direct quotations:

- “Then Turambar who led the men started back and covered his eyes, and trembled; for it seemed that he saw the wraith of a slain maiden that lay on the grave of Finduilas.” (pg. 214, when Túrin first finds Níniel)

- "But even as he spoke, he wondered, and mused in his mind: 'Or can it be that one so evil and fell shuns the Crossings, even as the Orcs? Haudh-en-Elleth! Does Finduilas lie still between me and my doom?’” (pg. 229, when Túrin is preparing to fight Glaurung for the last time),

- “Therefore he arose and went to the Crossings of Teiglin, and as he passed by Haudh-en-Elleth he cried: 'Bitterly have I paid, O Finduilas! that ever I gave heed to the Dragon. Send me now counsel!’” (pg. 253, after he’s killed Brandir and is desperately trying to deny that Níniel was Niënor, his sister)

This is huge. And it’s huge, because Túrin is not in love with Finduilas. This, again, is explicit, and textual, "In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past.” (pg 166, ”Túrin in Nargothrond”). So.  Túrin never falls in love with Finduilas, and, in fact, the reason he doesn’t fall in love with her is that his “mind and heart are elsewhere”.  Hmmmm. I wonder where his heart is?

Okay, so then why is it that Túrin repeatedly refers to Finduilas but not to Beleg?  It’s really obvious based on the quotes I’ve given so far that he was in love with Beleg (and for god’s sake, the man doesn’t talk for a YEAR after Beleg’s death), that he was not in love with Finduilas, and that he was (or thought he was, at least) in love with Níniel, enough to ask her to marry him.  So where the hell is Beleg in his thoughts for all this time when he’s falling for Níniel and thinking back to Finduilas?

For the answer to this, we need to consider the dual nature of Níniel’s relationship to Túrin, and what its source is.

Yes, Túrin loves Níniel, as his wife, but we know he also loved his sister Niënor, as a sister, and part of the reason he kills himself is that he can’t handle that he’s driven his sister to her death via incest (albeit accidental incest).  It’s notable that Túrin loves Finduilas as a sister,

“Then Turin spoke freely to [Finduilas] concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.’” (pg. 164, “Túrin in Nargothrond”.)

So these references to Finduilas make a narrative kind of sense — in addition to it mostly happening as Túrin is passing her grave, it’s a textual reminder of a hidden truth: Níniel is not just Túrin’s lover, but also his sister.  He even finds her upon the grave of someone he loved as a sister.  But there’s another truth hidden in the text as well, and it’s related to Níniel’s nature as Túrin’s lover.  Because let’s be real, if he found her on the grave of someone he loved very firmly in a non-romantic way, why does he become romantically interested in her?  She’s his sister—obviously he doesn’t know that, but the narrative is saying it very, very clearly.  Well…there’s a confounding factor.

Here’s how Túrin finds Níniel (pg. 214): “Now it chanced that some of the woodmen of Brethil came by in that hour from a foray against Orcs, hastening over the Crossings of Teiglin to a shelter that was near; and there came a great flash of lightning, so that the Haudh-en-Elleth was lit as with a white flame.”

And here is how Túrin discovers that he has killed Beleg (pg. 155): “But as he stood, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them, and in its light he looked down on Beleg's face.”

The narrative does draw a parallel between Níniel and Beleg, an extremely strong (if subtle) one.  It uses literally the same phrase to set up the scene: “there came a great flash of lightning”.  So there’s a pretty clear answer as to why Túrin might associate Níniel with romantic love—he doesn’t just find her on his as-it-were sister’s grave, he finds her in a way that hearkens strongly back to the last time he ever saw his lover’s face.

So why doesn’t he think of Beleg now?

Why is the thought of his lover—whose loss cut him so deeply he didn’t speak for a year—so far out of his mind at this moment that his name isn’t even mentioned, even when narratively there’s no way he shouldn’t think of him?

Okay, I’ve drawn this out enough, so let’s cut to the chase: Glaurung. Glaurung, who is responsible for the first hidden truth that I mentioned, the more textually explicit one, that Níniel is Niënor, Túrin’s sister.  He bespells Niënor upon Amon Ethir, “Then he drew her eyes into his, and her will swooned. And it seemed to her that the sun sickened and all became dim about her; and slowly a great darkness drew down on her and in that darkness there was emptiness; she knew nothing, and heard nothing, and remembered nothing,” (pg 209, “The Journey of Morwen and Niënor”) causing her to lose her memories and with her memories her name and therefore any way for Túrin to know who she is.  Glaurung earlier bespells Túrin as well, “Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone.” (pg. 178, “the Fall of Nargothrond”)  The first, obvious result of Glaurung’s spell (and the only explicit one) is that he leaves Finduilas and rushes off to try and find Morwen and Niënor.  Now, we’re meant to believe that this is all that the spell does, since in “The Return of Túrin to Dor-Lómin”, pg. 166, the text notes, “And suddenly a black wrath shook him; for his eyes were opened, and the spell of Glaurung loosed its last threads, and he knew the lies with which he had been cheated.”

But I don’t think this makes sense.  I think Tolkien is being poetical here and the “last threads” he’s talking about are specifically the lies about Finduilas.  A number of Túrin’s conversations with Níniel point towards the fact that he’s forgotten something really important and that in that regard the dragon’s spell is still intact.  For example, when Túrin tells Níniel what to call him (pgs 217-218, “Niënor in Brethil”):

“Then she paused as if listening for some echo; but she said: 'And what does that say, or is it just the name for you alone?'

“’It means,' said he, 'Master of the Dark Shadow. For I also, Niniel, had my darkness, in which dear things were lost; but now I have overcome it, I deem.’”

“My darkness” is eerily similar to the repeated motif of Níniel’s darkness, which explicitly refers to the spell cast on her by Glaurung.  

“Behind her lay only an empty darkness” (pg 213, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seem to her that the darkness that lay behind her was overtaking her again” (pg 214, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seemed to her that she had found at last something that she had sought in the darkness” (pg. 215, “Niënor in Brethil”); and the two most relevant quotations, “And at that name she looked up, and she shook her head, but said: 'Níniel.' And that was the first word that she spoke after her darkness, and it was her name among the woodmen ever after” (pg 216, ”Niënor in Brethil”); and “when at length she had learned enough to speak with her friends she would say: 'What is the name of this thing? For in my darkness I lost it.’” (pg. 217, “Niënor in Brethil”)

So here it is: Túrin has lost “dear things” in “his darkness” (Glaurung’s spell) and he thinks that Níniel is what he has lost, but she isn’t—or she isn’t the only thing that’s missing. Glaurung has ripped out of Túrin’s mind the memory of the only person he’s ever had romantic feelings for—Beleg—and because he’s confused and trying to find something to fill that gap, Níniel gets cast in a dual role—not just sister (with her ties to Finduilas) but also lover (with her subtler ties to poor, missing Beleg).  

This theory also has significant implications for Túrin’s death, since that’s the only time that Beleg is mentioned again, apart from a tangential sidenote.  When Mablung finally confirms to Túrin what he’s already beginning to fear is the truth, that Níniel was his sister Niënor, he runs up to the Cabed-en-Aras, from which Níniel has thrown herself, and he asks his sword to kill him. His sword is Gurthang, which was Anglachel, made by Eöl, the sword that Thingol gave to Beleg and that Túrin used to accidentally kill him, and the response is somewhat unexpected, since up till now we haven’t had any indication that it’s a talking sword,

“‘And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yes, I will drink your blood, that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master…I will slay you swiftly.’” (pg. 256, “The Death of Túrin”)

Interestingly, this is after the sword has been reforged, and there’s no particular reason it should refer to Beleg as its master — after all, Túrin has been wielding it for years, and it was made by someone else entirely.  So then, why?  And why does it ask to forget his blood in particular?

Because Túrin has remembered, finally.  Whether the sword is picking up on the mood, whether it’s a narrative device, or whether it isn’t even really talking and it’s just Túrin’s mind playing tricks on him in his last extremis, I don’t know—though I favor the latter interpretation, particularly because Túrin himself is referred to as “the Black Sword” on numerous occasions.  But the important point here is Túrin has remembered, because Glaurung is dead, and his memory spells die with him, “Then Nienor sat as one stunned, but Glaurung died; and with his death the veil of his malice fell from her, and all her memory grew clearer before her, from day unto day, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since she lay on Haudh-en-Elleth.” (pg. 243, “The Death of Glaurung”)

So Túrin knows by now exactly what he’s done—not only inadvertently marrying his sister but betraying the one great romantic love of his life.  The one he has probably just remembered accidentally killing in great detail.  It’s probably quite present in his mind when, rather than throw himself over the waterfall as Níniel did, he flings himself onto the very same sword that killed the only person he was ever in love with, whose name he has finally, finally been able to bring to mind…

In sum, Glaurung erases Beleg’s memory so thoroughly from Túrin’s mind that only tiny, hidden glimpses remain, even in the text.  This is the solution to the mystery of the vanishing Elf; it explains why Beleg vanishes right up until the very end, and it ties together the sense I had when I was reading the second half of something missing, something hidden, something incomplete.  It is, I imagine, the same way Túrin must have felt after he awoke—as he thought, completely—from the spell that Glaurung laid upon him the first time they fought.

[A/N: I also wrote a fic based on this premise: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980519 ]

[flyingcookierambles]

sadness over a3! eng i guess

oof just on my 700th day.....

kinda sad because of the announcement about A3! ENG server shutting down soon due to financial difficulties at LIBER/CYBIRD in the past two years (covid-19 related, etc.). according to a rather in depth reddit comment that had links to LIBER's publicly available financial reports + some financial reports from LIBER's parent company, Aeria, in english, covid-19 really hit LIBER hard since they had to cancel many money making events, from pop-up shops for the typical anime merch trinkets (keychains, plushes, pins, etc.) to the huge in-person events (voice actor meetups, the stage plays of MANKAI LIVE, etc.). due to shrinking player base on the ENG server + major loss of profits on both JPN and ENG servers, LIBER had to choose one or the other and they chose the JPN one, which i totally understand since it's way bigger there and the JPN fanbase will continue to give the franchise money more often. also, another person found a financial report/estimate from the google play store or something, and A3! ENG only made ~$20K to ~$10K in the past few months, which i guess is not enough to keep a server and localization company afloat. 

i got pretty attached to the characters and it was a great game to help get by during college. and honestly, while i am very sad about this, again, i understand why LIBER did this, looking at their financial report from 2020. I would LIBER save the entire franchise rather than shut all the servers down, making us all unable to see our favorite actors ever again, even if it means that we ENG fans will have to go thru the extra steps of finding/reading fan translations, wikis, etc., to read any further stories from where A3! ENG left off. still, A3! ENG's localization was something special. i'm saying this as a TKRB JPN player who read the wiki for all the character voice lines and then had to see the official TKRB ENG localization make Yamabushi Kunihiro a rapper for some reason? lol. it was....weird.... meanwhile, all the memes and slang in A3! ENG didn't seem out of place and all fit their personalities because 3/4 of the troupes were all high school to college age and 3 of them were ~Gamers~. Out of all the gachas i've played, i feel like the only other F2P gacha game that had this incredibly smooth, all cultural jokes/puns translated in a way that still makes sense/fits the character/doesn't require a galaxy brain and some TL note to understand, is probably dragalia lost and that's only because it has frickin Nintendo localizing/publishing it globally for CyGames. Nintendo. i'll eventually read the fan translations of A3!'s Act 3 on the wiki, but it won't be the same without Kazunari's super high-energy influencer slang of "'whoa fam! that's totes 'blammable, gotta take a pic!" or Itaru's gremlin Gamer speak of "lol get rekt noobs" or Tsuzuru's tired dying breath of "that ain't it chief." the appropriate slang and relatable meme speak of the localization really helped humanize these characters as people of their respective ages, rather than just a typical formal speak or some directly translated JPN slang -> ENG that turns out super awkward that can be found in bad localizations.

going back to the reddit comment too, the death of A3! ENG servers could have bad repercussions in the future for other joseimuke games. josei, if you for some reason have been in the anime fandom but still don't know this term, is basically the genre of stories/video games/media/etc aimed at women. it's the mature adult counterpart to seinen, media aimed at adult men. basically shoujo/shonen = elementary/middle school/high school aimed while josei/seinen = high school/college/adult aimed if that helps. Joseimuke is a part of josei that is not specifically romance. while some josei/joseimuke can overlap with otome, aka female aimed dating sims/romance media, they have many things about them that make these all separate genres. one of the official A3! ENG translators and a known fan translator of another joseimuke gacha, Mahou Yaku/Wizard’s Promise, minami, goes more in depth with this in a twitter thread. 

A3! was an actor raising game, and a big part of it was found family and relationships that were platonic. yet it got advertised as an otome, which has more connotations with dating sims and brings to mind other shoujo/otome games and anime where the cast is all high schoolers and the setting is most often in a high school. but, other than some characters making flirty jokes or implied to have crushes on Izumi/player character, many character relationships with Izumi are platonic and not romantic at all. Spring Troupe in the game also jokingly calls themself a family. the entire Mankai Company is basically found family. plus, since the game actually has time passing in story and the characters age with each year, half of the characters aren’t even in high school anymore. a large majority of them are in college or are graduated by now, with only a few still in high school. i’m not surprised if a reason that some people left the game was due to feeling bored with the slice of life/not romantic story, feeling that they were lied to about it being an otome, which was falsely advertised since it is a game meant for the older teens/adults demographic of josei/joseimuke.

i’m worried that other japanese companies will look at this shut down as a “josei/joseimuke doesn’t work well in the west” and never localize other josei/joseimuke gacha games like Mahou Yaku, EnStars, Twisted Wonderland, Helios, etc.

while i like otome and shoujo, i, as a 23/soon to be 24 year old college graduate and now tax paying adult, want more stories that have more mature themes and characters that are more my age so i don’t have to feel awkward when i’m playing some dating sim and i, a literal 23 year old adult, and trying to woo a 16 year old. it’s...a little awkward to say the least. i would gladly welcome more mature media that is categorized as josei/joseimuke.

sorry if this is all over the place, but overall im just sad that A3! ENG is shutting down. i don’t know if i’ll join the JPN server yet. i’m def going to read the Act 3 story via fan translators on the wiki, but A3! gameplay was...boring lmao. as much as i love A3!, im sure that the constant event grind/burnout and boring rng gameplay turned people off too and i dont blame them. i felt the burnout bad since i participated in basically every event since day 1. it. is. rough. i’m not joining the hellish thunderdome that is the JPN server and im not ranking anymore as a F2P player lmao. literally had to play almost every waking free moment to get into the 30%-20% bracket as a F2P person and i never got to top 20%-10%, much less top 1% lmao. i’m don’t whale enough lol. 

i feel like i should probably just. crack open my genki 2 textbook and uhhh totally legal pdf copy of tobira. so i can just. get the JPN version of games in the first place so i don’t have to worry about getting shafted since overseas fans are often considered expendable. 

i wish that, when any games that are online end, gacha or mmo or anything, anything online, companies will let fans archive things. or like. release a book that is just the story text or something. like. CYBIRD is letting us still technically play the game and have the story and all, but what if they eventually later shut everything down? why not just release a pdf/ebook that’s just the text of the eng localization for some money? i’d buy it. for nostalgia and rereads and all and also archiving purposes. i think i’ll try to help with any english localization archive projects if i can so that the hilarious and incredible localization that was a work of love from the translation team doesn’t just disappear forever.

well.

that’s it for now. as i said, guess i’ll head to the app for one of the last times to read the last unread stories and mini stories i have left, then the wiki for Act 3, and then i guess i’ll crack open genki 2 and bunpo.....

some fun random links for you to think about!

random ffxi article that came to mind (if ffxiv ever shuts down in the next 20 years or whatever i’d be cool to get a statue of my character at the end)

and death of a game playlist by NerdSlayer Studios on Youtube that has me thinking a lot about game preservation and losing MMOs and games

the lost media wiki ��and blameitonjorge’s lost media iceberg

other gacha games i’ve played that have shut down that i think about sometimes because the loss of A3! ENG isn’t my first rodeo:

terra battle & terra battle 2 (1)

AFTERL!FE

(related kitsu post link for archive reasons)

[deanssexplorations]

Long-Time Reader

My list of bucket list items continues to shrink, but one of the things that has remained for some time is meeting someone via my blog and then fucking her. It hasn’t happened yet - and no, this entry is not the story of how it happened. I remain optimistic you will read that one one of these days. But this one was still a big treat, for me at least. 

A couple of years ago, shortly before Covid, Calliope turned me onto a blog called Front Porch Swingers. FPS was created by a married lifestyle couple, Brian and Brenna and, as I understand it, is the largest lifestyle blog today by listenership. Michelle and Tony are also fans and the four of us enjoy catching up on Brian and Brenna’s latest escapades.

[Editor’s note: Unlike nearly everything else in this blog, I am not disguising the name of the Front Porch Swingers podcast, nor the names of Brian and Brenna. They are very public about their personas and gave me explicit, enthusiastic permission to mention them by name. It’s a great podcast; if you’re at all interested I highly recommend giving it a listen.]

Now, Brian and Brenna started a Patreon group for listeners, and one of the benefits of being a Patreon member is that you can join a Telegram thread with the other Patreon members. Calliope was the first to join, then she talked me into doing it (and eventually we got Michelle and Tony to jump on the bandwagon).

The FPS Telegram thread is a fun and sexy group, full of very open and accepting lifestylers. About an equal mix of men and women, of all age ranges, body types, and walks of life. There is no judgement, no shaming. It’s been a lot of fun to be part of. The people in the group are geographically diverse and while there have been more than a couple who have made road trips to see each other, no one lives remotely close to the Bay Area so as of now at least, all of my interactions with people on the thread have been virtual. Not counting Calliope, Michelle, and Tony of course. 

Most of the interaction is contained within the group thread itself, but every now and again I’ll pop out to have a one-on-one discussion with one of the other members. There are two or three guys and four or five women I’ve occasionally interacted with this way. We send fun, flirtatious texts or even exchange sexy pictures or videos. I like making new connections this way. 

I’m not the most active person on the thread but I’m not the least either, and by now most of the regulars have heard the basics about my story: I’m married, my wife doesn’t play, my great weakness is group sex, and my recent claim to fame is throwing sex parties.  And a few of them know about and occasionally read my blog.

Recently a new woman joined the group, along with her husband, and she instantly made her mark. Dominque is sexy and smart and fun. And always has something intelligent and flirty to add to the discussion. Dominique and I have done our share of chatting in the group setting. I’ll occasionally make a salacious comment on one of her posts, and she will do the same.

The other day in the group thread she asked if she could DM me, and of course I told I would be thrilled. She was planning some shenanigans (which I probably should not say too much about - one of the people on the thread may end up reading this and I don’t want to spoil any surprises!) and she wanted to compare notes, as she thought I might have some relevant experience to share. We had a fun little exchange and I definitely contributed my thoughts and ideas.

Then as that particular interaction was winding down, she told me she had another question. I told her to shoot, and she said that one of the other women had mentioned my sex blog. She was intrigued. I told her the other woman is correct; I do indeed blog my sex life and then I shared the link to Dean’s Sexplorations.

Her response: “Ok yeah I’ve seen this blog before.”

At first I thought she meant that she had seen it on the FPS thread, so I responded “lol, yeah, Dean’s boring old sex blog,” but she told me she had discovered it on her own about two years ago while doing a search on the term “MFFF.” Did I mention that I like Dominque’s style? She told me that she mostly read my entries about groups - good thing there are one or two here - and that her husband had also read a few entries.

But most flattering of all, she told me that this blog was was one of the things that helped her be brave and ask her husband to begin the journey into non-monogamy.

I can’t tell you how touched I was to hear that. And how excited to meet someone who had come across the blog entirely on her own. This was actually the first time that something like this has happened. I have had one other circumstance where I thought someone had found and approached me on my blog, but in that instance we actually knew some people in common and those mutual connections were what led her to the blog. Dominique was the first “true civilian” reader I’ve met.

We chuckled over it a bit and I asked about some of her favorite entries and pics. We agreed that Tumblr got much worse when they made me take down all the best pics that used to be here, namely a lot more tits and cocks (well, one cock, mine), and pussies and asses. (Some of those pics are still viewable on Twitter by the way).

So there you go. It’s still not someone who reached out to me via the blog. And I haven’t actually met Dominque yet, and obviously I have yet to fuck her. But somehow I strongly suspect that’s in the cards. She lives in Virginia but she may be up for traveling to engage in lifestyle events at some point down the line. Perhaps I can be talked into traveling to some as well. If the stars align we may end up in the same room together, naked and having fun.

I’m certainly looking forward to that particular blog entry.

[angelisverba]

no need to be sorry

in which y/n realizes she loves Jason, and he can’t touch himself to the thought of her because it makes him feel guilty

word count: 12.8k

pairing: y/n and her brother’s best friend, jason

warning: strong mentions of sexual trauma and abuse. please read at your own caution if you are not comfortable with that .

author’s note: originally this was supposed to be a super long piece (and the last one) but i wanted to put something else to make the last part even longer :) THIS IS NOT EDITED, sorry not sorry hehe

March is a very confusing month. 

For y/n, it meant SAT cramming and intensive camps for the retake in may. A maxed out speed on her brain as to keep up her grades (and even improve them because God knows her math grade needs urgent care) and constantly keep her nose in her books because finals were approaching soon. 

For Jason, and the entire senior class for that matter, it meant renting out tuxedos and making appointments at the beauty salon in preparation for prom, buying tickets for prom, finding a prom date, asking out said date in a cutesy way that was memorable for both parties.

It meant asking y/n to be his prom date, but not drag her away from her studies because that just wouldn’t be fair.

Hell, Jason still hadn’t taken his girl out on a second date because she was such a busy bee, and had to settle for ‘study dates’. Really it was just him watching her chew on her bottom lip as she transferred notes from her chemistry textbook to her notebook, his own work splayed out in front of him, meaning to be completed but his attention diverted elsewhere. She’d glance up with burning cheeks to tell him that his glasses were sliding down his nose, and Jason— quite nearly in a hypnotic daze— would smile dopily at her and say ‘you’re so pretty’. She would shush him and tell him to get to work, or sometime ask for his help, and Jason would use that as an excuse to wrap his arm around her waist telling her ‘gotta whisper love, come close’ and proceed to explain how the law of gas, ideal gas, and Dalton’s Law of partial pressure differentiated from each other. 

He didn’t mind this. Any time he got with her he treasured, but god did he want to keep her tucked at his side at all times to show him off. It was selfish of him to be jealous that she wasn’t spending time with him when all she wanted to do was study for her future; for college. Selfish because Jason already had everything worked out. He’d gotten a scholarship to his dream school via football and his good-ish grades. Dorming and transportation was all set-up; he was 100% ready to go. 

But y/n? She’d confessed to Jason that she had no idea what she was doing with her life. That she was studying and doing all these things to look good for her college application, but her biggest fear was that they still wouldn’t accept her and she’d wind up going to community college. There were times where her bouncing leg would violently shake their table in the library so much, Jason would drag her out of the chair and take her on a short walk around the library (if her eyes were teary he’d sneak her into a corner and peck at her eyelids softly until she giggled). An effective strategy that resulted in a noticeable tent at his crotch, and a dreamy-eyed y/n that peeked up at him through her lashes with heated cheeks. 

He’d say, “Are you relaxed now? Or should we go home?” 

Home was his house. Y/n had her home, and Jason had his- respectively- but he referred to his place as ‘home’ and she never bothered to correct him.  More often than not (once it got to this point) y/n would nod and they’d head over to his place. 

And, well, who was she to pass up that opportunity? 

Y/n enjoyed reading her dog-eared SAT book on Jason’s bed and falling asleep on her crossed arms. Only because she would wake up an hour or so later, glued next to his side, with him also napping, lips puffy and hair extra fluffy. His hair, how a complete chocolate brown color, closely cropped since he’d cut off all the blond, fanned on the pillow and curled around the frames of his tortoise-shell glasses that he never remembered to take off. 

She’d always take them off for him, and the movement would startle him awake, his green eyes fluttering awake, eyebrows furrowed in a confusion that disappeared when he realized that it was just her. His sweet y/n with sleepy eyes who took his glasses off ever so gently, and reached over him to place them on his bedside.

They were wrapped up in their own little personal heaven when they were together, alone, and it was only disrupted when it was time for Jason to take y/n home. Grabby hands and kissy faces consumed them when she received a questioning text from her parents or brother, and the whole ‘do you really have to go’ ordeal took its course. And maybe- just maybe- Jason enjoyed the goodbyes because y/n always put extra effort into her goodbye kiss, leaning and pressing up against his mouth so their noses were squished against each other, her hand at the collar of his shirt to pull him even closer, communicating to him how much… how much she would miss him. 

She knew that Jason understood, and when they broke apart with a wet suction noise, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his, Jason knew that she knew that he knew what she was trying to say. It was a slight moment of vulnerability on her part, because it was the closest they’d get to admitting/discussing the sexual parts of their relationship. Or rather, the lack of.

But never mind that, it didn’t matter to any of them. They could be intimate without having sex. 

Right?

*                                                      *                                  *

Jason was confused. 

As silly as it was, prom was a big deal. It signified the closing of an era in a teenager’s life; the end of high school. A party to honor their struggles and begin a transition to a period of more struggles. 

Traditionally, you attend a dance with a date. A girlfriend, a crush, a last resort. One could go with friends but, Jason has a girlfriend now and he’d be damned if he didn’t take his pretty girl and show off that he was the one that got her in the end.  

The only issue was: the prom-posal.

He knew that y/n and him didn’t hang in the same crowd, and while they were both mellow, y/n held a little more reserve to public announcements.

She was shy. 

Needless to say, Jason had a very big quest on his shoulders; to find a way to ask y/n out to prom in a way that was memorable and attune to her likings. He thinks he doesn’t think he'd be able to get over it if he messed this up. 

“Jason? Bro are you even listening?” Andrew asked from across the lunch table. Kent stuffed french fries into his mouth, and glanced from both his friends. 

“Sorry, man. What was that?” Jason presses the lock button on his phone, and places it down on the table. 

“I was talking about the rager at Greg’s, is everything alright? You’ve been distant for a few days now, not having issues with y/n are you?” Andrew’s facial features darkened slightly, the deep concerns for his sister shining through his demeanor. Kent picked on the change of atmosphere, and his chewing stops. 

Jason sighed, his shoulders slanting downwards and the fabric of his letter-man jacket coming to a close at his chest. His heart-shaped lips come to a pensive pucker, debating if he should tell his best friend what was on his mind. 

At the troubled look on his face, Kent smiles encouragingly, and says, “You know you can tell us anything, J.” Andrew turns to look at his Kent while he’s speaking, and when he turns back to Jason, he nods, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. 

“What’s up?” His girlfriend’s brother leans forward, prepared to listen.

“I don’t know how to ask y/n to go to prom with me.” 

Andrew and Kent’s facial expression drop to a deadpan, and Jason’s eyebrows furrow in response, confused at their reaction. 

“What?” He looked back and forth between his two unimpressed friends, who suddenly burst into laughter; snickering and pointing fingers at him through wheezed words. 

“You’re fucking whipped,” Kent said, slapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and doubling forward.

“My sister,” their laughter calms down momentarily, “has you this upset?” And at his comment, the boys start laughing again, loud enough that it drags the attention of nearby tables. 

“Guys,” the corner of Jason’s lips struggle to stay down. “It’s not funny.” 

“Yeah, it is. Your panties are in a twist because of y/n,” Kent said, “Where is she?” He stands up from the bench and glances around the cafeteria, looking for her. 

Jason’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops, amazed at his friend’s response. “Dicks,” he mutters. “She’s with her English teacher, preparing for an exam.” 

Andrew’s chuckles die down again, and he shakes his head while rubbing his fingers on his forehead, grinning. “Deadass?”

“Yes!” Jason juts his head forward, nodding wildly. “Help me!”

Kent sits again, and places his chin on his palm. “Just go with what she likes, man.”

“Gee, thanks so much.” The stressed boy looks away, defeated.

Perhaps, it was a mistake bringing it up. Instead of receiving help, they were taking the piss out of him. He thought that maybe, because Andrew was related to the girl he was dating, he’d be a bit of hel-

“She keeps bugging me to take her to the aquarium.” 

Jason whips his head around to look at his friend, crossing his arms on the table and leaning with interest. 

“The aquarium?” He asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, they remodeled a few exhibits and she’s been wanting to see them. Sent me a text about it a few days ago,” Andrew reached back to pull out his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and pulling up a thread of texts from his sister. “Look.” 

The boy takes the phone from his friend’s hand. Y/n had sent her brother a link to the aquarium’s announcement of a reopening that occurred a few weeks before, along with ‘pleeease can we go? pleeease?’ and a puppy-eyed emoji. Andrew had only sent a curt ‘we’ll see’ to which the girl responded with screenshots of seals and penguins. 

A pang hit him straight in the heart, and he was saddened that she hadn’t asked him, given that he had refrained from taking her out in fear of distracting her from her studies. Yet, here she was asking to be taken to the aquarium, and Andrew showed no interest.  

“Take her. Ask her there. The only reason why I haven’t taken her is because she’ll ask for something from the gift shop and they’re expensive as fuck.” Andrew shrugged.

Bingo. 

With a composed look, he clicked off the phone and slid it back. On the inside, he was hopping up and down, pumping his arms with joy because everything had clicked, and he knew exactly what to do.

*                                                      *                                  *

Y/n still felt butterflies every time Jason looked at her.

Every girl wanted to be looked at by someone the way he looked at her.

A soft, dreamy daze that took over his face, eyes shining with an enamored gleam. Lashes fluttering adoringly, and lips coming together in a smirk, like he held all kinds of secrets and wanted to share them with her. His look alone said it all. I want you and only you.

It was overwhelmingly passionate. So intimate; an open admission with no shame. 

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” she whined, flopping over onto her back and throwing an arm over her head. 

They were- as usual- laying on Jason’s bed, with one of y/n’s textbooks spread open in front of them. 

“Can’t help myself,” he pushed up his glasses and raked his hair back. “You’re so pretty it’s distracting.” 

At that, y/n turned herself over so she laid next to Jason again, but her face was still nestled in the crook of her arm where her cheeks flamed. “Stop it,” she said, words muffled. 

“I’m serious.” She felt his weight dip on the bed, his hand coming to brush away hair that blocked the side of her face, and then puffs of air on her arm. Tilting her head so her eye peeked out, she saw that Jason’s mouth was hovering millimeters away from her skin, and when her eyes glanced up, an intense emerald gaze fixed on hers. “Like an angel, you are.”

Fire, heat, tingles littered the areas where his lips pressed against a trail into his skin. A blossoming feeling of affection imprinted onto her arm, and up to her cheek, where his lips lingered right underneath her lashes.

It became too much for her to handle, her heart and mind becoming muddled and confused through the overwhelming sensations that traveled throughout her nerves. Her cognitive senses seemed to refuse to acknowledge the difference between welcomed attention and… unwanted but forced attention. And, in efforts to prevent a hysteric scene or breakdown, she sprung up from her position, pressing a quick kiss into Jason’s cheek so he wouldn’t suspect anything, and sitting so she was almost completely off the bed. 

Jason watched her with… rejection. But, she wouldn’t know that because she refused to meet his eyes. Instead she said, “Have you got marshmallows in the cupboard?” 

“Uhh,” Jason cleared his throat, standing up and heading out of his room. “Yeah, I think so.”

She followed after him, shoulders hunched; ashamed. Mentally, she was pushing away repressed trauma from what seemed like yesterday. A haunting memory that refused to leave like paranoia. 

“Tiny ones or…?” He heads straight for the silver door knob next to the fridge, stepping in to squat at the lower shelves. Y/n stands in the doorway, hands awkwardly at her sides. 

“The big ones, please.” She doesn’t look up when he extends his hand to give her the fluffy white bag, and he doesn’t ask what's wrong.

Silently, y/n walks over to the kitchen island to pluck a skewer out of the drawer, and pops her hip to shut it. Jason lifts himself to sit on the countertop, his white shirt lifting to expose the pale sliver of skin that escaped from his grey sweatpants. Out the corner of her eye, she could see the enticing movement, and it caused her hands to shake, but she hid it in the twisting wrist movement of turning on the stove. 

A tearing noise comes from behind her, blending in with the clicking noises of the stove turning on. Jumping at the startling disruption, she turns to see Jason with an Oreo midway to his mouth. He gives her an open lipped smile, eyes wide as if shocked, and it makes her burst into a chuckle. 

“Can I get one?” She asked.

Wordlessly, he passed her a cookie. She took it, and it seemed that he purposely grazed his fingers over her palm. 

Y/n yanked her hand away like he’d burned her. 

Alarmed, Jason hops off the counter and moves to stand next to her.

“Y/n, is everything al-”

“Do you want a marshmallow?” She interrupted him, her breaths tense. 

“Uh, no.” He said, his head slightly shaking in disbelief at her actions. Had he done something wrong?

The girl stabbed the skewer through the white candy, and twirled it over the flames, the edges quickly turning a golden color. 

“Baby, what’s wr-” 

It catches fire, and her lips blow them off before it turns completely black, the fuh noise that escapes overpowering Jason’s gentle words. She was scared of breaking in front of him. She was scared to show him how much she was holding in.

“Can you hold this?” Voice small and squeaky.

He took the skewer out of her hands, holding it while she opened the oreo cookie. Knowing what she was gonna do, he gingerly placed the melted marshmallow on top of the frosting covered cookie, and pulled away when she sandwiched the top cookie on top.

Y/n takes a bite out of the treat, and relishes in the slightly burnt, woodsy taste of the white taffy and how it melts on her tongue and slides with ease down her throat. So much so, that a small noise of appreciation comes from the depths of her chest.

“S’good?” Jason asked, a breathy-uneasy- laugh whooshing through his nose.

She’s nodding before she looks up at him, and her head stills when she locks eyes with him. 

It’s the same, intense, focused look from before.

The one that promised so much. And it just- god she was so confused. 

So confused that she leaned forward to kiss him, disregarding the fact that- in that moment- she didn’t want affection. She needed a bit of distance and time to process her emotions.

 And instead of doing so, she lunged and connected herself to him in a smoldering embrace of their mouths. A sudden flood of inexplicable physical impressions, claiming, pleading.

Jason didn’t hesitate to respond, his hands appearing to cup at her cheeks, thumbs gingerly rubbing on the apples of her cheeks. He breathes deeply; a sharp inhale into her mouth that pulled his frame taught against hers. The forgotten treat pressed up against the divot of his pectoral muscles. 

The instant his tongue snaked into her mouth, he was bombarded with the warm and sweet taste of her mouth. Marshmallows and just her essence crowding over his taste buds; his nose also breathing in the fruity scent of her hair and woodsy burnt candy. Urgently, his lips suckled on her lower lip, y/n gasping at the sudden, ardent actions. 

Had she been any other girl, that would have been the night she finally let herself have sex with Jason. 

The mood was right; they were both bleeding mad for each other. 

But, y/n was y/n and that’s not how she was wired to go. Her mind began again with the confusion, her heart rate picking up double the rates from both the proximity of the boy and what was going to happen if the kiss continued. Did she want this? Fuck, of course she wanted this! Why was she…

“She’s not gonna do it because she’s a prude!” said one of the girls in the room. 

“No, I’m n-”

“Yeah, you are y/n. You’re a virgin. Probably wouldn’t even know what to do,” said the same girl.

Y/n had been invited to a party that the cheerleaders in her class were throwing, and boys from rival school had been invited to. They were all sitting in a circle- enough people to fill up the living room of a rich man’s house- playing a game of truth or dare, and they’d just gotten to y/n. 

She’d gotten dared to give one of the football players of the opposing school a blowjob… in the middle of the living room, with everyone watching. When they all saw her face fall, redden, and then pale,  no one wasted time to verbally pounce on her hesitance.

“Look at her! She’d pathetic Marcy, she’s not gonna do it.” The girl who invited her, Marcy, looked at her with a smirk. 

Embarrassed, and just numb to everything that was going on around her as well as what may come depending on her decisions. All she knew is that she needed to do this because she’d look bad if she didn’t. She didn’t want to be known as a prude. Even if she was a virgin. She didn’t want to be thought of badly. 

“Yes, I will.” Her meek reply had silenced the whole room.

“Come over here, and blow me.” Chris was a sophomore that was known for his promiscuous ways, and the fact that he had a big… that was evident when y/n came to kneel in front of him. 

Shaking, she sat in front of him with wide eyes, her back burning with stares and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her hands. 

Throughout it all, she felt disgusting. Ashamed. And unable to breathe because the guy wasn’t letting her come off, holding her down with a strong grip in her hair. Tears burned on her lashes and down her cheeks, partly from being unable to breathe, and the other because she was scared. 

God, she was so scared. What would happen to her when this got out? What then? When everyone knew what she’d done? There were more than enough witnesses present to attest that she’d given head to a guy she didn’t even know.

She’d felt a hand on her breast, and her eyes snapped open from their painful clench; alarmed. The guy sitting next to Chris had leaned over to touch her, and at her scared look he only laughed and continued to do it. His hand trailed lower and lower, and eventually she felt something hot spill down her aching throat. Her ears were ringing, her eyes bleary. 

Much of how she escaped had been... blurred through her panic.

But the feeling… that dreadful, terrorized feeling. It was what deer felt moments before being impacted by a car. 

She’d never forget it.

It was the same feeling creeping up on her then. The niggling, freezing, ambushed fear. It’s the reason why she pulled away from him, and said in a wet whisper, “I can’t.”

She hugs her arms across her chest, oreo still in hand, and turns away with her eyes dropped to the floor.  Y/n’s mind is reeling, utterly confused and just so scared scared scared.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jason asked, trailing after her to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. His lips are a dark shade of pink, the skin of his cheeks a flushed color; if one were to look down, they’d see the heather grey color of his sweatpants was slightly lifted. But his arousal was pushed aside by his concern towards the small girl, who shivered when his fingers grazed her shoulder. He could see her eyes were shut closed, but a tear escaped to roll down her cheeks, and at that the thick hairs of his brows dipped to crinkle on his forehead. “Y/n?”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, her words hitching and cracking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Jason pulled her into his chest, his head shaking no no no to her apologies. “There’s no need to be sorry, dovie. It’s okay. You’re alright.” 

“But I am! I so sorry, Jason. I-” Her words died on her tongue, collapsed by a series of sobs that ruptured out of her lips. She was guilty. So so guilty. She felt like she was lying to him by not telling him of what had… occurred. 

“Baby, baby, hey. Y/n,” He pulled back to cup her face with his hands again, forcing her to gaze into his calm, forest eyes. “Listen to me. Deep breaths,” he began to inhale, his chest expanding with the intake of air. “You’re okay. I’m not mad at you for anything, dove.” 

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Y/n sets the cookie on the counter, and goes to wipe at her eyes roughly, Jason tugging at her wrists and doing it himself, shushing her as he does. 

“Well I can’t be mad if I don’t know, yeah?” He gives her a small smile. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“N-no,” she shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay.” He nods, still smiling. “That’s okay. I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n just nodded and gave him a sad attempt to seem happy, but her chin began to tremble, crinkles appearing underneath her lip, and she rushed to dig her nose in the crook of Jason’s neck. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you’d tell me what’s got you so upset.” He murmured into her hair, his arms wrapping around her. 

“Please, Jason. I don’t wanna,” She sniffled. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright. I’ll stop asking. Don’t wanna stress you out anymore, dovie. You need a break as it is.” Jason rubs a warm hand up and down her back soothingly when he feels her nose dip into his collarbone. 

She sniffles some more, a slight hiccup in her breaths, and Jason continues, “speaking of breaks,” this catches her attention, and y/n tilts her head so she’s able to rest it in his shoulder and look up at his side profile. “Would you like to go to the aquarium with me next week?” 

At this, her head springs up so she’s eye level with Jason, her wet eyes gleaming as a surprised smile plays on her mouth. “The aquarium?” 

“Yes, the aquarium.” Jason laughed at her response, his eyes flitting between hers. The skin of his chin crinkled because he was looking down at her, and y/n wondered how he still managed to look so good with a double chin. “A little birdy told me you’ve been wanting to go.” 

Squealing, she said, “Oh my gosh, Jason please! Can we?!” 

Jason pressed a small kiss to her nose, “Of course, silly. It’s why I asked.”

“I’ve been asking Andrew but he….” she trails off, and her eyes become squinty, “heeey, did he tell you?” 

“Mayb-” She jumped suddenly at the feeling of her phone vibrating in her back pocket. The Simpsons theme song blaring through the quiet kitchen, and letting her know her brother was calling. Most likely to tell her it was time to come home. 

“I’ll go get your stuff,” Jason mumbled, separating himself with a wistful look in his eye. 

Y/n mumbled a ‘thank you’ and fished her phone out of her back pocket, pressing the green call button and holding it up to her ear.

“Hey, lover girl. Mom says it’s time to come home. See ya,” and he hangs up before y/n can even respond. 

Rolling her eyes, y/n heads upstairs to help Jason pack her stuff with all her troubles plaguing her heart like weeds.

*                                                      *                                  *

Y/n had eased up a little on her avid studying habits because the SAT had passed, and she studied hard enough that she wasn’t planning on re-taking the exam-- no matter the score. In addition to that, there was enough to place on her shelf to make her look… well, better than good. Years worth of community service work, volunteering, participating in and starting clubs, all about to finally pay off. It was surreal. Kinda stressful, too, but now that she had time off she wanted to decompress. Enjoy herself some. 

To begin with, much of it was taking time off with herself. Meaning, no Jason, or Andrew, or her parents. Just her. She didn’t even have to explain to Jason that she wanted to be alone because after her initial comment of taking time off alone, he’d kissed her palm and murmured about how proud he was against her skin. No bitterness or spite attached. He’d even made a joke about ‘bro time with Andrew’. 

The gym nearest to her house was offering a free month trial-- which just so happened to be the amount of time she was planning on taking to relax before starting to study for finals again-- and she took it up instantly when she found out that they offered yoga and guided meditation classes. It was most likely the best thing she’d ever done.

Apart from getting an hour of physical exercise a day (because yoga is harder than it looks) she was the most relaxed ever. Her sleep was the best it’s been in so long, and her body felt so light. Time to reflect, she’d decided, was very important.

 Plus, her self-esteem had gone up knowing she was doing something to better herself for* herself. 

For the most part, that was how most of her days went.

Go to school, sometimes she’d eat lunch with Jason, get a ride home from him (the goodbye kisses ignited her), head to the gym, come back home and fall right asleep. She took advantage of the first three periods to finish any work that she had to turn in.

It’s only logical that she’d be nervous the day of her date with Jason, since it hadn’t been on her mind at all, and she hadn’t been spending time with the boy so his presence has not consoled her. An anxious fervor had plotted itself in the depths of her belly, goading her like a devil on her shoulder. Better watch how you act, it said, or you’ll fuck this all up.

Jason was the same way. 

The poor boy had also taken to working out to release his...stress. Sleepless nights were spent with the weight-rack in his father’s home gym- arms aching from the strain of bench pressing. Shirtless torso draped in a sheen of sweat, flushed a pink color and littered with prominent veins as he pulled his body upwards, jaw clenched and mind focused, having already reached the point where he listens to his body’s begs for mercy. Rhythmic release of tense breaths escaped through the hard line of his lips, muscles defined under a glint of perspiration beneath the lights of the room, shorts low on his hips. His curls dripped salty beads down the line of his nose, and matted on his forehead. 

He lost himself in the repetitive movements, body going numb until his brain turned off. 

It was almost better than sex. Hell he did it to forget about sex.  

He swears his body chose to betray him every time he was getting ready to fall asleep, projecting filthy images of a girl so sweet, he felt guilty just humoring them. Swollen red lips, hot mouths, soft hands, perky breasts blotchy with his marks. These pictures were so explicit and vivid in his brain about y/n, who was nothing but sweet and kind, and had never come close to even insinuating the things he imagined. 

Hell on earth-- torture is what it felt like, having to ignore sticking a hand down his pants and pulling at himself until he found relief with such an innocent girl on his mind. It made him feel icky and gross because she was so pure. Jason preferred to turn to exhaustion of his body rather than pleasure. And, more often that not he greeted his father’s gym with a scowl and determination to distract himself, pushing himself until he was nothing but a breathless, strained heap laying all tired-out on the bench, salty beads running a path down his forehead and dripping down his neck where his shoulders drooped-- defeated.  

Waking up the next day was a burning adventure; muscles feeling as if they’d been shot through and pricked with needles over and over again.  

But, his dignity was still intact and he was able to look y/n in the eyes with no remorse. The one time he’d jerked off to her, he was a sweating, burning mess as he made his way up to her in the halls.

He’d learned his lesson then.

His nerves didn’t run as deep as y/n’s, but he did second guess himself the more intricate his plan got. Take a certain route, be there at a certain time so there wouldn’t be so full, alert the personnel of his presence. 

Jason had approached his mother, Anne, the night that she had come home, and questioned her about her friend’s sister that worked as a zookeeper, to see if she had connections to the aquarium. Turns out, she did and-and, 

“Honey, what’s the sudden interest in Penny’s sister?” She looked up at her son while chopping green onions. 

Stammering, he rubbed his neck and said, “I was kinda… wondering- maybe, uhm… you could call in a favor for-for me…”

“What for?” 

“I wanted to ask… y/n to prom at the uhm.. The aquarium,” his cheeks go pink and he can’t keep steady eye-contact with his mother. She’s smiling at him knowingly, smiling at him from underneath the lip of the wine-glass she holds up to her mouth. 

She smacks her lip, “Y/n? The prom? When did this happen?” Anne smirked at him, scraping the onions off the cutting board with a knife onto the pan. 

This would be the moment where the distraught teenage boy goes off on his mom for being absent and not knowing a single thing about him. Slam his firsts against the counter-top while sneering. 

But Jason loved his mother and they maintained good communication, so there would be none of that. “Start of February…” He bites his thumb.

The sound of sizzling onions is what fills in the silence of their gazes. His mother slowly nodded her head, and Jason blushing. 

“I knew it.” 

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?” 

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, I knew.” 

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?” 

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, and that look in your eye…” She gleamed at her son. “You love her, don’t you?” 

The boy gaped at his mother. Had he really been that transparent from the beginning? So much so that not even he had noticed his feelings? “You knew?” 

“Course I did. Pushed you out of me didn’t I? Know you like the back of my hand.” His mother set the glass down and continued cutting vegetables. “It’s a mother’s instinct to know when her boy has been swept off his feet.” A soft pat on the cheek meets a dazed Jason. “Now, what’s this favor you wanted?” 

*                                                      *                                  *

Y/n was scared to admit how deep her feelings were for Jason.

Scared to admit that the usual fluttering gnaw at her ribs had developed into an inferno that took over her entire body, centering at her heart and spreading through her nervous system, leaving her skin a tingling network of her emotions.

Basically, take puppy love, and remove ‘puppy’. She loved him. With her entire being and more she loved him. She could see her life with him more secure than anything in her life, which was a big admission because the poor girl was all about security. And Jason made her feel more comfortable than anything in her life at that moment; he made her forget about anything that wasn’t them together in that moment. 

The morning of their date was like one of those scenes in movies where the character just has that really big realization, and all her feelings hit her at once. Y/n pieced it all together in a few seconds. How much he meant to her, how she loved him* and how scary it would be if she were to admit her feelings and receive nothing in return. 

It was at cause of these thoughts that her nerves revved up to their max, mind overthinking different ways that her feelings might cause this date to go wrong. Like something might slip from her lips; a rushed, urgent proclamation of her devotion full of jumbled stutters and met with a stunned look and a freshly single boyfriend.

“Honey, Jason’s here!” Called her mother at the base of the stairs. 

Y/n watched herself grow pale in her reflection, teeth sinking in her bottom lip. No turning back now. 

“Coming!” She took one last look at herself, pulling on the sleeves of the cardigan she layered over the long, white-eyelet dress she was saving for an occasion like this. It was a light, summer material with white embroidered flowers and a nice frilly detain around the waist. The creme cardigan served no purpose other than the fact that she was nervous, and covering up calmed her down. There wasn’t much to cover, but bare shoulders made her heart want to start a riot, screaming at her that people were looking and it was time to get anxious about whether she looked good or not. 

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the dewy makeup on her face, drawing her mind away from picking at it until it was perfect because it would never be that and it’s okay. Instead, she focused on what lay ahead of her for the day— and maybe that was a tad bit worse but that didn’t matter because she was already in the witch’s pot and the brew was boiling— her date with Jason looming with possibility. Not to mention, she’d finally be getting to see the newly added exhibits she was longing to see. 

Cute baby sea lions, penguins and jellyfish that quickly outweighed all the disastrous scenarios filling her mind. 

Skipping down the steps with an eager smile on her lips, y/n struggled to hold in all her happy squeaks because downstairs Jason was waiting for her and-

“There she is!” Her mother greeted her at the base of the stairs, and winked at her daughter with a smile, a cheeky expression displayed upon the fact that what was happening was a surprising event. Her little y/n going out on a date with none other than her favorite out of Andrew’s friends, Jason.

This would have been the moment in the movies where everything freezes and everyone else disappears. The camera comes to a zoom in on Jason and y/n’s faces, the screen split in half but it the same, dreamy, loved-up expression on both their faces. Y/n’s cheeks warmed with a soft flush and a cheek splitting grin on her mouth, lips that shined with the gloss she had put on them, and eyes that shined under the kitchen lights with an extra sparkle that had floated up from her chest that had become the cavern where she shoved all her emotions.

Jason is equally stunned, unsure of how his girlfriend could get any more beautiful. Bunny teeth on full display, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. He wore a satin bomber jacket with a tiger on the lower right side of his abdomen that was perched on snow-capped mountains that stretched up to his chest, a swooping eagle on his left breast. Two buttons were left unclasped, the collar of a white under-shirt peeking out, and the dip of his breast-bone on display, highlighted by the glint of the golden cross necklace his grandmother had given him when he was eight.

Meanwhile he took in the sight of her, y/n did the same as well, eyes roaming all over his figure and settling on the eyes that were already set on hers. He loved how she turned a pretty bothered color when they locked dreamy gazes. How her demeanor changes to shy glances when he smiles at her all toothy- his dimples prominent on his cheeks. The boy straightened, looking proud to be able to take her on a date. 

“Well are you guys gonna stare at each other all day, or go to the aquarium?” Andrew asked. He was standing at the kitchen entrance, a bag of Cheetos in his arm, and one cheek bulging with chips. 

“Andrew!” His mother playfully swatted his bicep. “Be nice! You’ll be the same, just wait.”

“Ready to go?” Jason asked, giving a sluggish nod towards the door, his being still transfixed in y/n, who nodded equally as slow even though her heart raced a mile a minute. “Alright, let’s go then. I’ll bring her home before 10, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Y/n walked towards the hand that Jason stretched out for her to grab, her hand swimming in his. It suddenly made sense why he was able to launch a football 400 meters. His hands were big, with a wide palm and nimble fingers that wrapped around hers, the top of it striped with the pleasing ridged of his veins. 

“Bye, hunnies! Have fun…. But not too much fun!” The mother clutched at her chest, her eyes soft at the sight of Jason opening the door for her daughter. 

“Ew, mom!” Andrew said, crumbling the bag to a close and retreating up the stairs, presumably to his room. He stopped at the base, and turned to say, “And I’ll be here, the brother forgotten by this best friend, woe is me!” 

His friend twisted around with a hand on the doorknob, “You know I love you, babe!” 

Andrew said something stupid along the lines of ‘show me, ya stud!’ before his mother shushed him up and waved at the couple that it was okay to leave, approaching the doorway to lock up.

Y/n peeked sideways at Jason, finding him already looking at her with a cheeky smirk. 

“Caughtcha looking,” He said, taking hold of her hand again and giving it a mall squeeze, leaning over to peck her cheek. “Missed you, y/n.”

She wanted to stop and pull him in by both sides of his face to smash their lips together, but she knew that her mom was probably watching through the window. “Wanna kiss you good so bad, but my mom’s probably watching through the window and I don’t wanna hear about it later.” 

“It’s okay, baby, I know. Wanted to ravish you when I saw you coming down the stairs, but that’s not the most appropriate thing to do when my girlfriend’s mom is present, is it?” They reached his car, and he sped up slightly to open the door for her, placing a hand on the small of her back. The grip on her phone increased at the sudden warmth on her body, her mind jumping to dirty assumptions on where this could lead to. 

She got in the car with a quiver in her belly, and it jolted away when Jason shut the door behind her. What was she thinking? Their relationship was built upon glances and sly touches, and how she was flustered in a non-sexual way over him? Strongly?

“Did you wanna get food anywhere before?” He said when he opened the door to his side, leg hiking up and to the side to take a seat. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I’m really really craving those chicken-avocado paninis from that one little coffee shop, and I know you really like their milk tea, what do you say?”

“I say that’s a really good idea.” Y/n said, nodding with a pinch on one side of her face, her true feeling hidden. Eyes trained at the way he held the steering wheel; one hand at 12 while he turned the key into the ignition. Maybe he would hold her neck while the other rubbed at her…

What the fuck? She needs to cut it out. 

Clearing her throat and looking out the window she said, “I could definitely go for a milk tea right now…”

“Yeah? Are you excited for today?” He twists to check behind him before pulling out of his parallel position to the curb, and y/n uses that moment to glance at the smooth skin of his neck, imagining how it would feel underneath her fingertips… her mouth…

“Yes,” She chokes, saliva collecting at the back of her tongue and slipping through. There’s a small pause where she coughs, and Jason plucks a bottle of water from the glove compartment, the back of his hand grazing her knees and the tops of her thighs, which only makes her cough harder. 

“Are you okay, my love? Here,” using the flat of his wrist to take hold on the steering wheel while he opened the bottle, “drink some. I don’t want you to die before you’ve seen the jellyfish.” 

A feeble ‘thank you*’ left her lips before the water bottle occupied it. The liquid washed out anything that had agitated her, and she drank extra to fill the time for at least a few more seconds. She was terrified of doing something wrong. 

The car was pulling up the parking lot of their local cafe when she placed the bottle in the cup holder between them. Jason didn’t have a clue what was going through her head, or the fact that he should be concerned because her thoughts had traveled to him fingering her while she made a mess of his seat. He was simply so grateful to be spending time with the girl who he loved. 

Who he loved.

The boy had realized the extremities of his regards after his mother had spoken them aloud. 

You love her don’t you?

Yes, yes he did. He had known that it was there. The guzzling, spritzy feeling he felt over his chest- like when a sip of a freshly opened can of Sprite goes down your throat- when he saw her, felt her touch, thought about her, had always been there. Always. It was there the day he bumped into her outside of the locker room, her tiny frame going unnoticed when he rounded the corner of the locker room where she was waiting for her brother because he was busy texting some girl, but the moment he heard a squeaky ‘oh, I’m so sorry!’, it was there. 

In some aspects, Jason was a bit dense, and this was one of them. He didn’t act when he should’ve. Or at least recognized what was going on in that broad chest of his-- he doesn’t think he would’ve acted because Andrew wouldn’t have held back. They hadn’t developed such a strong bond to come to the understanding that they did (Jason had made a really bold statement about life long partners and Andrew had been too blown away to stay mad). 

Jason loved y/n, and he always would; that was just facts.

“Wanna stay in here or go inside with me?” He asked her, taking the key out and placing a hand on the door. 

She was lightning quick to say “With you!” a bashful look overcoming her when he looked at her all knowingly, like he could see right through her. “I’ll go with you so you don’t have to carry everything,”  y/n blubbered in efforts to reclaim her dignity, and stepped out of the car. 

He feigned being hurt, “Owie, that stung. Are you saying I’m not strong?” Jason followed after her, a playful pout in his lips, “Tell you what,” he placed an arm around her neck, tugging her close to him and putting his lips by her ear, “I can carry you and the food, at the same time.”

Tables with umbrellas were located at the front of the cafe, people sitting with their computers open or having a chat with friends. Some looked up, some didn’t, but the stares of those who did made y/n feel thousands of times shyer than what she felt. 

The girl couldn’t help but squeeze the fabric of her sweater around herself, her thoughts getting the best of her, the feeling of his lips an enticing action that drove her mad…

He knew it too, chuckling to himself as he opened the door. 

Inside, only a single person made up the line for ordering, and she was already in the process of giving the man her card to pay. Jason and y/n stood side by side, looking up at the menus as if they were thinking over their choices, but really just thinking about each other. 

“Nex- Well, well, well.”

Y/n doesn’t think she had ever forgotten that voice. And hearing it ten, with Jason at her side, brought back the fear she hadn’t even begun to overcome. Her face went white, her lungs freezing, and her feet glued to the ground. 

Shock, was the medical term for it. 

When your body is submerged into temperatures it can’t handle, it goes through a series of procedures to attempt survival. It begins to slow down to conserve energy, shutting down to keep in heat, or await help. Hearts slow, lungs slow, and in extreme, abrupt situations, a person can faint. 

At the appearance of Chris after nearly an entire year, y/n wanted to faint. She wished she had, that way she wouldn’t have to endure Jason’s confused glances, and Chris’s malicious, salacious smirk. 

“Y/n, long time no see, baby.” He said, a piece of gum that he had hidden in his cheek appearing as he started to chew, leaning forward on the counter and giving Jason a once over. “Who’s that?” 

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed at the audacity this guy had, calling his girl ‘baby’. Y/n wasn’t looking at him, she couldn’t- she wasn’t aware of what was happening anymore, retreated into deep parts of her brain- but had she, she would’ve seen a bone-chilling, intimidating look of dominance in his usually kind green eyes. “I’m her boyfriend, who are you?” He said, stepping forward so his thighs were flush with the edge of the counter. His body was pulled tight like the strings on a violin, one pluck away from releasing a disastrous melody. 

Y/n’s eyes began to tear from not blinking them, her heart going from beating normal to beating so hard she could feel it in her fingertips, her stomach dropping like it had been ripped to her feet. 

“Who am I?” Chris licked the inside of his cheek, and y/n gagged. Repulsed, her feet tripped over themselves in attempts to get to the trashcan by the pickup site. “There wasn't even anything in your mouth, babe! Guess that thing they say about muscle memory is true, huh?”

Jason didn’t pay attention to the last thing that he said because he ran over to hold his girlfriend’s hair, rubbing her back and whispering that ‘it’s okay, my love, take deep breaths’. Her body started to tremble when nothing came out, her eyes emitting actual tears now, feeling undeserving of Jason’s affection because of what she’d done.

“I’m so-rry,” she whispered, her face a splotchy, red color that made him panic on the inside at what could plague her. “Can we go?” 

“Yeah,” He nodded quickly, no questions asked.”Yeah, let’s go.” 

Y/n shot up then, practically running out of the store while Chris laughed a belly-clenching laugh that pushed her out further. Jason looked back at him once, anger on clear display because whatever the guy had done, it was bad if it made her this upset.

When he turned around, y/n’s figure was disappearing  through the view of the store’s window, arms clutching herself as she ran to the parking lot. There were more stares than when they first arrived when he ran out after her with a call of her name. 

“Y/n!” He turned the corner to see her yanking violently at his door handle, tears streaming continuously down her cheeks now. Her shoulder jerked back and pushed forward until her knuckles collided on the material of the car. She was hurting herself. “Hey!” He yelled, yanking her back and wrapping his arms around her torso to restrict her movements. 

She thrashed for a few seconds, sobs leaving her until she went limp, which was when he let her go. His eyes were wide with concern, not being able to believe what had just happened. 

“Dovie? Look at me, dovie,” With a curled finger, he gently encouraged her to look at him. Irritated, doe eyes blinked with...  fear. 

“Do you want me?” Were the words that left her mouth in a breathy tremble. 

“I always want you,” Jason said, not hesitating to respond to her abrupt inquiry. His thick brown eyebrows were still knitted, however, and she knew that she owed him answers. As much as she couldn’t bring herself to give them up, y/n said,

“Would you want me even if I was used?” She shut her eyes tight, not being able to bear looking at him. It felt as if she were the one using him then, comforted by his presence, but lying to him as well. 

He scoffed, head shaking. “Yes. Even then I’d still love you.” Jason’s composure remains the same,neither alarmed or shocked that he had let it ‘slip’ past his lips because he hadn’t. He loved her and he told her. 

Y/n, on the other hand, burst into tears and dropped her head, her forehead on his chest, chanting a pathetic, “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Y/n, I need you to tell me what just happened,” He crooned into her ear, his lips kissing her head in attempts to show his affection to comfort her, “Let me help you.” 

She shook her head, and the gold zipper of his sweater scratched her forehead when she did. “No. No, I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, her voice pleading, “I don’t want to ruin our date. Can I tell you after?” Jason looked at her with lips pressed into a firm line. “Please.” She begged.

“Not gonna ruin our date, dovie,” He kissed her right cheek, and her eyelid, the bridge of her nose, and nudged his forehead against hers, “Spent so much time waiting for you, that I’m not gonna let a silly thing break us apart. I’m willing to fight, y/n. I already have.” He fumbled behind her, unlocking the door and propping it open before he pressed a kiss to her lips. A deep press that conveyed everything he just said. I love you.

A shaky, relieved breath left her when they parted, her eyes still shut when he said, “Get in the car, my love,” with another, plushy kiss to her lips before he stepped back to see her get in the car. Her eyes opened slowly to see him smiling at her, no trace of anything strange in his eyes- like he had forgotten everything that happened in the past 10 minutes. 

Y/n mumbled an ‘okay’ and got inside, putting on his seat belt as he closed the door and walked over to his side. She wondered if this was it, if this was her messing up and at the end of the day she would be crying into her pillow because he’d broken up with her. If e was just playing nice because that was just Jason, his MO.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that he had turned on the radio until he started singing along to it. An oldies station that he always had on if there wasn’t any music coming from his phone. It was in the middle of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U to which Jason didn’t hesitate to start singing. 

“I went to the doctor’s and guess what he told me, guess what he told me,” he looked over at her while he was singing, a playful look in his eyes, and he shimmied his shoulders. It was a classic ‘sing to your girlfriend so she’ll never forget this song and always associate this song with you’ moment. 

“I went to the doctor’s and guess what he told me, guess what he told me,” he looked over at her while he was singing, a playful look in his eyes, and he shimmied his shoulders. It was a classic ‘sing to your girlfriend so she’ll never forget this song and always associate this song with you’ moment. 

“He said girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do,” his singing voice was a direct reflection on his character, smooth like honey, but deep and slightly scratchy like the comfort of burning wood, “but he’s a fool.” 

Just then, his voice gets a little louder, “Cause nothing compares to you.” He placed a hand on her knee, his lips forming an exaggerated ‘o�� shape on the ‘you’. Jason was clearly singing to her, his eyes flickering from the road to her as a sweet gesture to direct his words to her. 

Y/n sniffled and laughed, using her finger to trace the veins on the back of Jason’s hands, looking up at him while he sang to her. She had the sudden urge to reiterate what he had confessed in the parking lot. How it swelled in her chest, and consumed her. 

But she couldn’t. It was hard and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he didn’t know the whole truth about her. Instead she wrote it on his hand. Her caresses going from random to spelling out letters on his knuckles. He noticed this. How the movements were calculated now, and the singing stopped. Green eyes went from the road to her eyes, to the road to their hands.

I love you, too.

She wiped her hand over his when she finished, and didn’t dare look up at him, so she looked out the window but left her hand in his hold. He brought it up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles, rubbing his lips over them repeatedly.

*                                                      *                                  * 

Jason stepped out of the car, and took long, quick strides over to her door, y/n admiring how long and muscular his legs looked in his jeans. He pulled the door open, leaning back so the door could swing past his torso, but staying relatively close to the car, giving her just enough space to get out. Y/n didn’t think anything of it, until she stood, and was face to face with his face, her nose swamped with the toned down scent of fresh, spring scented body wash merged with the soft smell of his skin. 

Given how close she was, she could see the lines on his cupid's bow where his skin color changed from a golden tint to the strawberry of his lips. 

“Can you kiss me properly now, baby?” He said, voice low and raspy. Hands came to flatten on the hood of his Prius, caging her in so she was close to his torso. A blush formed from the way he stared at her mouth like he was starved. 

“P-properly?” She muttered, her hands taking purchase on his hips, and smoothing up his sides, the material cool under her hands. 

“Yeah,” He licked the inside of his cheek, his head tilting, “Like this.”

Jason pushed forward until her back hit the car, and their hips were flush, y/n’s hands stuck between them, but she maneuvered them to she could palm at his chest, her nails digging in like cat’s claws when his lips found their way together, pillowed between each other in a passionate embrace that warmed her to her toes. 

“Mmph, baby ‘ya marking me with your fingers,” He spoke in a sotto voice, heavy breaths and wet noises of their smacking lips resonating through their ears.

It took everything in her not to moan, and she knew that if they kept going it would be inevitable, so she unclenched her hands with a reluctant squeak, and ducked her head into his neck. Breath hot on his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no. I… uhm, I liked it, my love. You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t be shy.” He flexed his jaw, his eyes rolling at the back of his head at recalling the feeling of her hands- dainty and small, and sweet,, and god* it was just her*- clawing at his chest. Jason dipped forward, and kissed her neck. His lips staining her skin with scorching heat, the soft skin creating a magnetic force between them. 

She moaned at that, her teeth scratching at his neck tentatively.  “Stop it,” Her head felt floaty, her limbs soft, “Wanna see the fishies and the way that you’re…” “The way that I’m what, dovie?” He’s stunned by her moan, his brain haywire. “Tell me.”

“The way you’re talking is gonna me make me wanna stay here, and I really wanna see the fishies. Please?” She’s whining; voice an embarrassingly high pitched tone. Her hands gripped the collar of his sweater for stability because her knees were shaking. 

“Alright. Alright, let’s go see the fishies, baby.” Jason pecks her one last time at the juncture of her neck, and takes a step back to grab her hand. “Come on.”

*                                                      *                                  * 

 “So, they’ve got McDonald’s, Tam’s Burgers, Ruby’s Diner, and Sushi.” Jason holds a tri-fold directory of the aquarium in one hand, and y/n’s hand in the other. 

“Sushi? At an aquarium?” She skews half her face to the side like she tasted something sour. 

“I know right?” He copies her face, “The irony. Up for burgers? It’s all they’ve got.” 

Y/n’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and she giggled when Jason noticed and laughed at her. “Burgers sound good,” she said, rubbing her stomach comically.  Although she was still heated by their earlier interaction, both were pretending like nothing happened, and like they didn’t have a big thing waiting for them at the end of the day.

Like she wasn’t going to reveal how sh-

“Anything for you, baby.” Jason Jason held up the tri-fold again and blew out of his lips as he made out the route to Tam’s burgers. 

When they both got there, they ordered the same thing: one cheeseburger with a vanilla milkshake. Oh, and they were sharing chili cheese fries.

It was the epitome of a perfect date for a young couple in love. They chose to sit on the same side of the booth because they were greedy to get everything they could from each other. Unnecessary touches were made more than the amount of things they said to each other. Him brushing hair behind her each, hand on her thigh, rubbing her cheeks, feeding her, wiping her mouth, her arm hooked through his, pecking his cheek after a sip of her milkshake, nudging his feet with hers, caressing his thigh. It was on the rubbing his thigh part where things would get slightly heated, and Jason would stop to kiss her, licking into her mouth to taste the vanilla that was also on his tongue.

Jason paid for their meal, much to y/n’s begging, and then walked her over to the penguin exhibit.

“Heard one of their eggs just hatched, and I want you to see it.” He said, swinging their hands between them.

“Really?” She asked, her features lifted with excitement. “Well then let’s go!” Y/n ran ahead of him, looking back at him and pulling at his arm. Laughing, they swerved around people and ran past the large tank that represented the reef ecosystem, blue light from the sun that streamed through the top of the tank dancing on their skin like shadows. It was a magical moment, even though they looked like weirdos. In their head they were in their own movie, their own world.

 “Jason, honey? Is that you?” A woman in green cargo shorts and the customary blue shirts with the aquarium’s logo on the left breast called from the inside of the penguin expedition. She had raven black hair in a low bun, and red lipstick paired with a bright smile. She was feeding the animals from  two buckets on the edge of the pool where they were jumping in. 

“Hey, Janet!” Jason called out, waving from behind the glass barrier. “Long time no see, have you gotten younger?” 

She laughed and turned around, walking through an archway and disappearing from view. A male walked out, and smiled towards the couple, nodding once and turned his attention towards the penguins. He whistled once, and they all came to him, huddling around him expectantly.

Then he bent downwards and placed the back of his hand on the penguins tummy, pressing back and they waddled backwards. He did the same to four others, pressing them so they were in a straight line, and they stayed where he placed them. Janet came out then, with black objects in her arms. 

“What are they….” Y/n asked, confused as to what was going on because she had been to this aquarium several times and had never seen such things. “... doing?” 

Janet removed one of the items from her chest, and y/n could see that they were large letters. A ‘P’ which she placed at the feet of the first penguin. ‘R’ on the one following. They rested against their bellies, and after an initial peck at it, they left it alone and watched their keepers expectantly, presumably for food. ‘O’ followed, then ‘M’. And as the question mark was being laid on the last penguin, Jason turned to watch his girlfriend’s face, waiting for the realization to hit. It didn’t take very long.

“Oh my gosh, Jason, look! Look it spells prom!” She pointed at it excitedly, a smile from ear to ear as she looked on at the animals, amused by their antics. She looked over at him to share her glee, and found him watching her with a dreamy smirk. “Look at the animals! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Will you go to prom with me?” 

Y/n’s jaw dropped, the full realization hitting her. This had been planned, more specifically, Jason had planned this. “You did this?” She asked. Looking back and then at him again as he nodded slowly, still waiting for an answer. She stood there for a moment, stunned, and after a blink she jumped into his arms. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I want to go to prom with you!” 

He didn’t waste any time in wrapping his hands around her waist and twirling her around, laughing. Kissing her cheek, he set her to her feet and she was watching him with bleary eyes, a pout on her lips. “You did this for me?” 

“Technically, my mom did, but yes. Had her call in for me. Did you like it?” He put his hands in the pocket of his bomber jacket, his lips puckered as he tried to conceal a proud smile. 

“I love it, so much, Jason I-” She’s left speechless, and she glances up at the animals again, where Janet and the other keep were throwing fish at them. “Thank you.” The tips of her fingers came to cover her mouth, tears of joy threatening to slip. 

“Don’t cry, dovie. You weren’t supposed to cry,” he cooed, slipping his hands out again to wipe at the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Leaning up on her tip-toes, y/n abruptly yanked at his jacket, and crushed their lips together. 

“There we go! Your mother would love this!” Janet whooped, and her cheers caused the couple to split from each other with red faces, laughs covering their embarrassment. 

“Hush up, and let me kiss my girl will ya?” Jason pointed a finger at her and pretended to scowl. “We’re leaving to somewhere where we can smooch in peace!” Nearby people laughed at his jokes.

“Bye, sweetie! Tell your mother I said hello!” She waved goodbye, and returned her attention to the penguins at her feet. 

Y/n waved a goodbye along with Jason, yelling a ‘thank you’ as she walked away. Her brain was still trying to process what had happened when they turned the corner and walked into the new exhibit of the darker layers of the ocean. A long, winding hallway where the only light was the glow coming from the bio-luminescence animals in the water. 

An influx of serotonin swimming through her veins, squeals leaving her where she noticed where they were. 

“The jellyfish!” She left Jason’s side to stand in front of the large glass. An abundant amount of jellyfish bobbed up and around each other at slow, hypnotizing speeds. Glowing, long tentacles swaying in their trail; networks of veiny light streams present in each of them. The blue hue reflecting off of her skin, and onto the pane where it showed her amazed reflection.

“They’re beautiful,” she mumbled. Jason caught up, and stood besides her, his figure also appearing on the glass pane that held the jellyfish. “I could watch them all day.” 

His eyes drifted from the jellyfish to her side profile, admiring how ethereal she looked in that moment. Her face was soft with curiosity and wonder. “Me too.”

“You’re not even looking at them.” She gives him a side-eye glance. 

“I know.” He turned so his feet pointed to her, and combed his hair back because a few curls were tickling his forehead. “Can’t believe I’m gonna have the prettiest girl as my prom date.” 

Y/n’s nostrils flared and she sucked in her lips to suppress a smile. “Stop it.”

“S’true. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous of me.” He sucked in a breath, “Gonna have to hold on to you so no one steals you from me.” 

She knows he means every word that leaves his lips. And that the words are meant to tickle her heart with their honesty. While they do so, they also break it. Y/n thinks she’s living a lie. Not her relationship with him, but the way she acts and portrays herself. So much of herself, she kept hidden. It hurt knowing that he was being so genuine, and she wasn’t. It hurt more than knowing he could break up with her if he knew the truth. 

So, she decided to come clean. Even though they decided on the end of the day, her conscience wasn’t letting her live. 

“Jason, I have something to tell you.” She said, her throat closing up on the second syllable of his name, and crying by the end of her sentence. 

The boy brings his palm to her lower back, and moves his thumb up and down comfortingly. “Deep breaths, y/n. I’m listening.” 

“That boy?” She tilts her chin so she’s looking at him, and he nods when they make eye contact. “From the cafe? I knew him from a party.” Deep breath. “We were playing truth or-” a sob leaves her, shoulders sagging as her composure breaks. 

Jason raises his hand from her back to her shoulder, and steps closer so she’s pressed against his chest. “It’s okay. I’m right here, baby. I’m not leaving you. Take your time.” 

It would’ve been a lot more embarrassing if people were passing, but they were the only ones there. Had there been someone, they would’ve seen a terribly emotional y/n and a very concerned Jason. 

A creeping feel of panic like the one from that night teased her toes, anxiety of her confession crawling up her spine. But she had to push through. She needed to get this off her chest. 

“We were playing truth or dare, and… and I got dared t-to suck him off in front of everyone else,” another hiccup interrupts her words, and she had to stop to take a deep breath like Jason said, giving him an ashamed, fleeting glance.  Not long enough to see that his eyes were wide with astonishment, eyebrows furrowed with bubbling rage.

“What?” He said, more on the rhetorical side to encourage her to keep talking. His mind kept jumping back to the guy at the cafe and the way he said ‘there wasn’t anything in your mouth, babe’ with a knowing look in his eyes. How he practically violated her with his eyes. Rage filled him; all he wanted to do was punch the guy in the face. 

Anger made itself present in his stunned comment, and y/n took it as a disgusted comment. She jumped to explain herself, “I didn’t want to do it! I swear I didn’t put they started calling me names, a-and I didn’t want them to be upset with me so I-” another collapse of her words, chest rising and falling with desperate breaths. The panis increased, rising up to her chest and gripping like a boa. 

Jason knew that she needed reassurance on that moment and said, “Sh, sh Dovie, deep breaths. It’s alright, I know you didn’t, my dove. That’s called peer pressure.” 

It was clear that this was something she struggled with for a long time, and it hurt him so much inside that he had so blindly lived in the presence of her pain. Held her, touched her, and never noticed that she was so deeply in pain. The anger in him became a mix of bitter remorse at the fact that he had done nothing to push at her, or present himself in a way that showed she could trust him. He was unaware he was crying too until his own vision became blurry with moisture. 

“I left right after he… after he…. Because the other boys started touching me, too. That was when you found me under that tree. Remember?” Shiny doe eyes glimmered with the light that came off the jellyfish at him. They seemed to beg him for forgiveness, for understanding that she was sorry.

“Yes, sweetheart I remember.” Soft fingers crawl up her cheek, caressing like silk at the tears that still fell. Kisses were littered in her temple with strong pressure, a display of his comfort. “Oh, I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, baby. It’s not your fault.” 

“I should have said no. I should’ve l-left or something…”

“No. No, y/n this wasn’t your fault. This wasn’t on you. You were under pressure, and they were bullying you as well… Oh my god, baby, this- You don’t want to tell authorities?” 

“No! No, no, Jason I can’t l-let anyone find out I did…” Her eyes shut with distaste, “That. Please, don’t tell anyone.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He nods.

“Do you still want me?” Her cross, and her nails dig into her arms. Y/n bowed her head and sniffled. Jason took note of this, and pried her hands off so she wouldn’t bleed. His heart clenched at the tone of desperation in her voice. It hurt him to even think that he’d leave her so easily, and his words came out more emotionally tainted than he would’ve wanted.

“Y/n look at me.” His hand cupped her cheek, and the other held both of her wrists. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed him tightly. “I’m not leaving you. Can’t you understand that I love you, baby? I’m not leaving you, not now.”

“God, Jason. I don’t deserve you.” Y/n leans into his touch, sniffling.

“No, dovie. You’ve got that all twisted. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.  You’re so good to me, so kind, and sweet,and I’m so so sorry thing happened to you. But it’s gonna be okay, yeah? We can work through this, I’ll be there by our side. I won’t leave.” The boy followed after her eyes, wanting to maintain eye contact with her, but she was shifty with her gaze. He wanted to be able for her to see-- in his eyes-- that he meant every word.

“I love you.” Y/n jumped into his chest and wrapped her hands around his neck, happy to be free of guilt, and blissfully happy that she had Jason. That he loved her, and she was able to tell him that she loved him.

After a moment of just standing in each other’s arms, head’s buried in each other’s neck with Jason muttering into her ear just how much she meant to him, they stepped back  to look at the other, and y/n laughed halfheartedly, wiping at her eyes and underneath her nose. Quiet ‘thank you’s were exchanged and they took one last good look at the jellyfish in silence. Y/n suggested they go home, and Jason said he wanted to stop by the gift shop first. Something about how how he needed a polar bear to hold onto at night.

In reality, he bought her the sea otter she wouldn’t stop petting, and a key chain with the date engraved on it. He didn’t give these to her until they were in front of her house, and he reached into the bag behind her seat.

“These are for you.” He said, placing the stuffy on her lap, and the key chain on her open palm. “A memoir. The first time we said I love you... among other things.” 

His tone was serious, mouth set in a grim line, but y/n was smiling.

“I knew something was up when you told me to wait outside. Thank you.” Leaning over the console, they both met each other halfway, and kissed each other goodbye. At the first taste of her lips, he removed his hands from the steering wheel in favor of having them on her face, holding her too him a few seconds longer than she usually would have let herself stay kissing.

“You’re welcome, dovie. I love you.” He said, pecking her lips once more, and then her nose, making her laugh through her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll call you tonight. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, too.” She opened the door, and waved once more at her boyfriend who smiled at her from inside the car.

Y/n was slightly upset over he fact that he hadn’t gotten out to walk her up the steps, and in any other situation, he would’ve. But out of his eagerness, Jason waited until she was inside, and lifted his hips to get his phone out of his pocket, calling the one person he knew would have his back if he wanted to set things straight.

It rang three times before he picked up.

“Andrew. It’s an emergency. Come over to my house tonight. Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I noticed you did post to acknowledge the death of Uderzo, the co-creator of the Asterix comics. I have to ask Tintin or Asterix? Which one do you prefer?

It’s like asking Stones or Beatles? I love both but for different reasons. I would hate to choose between the two.

Both Tintin and Asterix were the two halves of a comic dyad of my childhood. Whether it was India, China, Hong Kong, Japan, or the Middle East the one thing that threads my childhood experience of living in these countries was finding a quiet place in the home to get lost reading Asterix and Tintin.

Even when I was eventually carted off to boarding school back in England I took as many of my Tintin and Asterix comics books with me as I could. They became like underground black market currency to exchange with other girls for other things like food or chocolates sent by parents and other illicit things like alcohol. Having them and reading them was like having familiar friends close by to make you feel less lonely in new surroundings and survive the bear pit of other girls living together.

If you asked my parents - especially my father - he would say Tintin hands down. He has - and continues to have in his library at home - a huge collection of Tintin comic books in as many different language translations as possible. He’s still collecting translations of each of the Tintin books in the most obscure languages he can find. I have both all the Tintin comic books - but only in English and French translations, and the odd Norwegian one - as well as all the Asterix comic books (only in English and French).

Speaking for myself I would be torn to decide between the two. Each have their virtues and I appreciate them for different reasons.

Tintin was truly about adventure that spoke deeply to me. Tintin was always a good detective story that soon turned to a travel adventure. It has it all: technology, politics, science and history. Of course the art is more simpler, but it is also cleaner and translates the wondrous far-off locations beautifully and with a sense of awe that you don’t see in the Asterix books. Indeed Hergé was into film-noir and thriller movies, and the panels are almost like storyboards for The Maltese Falcon or African Queen.

The plot lines of Tintin are intriguing rather than overly clever but the gallery of characters are much deeper, more flawed and morally ambiguous. Take Captain Haddock I loved his pullover, his strangely large feet, his endless swearing and his inability to pass a bottle without emptying it. He combined bravery and helplessness in a manner I found irresistible.

I’ve read that there is a deeply Freudian reading to the Tintin books. I think there is a good case for it. The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham's Treasure are both about Captain Haddock's family. Haddock's ancestor, Sir Francis Haddock, is the illegitimate son of the French Sun King – and this mirrors what happened in Hergé's family, who liked to believe that his father was the illegitimate son of the Belgian king. This theme played out in so many of the books. In The Castafiore Emerald, the opera singer sings the jewel song from Faust, which is about a lowly woman banged up by a nobleman – and she sings it right in front of Sir Francis Haddock, with the captain blocking his ears. It's like the Finnegans Wake of the cartoon. Nothing happens - but everything happens.

Another great part is that the storylines continue on for several albums, allowing them to be more complex, instead of the more simplistic Asterix plot lines which are always wrapped up nicely at the end of each book.

Overall I felt a great affinity with Tintin - his youthful innocence, wanting to solve problems, always resourceful, optimistic, and brave. Above all Tintin gave me wanderlust. Was there a place he and Milou (Snowy) didn’t go to? When they had covered the four corners of the world Tintin and Milou went to the moon for heaven’s sake!

What I loved about Asterix was the style, specifically Uderzo’s visual style. I liked Hergé’s clean style, the ligne claire of his pen, but Asterix was drawn as caricature: the big noses, the huge bellies, often being prodded by sausage-like fingers. This was more appealing to little children because they were more fun to marvel at.

In particular I liked was the way Uderzo’s style progressed with each comic book. The panels of Asterix the Gaul felt rudimentary compared to the later works and by the time Asterix and Cleopatra, the sixth book to be published, came out, you finally felt that this was what they ought to look like. It was an important lesson for a child to learn: that you could get better at what you did over time. Each book seemed to have its own palette and perhaps Uderzo’s best work is in Asterix in Spain.

I also feel Asterix doesn’t get enough credit for being more complex. Once you peel back the initial layers, Asterix has some great literal depth going on - puns and word play, the English translation names are all extremely clever, there are many hidden details in the superb art to explore that you will quite often miss when you initially read it and in a lot of the truly classic albums they are satirising a real life country/group/person/political system, usually in an incredibly clever and humorous way.

What I found especially appealing was that it was also a brilliant microcosm of many classical studies subjects - ancient Egypt, the Romans and Greek art - and is a good first step for young children wanting to explore that stuff before studying it at school.

What I discovered recently was that Uderzo was colour blind which explains why he much preferred the clear line to any hint of shade, and it was that that enabled his drawings to redefine antiquity so distinctively in his own terms. For decades after the death of René Goscinny in 1977, Uderzo provided a living link to the golden age of the greatest series of comic books ever written: Paul McCartney to Goscinny’s John Lennon. Uderzo, as the Asterix illustrator, was better able to continue the series after Goscinny’s death than Goscinny would have been had Uderzo had died first, and yet the later books were, so almost every fan agrees, not a patch on the originals: very much Wings to the Beatles. What elevated the cartoons, brilliant though they were, to the level of genius was the quality of the scripts that inspired them. Again and again, in illustration after illustration, the visual humour depends for its full force on the accompaniment provided by Goscinny’s jokes.

Here below is a great example:

There’s a lot of genius in this. Uderzo copied Theodore Géricault’s iconic ‘Raft of the Medusa’ 1818 painting in ‘Asterix The Legionary’. The painting is generally regarded as an icon of Romanticism. It depicts an event whose human and political aspects greatly interested Géricault: the wreck of a French frigate, Medusa, off the coast of Senegal in 1816, with over 150 soldiers on board. But Anthea Bell’s translation of Goscinny’s text (including the pictorial and verbal pun ‘we’ve been framed, by Jericho’) is really extraordinary and captures the spirit of the Asterix cartoons perfectly.

This captures perfectly my sense of humour as it acknowledges the seriousness of life but finds humour in them through a sly cleverness and always with a open hearted joy. There is no question that if humour was the measuring yard stick then Asterix and not Tintin would win hands down.

It’s also a mistake to think that the world of Asterix was insular in comparison to the amazing countries Tintin had adventures. Asterix’s world is very much Europe.

Every nationality that Asterix encounters is gently satirised. No other post-war artistic duo offered Europeans a more universally popular portrait of themselves, perhaps, than did Goscinny and Uderzo. The stereotypes with which he made such affectionate play in his cartoons – the haughty Spaniard, the chocolate-loving Belgian, the stiff-upper-lipped Briton – seemed to be just what a continent left prostrate by war and nationalism were secretly craving. Many shrewd commentators believe that during the golden age when Goscinny was still alive to pen the scripts, that it was a fantasy on French resistance during occupation by Nazi Germany. Uderzo lived through the occupation and so there is truth in that. Perhaps this is why the Germans are the exceptions as they are treated unsympathetically in Asterix and the Goths, and why quite a few of the books turn on questions of loyalty and treachery.

Even the British are satirised with an affection that borders on love: the worst of the digs are about our appalling cuisine (everything is boiled, and served with mint sauce, and the beer is warm), but everything points to the Gauls’ and the Britons’ closeness. They have the same social structure, even down to having one village still holding out against the Romans; the crucial and extremely generous difference being that the Britons do not have a magic potion to help them fight. Instead they have tea, introduced to them by Getafix, via Asterix, which gives them so much of a psychological boost that it may as well have been the magic potion.

I re-read ‘Asterix in Britain’ (Astérix chez les Bretons) in the light of the 2016 Brexit referendum result and felt despaired that such a playful and respectful portrayal of this country was not reciprocated. Don’t get me wrong I voted for Brexit but I remain a staunch Europhile. It made me violently irritated to see many historically illiterate pro-Brexit oiks who mistakenly believed the EU and Europe were the same thing. They are not. One was originally a sincere band aid to heal and bring together two of the greatest warring powers in continental Europe that grotesquely grew into an unaccountable bureaucratic manager’s utopian wet dream, and the other is a cradle of Western achievement in culture, sciences and the arts that we are all heirs to.

What I loved about Asterix was that it cut across generations. As a young girl I often retreated into my imaginary world of Asterix where our family home had an imaginary timber fence and a dry moat to keep the world (or the Romans) out. I think this was partly because my parents were so busy as many friends and outsiders made demands on their time and they couldn’t say no or they were throwing lavish parties for their guests. Family time was sacred to us all but I felt especially miffed if our time got eaten away. Then, as I grew up, different levels of reading opened up to me apart from the humour in the names, the plays on words, and the illustrations. There is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world.

The thing about both Asterix and Tintin books is that they are at heart adventure comics with many layers of detail and themes built into them. For children, Asterix books are the clear winner, as they have much better art and are more fantastical. Most of the bad characters in the books are not truly evil either and no-one ever dies, which appeals hugely to children. For older readers, Tintin has danger, deeper characters with deep political themes, bad guys with truly evil motives, and even deaths. It’s more rooted in the real world, so a young reader can visualise themselves as Tintin, travelling to these real life places and being a hero.

As I get older and re-read Asterix and Tintin from time to time I discover new things. 

From Asterix, there is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world. In my adult world it now makes me appreciate the value of family, friends, and community and even national identity. Even as globalisation and the rise of homogenous consumerism threatens to envelope the unique diversity of our cultures, like Asterix, we can defend to the death the cultural values that define us but not through isolation or by diminishing the respect due to other cultures and their cultural achievements.

From Tintin I got wanderlust. This fierce even urgent need to travel and explore the world was in part due to reading the adventures of Tintin. It was by living in such diverse cultures overseas and trying to get under the skin of those cultures by learning their languages and respecting their customs that I realised how much I valued my own heritage and traditions without diminishing anyone else.

So I’m sorry but I can’t choose one over the other, I need both Asterix and Tintin as a dyad to remind me that the importance of home and heritage is best done through travel and adventure elsewhere.

Thanks for your question.

[devoursjohnlock]

Three Blind Bankers

I started to write a response to this thread, and it became too long, so here it is on its own.

The bank in The Blind Banker is indeed metafictionally important—as @thewatsonbeekeepers​ says, John acts as Sherlock’s “agent” in this episode, collecting money for Sherlock’s services. It’s an old custom of the Sherlockian societies to refer to Arthur Conan Doyle as Sherlock Holmes’s “literary agent”, rather than the writer of the stories (because, as we all know, John Watson actually wrote them).

Having John Watson feeling cash-poor and turning to Sherlock Holmes for help, then insisting he be paid, his physical expression of relief when he takes the cheque... all of this is very reminiscent of Arthur Conan Doyle, who was desperate for cash in his early years. The shadow of that desperation never left him, even after he started making big money from Sherlock Holmes. And the common perception is that Doyle would also turn to Sherlock Holmes only when he needed money.

Regarding the idea that the bank represents “the estate”, it’s important to remember that there is not a single Doyle estate, but two: the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate and the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd. (which is the one linked in the previous discussion). Both have (or have had) family ties to Arthur Conan Doyle, both have separate legitimate claims to specific parts of Doyle’s legacy, and both have brought copyright lawsuits under different circumstances.

The posts that used to circulate on tumblr about Andrea Plunket and her nuisance lawsuits against various film adapters were about the Literary Estate. The nuisance lawsuit against the Enola Holmes adaptation was brought by the Conan Doyle Estate Lid. The Conan Doyle Estate Ltd. is also the group that is closely affiliated with a number of highly esteemed Sherlockians, including those who are slowly releasing previously unpublished works by Doyle, like the whaling diary Dangerous Work and A Life in Letters. This group is trying to shut down Enola Holmes. They also have a stake in presenting Doyle and Sherlock Holmes in a specific light, and they control a lot of information about both. So, paraphrasing from the previous discussion, “Have they ever read the Canon?” Oh yeah. They’ve read it, published it, interpreted it, made careers and reputations on it. But they don’t see it the way we do.

To return to Sebastian Wilkes, I’m not convinced that he represents either or both of the estates, although perhaps I am wrong. The thing is, Sebastian’s relationship to Sherlock in TBB echoes John’s: this case is costing him, in terms of money and potential embarrassment. His response is to turn to Sherlock Holmes... “How’re things, buddy?” he says. His tone is ingratiating... Can you help me out here? Could you see your way? Would you sort this for me? Could you be discreet? These are the same sentiments, from both John and Sebastian, in the same episode.

The difference is all in the attitude. Hard to imagine John saying here, “We all hated him” even if he does laugh at Sebastian’s joke. Sebastian looks down his nose at Sherlock, even as he save’s Sebastian’s livelihood... which is exactly how Doyle acted toward Sherlock Holmes within his lifetime. Doyle insisted repeatedly that Sherlock Holmes kept him from writing better things, that he only came back to the Holmes stories for money. So, there’s a lot of conflation here, I think, between Doyle, Sebastian Wilkes, and John Watson. It gives us a little glimpse at John’s imperfection and at his subterfuge. For a number of reasons, I think it is unlikely that Doyle really hated Sherlock Holmes, but publicly, he insisted that he did.

So, I think Sebastian Wilkes is specifically a mirror for both Doyle and John (or simply for John via Doyle) in this episode. The bank itself mirrors Doyle’s legacy, as @raggedyblue​ suggested. And perhaps the fact that it is a bank means that it represents what people stand to gain from it. That is the business of the estates, and also of everyone who produces content related to Sherlock Holmes, including filmmakers, publishers, pastiche writers, old-school Sherlockians... and even us.

However, the name of the bank, Shad Sanderson, suggests to me that Mofftiss aren’t aiming at so broad an interpretation. Etymologically, Sanderson is the same name as Anderson, who we recognize as an obvious John mirror. And I strongly suspect that Shad is taken from Shad Thames, an old London street near Tower Bridge; the name of this street is a corruption of “St John’s”.

So, this is John’s bank—of stories, really—presided over by a portrait of Doyle, and Sherlock Holmes enters at the invitation of a sneering John mirror to solve a case there. There is much in this episode that we couldn’t have recognized when we first saw it in S1, but that becomes clearer in hindsight.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello, Autism nonny here with a very negative update :/…

So, after sending the message, I didn’t get a reply until yesterday. She said “Are you serious?? You don’t seem autistic.” I then explained to her that everyone on the spectrum is different and Autism doesn’t have a specific “look”, even though many people believe it does. I won’t go into detail but we had a very long conversation, she was really annoying me and it didn’t even seem like she was trying to understand at all, when I’d put so much effort into writing the message (it took me days). I got angry and she got angry and it turned into an argument (all via text). I said something along the lines of “why can’t you see how hard this is for me” (although in a more heated way) and she replied with “Not my fault you’re a (r-slur).”.....yeah.

Since then, she’s messaged me and apologised multiple times and told me it was something she said in the heat of the moment, when she was angry, she didn’t mean it at all. I want to believe her but, honestly, that doesn’t seem like something you’d say in the “heat of the moment”. And I have a nasty feeling that, in that period of time before she apologised, she said something untrue to my other friends or twisted the words of my first message and made me seem like a freak. (This is one of the disadvantages of everything being online).

I seriously worked myself up about it last night and cried for hours haha (I’m sensitive, okay?) and now I really dunno what to do. I don’t have to see her (or any of my other classmates) in person for at least a month, maybe longer, but I’m really worried. I’m honestly not sure whether i want to forgive her because, even though I dont believe she’d deliberately be ableist or anything, I really don’t trust her anymore. This is basically a repeat of what happened last time and it’s all a huge fucking mess. And, sad as this is, I don’t have many other friends, so now I don’t know where I stand with them. Now I have to go to online school and pretend nothing happened which is gonna be fun...not. I really can’t deal with this on top of everything else I’ve been dealing with and I’m very stressed.... joy.

Right, sorry for ranting again, and sorry to not be able to say anything positive...

Nonny xxx

(referencing this thread)

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

Oh goodness, I am so so sorry that everything went tits up. Unfortunately, this is something I don’t think I should say “you must / mustn’t” other than, do what you feel in your heart is right. 

For me personally, your friend crossed a line and broke your trust when she used re*d as a slur against you, especially after you pouring your heart out, taking time out to explain yourself, only to then turn around and act first like Not-Your-Friend as an initial response after DAYS of having the information, and THEN acting like her outburst was no big deal? I’m sorry, but that’s a dick move, and you have every right to be upset and angry. Google exists, she has no excuse for NOT learning about autism and what NOT to do when a friend tells her something deeply personal.

In my humble opinion, she showed her true colours here. She’s supposed to be your closest friend and she calls you a slur in a fit of rage? Fuck off with that nonsense.

BUT.

I’m not in the habit of breaking up friendships, and I also react rather badly to someone hurting me, and I MAY have just been overly defensive here. And while I don’t think it’s your job to educate her (again, Google exists), perhaps say “look, what you said hurt me, and broke my trust in you. I’m willing to remain friends but please know that it will take me some time to not feel like you’re always judging me. In the meantime, I politely request you read [insert link to information about your type of autism here] and understand why it hurts me what you did. We’re supposed to be friends, and if I can’t trust you to even accept me, I don’t see how this can ever be resolved.”

Okay, maybe not EXACTLY like that, because it’s still kinda passive aggressive, but you get the picture: let her know you are hurt, feel betrayed and unworthy of her friendship, and offer some education for her. It leaves the ball in her court on whether she wants to be the one to break up the friendship or not.

Which again, will reveal her true colours, and a person like that isn’t worth having in your life. Yes, we are all flawed individuals, and are ALL ignorant of things until we learn more about something, and that’s just being human. What makes one a good human is if one is open to listening and being empathetic to others. That’s important, I think.

I’m so sorry sorry Nonny. I know my word is pointless, but let me say here: You are fine just as you are. I’m sorry you have to go through this... having a crumbling friendship is a terrible thing to go through. Big hugs to you, and I hope for the best for you and that it all turns around <3

Love you Nonny <3

[the-blackest-spider]

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