#that said Lucky has some commentary on that last part:

[starfallchampion]

Lillie here, this is so very sweet!! The little cheer the girl did was probably her and her Popplio immitating a Z-Move, a type of special move used in Alola! Did it look like they were doing a wave-type thing with their arms? If so, they were likely trying to do the Water-type Z-Move: Hydro Vortex! It's pretty common to see kids doing that in Alola, especially if they know someone who has a Z-Ring.

Just got back from the park with Chai. We had lots of fun, she chased all kinds of bright leaves that were falling. Met a rockruff who she played with for a few minutes.

But the highlight was most certainly watching a 1v1 battle on the battleground. There was a young trainer I believe from Alola with her popplio, and another trainer who had a few years on her with their bayleef.

I only started watching a few minutes after they started, but I swear that poor girl couldn't get a single hit in. For such a large pokemon, that Bayleef was incredibly agile.

Her popplio ended up in rough shape a few minutes in, and it was looking pretty bad. Most trainers would've called it quits at this point, but something in this pair just refused to back down. There was one moment where she even did a little dance and cheer(?) and her popplio did it back. It was very cute.

All that to say, when they finally managed to get a single hit in, everyone watching and a few pokemon walkers burst into cheers. Even the other battler threw their fists up and let out a great roar. Chai howled. It was a very unifying moment, seeing this young trainer finally manage something she'd clearly been trying very hard at.

The bayleef team still won. But she didn't even care. She was grinning ear to ear and gave her popplio all of the belly rubs. (I believe this was a hit for points battle and not to exhaustion battle) The other trainer came up to shake her hand, and then scooped her up in a big hug and spun her around a few times. She was absolutely giddy and it was rather infectious.

So, that was a nice thing to see today. Watching young trainers is always interesting, and it makes me think about how my life may have been if I'd been allowed to go on my own pokemon journey. Chai also seems very excited to watch battles, even on TV.

It's a bit of a sore spot as well, seeing all the common childhood experiences I missed out on.

I know some start their journey later then others. But... I'm not sure they do when they're in their 20's.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 6

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Damen watched Laurent enter with his first adviser Vannes

LET’S GOOOOOOOO

The little brow furrows as he searched for vocabulary, the ‘How do you say—?’ and ‘What is it called when—?’ were gone.

awww cute that damen noticed them before :’) sweetheart

‘It’s lucky for him he speaks our language so well,’ said Nikandros, as they returned to the Akielon camp. ‘Nothing involving him has anything to do with luck,’ said Damen.

Their camps, they agreed, would be kept separate.

ah, the sitcom “line down the room” solution

The Veretians were scornful too, in a different way. Akielons were barbarians who kept company with bastards and walked around half naked. He heard the snatches of what was said on the edges of their camp, the ribald calls, the jeers and taunts. When Pallas walked past, Lazar wolf-whistled.

this reminds me of the two factions from the infamous avatar the last airbender episode “the great divide.” also look, new gay people!

And that was before the more specific rumours, the murmurings among the men, the sidelong speculation that had Nikandros in the warm summer evening, saying, ‘Take a slave.’ Damen said, ‘No.’

so it’s like a social expectation. but he’s still not doing it. even LAURENT does it (kinda), although he has much more to prove than the akielons

He buried himself in work, and in physical exercise. During the day he threw himself into the logistics and planning, the tactical groundwork that would facilitate a campaign. He plotted routes. He set up supply lines. He commanded drills. At night he went alone from the camp, and when there was no one around him, he took out his sword and practised until he was dripping with sweat, until he could no longer raise his sword but only stand, his muscles trembling, the tip of his blade pointed to the ground. He went to bed alone. He undressed and sluiced himself down, and only used squires to perform those menial tasks without intimacy. He told himself that this was what he had wanted. There was a working relationship between himself and Laurent.

no this is so sad, but so relatable. breakup behavior transcends worlds

There was no longer—friendship—but that had never been possible.

tell that to laurent, who allowed himself to become your friend and sexual partner, fully aware of the fact that you killed his brother

He had known it would not be some stupid fantasy of showing Laurent his country; of Laurent leaning against the marble balcony at Ios, turning to greet him in the cool air overlooking the sea, his eyes bright with the splendour of the view.

HE 🗣️ WAS 🗣️ WATCHING 🗣️ THE 🗣️ ROAD

To Kastor, he sent only a single message: I come. He didn’t watch that messenger depart. It’s not naive to trust your family. He had said that, once.

damen. girl.

love the conflicting themes of trust here. damen needs to learn that he can’t trust everyone to have intentions as noble as his, and laurent needs to learn that some people in the world can be trusted to have noble intentions. mistrust makes them both feel alone—laurent takes comfort in that loneliness, because it means no one can hurt him, but it also means that he’s never truly relaxed or vulnerable (in a good way). damen feels awful with the loneliness of mistrust, and wants so badly to reach out and make connections with people even when the flags are very, very red.

Guion was a man in his late forties, with an indoor figure.

does “indoor figure” mean “not fit” because that’s so funny 😭 let’s not bruise the man’s ego by calling him out of shape, he’s just an indoor cat instead

When he saw Damen, Guion bowed in the same way that he would have bowed to the Regent: deeply, sincerely. ‘Your Majesty,’ said Guion.

bitch.

Damen had come here to learn what he could of the Regent’s plans, but there was only one question rising to his lips. ‘Who hurt Laurent at Charcy? Was it you?’ ‘He didn’t tell you?’ Damen had not spoken alone to Laurent since that night in the tent. ‘He doesn’t betray his friends.’

i love damen. he is giving laurent the distance he requested, despite it breaking his (damen’s heart), but he’s also still fiercely protective of laurent behind his back. to the extent that his questions about guion hurting laurent feel more important in the moment than tactical ones about the regent. laurent pretends not to care in an attempt to lie to himself, but damen is only pretending in front of laurent to respect his wishes. he’s not lying to himself about giving a shit, and hasn’t even tried since like chapter 6 of book 2.

also - “he doesn’t betray his friends” implies that damen doesn’t see laurent’s poor treatment of him as betrayal, because knowing the truth now about laurent’s awareness, damen would never expect laurent to have considered him a friend. this gives book 2’s “friends? is that what we are?” a whole new layer of complexity.

'I captured him on his way to Charcy. He was brought to Fortaine, where he negotiated with me for his release. By the time he and I came to our arrangement, he had spent some time as a prisoner in the cells and had suffered a little accident to the shoulder.'

to be fair, i think this is what laurent would want guion to say, and might have even dictated to him exactly. anything else would make him sound weak. but damen knows laurent better than that, and can easily read between the lines.

‘You put Govart,’ said Damen, ‘in a cell with Laurent?’

run.

‘Yes.’ Guion spread his hands. ‘Just as I helped to bring about the coup in your country. Now, of course, you need my testimony to win back your throne. That is politics. The Prince understands that. It is why he has allied with you.’ Guion smiled. ‘Your Majesty.’ Damen made himself speak very calmly,

being a king sucks, you can’t even throw hands with the guy who had your divorce husband tortured because said divorce husband is using said guy as a political asset

‘Did the Regent know who I was?’ ‘If he did, having you sent to Vere was rather a miscalculation on his part, wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. He didn’t lift his eyes from Guion. He watched the blood rise and mottle Guion’s cheeks. ‘If the Regent knew who you were,’ said Guion, ‘then he hoped that when you arrived in Vere, the Prince would recognise you, and be provoked into a blunder. Either that, or he wanted the Prince to take you into his bed. The realisation of what he’d done then would kill him. How lucky for you that didn’t happen,’ Guion said.

the regent failed to anticipate the secret third option: laurent knowing exactly who damen was from the start, accidentally falling in love with him and semi-purposefully gaining a powerful ally, taking him into his bed despite the brother killing, having a messy breakup about it, but still remaining a powerful duo of world leaders unified in wanting to take him (the regent) down

‘You swore a sacred duty to hold the throne in trust for your Prince. Instead you turned on him, for power, for personal gain. What has that won you?’ For the first time he saw something genuine flicker in Guion’s expression. ‘He killed my son,’ said Guion. ‘You killed your son,’ said Damen, ‘when you threw him into the path of the Regent.’

i think this has one of two meanings, diverging with the interpretation of guion’s line.

damen: you swore to help the prince, but then you turned your back on him for personal gain. so did you gain enough to justify that decision? guion: (briefly genuine) meaning #1: i lost my son when the regent’s manipulations resulted in his (aimeric’s) death, so actually i lost something. meaning #2: the prince ended up being so mean to my son that he killed himself, so he wasn't deserving of my loyalty. damen: you’re the person most responsible for aimeric’s death, because you let the regent use him as a political pawn and sexual object.

i’m really not sure if it’s meaning #1 or #2 here. #2 might not make sense at all, because it’s not guaranteed that anyone told guion the details of laurent’s reaction to aimeric’s betrayal—it had only been damen, laurent, aimeric, and jord in the room, right?

regardless of guion’s meaning, damen’s response still stands. and at least it hurts guion emotionally, if not physically. it’s almost like damen is finding himself turning into laurent, acting the way laurent did in the court of vere. he can’t take the direct route, so he has to be backhanded and cruel instead.

He had not dealt with Makedon. Round one came when Makedon refused to accept the extra rations available to his troops from Fortaine. Akielons didn’t need pampering. If Veretians wished to indulge in all this extra food, they could do so. Before Damen could open his mouth to respond, Laurent announced that he would likewise change the provisions among his own troops, so that there would not be a disparity. In fact, everyone from soldiers to captains to kings across both troops would receive the same portion, and that portion would be determined by Makedon. Would Makedon inform them now what that portion was to be?

jesus christ laurent (affectionate)

Round two was the skirmish that broke out in the Akielon encampment: an Akielon with a bleeding nose, a Veretian with a broken arm, and Makedon smiling and saying that it had been no more than a friendly competition. Only a coward feared competition. He said it to Laurent. Laurent said that from this moment on, any Veretian who struck an Akielon would be executed. He trusted the honour of the Akielons, he said. Only a coward hit a man who wasn’t allowed to hit back.

in a way, damen helped laurent with that one, since he’s the honorable akielion who told laurent the same thing in book 1.

It was like watching a boar try to take on the endless blue of the sky. Damen remembered how it felt to be coerced to Laurent’s will. Laurent had never needed to use force to make men obey him, just as he had never needed men to like him in order to get his way. Laurent got his way because when men tried to resist him, they found, sweetly outmanoeuvred, that they couldn’t.

he thought to himself, with heart-eyes,

(i don’t think anyone here is interpreting laurent as “sweet” but you, damen)

In fact, the way Laurent’s men talked about their Prince now was not substantially different to the way that they had talked about him before: cold, ice-cold, except now he was cold enough to have fucked his brother’s killer.

:)

No one was looking at Laurent. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had been. His face showed nothing.

but damen looked at them not looking, and thought of laurent, because this is marlas they’re talking about

‘I’ve been there before,’ said Laurent. ‘Then you’re familiar with the area,’ said Nikandros. ‘That makes it easier.’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

He wanted . . . he didn’t know what he wanted. For Laurent to have looked at him when Nikandros had announced that they would travel to the place where, six years ago, Damen had killed his brother.

messy messy

A rueful flicker of guilt: he knew that these men breaking curfew would not expect their King to appear and admonish them personally. His presence was ludicrously disproportionate to their crime, he thought.

damen kingship theme

‘Stand,’ said Damen, ‘like the men you think you are.’ He was angry. The men, standing, perhaps did not recognise that. They didn’t know the slow way that he came forward, or the calm tone of his voice. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what it is you are doing here.’

wait no we are totally seeing the laurentification of damianos

The boy was badly bruised, and he could not stand under his own weight once the ropes were cut. Damen lowered him to the ground. More had been done to him than target practice. More had been done to him than a beating. They had put an iron cuff around his left wrist, like the gold cuff around his own—like the gold cuff around Laurent’s. Damen knew with a sickening feeling in his stomach exactly what had been done to this boy, and why. The boy didn’t speak Akielon. He had no idea what was happening, or that he was safe. Damen began to speak to him in Veretian, slow, calming words, and after a moment the boy’s glazed eyes focused on him with something like understanding. The boy said, ‘Tell the Prince I didn’t fight back.’

oh fuck, laurent would be horrified by this. it’s like an echo of nicaise and aimeric’s victimhood, and the only reason the boy hadn’t fought back was laurent’s threat. that lack of self-defense goes against so much of laurent’s own values and behavior, and he’d be disturbed to realize how he had inadvertently disempowered this vulnerable person.

‘Makedon of the north,’ said Damen. ‘You were a friend to my father. You fought with him for almost twenty years. That means a great deal to me. I respect your loyalty to him, as I respect your power and need your men. But if your soldiers harm a Veretian again, you will face me at the end of a sword.’

okayyyy so we’re starting to see a hint of where the kingship theme is going—damen getting past the whole “this is how it’s always been done, so i have to do it the same way” idea, and approaching “well i’m the king now, and this is what i think should happen instead”

‘You walk a fine line with Makedon,’ Nikandros said, on his return to camp. ‘He walks a fine line with me,’ said Damen.

YES BITCH!!!

‘Bruising, a broken rib,’ said Paschal. ‘Shock.’ ‘No, I meant—’ He broke off.

aw. damen really has come a long way, in terms of how he sees veretians. i think some of this is laurent-related, but i also think that damen is now extending the honor he’s always shown his own people to people he wouldn’t have considered worth honoring before the series’s events.

‘Thank you,’ said Damen. He heard himself continue, ‘I don’t expect—’ He stopped. ‘I know that I betrayed your trust, and lied to you about who I am. I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.’ He could feel the incongruity of the words, falling awkwardly between them. He felt strange, his breathing shallow.

i really appreciate paschal’s role in this story. a male figure in damen and laurent’s lives who cares about them both, but doesn’t give a shit about their sex lives in the slightest. paschal has always been kind of grey re: the war between akielos and vere too, evaluating people based on their individual qualities rather than their political allegiances. thanks doctor dad, you’re a real one.

‘We all do what we have to,’ said Paschal.

mysterious old man is mysterious…

[coolstuffiseverywhere]

I have a kinda batshit insane theory that might make sense?

So, I like Tohya and Ikuko’s existence, but Ikuko always felt off to me. We don’t have enough to really grab onto to start building much of a character from her writing unlike Tohya, despite her writing more of it. I know Sayo=Ikuko is a common theory, and I think it works by the logic I’m about to suggest. This is another alternative that I find interesting though.

Ikuko is Rika. Hear me out. Tohya isn’t Battler, in other words, he isn’t the detective. The closest we have to a detective of the future is Ange, who can still see magic. Meaning we don’t actually get an objective viewpoint of the future ever.

This works based more off Featherine, but let me explain how it works in reality: Sometime after breaking the loops, Hanyuu leaves, etc(ignore Gou I’ll get to that) she decides to leave Hinamizawa, setting up a remote place to live with some servants. As heir to the furude family, she has the funds. This doesn’t actually have to be 1986, as finding Tohya and bringing him back immediately aren’t necessarily true and are also a little lucky. My guess would be she finds Tohya while on the way to look for an estate, brings him to the hospital, and they later live together. Together, they lie about her age upon finding him, as she often uses makeup to appear older(and by the time Ange or anyone meets them she’s old enough for it to not matter), to feel more her age after the loops.

Now, my actual reasoning: Featherine on the meta level always seemed weirdly divorced from Hanyuu. I can see some connections of course, it’s all the parts of Hanyuu that got buried in Matsuribayashi. But I never really could get what all their lines about master/servant meant, considering some lines Lambda said and some implications that don’t seem true in Higurashi. Thus, I suggest: Featherine is a mix of their author persona and a witch for Rika to deal with Hanyuu leaving despite being there for her entire life.

This explains Featherine being more of a recorder(although you could also read this as Ikuko’s influence, recording both Ange’s thoughts and Tohya’s story) and watcher then a writer despite also writing. It explains what Bernkastel means by “you taught me”, as she’d be quite literally talking to a manifestation of Hanyuu and Rika, the second of which presumably making Bernkastel as a way to deal with the looping and her trauma, as well as to personify her depression. Hanyuu ofc did teach actual Rika, but Featherine was always not actually Hanyuu, and a lot of the commentary was always more about Featherine anyway. The broken horn thing may make more sense as well: it’s a combination or the Hanyuu inspiration and talking about Rika’s loops.

It also explains the higurashi as a book references: they probably did also write those, Sayo might of read them!

In this scenario, Lambda would be written to be her way of dealing with Takano and her not really getting consequences, as well as her separated friendship with Satoko. Which, on that note:

Gou! I think this would be Ikuko and Satoko, but mostly Satoko, writing it! For the same reasons as the show. And I think it works better as an actual book. She’s trying to use loop’s mechanics more to understand Rika’s experience better, and also they’re both trying to process their friendship ending. I think in this scenario either Rika left before they started high school, or they just went through all of Saint Lucia’s without a loop. Regardless, I think Satoko tried to go to Rika’s school, which was likely fancier. This was just their way of trying to see how that’d actually go for them, and better process that their past relationship was unhealthy.

I think she may of also helped write some of the Lamba parts of Umineko, but that’s mostly conjecture.

This was a bit of a mess, and I’m sure more contradictions and evidence is around, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else suggest that some of the last book’s non-Ange future scenes are fantasy scenes. So I hope that at least helps.

[rinasunny]

Red Eye (2005) Early Screenplay Trivia

First of all, I'm very sorry for clogging your Red Eye/Jackson x Lisa feed with DVD commentary. I was planning to do the same with the final shooting script but I guess it will just one post with the juiciest stuff (and just give the link to the script with highlited Jackson/Lisa stuff).

Now, to the main topic of the post. In 2011 someone nicknamed "cougarlady" posted a link for Red Eye's early script draft by Carl Ellsworth on Cillian Murphy's fan forum (https://cillianforum.proboards.com/thread/4257/original-red-eye-script). The bad news is the link currenty doesn't work. The good news is one printed copy of that script still exists. If you have spare 169$ you can purchace it on e-bay (https://www.ebay.com/itm/353755359870). Another good news: some lucky fellas on the forum shared their impressions regarding the script so we have some bits and pieces of the early movie script, which is quite different from the final product. So here's what they

One more important thing to consider (it wasn't discussed on the forum) - Lisa and Jackson were meant to be older (5-10 years) than Rachel and Cillian were at the time of shooting. Especially given that Wes' first dream casting were Sean Penn and Robyn Wright (who were married at the time btw).

Lisa's backstory was different: she wasn't raped but lost her husband instead (he died). Also she had an affair with Keefe at some point. (accoriding to Cyraus)

Speaking of Keefe, he was meant to be a businessman, he only became a polititian after test screenings. (this wasn't mentioned on the forum, but you can find it out in DVD commentary and interviews maybe).

Rippner was the one to stand up to irritated passanger (Lisa didn't take part in it, I guess). (accoriding to Cyraus)

Jackson seems to be much more cruel and cold-hearted than Cillian's rendition. Users described him as narcissist and sociopath. "Also, this Script-Rippner seemed very inconsequent about his feelings for Lisa. He seems to REALLy hate her at some parts." (quote by iseebutterfly)

Jackson threatens Lisa to kill not only Joe, but her entire family. It seems like he killed her grandmother, unfortunately no context, 'cause in the movie the last part would make no sence. (according to cougarlady)

Funny enough Jackson has no tangible evidence that he can order kill anyone (unlike the movie). (according to cougarlady)

And despite this the chemistry is still present. "I love the scene where he kisses her forehead, even if just to unsettle her, but I hate that the took away this thing they had, this weird chemistry, neither of them could explain." (quote by iseebutterfly)

The early script doesn't have the lavatory scene yet. (accoriding to Cyraus)

"The part where he has her in his clutches ready to break her neck with his mouth crawling over her almost makes up for not having the lavatory scene." (quote by Cyraus)

A little bit about Jackson's name. Given his "No Lie" rule (at least when it comes to Lisa) the watchers assume it is his real name. However, Wes said in one of interviews that it is made up (to suit Lisa's father initials). A this is quite confusing tbh. Anyway the early draft suggests that Jackson's real name is... George King. And you thought Jack Rippner was bad... Although there is no consensus on whether or not "George" is his real name either. (according to Cyraus, cougarlady and iseebutterfly)

Jackson and Lisa had a dialogue where Lisa said that his is fucked. His replies are "Lisa, that language doesn't suit you." and "If you don’t look at me, you’ll get a glimpse of just how f*cked I am." There's no context unfortunately. (according to Cyraus and Cait)

The ending was different. They do not specify it. But from what we know from DVD commentary, the final fight in the Reiserts' house was Wes's idea.

P.S.: I probably missed something, so I suggest to check out the forum page yourself.

[writella]

Thoughts on Saltburn:

cc: E and Murda (@dustbunniess + @celtic-crossbow , who asked me to share once I did ♡)

Before I start, I want to say I’m only making guessing about what I think is being said so take my opinions with a grain of salt. Anyways, I already really enjoy the work on Emerald Fennell because I loved her film Promising Young Woman so I assumed I would like this one and I did! On one hand, I think I enjoyed pyw more from Fennell and from films that came out this/last year that are absurd and lust filled and make social commentary I feel like I enjoyed Poor Things more but at the same time I feel like these films are trying to do different things so you can’t compare. I was very interested in the commentary it was making about social class and capitalism, so I think that makes it intriguing on its own.

I think the most interesting part about it is that it seems that no matter how much you have, you always want more. And when that’s the case, you’re willing to give up so much of yourself or what you could be to get it. It’s sad and also shows you how vial us humans can be.

So many beautiful shots and of course I loved looking at the costumes and character designs! I was fascinated by the shots that showed multiple versions or reflected versions of Oliver. Light spoiler: there is that part near the beginning of the film when Oliver has his first breakfast at Saltburn or something where Venetia tells that story of a doppelgänger and I was wondering if that’s why Fennell decided to do shots like that because Oliver is the doppelgänger. Especially since even though he’s not like the Catton’s, in some ways he already is— greedy, prejudice, hypocritical— and he wants to be anyway and is willing to do absolutely anything to get there.

I could go on but I just have three more points for now; direct spoilers under the cut:

- Okay, now why was I more surprised about the ending then about the grave scene?? 😭 I did not except to see Barry Keoghan’s dick so many times lmao. It was creepily hilarious though and I’m happy I finally know why everyone has been dancing to this song.

- I knew he was going to do something bad and that we would be lying about something but I can’t believe he planned EVERYTHING. Like even the bike?? Omg. Also the scene at his parents house was so hard to watch plsss.

- And overall, basically everyone in this film is bad. I truly hated and felt disgusted by everyone. Maybe not Felix and Venetia… I feel so terrible that they died. They definitely deserved it the least but at the same time I also noticed that they didn’t mind their place society, knew they benefited from it, and weren’t trying to change anything. They just got lucky to be born into this kind of family where they could always fit in and not worry about wanting. I don’t know… I still feel bad for them though. Also for Farleigh. He was a fucking asshole and so terrible to Oliver even before the plot twist reveal, but ofc we cannot forget about how it’s awful the parents were so quick to throw him out. The stealing was bad but they do not understand what it’s like to not be white and rich and therefore they don’t understand the struggles Farleigh has to deal with when he’s not at Saltburn, how annoying it is to always ask for help, etc. Things like that and when Venetia said that Farleigh is more spoiled than she and Felix were was obviously dumb and crazy to say.

[cluescorner]

My bullshit summary of the Interdarshan Championship Part 1 (spoilers obv)

Nilou: Yay! I am one of the two hosts for the competition, which fits in with my character and I am naturally good at being personable! I wonder who I’ll be paired up with? Maybe Kaveh because he’s the featured 4-star or Dehya because everyone is in love with her AND that would symbolize the fact that the rainforest part of Sumeru is becoming more inclusive! There’s my partner, and it’s...oh. 

Al-Haitham: Listen this is literally my last duty before they’re finally letting me step down they said that if I agreed to do this they would let me go back to being the scribe please I am literally begging you to just let this happen I will pay you my share if you just let me chill out. 

Nilou: Oh...ok! I’ll provide the commentary and you’ll provide the akademiya-ish side of things....great...

Nilou, to the side: Can somebody please get another reporter holy shit.

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

Dehya and Candace: We are lesbians and we are on a date. 

Everyone: Yay! Will you be relevant? 

Dehya and Candace: Not particularly but we will manage to become a highlight regardless. 

Everyone: Good enough for me!

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

Announcer lady: Introducing the representatives~

Tighnari - We are fairly certain he is actively committing academic crimes but the General Mahamatra refuses to do anything about it + everyone likes him

Kaveh - The featured 4-star babygirl who is trauma dumping and is going through a really rough patch in his life. Instead of sending him to therapy or providing him with other assistance, we sent him to the same competition which has killed people before including maybe his dad. There is no way this can backfire, especially when weird ghosts are showing up. 

Layla - The closest thing we have to a normal human being, and she isn’t even human

Faruzan - Girly at this point just hire a PR rep if you want students this badly, this is getting embarrassing 

Cyno - We put a TCG card into the mix because we know it’s his special interest and we needed to give him a reason to show up

LilBiotch - His name is Hat Guy now because none of you can behave

Anyways, what was that about weird ghosts? I don’t care and neither should you! This won’t lead anywhere bad, don’t worry. Go catch a speedy butterfly. We have totally leveled the playing field by creating a challenge that directly involves biological and technological creations, this gives nobody a distinct advantage we promise. 

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

Tighnari: Wow it appears that I may have a distinct advantage. Anyways, look at this cool method for catching butterflies. I’ll give y’all a free lecture so that my new VA can show off his chops. 

Everyone: Wow we love you Tighnari and new Tighnari VA. We will sign up for your seminar that is technically not allowed to occur and you DEFINITELY should not be promoting it at an event sanctioned by the akademiya, but it’s ok. 

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

Layla: oh no! i am lost! oh no! i will go chase the butterfly! 

Dehya and Candace: We are on a date!

Layla: i have chased the butterfly onto dehya now let me catch it

Dehya with a butterfly on her hair: *Becomes even prettier*

Me: AH FUCK SORRY LAYLA YOU CAN’T TAKE IT FROM HER PLEASE 

Dehya: Oh, here you go! Anyways, people are acting suspicious. I say this as though we’ve ever seen a Sumeru where people weren’t CONSTANTLY acting suspicious. 

Layla: ok. i will probably be irrelevant to that plot line, but i appreciate the knowledge regardless. thank you dehya and candace for showing up. 

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

Dori: HEYA SOME SHADY SHIT IS GOING DOWN

Me: What no way oh darn /s 

Dori: For the low, low price of hearing about shit you don’t care about, I will give you the information!

Me: What’s the reward? 

Dori: Primogems probably. 

Me: *Sigh* You are so lucky your VA is as cool and good as they are. 

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

Kaveh and Faruzan: What do you mean there can’t be two second-place winners?

Al-Haitham: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?! GOD WHY ARE YOU ALL SO (enters old bickering couple mode with Kaveh)

Nilou: Hahaha, this is fine :-) I was totally given a fair position :-) I will go get the lots :-) Both me and Al-Haitham can be relevant and I am not being neglected in favor of him during an event where I am the featured 5-star for part of it :-) I am super glad I did this :-)

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

Announcer Lady: Wow, it seems that two of the people who won were the person focused on biology and the person focused on technology (though he basically gave up his points even after Faruzan offered them because...wait why did he do that). It seems that our competition was actually less balanced than we thought. 

Me: Yeah no shit

Announcer Lady: So our next competition will be held in the desert!

Me, looking at poor Tighnari who is gonna be going through it + Cyno and Faruzan who have both spent a good amount of time in the desert: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

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

Like 8 NPCs: OH NO THERE ARE THINGS HAPPENING ABOUT *insert dude’s name here*

Me: I literally do not care. I forget the guy’s name and I don’t even wanna look it up. I will take your rewards, though. Baizhu is right around the corner. 

[theviolenttomboy]

So yeah, it was pretty fun at the Nintendo NY store a few days ago for the direct. Not sure if I'll go to another one though, and definitely never during the summer. The store has air conditioning but all those people packed in one area? Had to find a place to be alone and cool off afterwards.

For the most part, the people were cool, though the guy recording/live-streaming behind me was kinda...eh? Guy was more preoccupied with his own video rather than anything else, considering he literally tried to demand for the volume to be lowered when the Just Dance portion popped up so that the music wouldn't demonetize him. And since he was directly behind me, he was kinda always right in my ear with his own commentary.

Still though, again, there were some cool people. Ended up temporarily buddying up with someone while waiting in line. Ha, he said he was visiting from out of state and he was super lucky when the direct was just announced the day before. And he was super excited for an excuse to visit the store. For some of the presentations he quickly explained some stuff I didn't know, and vice versa.

It really is hard not to get swept up in the excitement when you're with other people. I was hollering and cheering for the stuff I was excited for, and even for the others I couldn't help applauding.

So for the games I'm personally super hyped for? Just four really, but yeah, SUPER hyped.

Oh my god, the moment Luigi popped out of the bushes, I recognized that art style, even though it's now in 3D. I loved playing Inside Story years ago and Brothership looks absolutely beautiful. I honestly wonder who's working on it since Alphadream closed? A few employees ended up in Nintendo or Nintendo-adjacent companies, and it'd be great if they were working on this.

I wanna take you for a ride...! There used to be an arcade I went to all the time growing up but it closed down around a decade ago. I have such fond memories of that arcade. (I do not acknowledge the Dunkin' Donuts that had since replaced it) Marvel vs Capcom 2 was one of my favorite games there (along with DDR), with its music and characters and action and aaaaah I can't wait to get back to it, and really experiment with all the characters instead of just spamming my gun with Cable ^-^

I want a chibi Zelda toy so bad. Maybe a keychain at least? She's so cuuuute! And yeah, finally, her first, long overdue game. The gameplay looks super engaging! I don't know why people are bitching about her not having a sword when her primary mode of attack is to throw boulders at her enemies. And following that, the spirits of her slain. That's pretty metal.

And finally, Ace Attorney Investigations! I'm so happy I got into the AA series last year, and I can't wait to experience more! Been busy and I kept putting off watching a playthough of AAI, but yaaaaay, now I can play for myself! Probably an extra good thing that I never picked up on the fan-translated names, lol. I hope the Layton crossover makes its way too, and hopefully more from the franchise in general as well!

[concerningwolves]

This is all really good commentary, and I was going to leave my own additions in the tags but realised that, actually, I'd rather talk about this where people are more likely to see it, so:

I've been lucky so far working with agencies and with self-published authors/independent publications, but occasionally I'll see the dark shapes of all this stuff drifting past like icebergs beneath the surface and turn my metaphorical boat around.

To reiterate: I am lucky that I'm in the position to do this. I may not be so lucky for much longer.

I don't really like talking about certain fields as "oversaturated", but competition is high and so are the standards demanded by a lot of potential employers. (Some editors can find a niche and lodge themselves in it and do fairly to very well, but getting established first is difficult and getting harder). Even on LinkedIn, I'll see employers advertising for "freelance proofreaders", while listing a whole lot of extra duties that really shouldn't be the sole responsibility of a proofreader. I find this understandable (albeit disheartening/frustrating) on freelance websites like Upwork, where the people posting job offers don't always understand what different types of editing are and how they work, but from actual publishers and other businesses who publish texts? What the fuck.

A proofreader should (generally) read final proofs for lingering errors and flag up any issues with formatting/typesetting. A proofreader should not also write the copy (that's a copy-writers job!), be expected to do all the formatting, or rewrite substantial parts of the text. If a proofreader is doing any of this stuff, in the last step before publication, then the chance of errors appearing in the final product just got significantly higher. To be clear, I do believe that types of editing need to be more flexible outside of the structures of tradpub – but different editors do different jobs at different points because that's what works. Deviating from that in a tradpub or tradpub-adjacent environment can only ever have bad results for both the editor/proofreader and the public.

But the thing is, these jobs usually have lower entry requirements. The pay and workload may be shite, but if you don't need to have a bachelor's degree (or higher) and they accept equivalent experience, then it's an attractive job for anyone struggling to land consistent work. Which a lot of us are. And then once one company gets away with it, another will follow suit, and these kinds of requirements become normalised.

That said, new editors (freelance or not), please please find out if your country has some kind of editors society/institute/association. It's not a union and yearly memberships do cost, but these are hubs of training, networking, and career development. Some will not let people advertise on there for editors unless they stick to the approved rates. Most will make information on the acceptable rates for freelancers publicly available too. You're likely to be able to find advice there, or at least people in the same boat to grumble with. Off the top of my head, I know of:

The Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (UK)

The Editorial Freelancers Association (USA)

The Institute of Professional Editors Limited (Australia and New Zealand)

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[ledenews]

'Sports Buddy' Scott Nolte Honored We Watch His TV Broadcasts

He appears to be just another sports buddy. He could show up at your kid’s high school sports event, college football tailgate or backyard barbeque cornhole game, and be right in place. He seems like one of us. Which is exactly what he is. Scott Nolte has been a sportscaster for WTRF-TV 7 in Wheeling during the last four decades: the 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, and now the 2020s. Over that time, he has routinely given us our local, regional, and national sports news and features as we eat breakfast, clean up from dinner or prepare for bedtime. And it feels like he’s part of the family. He’s talking to me, talking to us. He’s one of us crazy Ohio Valley sports fans. “It’s an honor. It brings a lot of humility to the forefront,” Nolte said of being part of the Ohio Valley sports family. “Somebody is making the choice to watch me. I am so appreciative that people have accepted me into their families, their homes. “I’m proud of where I’m from and that I’m from Warwood. I’m proud of the localness of my broadcasts. I am from here. I’m proud to be from Wheeling and proud of the opportunities I’ve been given.”

As a young sports reporter, Nolte had the chance to interview and work with the late-great George Kellas, once a TV sports reporter and radio broadcaster who owned the Ohio Valley Greyhounds for several seasons. Now in his 31st year broadcasting at the Wheeling-based television station, Nolte still finds the juice every day when he goes to work. He doesn’t have to produce the spark; he just has to watch as area athletes perform great feats. He loved it so many years ago, and he still loves it today. “My job is what I love and really look forward to. How lucky am I that the field that I want to be in, I am in. And I get to do what I want to do as opposed to just going to work every day,” Nolte said. “It’s really cool. It’s an honor honestly that I go on TV and people are willing or kind enough to listen to me or welcome me into their family. Welcome me into your home every night for 30 years.” So, if you believed Nolte had a plan at an early age, maybe in high school, to be a lifelong broadcaster, you would be wrong. Nolte had no idea what he wanted to do as a sophomore at Wheeling Park High School. What he did know was he wanted to talk instead of study during study halls in one of the school’s commons. Coincidentally, that area of the high school was right across the hall from the broadcasting classroom of the late broadcasting and teaching legend Pat Clutter, a man who influenced Nolte and some of his contemporaries to enter the field. Clutter noticed Nolte, only because Nolte was disrupting his class with that beautiful, loud voice. Few would handle the situation like Pat Clutter, who didn’t close his classroom door, or give Nolte grief, or ask the study hall monitor to discipline the student. He instead offered Nolte an opportunity, an opportunity that began as a seed and grew into a lifelong career.

Nolte extensively covered a sports era that included the development of many new athletic facilities throughout the Upper Ohio Valley, and that included many conversations with Tom "Bear" Bechtel concerning the JB Chambers/I-470 Complex in Elm Grove. “Pat Clutter came across the hall and said I was so loud that I was interrupting his class!” Nolte said. “And the second thing he said was, ‘You have a great voice.’ Nolte continued, “He said, ‘I want you to go down to your counselor’s office and sign up for my class next year.’ So, I went down to my counselor and signed up for his broadcasting class my junior year. I’ve been in broadcasting ever since.” During that junior year, Nolte worked alongside Mike (Anthony) Pietranton doing play-by-play and/or color commentary on WPHP radio broadcasts of Patriots basketball games. Right then Nolte admits he, “kind of got bit by that radio play-by-play and commentary bug going with the team” on road games or during games at The Palace on the Hill. During his senior year, he began to work some weekends at Z107-FM, which switched format and programming to WEGW-FM Eagle 107 on December 27, 1989. Nolte stayed onboard and continued there while he was a student at West Liberty State College. Following that, Nolte joined WEEL-FM as operations manager; he returned to Eagle and remained with the radio station after joining WTRF. So, a lot of career moves, changing from building to building? Not at all. Actually, each career change landed Nolte in the same building, as both radio stations were housed in the WTRF building on 16th Street in Wheeling. Unlike Elvis, he seldom had to leave the building! “I have worked in that building since November 1989. Thirty-some years in that building either in radio or television,” Nolte said.

Nolte often joined former WTRF weatherman John Domenick and local DJ Jim Conners for the annual Easter Seal Telethon. With a foundation based on radio, Nolte “hadn’t done anything with TV” when he started turning the wheels toward television. He noticed Jerry Echemann, primarily a weatherman, filling in for weekend sports broadcasts. Clutter was still teaching at Wheeling Park High School at that time but was also a full-time News Director at Channel 7. Nolte contacted Clutter about the opportunity to work weekend sports since, “Pat and I were close even after I graduated high school,” Nolte said. “August (3rd or 4th) 1993 he calls me. Pat calls me. He said you start tomorrow. I will talk through a few things with you. Come in Saturday and I’ll do some things with you. Come in at 3 o’clock and I’ll sit with you. “He was showing me some of these ins and outs. He left at 4 after he said looks like you know what you’re doing.” After that first show, the phone rang, and another local sports broadcasting legend, Bob Finnegan, was on the line. Nolte was afraid what was coming following his first sports segment. Surprise. Finnegan said, ‘Great job, looks like you’re working out.’ “That’s where it started in 1993,” Nolte said, “and I’ve been there ever since. It’s hard to believe how quickly it’s gone by. “I was in the right place at the right time. Pat had confidence in me. He trusted me. He was willing to give me a chance. I’ve been lucky to have a lifelong career ever since.”

During Nolte's career, he's had the chance to report on sports at the high school, college (with Amanda Mazey), and professional levels.

Do It. Do It Well.

Consistency runs through Nolte’s life, whether professional or personal. His entire professional broadcasting career has been based in the same building; his entire personal life has been based in Warwood. Perhaps consistency runs through the DNA he and his sister Christine received from their parents, Donald and Connie Farrell Nolte. Donald, who passed away four years ago, worked for 42 years as an electrician at the Shoemaker Mine, 36 years underground, and six at the prep plant in Benwood. Donald grew up in Fulton and was graduated from Wheeling Central Catholic. Connie, meanwhile, has lived her entire life within a one-block section of Warwood Avenue in South Warwood. She has never driven a vehicle in her life, yet she still was a driver … she drove the passion for sports in her only son. While his father primarily liked football, they loved all sports together.

His entire family gathered for his OVAC Hall of Fame induction. From left to right are Lauren Fox, Lauren Nolte, Lucas Nolte, Paige Nolte, Susan Nolte, Scott, Connie Nolte (mom), Zach Nolte. The only missing family member is his stepdaughter Annie Fox. (August - 21). As an adult, Nolte has continued that Warwood green-and-white pride, living on Warwood Avenue before moving onto Maser Lane in Clearview with his second wife Susan Fox Nolte. They share six children, five of whom were at some point Warwood Redbirds. By the way, Nolte was a catcher for the Redbirds, and baseball is his true sports first love. Another consistency has crept into Nolte’s professional life, as he has served as the broadcasting instructor at Wheeling Park High School, filling a spot that long ago was held by none other than Pat Clutter. Fifteen years into it, Nolte likes the connections he can make with young people who are students during the day, athletes at night. He gets to know the human side and the athletic side, happy to see hard work pay off in the classroom and in the arena. Named Sports Director at WTRF in 1996, Nolte has brought much acclaim to the station, including honors such as Outstanding Sports Operation, Best Regularly Scheduled Sportscast, and Best Play-by-Play. In 2020 the OVAC recognized and honored Nolte for his lifelong dedication to covering teams and athletes in the conference by granting him entrance into the Hall of Fame. Of course, he appreciates the recognition, but even today Nolte is able to keep the focus on the right thing, the thing that got him into sports broadcasting in the first place. The game. “I’ve been going to games for 30-plus years, and I get paid for it. I don’t have to pay for a ticket.” This story, similar to each of his broadcasts, ultimately comes to an end. Until tomorrow, when Scott Nolte, sports buddy, returns to our homes on television to talk to me, to us. Read the full article

[seleneprince]

@thebusylilbee (For some reason I couldn't reblog that reply of yours with this post. Pity)

A following of this beautiful, reflexive reblog:

Wow, you were so expressive, so passionate, so full of rage back there. I would've feel intimidated if you have added a deep, complex explanation of your point between all that messy spit of words..

As much as I would love to give you a full and detailed explanation of why your reasoning is fucking WRONG, I know by the way you wrote your thoughts you're not the type to willingly hear arguments that go against your beliefs and you're firmly set on your own interpretation of reality, so I'll be quick with this and leave you to keep swimming in your ignorance.

From all that load of bullshit and rage filled nonsense you spit out, there was one thing you're absolutely right about it:

"Hamas WOULD not need to exist"

Damn right they don't, their mere existence is a crime. I don't know how many palestinians outside Gaza you've spoken to but I can quote what the ones I came across have said about Hamas, here some examples:

"They're the real monsters. They do nothing to protect us and just keep making everything worse"

"We weren't allowed to leave because they shoot down anyone that tried to flew the country. They don't care about our lives, just our usefulness to them"

"We can't complain, we can't speak up, if they so much sniff someone's dislike towards them...."

It's hard to translate some of them, but you get the picture. Hamas are terrorists, that much is known. They've been also opressing, humiliating, torturing, raping, displacing, robbing and imprisoning people since their creation, but they've done it in a way that only those lucky enough to escape can confess their crimes. The rest are dead. But foolish, uncultured idiots like you don't want to hear that because it's much easier to pin Israel's government as the SOLE villains of this story and buy the propaganda western media is feeding you.

"if ZIONISTS hadn't created a fascist apartheid state called Israel"

Honey, I don't know what the fuck they taught you in History class, but the "fascist apartheid" state you speak of doesn't exist. Israel was created by the United Nations as part of a plan to give both the arabs and the jews their own territory and cease the continued conflicts.

(Fun fact: The Arab League refused this idea because they didn't want the jews to have their own land, and so shortly after proclamation, five Arabs countries joined forces to attack the freshly created Israel state and invade them. Or, using that term some people in this site love, colonize them. Israel fought back, won for some dumb stroke of luck and, as a solemn "fuck you", they also took a 25% more of the territory that have been accorded)

Now, the Israel's government has clearly changed a LOT (speaking in euphemisms ofc) back from the original days where they genuinely just focused on the Israelis and right now there's really nothing good left in that corrupt, self-centred circle of men.

"zionist ideology wasn't RACIST GENOCIDAL AND INHUMANE."

The origin of the Zionism movement was born as a response to the growing anti-semitism, an actual racist genocidal and inhuman movement, that was happening all around the world. So using those particular adjectives to describe it it's ironic and fucking dumb, because they go against the very reason of its existence.

Now there are various ramifications of Zionism, such as political Zionism, liberal Zionism, religious Zionism, etc. Not all of them good obviously, but the main core of this movement was focused ONLY in protecting the Jews and their culture. I'll never understand how a government that knows the tragedy their fellows suffered even dared to inflict it on other people, but well, guess some humans don't learn from the past.

And last one, the very jewel of your whole commentary:

"You are so fucking stupid, it's incredible that you would fuckign DARE tag your braindead bullshit with a pro-palestine tag when you quite obviously know and understand NOTHING"

I dare to tag "pro palestine" because I'm with them and I'm actually defending their lives, their cause and know where they come from, unlike people like you that speak up all proudly against others and use big words you don't even know the meaning of. If you actually cared about these people, you would have done your research and find out everything about this topic. But you don't, you simply want to show your deep anger for their pain in the same way all influencers and fake activists have been doing since this started. You want to be "part of the trend".

The only one who obviously knows and understand NOTHING about this conflict is YOU, fucking uncultured and ignorant asshole. Everytime I see people like you speak up on this conflict makes my blood boil, because all of you have been blisfully blind while all the atrocities were happening but now the biased social media and tv shows and all these radical anti-semitist political figures are telling you how bad it is, you think it's time to "stand up against the unjustice".

People like you only see the surface of it plus the propaganda they shove in your throats, and not the centuries of dark history and events that have consequently lead up to this. So how about you shut the fuck and let the grown people speak about this matter?

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think the helpful Europeans on tumblr and twitter who keep advising Americans in red states to move to blue states realize that that distance between Dallas, TX and Chicago, IL is about the same as between Paris, France and Warsaw, Poland ?

I'm going to say probably not, no. Also, "just move!!!" is about as helpful as "start a revolution!!" in terms of a workable solution, which is... not at all. I have had to move a lot (a LOT) in my life, and it totally absolutely sucks even when it's somewhere you WANT to go/do! When you don't and you're being forced by external circumstances, it sucks even worse. It is expensive, exhausting, time-consuming, stressful, and generally a pain in the ass, and when you get to where you're going, you've got to transfer your voter registration, your driver's license, your utility bills, your health insurance, navigate a new administration system, find a job, resettle your life, make new friends, etc etc. It is a total absolute fucking HASSLE, and not to mention, most people who won't be able to afford so much as traveling out of state for an abortion will absolutely not be able to afford moving!

Like, I am lucky enough to be a lesbian living in a blue state (albeit a very red part of said state), so this is very unlikely to apply to me personally. But if, God forbid, a situation arose where I needed to get up and leave immediately, I would almost surely not be able to do that. I haven't been able to do it in the last three years despite vigorous trying, and the only reason that I might be able to do it now is because a) my grandmother recently died and my mom inherited some money from her estate, and b) she also has a job now when she hadn't for a while. So in my personal circumstances, if it was extremely necessary, my parents could help me get out. But that is a sheer fluke and dependent only on our own situation and, given how poor all of us have been for many years, would absolutely not have been an option before.

Besides, "just uproot your whole life because fascists run your home state!" is astoundingly tone-deaf. Due to gerrymandering and other Republican dirty tricks, a state counts as "red" if only 50.1% of the population votes for the Republican candidate; that still leaves the 49.9% who didn't and yet are subject to GOP nonsense anyway. It's like when liberals write off the entire South or see them as "deserving" it, when, like... you know how the South has been structured, built, and sustained on minority-white-conservative rule since the beginning, right? The many good people who are NOT racist Christofascist KKKlowns have been fighting for DECADES to undo some of those structural barriers and systemic injustices, and some of the keyboard warriors need to do as much work as even one day in the life of a southern community organiser or local Democrat before they shoot their mouths off about The Establishment.

Anyway, I suspect that telling someone from Poland (where abortion is likewise tightly restricted/outlawed) to "just move to France" as a solution wouldn't be particularly well-received. Plus, Europeans, or indeed any non-Americans at all, who feel like chiming in right now should restrict their commentary to "I'm sorry the Supreme Court did this" and "let me know if I can help." That goes double for all the non-American leftists who get cred points on Socialist Twitter by bashing the Democrats endlessly, and never have to live in American society, participate in it, vote in it, live with the consequences of their words, or anything else at all. The end.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[seasonofthewicth]

Rowaelin Month - Day 9

prompt: co-hosts with chemistry

extras: podcaster!rowaelin, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff!

word count: 2k

--

The podcast had originally been Lysandra’s idea.

She had deemed their regular conversations dissecting each of their dating lives too entertaining to keep to themselves and so it had begun. It hadn’t been very successful and they had only managed to wrangle a small number of subscribers, mostly consisting of their friends and reluctant family members. They’d had fun, but when Lysandra moved to the Southern Continent they hadn’t bothered to keep it up.

Then Aelin got drunk with Fenrys and his new roommate Rowan.

Her drunken self had thought it a fabulous idea to whip out her phone and hit record when Fenrys had begun to weave his story of the beautiful Asterin and her ruthless rejection, Rowan chipping in with quips that always made her cheeks feel a little warmer. That and the sparkle in his green eyes each time he looked at her.

She’d been intrigued by Rowan on day one. He was everything Aelin felt herself drawn to in one big package. Tall, handsome, tattoos, wicked sense of humour, didn’t take any shit, constantly gave her shit. She was charmed.

Until the podcast had taken off.

The inebriated episode featuring Fenrys and Rowan had landed her with a few thousand subscribers. And she had wanted to continue.

Fenrys had rejected her outright, claiming he didn’t need any more public humiliation, the Asterin story had been enough and she understood, but Rowan…

She’s not sure why she even asked Rowan. They weren’t friends, the episode they’d recorded had been the first night they met and they hadn’t spoken since but she’d laid the offer on the table anyway. Despite the fact that hearing all about Rowan Whitethorn’s dating exploits made her stomach twist.

What she knew of Rowan had told her he’d say no too. He hadn’t given her the impression of being particularly easy going, or that spending time with her in the absence of Fenrys would have been something he would consider. In fact, she’d wondered if he’d thought her desire to chat about something as frivolous as dating would be somewhat shallow or childish.

But then he’d said yes.

And so began their tradition. Every Thursday after his final class of the day and Aelin gets home from her office, she uncorks a bottle of wine and makes dinner. Rowan turns up at eight pm sharp each week, armed with a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake and his lilting and charming accent. They set themselves up at the desk in Aelin’s spare bedroom, each with a set of headphones and a microphone and they talk.

That started eight months ago.

Now they have hundreds of thousands of listeners, people who for some unknown reason like to listen to Aelin and Rowan. Aelin doesn’t get it, but here they are.

Aelin tucks her feet under her thighs and rests the arm holding her wine glass along the back of the sofa. They’ve just finished this week’s episode and she’s not ready for Rowan to leave just yet. He turns to her at the motion, a brow cocked in questioning. He looks good, very good.

The light from her TV highlights the cut of his jaw and plays off the silver strands of his hair, flopping onto his forehead. The green of his henley perfectly displays his golden skin and she’s desperately searching for glances of the swirls of ink that peek out of his neckline each time he shifts.

She thought that by spending more time with him her crush would fade. Except now she definitely has a thing for someone who has turned into one of her best friends.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, so aware by now of her moods. He knows when to wait and when to push her, when to joke and when to keep it real.

Aelin shrugs and the motion dislodges her neckline from her shoulder to part way down her arm. Rowan’s eyes dart down tracking the motion but flash back to hers once she speaks.

“I’m thinking about where we go next,” she says slowly. “I don’t know about you but I’m not dating very much recently and I wonder if I’m running out of funny dating stories.”

Rowan’s lips twitch and she uses the time before he speaks to desperately wonder what’s going on in his head. Then he moves his hand to her knee, his touch a comfort and a thrill, and her mind can only focus on that. Can only focus on how good it feels for him to touch her. She doesn’t have the capacity to worry where his head is at when his hands are on her.

“It’s not just you,” he says, on the same wavelength as her as always. “I don’t find myself on many dates anymore.”

He says it without even a whisper of shame, like he’s confident in why that is.

“I can’t tell if I’m thinking too much about the podcast,” she admits, “or if I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

He’s silent, which she usually uses as her prompt to continue, but his hand stays on her knee.

“I have an idea,” she says, shocked again as his eyes meet hers. “It won’t last forever, but I think it could give us a few episodes at least. We turn to other people. We get listeners to share their experiences, their horror stories, their life lessons, their advice, their failures. We give our comments, we compare them, we’re funny. I think it could work.”

She’s so nervous for his thoughts, his opinions matter to her, she wants his approval.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he says as a soft smile creeps onto his lips, tugging up his cheek and she wants to press her lips right there. “We can get people to submit their best stories, review them, add our own additions and commentary and we’re good for a while.”

He pauses, as though there’s more he wants to say. His hand on her knee squeezes and she craves more of his touch, wants his hand to slide higher, wants his fingers to entwine with hers.

Then he says, “I have an idea for an episode.”

She cocks her brow but he shakes his head.

“I need to think it through some more but I’ll let you know as soon as I have a more solid idea.”

It works and she’s relieved her lack of desire to date anyone who isn’t six foot four, silver haired and named Rowan Whitethorn hasn’t needed any expansion and hasn’t so far caused any major problems. Apart from the fact she finds herself getting lost when he talks, unable to respond right away because she’s too busy staring at his lips, his hands, his everything as he speaks.

She’s sure he’s probably noticed but he kindly hasn’t commented.

The idea to get content from their listeners leads her down a path she’s somewhat shocked to realise exists. She’s been trawling twitter to find their content and interacting with a lot more of their listeners and it’s led her to a small corner of twitter dedicated to her and Rowan.

She scrolls and scrolls through tweets that are convinced she and Rowan are either married, fucking or in love. Or if not yet already, they need to be. Aelin doesn’t disagree necessarily, but it’s weird to know people are thinking that, let alone tweeting it.

@/crochanqueen: Aelin’s laugh every time Rowan says something slightly amusing…. girl you’ve got it bad. He’s not that funny.

Gods, she hopes Rowan hasn’t seen these tweets. She needs to watch when she laughs.

“Next submission,” Rowan says, leaning forwards and speaking into his mic. He’s in his usual chair across from her and she has almost unlimited access to the sight of him in all his glory. No wonder it’s hard to concentrate when they record. “This guy says hi, I’ve got it bad for my best friend.”

Aelin swallows. She definitely needs to watch herself for this one.

“A tale as old as time,” she says with a breezy laugh.

“Right,” Rowan says, a tightness to his voice that wasn’t there before, before he turns back to his phone to continue reading. “We’ve known each other for a while now and we spend a lot of time together just the two of us and it’s as easy as breathing. We get along incredibly well, she makes me laugh and she makes me smile. She brightens my day.”

“Gods, this is so sweet,” she coos and Rowan gives her a tight smile. Okay, she’ll let him finish.

“She’s my best friend,” Rowan continues and Aelin bites her lip. “I want more but I don’t want to ruin what we have if she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Hm,” she says, twisting her hands on the table in front of her. She has to manage this one carefully, so as not to give too much away. “Is there any indication of whether she feels the same way?”

Rowan glances back to his phone. “He says; there are moments where I think she feels the same, there are moments where I think I could press my lips to hers and she’d kiss me back. There are moments she looks at me and it looks as though it would be impossible for her not to feel the way I do.”

“She sounds like a lucky girl,” Aelin says almost wistfully.

“You think?” Rowan asks, and she’s not sure his question makes sense.

“Don’t you?” she asks. “If they have these moments, moments where he could kiss her and she’d kiss him back, the moments where they get lost in each other's eyes, I don’t think those things can be made up.”

She ignores the way she always feels as though she catches herself in these moments with Rowan. She ignores them and plows straight on through.

“If he’s having these thoughts enough that they feel like a moment, they probably are.”

“Damn, Aelin.” Rowan smiles across the table. “Any advice for the poor guy?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” she says smoothly, “he has to tell her how he feels. Don’t waste any more time, if you’re reading her this way and she’s your best friend I think there’s very little chance you’ve got this wrong. If you’re listening to this,” she says leaning forwards so her voice is clear in the recording, “get the girl. Take a chance, tell her how you feel. Start small, ask her to go on a date.”

Rowan nods, the movement a sharp jerk but a smile plays on his lips. He looks up to her, his eyes meeting hers.

“Alright, Aelin. Go out with me. A date.”

She laughs, a bright sound, not allowing herself to jump to conclusions. “Is that what it says?”

His eyes flick back to his phone before he locks it and slides it onto the table. “It doesn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s very confused now. Is he playing with her? Has he noticed the way she feels? Surely Rowan isn’t so cruel to mock her like this.

“There’s no submission, it’s me, it’s you. Go out with me Aelin?”

Her mouth drops open.

“Go out with you? You like me?”

She’s stunned okay? Cut her a little slack.

He laughs, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “This was quite possibly not my best idea,” he says. “To go about it like this. I thought it would have worked well.”

“You’re serious?” she says, a smile creeping into her voice.

“As a heart attack.”

She pulls her headset off, needing to feel this moment just the two of them. Rowan does the same, vulnerability shining in his gorgeous, green eyes.

“Rowan,” she breathes. “I’ve been into you since day one. I thought there was no way you were interested in me.”

She stands, rising from her chair and almost floating over to him until she stands between his legs. She gently rests a hand on his shoulder as she leans down. His hands come up to her waist and pull her onto his lap.

She settles with a smile as she reaches up to cup his cheek in her palm.

“I’ll edit this out tomorrow,” is all she says before she closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, sealing it with a kiss.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay. So. Katherine Ryan. I saw her live a few days ago, and when I got home, I wrote about it briefly in this post. After that, I decided to give it a couple of days before writing in more depth, because I wanted to consider how to explain some stuff. It made me think a bunch about how I judge comedians and comedy and what elements will or won’t take away from my enjoyment of it. That’s the sort of thing that I want to write about carefully. So here’s what I’ve come up with now that I’ve had some time to think:

First of all, as I said that night, it was a really enjoyable show. It was funny. Katherine Ryan is a great performer. She’s very at ease on stage and about interacting with the audience. I’ve been lucky enough to see a few live shows in the last couple of weeks, and a couple more in the last few months, and in my mind afterwards, a lot of them were defined by their pace. The way the comedian would speed up and slow down and be loud and intense or hesitant and catching themselves as they talked. All of those things are fun. But Katherine Ryan’s performance style was pretty even overall, it felt polished and professional. You could see that she had confidence in and enthusiasm for all her jokes, she knew exactly what she was there to do. But she also had the manner of an experienced performer who knows she can get it all across easily and calmly. It was good. She’s very good at what she does.

And the jokes were good. A lot of the stories were somewhat familiar to me because I’ve read her recently released book, but she clearly knew a lot of her audience would have read her book, and she wasn’t just repeating the stories from it. She built on them, adding jokes and other elements and more of her own commentary.

The show was mainly about the last few years of her life, during which she reunited with her ex-boyfriend from high school while filming a TV show in Canada, brought him back to England, married him, had a child with him, and is now pregnant with another. Which is a hell of a lot to happen to someone in about three years. Definitely worth making the subject of a show. I’ve heard some comedians joke that it’s unfortunate when they get through the complicated process of setting up their life and then have it all in order, because while for most people this would be the time when they get to just sit back and enjoy it, a comedian who does material about their own life runs out of shit to talk about on stage. Katherine Ryan definitely does not have that problem in 2022.

Near the beginning, she told a joke about how she realizes she has kind of “let the cause down” by getting married. I put that in quotes because of course getting married isn’t really letting down feminism or whatever, she knows that and we know that, but she was joking about the perception. Her two other recorded comedy specials, both on Netflix, talked a lot about her life as a single mother. How she dated sometimes but always resisted the pressure to try to bring in a man to turn them into a “proper nuclear family”, because they didn’t need to be that, and her and her daughter were happy to navigate the world as a duo. She said in her 2022 show that she knows her previous specials were seen as inspiring to other people who lived in non-traditional family structures and hated the pressure to become more traditional… “And then I went and married a straight white man. Sorry, everyone.”

This joke worked because it wasn’t real. The the fight against it being mandatory for women to fit into a traditional family structure is a political and feminist issue, but Katherine Ryan’s personal choices about getting married are not part of that. You can marry a man and still be a feminist. No one is stopping anyone from marrying a straight white man. And she knows that, she was pretending otherwise for a joke.

She then informed us that she has not only committed the sin of marrying a straight white man, but she even went so far as to marry a conservative straight white man. A guy who likes to download right-wing conspiracy podcasts, and sometimes she hears Jordan Peterson’s voice coming from his phone. She said all this as part of the “I know, I’m such a traitor, sorry for letting down all the feminists who looked up to me when I was making it as a single mom” joke. And that felt… off. Because she’d changed the parametres. Marrying a straight white man is a politically and morally neutral choice. I mean, I guess it's technically not completely because nothing is completely morally or politically neutral, but it’s about as close to neutral as a personal choice can get. While looking at a guy who’s into right-wing conspiracies and saying “Yeah that’s fine, I can overlook that” is not quite so neutral. She’s still saying, “Sorry for letting you all down with this anti-feminist choice”, while I’ve gone from laughing at the joke to thinking… “Yeah, you kind of have done that.” I don’t love her conflating those things. Because only a caricature of an over-the-top unreasonable feminist would object to a woman marrying a straight white man just because he’s a straight white man. Adding his political views into those parametres seemed to suggest that it would also be only unreasonable over-the-top caricature feminists who’d object to marrying a man who’s into Jordan Peterson.

I kind of already knew about this. She made a couple of references in her book to her husband calling himself right-wing. Also there was one really weird sentence near the end in which she said she’s proud to call him the leader of her family. I chose, and I think I still choose, to interpret that last bit in the most charitable possible way, by thinking she calls him that because he’s the one who stays home and keeps the house in order and looks after the daughter while Katherine travels for work a lot. So in that way he kind of leads the house, I guess? I don’t know. It was just a few sentences in a whole book and I figured the fairest thing was to assume she meant something reasonable, even if that required making some leaps in my mind.

I also tried to be charitable in what I assumed from her mention that her husband called himself right-wing. That doesn’t automatically have to mean anything in particular. “Right-wing” can mean a lot of things. John Oliver has a wife who’s technically a Republican, but in that case it’s about wanting proper care for veterans, not wanting to deport all the Muslims and Mexicans. Sarah Millican has a husband who’s called himself right-wing, but he’s managed to appear on Mock the Week enough times without advocating for anything terrible that I choose to believe he’s probably one of the okay right-wing people too. Hopefully. I will judge someone by what their values are and what beliefs they hold, but the label that they put on those beliefs doesn’t tell me exactly what they are. So if the label is all that I know, I try to make charitable assumptions based on it.

So that was fine, until Katherine Ryan got up on stage and started telling us what her husband’s right-wing beliefs actually are. She did not list a deep concern that unchecked spending on public programs could lead to inflation that will ultimately put the most vulnerable in society in an even tougher spot. She listed Jordan Peterson. And I will fully admit that, as many people who know me already know, Jordan Peterson is my fucking kryptonite. I hate him with a passion, more than I hate comparable right-wing assholes, for a number of reasons that I’ve gotten into before on this blog. Mainly involving the way he specifically looks to influence teenage boys, and does influence many teenage boys that I know and care about as a coach. So I tend to see red whenever anyone talks about normalizing Jordan Peterson’s brand of traditionalist bigotry as an acceptable part of normal discourse, just because it’s baked in some fancy faux-intellectual wording. This means that I realize my especially strong hatred for anything related to Jordan Peterson may make me react more strongly than another person would to some of the stuff in Katherine Ryan’s show.

So, that’s what she told us. Her husband calls himself right-wing, downloads conspiracy podcasts, and listens to Jordan Peterson. Sometimes he asks questions like “Why do I, as a white male, have to apologize for my existence?” Katherine Ryan heard this guy say all that stuff, and found that her own values allowed her to say, “Yeah that’s all fine, I’d like to marry him.” Which is not great, but if it had stopped there, I would not be writing this post. I would have shaken my head and said, “Well shit, I don’t like that, but I’m going to try to pretend I didn’t hear it and keep enjoying Katherine Ryan for who she is.”

Shaking my head and trying to ignore it is the same thing I did at the end of her book when she said Geoff Norcott is her best friend in comedy, and the same thing I do when she makes references to her close personal friendship with Jimmy Carr (I use those words to differentiate her from the many Britcom people who work with Jimmy Carr and are friendly with him – that’s not the same as the way Katherine Ryan frequently talks publicly about what a great guy he is). It’s a fact I don’t love about Katherine Ryan that she can hear Geoff Norcott and Jimmy Carr say everything they’ve said, and still want them as friends. But I also try to be very careful about judging women based on their willingness to associate with men I don’t like, because that’s a quick way down the road to sexist double standards. So, all right, Katherine Ryan hangs out with and marries men who say shitty things. That would make me hesitate to trust someone if I knew them in real life, but I don’t know Katherine Ryan in real life and I can still enjoy her comedy just fine.

Unfortunately, the story does not stop there. The show went for a while, she told some more fun stories about her family and her life, and then things got political. She brought up her two sisters: Kerry, the cool one, and Joanne, the one no one likes. I recognized this from her book, when she said it was a joke in the family that Kerry was the fun one and Joanne was the weird one who had moved to Alberta and kept to herself (for the record, Kerry is the sister she brought into Taskmaster for a prize task once). Her book had some stories about how those two were different, how Kerry likes to go out drinking and Joanne does not – normal stuff about jokes within a family.

When she brought up them up in her live show, she contrasted them in a different way: Joanne takes COVID very seriously, and Kerry does not. And this is where the show got quite uncomfortable for my girlfriend and I, sitting there with our KN95 masks on in a room full of people where most wore no masks at all. I’d already been feeling a little uncomfortable in that room, both scared of physically catching something from all those people, and self-conscious about how at this point wearing a mask marks you out as the “not fun” person.

Katherine told us it’s a shame that the pandemic has driven so many wedges within relationships, and there’s an example in her own family, because Joanne and Kerry aren’t speaking to each other due to their wildly different views. Kerry is unvaccinated, anti-vax, anti-mask, into the conspiracies, all of that. And Joanne is on the other extreme, all bundled up in her house, wearing super reinforced masks, fully vaccinated, would take another booster tomorrow if she could, all of that.

That framing immediately hit a nerve with me because for the last couple of years, I have been very frustrated by how people label the “extremes” of responses to COVID. I have been constantly told I’m on the “extreme” end of being careful about it, and it’s not fair to expect others to be as careful as I am because not everyone is so extreme. When in my mind, I do the bare minimum. I wear a mask, took all the recommended vaccines, follow recommendations, take precautions. I hate that that’s been labeled an “extreme” position. That it’s been set up so I’m at one extreme, anti-vaxxers who think COVID is a government conspiracy are at the other extreme, and the reasonable thing to is try to meet somewhere in the middle and all understand each other.

That setup that I hate was pretty much the exact point of Katherine Ryan’s story about her sisters. It particularly got to me that part of her justification for calling Joanne “extreme” was that she’s the type of person who “would take another booster tomorrow if she could”. Because this province recently recommended that all adults get a second booster. I still haven’t booked my appointment for one, but I’ve been meaning to, and I’m going to do it. I object to the idea that following that government advice is a sign of a COVID extremist.

I am not an extreme COVID rule follower. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve been to multiple big comedy shows with lots and lots of people (and the Nish Kumar show, which was an amazing experience that for some reason took place in a venue with a capacity of 128, I enjoyed it so much but Nish can do much better and I have no idea what he was doing in a room that small). I wore a mask at all the shows, but I still went. I wear masks on public transit and in the grocery store and other public indoor spaces. I have recently gone back to coaching a full-contact sport where no one wears masks, because it’s not practical for the activity. I hang out with friends and family sometimes, and don’t wear masks in their homes. That’s my current level of caution because right now, things are fairly safe, COVID-wise. It looks like that may be on its way to changing, and if it does, I’ll change my behaviour accordingly. I think that all makes me pretty reasonable. Lots of people are more careful than I am, and I respect them for it. I acknowledge that they’re doing more to keep the community safe than I am. I don’t call them wild extremists.

But to hear Katherine Ryan tell it, the things that make Joanne extreme, comparable to anti-vax conspiracy theorists but just on the other side of the horseshoe, are: bundled up in her home, wears a super reinforced mask, would take another vaccine tomorrow if she could. So basically, in Katherine Ryan’s book, I am an extremist. Because I stay in my house when that’s the public health advice, I wear one of those reinforced masks (by which I mean KN95s, which most public health experts say you should wear if you have access to them), and I would certainly take that booster shot tomorrow if the opportunity fell in my lap. The only reason I won’t take another vaccine tomorrow is I haven’t gotten around to the admin of booking it yet.

That’s how she set up the story. It’s too bad that her two sisters can’t look past their differences about COVID and just talk to each other. She positioned herself as the reasonable centrist in the middle of those two extreme positions, understanding and giving a fair chance to them both. But the words she chose didn’t reflect that. She framed this as the story of her fun sister, and the sister no one likes. “Kerry is so much fun, and no one likes Joanne,” she said, and that had a very different connotation in the context of this story than it did in her book, where she just joked that Joanne was boring for not enjoying parties.

She then went into a segment of the show in which she defended anti-vaxxers. To be clear, she not say she was an anti-vaxxer. I don’t think Katherine Ryan is an anti-vaxxer. I assume she’s vaccinated; presumably lots of the jobs she did last year would have required it. She just said we should try to be more understanding of anti-vaxxers. Because they’re not malicious people who want to kill your grandparents. They’re mostly just nice people who don’t trust advice from the government, and we can’t blame them for that. The government has never protected the population, so it makes sense that anti-vaxxers refuse to believe that suddenly, on this one issue, the government has completely changed and now has our best interests at heart.

That last paragraph is pretty much what Katherine Ryan said; I can’t claim a word-for-word quote because my memory is not a perfect audio recorder, but she made all those points. And I am not going to write a whole thing here about why those points are wrong, because I assume anyone reading this already knows that, and if you don’t, then that’s a whole other conversation. She said it, I sat next to my very COVID-conscious girlfriend as we both winced pretty hard, and then Katherine Ryan said she recently went out drinking with her sister Kerry and it was great fun because anti-vaxxers are more fun to hang out with. “For one thing, they actually go out!” said Katherine. That one is a direct quote.

I’ve read things before by pearl-clutching Christians or whatever who write about a comedy show as: “And then the comedian made a joke about the Lord, and my family and I were there, and we had to sit there as we Christians were abused by this person in the name of so-called comedy!” I realize that my last few sentences might have sounded a bit like that, and all I can say is I don’t mean it that way. I don’t think Katherine Ryan was trying to target us COVID-conscious people, as individuals or as a group. I don’t think she wanted to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t think she was trying to indoctrinate anyone into not getting a booster shot. Comedy will always be a little uncomfortable for someone, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

But maybe I have a little bit in common with the pearl-clutching Christians, because for those few minutes of the show, I was pretty uncomfortable. I’ve spent over two years being told, sometimes by people close to me, that I’m not enough fun or I’m too extreme because I’m trying to follow health advice. It’s been hard to hear that so often. When I’ve struggled with that and many other things during the pandemic, I’ve often used British comedy to get me through. Being told those things again by one of the comedians I’ve enjoyed so much was not great. But I get that not every moment of every show has to be for me. I also realize that Katherine Ryan never asked to be part of this whole big thing that got me through a global crisis and let me project feminist expectations onto her in the process. She’s, you know, just a person.

After that, Katherine Ryan was thankfully done with the political stuff. She moved on to other topics, told some more funny stories about her life, and I enjoyed it. At the end she told some jokes about Jimmy Carr’s hairline, pretty standard stuff for Katherine Ryan. I knew going in that that’s what Katherine Ryan does. I realize my expectations for Taking A Political Stand were raised fairly high the previous weekend, when I heard Nish Kumar tell 128 people (honestly, the room was so small) that comedians who shit on minorities are not acceptable, and then shout, “Fuck you Jimmy Carr!” Not everyone is going to do that, because not everyone is Nish Kumar. Some people will talk at a reasonable volume, and their reaction to a colleague who shits on minorities is to make light entertainment jokes about his hair and teeth. And if I want enough moral high ground to condemn Katherine Ryan for that, I would have to, at the very least, never watch Catsdown again. And I really like watching Catsdown.

In the car on the way home from the show, I wasn’t sure how reasonable I was being by taking issue with some of what we heard. Katherine Ryan’s political stuff just took up lots of space in this Tumblr post, but it took up a very small percentage of the actual show. Most of the performance was fun. I look back on it overall as a great night out.

During that car ride, I wondered if I was being too judgemental about Katherine Ryan. Maybe I’m failing to check my privilege as someone who was raised in a fairly progressive home. Maybe I’d feel differently if I were raised in Sarnia, in a family with one sister who went full anti-vax conspiracy theorist, in an area where my high school boyfriend would go on to become a Jordan Peterson fan. Maybe then I’d understand that some people grow up surrounded by those people, and to them it’s normalized, so they’re not going to reject friends or siblings or romantic partners just for holding those views. Maybe I need to be more understanding.

There are a few reasons why that’s not quite right, starting with the fact that I’ve had a lot of conflict with my own brother over things like this, so my family isn’t a completely liberal bubble. But what made me really decide I was in fact being reasonable was my girlfriend. I don’t want to go too much into her personal details, but she was raised in a much less progressive home than I was, and has some serious conflicts with her siblings about differences in how to see COVID. And during the drive home from that show, she was the first one to bring up that Katherine Ryan’s political stuff made her uncomfortable.

My girlfriend was raised to believe she was supposed to marry a nice conservative man like Katherine Ryan’s husband, and she was the first to say that she didn’t like that Katherine said this guy who listens to right-wing conspiracies is a great husband. Which suggests that my discomfort with it is not just a sign of me not understanding what it’s like to be from a conservative family. You can be raised by conservatives and still grow up to understand that shit isn’t acceptable.

My girlfriend was also the first to say another thing I’d been thinking, but had been really trying not to think. She said the two brushes with politics in Katherine Ryan’s show seem to be connected, and her sympathy for anti-vaxxers may be related to listening to her husband too much. I think that may be true, but of course, it’s not a hugely feminist thought. “That woman can’t possibly have opinions of her own, she must have been influenced by the man of the house.”

But I do know that that can happen sometimes. It’s happened to people I know, and it’s happened to me. You spend enough time talking to someone who’s on one extreme side of an issue, and even if you don’t end up agreeing with them, you end up seeing their views as reasonable. You drag your personal Overton window toward them. If they’re in your life by choice, you kind of have to do that. The Overton window is for political positions that are deemed acceptable. If you’ve accepted this person into your life, then you have to consider the window of acceptability to include their views. As their views start to seem more acceptable, people who strongly oppose them start to seem more extreme. And that can lead to beliefs like: “Joanne is a COVID extremist because she wears strong masks and would take another vaccine.”

For the record, if it helps to save my feminist cred on this at all, when Russell Howard brought Jordan Peterson onto his show last year, one of my many thoughts about that was: “What does your wife with her job as a medical doctor think about you applauding this guy who’s encouraged anti-vax theories?” So it’s not just women that I think could be influenced by their spouses. Though I suppose that’s a case of Russell Howard not being influenced by his spouse, or at least I hope not, because doctors who support Jordan Peterson are much more dangerous than comedians who support Jordan Peterson.

Oh, I do have an example of me assuming a male comedian was influenced by his wife! Just thought of it now: when John Oliver talks about the terrible way members and veterans of the military get treated, I assume his wife is the reason he’s so passionate and knowledgeable about that. There, proof that it’s not a double standard. I don’t assume Katherine Ryan has been influenced by her spouse because she’s a woman and he’s a man. I assume it because sometimes people are influenced by their spouses.

Also, when Russell Howard interviewed Jordan Peterson, the thing about his wife was a secondary thought. My primary thought about other people’s reactions was: “Come on, man, Frankie Boyle raised you better than this. He would not be proud of you right now. Where did it go wrong?” So, you know, influence can come from all kinds of places. Also, I got a lot angrier at Russell Howard for actually interviewing Jordan Peterson than I did at Katherine Ryan for just letting some of his ideas exist in her house. And I have not tried to “cancel” Katherine Ryan or Russell Howard, in general or even just in my own media consumption. They are still both comedians I like. Saying that immediately made me ask if it’s fair for me to judge Katherine Ryan for deeming a Jordan Peterson fan to be marriage material, when I still like noted Jordan Peterson fan Russell Howard. My answer to that is it’s fine, because I do not wish to marry Russell Howard and have him live in my house. I relate enough to Jon Richardson to know that living with Russell Howard would go very badly for me, and Jordan Peterson is only one of the many reasons why.

Anyway. This post got a little off track at the end there. What was I talking about? Right, Katherine Ryan. Great comedian, Katherine Ryan. Funny, intelligent, talented as a writer and a performer. I don’t think I’d want to have dinner with her though. Or her sister Kerry, no matter how well Katherine sold that as the perfect dinner guest on Taskmaster. Life is complicated. I should go to bed.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

willow / fred weasley

ahhhhh the first addition to this series!! really hope you guys like it! make sure to let me know what you think, asks/reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3

evermore x hp masterlist

all fics masterlist

summary: hogwarts’ most popular playboy has made it very clear that you, his best friend, were not his type, seeing as you were crushing on him hard, you decide to take matters into your own hands

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex but not really, kissing, i think thats it but let me know if i missed anything <3

taglist: @padsfirewhisky

“life was a willow and it bent right to you wind

they count me out time and time again

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

but i come back stronger than a 90s trend”

Fred Weasley had made quite the name for himself in Hogwarts as of late. You loved the boy dearly but in simple terms he’d become something of a womaniser. It was lighthearted, for the most part, girls knew what they were getting into with Fred, it was black and white and completely unsentimental. With him, a snog was just a snog and a shag was just a shag, there was no confusion over whether or not there was something more there with Fred, there wasn’t and, you supposed, as a teenage girl that there was a certain appeal to that sort of physical transaction. Even though Fred was becoming increasingly hard to catch by himself without a random girl hanging from his arm, he was very particular about who he chose to keep as company on any given night.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed that the criteria was “anyone who isn’t Y/n”. This was made clear to you during a party in the Gryffindor common room while you were hanging out with Fred, George, Lee and Angelina. The five of you were taking up one of the comfy sofas towards the back of the crowded room, a bottle of fire whiskey was being passed between you all. Angelina had her head sleepily tucked into your shoulder, ever the lightweight, as she listened to the conversation the boys were having halfheartedly. George was sat to your right while Angelina was tucked against the arm of the chair to your left, his long arm stretched to wrap around both yours and Angelina’s shoulders. Fred sat on the right arm of the sofa with Lee slouched drunkenly beside George, it was fairly late and since the party had started pretty early after the day’s quidditch win, you were all fairly intoxicated when the dreaded topic of Fred’s gallivanting came about.

“Right, question for Fred,” Lee started, his words slightly slurred as he passed the bottle of fire whiskey to George, who took a long swig before handing the bottle to you and resting his cheek against the top of your head. You let out a small laugh, with Angelina resting on your shoulder and George close to sleep on your head you felt like the comfiest spot in the entire common room.

“Go for it, Jordan,” Fred said airily, his brown eyes glazed over as his stared at your form enveloped between George and Angelina, catching his gaze you outstretched your arm, offering him the alcohol only for him to shake his head and greet you with a soft smile, shifting his eyes back to Lee.

Lee, who always had a tendency to talk with his hands, waved his arms around nonsensically as he posed the question, “If you had to spend the rest of your life with one girl in our year who would it be? Excluding Y/n obviously.”

You sprung to life at that, disturbing Angie and George when you lurched forward to face Lee with a confused expression, “What? What do you mean excluding Y/n?”

Fred chuckled at your affronted expression and shook his head softly, “Don’t look so offended, love. He just means that you’re not really my type.”

You let out a scoff as Angie whined, sitting up with you only to wrap her arms around your middle and plop her head back down on your shoulder, muttering a druken, “Piss off, Freddie. You couldn’t get her anyway,” George snorted, obviously entertained by the whole thing while Lee looked like a child who just got caught staying up past bedtime.

“Ignoring the fact that I’m obviously way out of your league,” you started, glaring at Fred teasingly, “If I’m not your type then how come last night’s girl looked exactly like me?” You challenged raising an eyebrow. George let out a low whistle and Fred choked on air.

“She didn’t- she wasn’t-“ Fred stuttered and Angie groaned against your neck.

“Yea she did, Fredrick. She wasn’t even as gorgeous as our Y/n stop acting like a prat you’d be lucky to spend your life with her!” She ranted, glaring at him as best she could through her droopy eyelids.

“I agree with Angie, Y/n is obviously an exception because she’s simply too good for our resident fuckboy,” George added as you and Fred entered into some kind of staring contest.

Lee snatched the fire whiskey from your hand and took a quick shot, “Alright, alright calm down! Here is my professional commentary; Y/n is not included because Freddie dearest doesn’t know how to deal with feelings and, as we all know, Y/n is a whirlwind- in a good way of course- however Freddie can only think with his dick so he would only get lost in her current.”

“Oi!” Fred shouted indignantly, pouting childishly before hopping off his seat and shoved his twin away from you, he squeezed himself into the space beside you and looked at you seriously, his cheeks flushed due to, what you thought was, his intoxicated state, “You’re not included because you’re my best mate and I’ll spend the rest of my life with you anyway I just think, you know, romantically you're not my type...” That stung. The alcohol in your system wasn’t working nearly as hard as Angie’s as she was reaching across your body and smacking Fred across the chest clumsily before you could even fully digest his words.

“Fred-“ smack, “Weasley-“ smack, “You-“ smack, “Are-“ smack, “such a-“ smack, “Twat!” The slaps she delivered were weak and didn’t do much besides cause Fred to fall into a state of utter confusion, “Romantically you’re not my type,” you, George and Lee snickered at Angie’s imitation of Fred’s voice, while Fred continued to stare at Angelina with a lost expression as she went on, “So a loyal, trustworthy, considerate, girlfriend isn’t your type? Hm? Well good because just because you said that you can never ever have her because she’s mine!”

“Alright, Angie. I think it’s time for bed,” you mumbled through a laugh, she was always a combative drunk and you usually found it quite funny but you didn’t need anymore reminding that your hopeless crush really was hopeless. When you stood up you howled out a laugh when Angie hopped up behind you, still glaring at Fred she smacked your ass, slung her arm around your shoulder and slurred, “Yeah. Let’s go, sexy,” George and Lee fell into a fit of laughter as you led Angie towards the stairs.

“I love you girls!” George called through his laughter, Lee hummed in agreement.

“Love you, Georgie. Love you, Lee!” You replied.

“I love you too!” Angie shouted over you.

Fred was still lost when you disappeared up the stairs with his, very drunk, teammate, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Your stupid ’Y/n is off limits’ rule has finally caught up to you. You’ve lost her to Angie.” George chuckled and Fred shoved him halfheartedly.

“Shut up. All that this proves is that I’m no good for her.” He said, bitterly taking a swig from the bottle in his hands. It was no secret to either of the boys that Fred was head over heels for you. He would’ve followed you anywhere, however, it seemed as though every time he spoke to you the less he even knew what he was trying to say; take that night as an example. You were exactly his type. In every way. But Lee was right when he said Fred wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, whereas you seemed to hold an ocean of feelings and insights to life that Fred would actively drown in if he could.

“She likes you Fred, you know how she is when she wants something. Tell her no, she’ll only come back stronger. She’ll crack you eventually, ‘specially with Angie in her corner,” George informed his brother, reminding him of your unmatched determination.

True enough, you had always played to win and often did everything in your power to complete a challenge and come out on top. Fred wasn’t an idiot, he knew you fancied him, he fancied you too, who wouldn’t? But there were times that he’d be with you and this feeling of home would wash over him- he couldn’t risk losing you or that feeling you brought about, he’d be completely hollow. Besides, chasing girls who reminded him of you would keep him satisfied for the time being, surely. Surely not apparently.

George was right when he said you wouldn’t give up, in the last few days Fred found himself wishing you were his and he just knew you were doing things to make him crazy on purpose. You were, of course. He couldn’t deny that you were a force of nature all on your own, but wow, you were indeed a whirlwind when you acted with intention.

It had started with fleeting touches whenever you were close enough to achieve it. Gentle brushes of your fingertips against his while you walked alongside each other in the halls, quickly progressed into your hand gripping his bicep every time you spoke to him, then onto biting your lip whenever you were aware of his gaze. Ignoring the growing frustration within him only grew harder when you’d approach him, like clockwork, each night before he’d get busy with whoever it happened to be that night. You’d casually brush your hand down his arm, pull your lip between your teeth, wink and tell him to, “have fun”, and he would, purely because he’d have that image of you seared into his head the entire time.

Playing dirty was never something Fred would normally get on board with, however, the second he noticed you lapping up the attention you were receiving from one of the, admittedly handsome, Ravenclaw boys; Fred decided that you were in fact the one prize he’d cheat to win.

“Fuck this,” he’d muttered, causing his twin to raise an eyebrow at him. They’d only just sat down for breakfast yet Fred was already cursing out the day.

Ginny had heard him too, the youngest Weasley gave Fred a bored look, “What’s wrong with you?”

Fred let out an agitated huff through his nose, glaring menacingly at the tall brunette boy, who was sitting far too close to you for Fred’s liking. George’s laugh broke him out of his trance and he heard his brother snicker out a sarcastic, “So the penny’s finally dropped, has it?”

“Piss off, George,” Fred grumbled, his lips forming a scowly as the boy placed his hand on your knee under the table.

“For Merlin’s sake, Fred. Would you just ask her out already? I’m sick of you,” Ginny complained, Fred was her brother and she loved him but this? This was ridiculous.

“Rude, Gins. You better watch it or I’ll tell mum you’re misbehaving,” Fred joked, halfheartedly while Ginny raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Try it, Fred. I’ll tell her that you’re being a git and ruining her chances of having Y/n as a daughter-in-law.” Ginny threatened. Fred shook his head, determination flooding his body.

He stood from his spot hastily, and all but marched up to you and the boy who currently occupied your attention, “Oi, can I steal you for a minute, love?” Before you could even answer, you were being pulled from your seat by Fred’s strong grip on your hand.

The boy pulled you along until you were out of earshot of the Great Hall and away from the prying eyes of the nosy student body.

“Can I help you, Freddie?” You asked sweetly, too sweetly.

Fred’s hands slid against your sides before settling contently on your waist, he shook his head in disbelief as he spoke, “You’re something else, do you know that?”

Butterflies rumbled in your stomach in response to his newfound proximity and burning gaze. It took everything in you to bite back a triumphant yell as you managed a wicked grin. “What I am is exactly your type, Fred Weasley.”

“You’re bloody right you are,” he muttered, impatient desire fuelling him as he brought his lips to yours, tugging you closer by the waist and kissing you with so much desperation that you were starting to think snogging Fred Weasley wasn’t as open and shut as you’d previously thought.

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP  words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things. 

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope. 

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you. 

Patton would know. He was the first one to try. 

~*~ 

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!” 

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers. 

“How many are there?” 

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?” 

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands. 

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.” 

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes. 

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.” 

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!” 

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.” 

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.” 

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him. 

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!” 

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie. 

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.” 

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!” 

“...Right.” 

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.” 

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.” 

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?” 

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned. 

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!” 

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!” 

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…” 

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.” 

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.” 

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices. 

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them. 

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”) 

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~ 

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him. 

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled. 

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.” 

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind. 

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back. 

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.” 

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’ 

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did. 

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office. 

Then, a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in. 

“Is this a good time, Patton?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton. 

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.” 

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away. 

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.” 

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well. 

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him. 

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’. 

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever. 

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side. 

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

 ~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!” 

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?” 

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.” 

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into. 

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas. 

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again. 

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“I see you’ve finally answered.” 

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!” 

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight– 

He was crying. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!” 

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek. 

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

 ~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to– 

“Pat?” 

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–” 

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM. 

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Late for?” 

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–” 

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled. 

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!” 

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–” 

“Why would there need to be anything about me?” 

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?” 

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.” 

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view. 

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.” 

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him. 

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!” 

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter. 

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.” 

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?” 

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.” 

Patton felt his heart squeeze. 

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.” 

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off. 

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab. 

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.” 

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything. 

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.) 

To say it was a lot was an understatement. 

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone. 

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went. 

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?” 

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…” 

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–” 

“I–It’s not okay!” 

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.” 

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch. 

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…” 

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out. 

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

Janus raised a brow. 

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands. 

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.” 

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more. 

‘Incoming call: Mother’ 

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well. 

Shit. 

“I– I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patton–” 

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

 ~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk. 

“What makes you think I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!” 

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing. 

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…” 

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.” 

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up. 

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks. 

“His mother.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?” 

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...” 

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched. 

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit. 

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it. 

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton. 

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–” 

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?” 

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up. 

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs. 

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–” 

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay? 

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor. 

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.” 

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured. 

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.” 

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–” 

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.” 

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them. 

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted. 

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks. 

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder. 

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on. 

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–” 

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.” 

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly. 

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.” 

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace. 

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well. 

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~ 

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…” 

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!” 

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–” 

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed. 

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!” 

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!” 

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.” 

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!” 

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed. 

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.” 

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!” 

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!” 

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod. 

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.” 

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…” 

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter. 

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out. 

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens. 

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head. 

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’