#there's seriously so many tiny details in it that could all get their own essay

[crayonflop]

Reflection of you was me getting gaslit for 16 episodes but it’s one of my favorite dramas of the year

i just finished and i feel like i need to read someone who is smarter than me's analysis of it omfg......it's like a really hard one to say if u ENJOYED or not like it's incredible quality but in a way that's so challenging to watch like so much patience and thought is required from the viewer i can see why a lot of oomfs dropped it even tho once i got going it was easy to binge but watching it week by week might have been harder.....so much to say about the nature and consequences of revenge, forgiveness and morality in the context of personal relationships.....ep 16 when jang hyejin said with every gain there's a loss it really felt like a summary of what yoo bora was trying to convey and then like the bell ringing at the end MUCCHH to think about like i have to sit with it.....a drama i think is amazing but i would never recommend to anyone probably lmaoo

[weaverofthreads]

On the process of writing a novel...

Ok, so this began as a DM to a very dear friend who had said they were super excited to work on a novel of theirs that they'd abandoned for years, but they felt a bit lost when looking at the project again. They had "too many characters, too many intrigues" and they didn't "know how to create order" for all their ideas. They didn't know "what to keep, what to remove, what to change" and wanted to know if I had any tips.  

I began to reply in messages and then realised I needed to make a whole post out of it, so here it is! All 3k words of it. This is for you, darling! I hope it helps.

Things I found extremely helpful when planning my novel for NaNoWriMo this year, after also taking some time off from it.  

Most of this comes from Alicia Lidwina’s Four-Part article on her NaNoWriMo prep process, and setting up a writer’s notebook, for 2018. You can find the link to the first part here and I highly recommend you check out the whole series of articles for a more in-depth read. 

Content of this ‘essay’: 

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials

Project 'Stats' & Overview  

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

Things to Consider, and Important Bullet Points

Get to Know Your Characters  

Chronological Order

Tangential and Preceding Events

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, Sub Plot Ideas  

List of Locations

Scenes

Chapter Outline

NaNo Plan

Additional Notes and Tips for Writing

Ok. Let's begin.  

First of all, I'm not saying that this is the only way to write or organise a novel. It can be tackled in as many ways as there are writers in the universe. This is just the method I used to get my ideas crystallised and organised. 

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials.  

Take your preparation seriously. I bought a cheap but still nice A4 sketchbook with blank paper for maybe £2 at the local hobby store, and used it solely for the purposes of being my Novel Notebook. It doesn’t have to be a pretty, perfect, Aesthetic(TM) journal at all. Its function is to act as a route-guide through the process.  

I bought a cute sticker from Etsy and used it as the front cover design so that I liked the book and that it felt a little bit special, without being too intimidating to put a mark in. Then I left the very first page blank, and opened it to the first double page. On the left, I wrote ‘Contents’ and then moved on to the right and wrote ‘Project Stats and Overview’.  

I used a pen that was comfortable to write with, which for me was important. I’m a very tactile person, and having nice paper and pens (not necessarily fancy), made the process feel good.

Project Stats and Overview

This is the bare bones of the book, and includes details such as:

Project Working Title: (in my case it’s Weaver of Threads)

Targeted Wordcount: (to give yourself an idea of the scope, but it’s not necessary. For me it’s 50-100k)

Genre: (for me, fantasy)

Series: (will it be one book or more? For me, probably more than one, and at least two).  

Inspiration: (here you can jot down all sorts of things which inspire your world and your writing, and it can be anything. In my case, I began with “density and lore, and feeling of being grounded in a real world from LOTR and Tolkien.” And I went on to include other writers and novels in the fantasy genre, as well as elements from our own world, such as Mongolian herding communities and way of life, the history of the Persian Empire, and Renaissance Florence!).  

Project Timeline: Give yourself a structure, and be realistic. If you know you’re a slow writer who’s prone to distractions, be generous, but if you’re someone who responds well to short deadlines, tighten the time frame up a bit. I said “November 2020 - November 2021 for the whole manuscript” because I know I’m a procrastinator who gets dejected if they shoot past intense deadlines….

Editing Deadline: December 2021-January 2022. I know I can edit fairly quickly, so I made this one much shorter.  

Main Requirements Prior to Starting: What do you need to get sorted before you can get going? It could be purchasing a laptop or figuring out a magic system. In my case, it was the latter.  

What Happens in your novel?: This is not ‘what do your characters do?’, but what, in one sentence, actually happens in the book. For Fellowship of the Ring, you could say ‘a diverse group of people assemble and set off together with the goal of destroying the Ring’. LOADS more stuff actually takes place, obviously, but that’s probably the key thing that happens in that book. So, write the same thing for yours. I’m not going to tell you what happens in mine, because that would spoil it :).  

That took up the first A4 page of my writer’s notebook, and after that, I moved on to Mood and Key Imagery. 

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

On the left hand side of the page, I wrote down the words and concepts that sprang to mind when I thought of the novel itself. These were in no particular order or placement — just a random cloud of ideas in a rough column on the left hand side of the page — and they included: history, mystery, love, friendship, betrayal, nostalgic, homesick, sense of belonging, sense of place, searching, closeness, secrets… etc. etc.

Then on the right hand side, I wrote down five key words that I wanted to associate with the novel. These would form the ‘visual aesthetic’ in the background of my mind, and could be very easily expressed with a moodboard.

This same process (writing down words and creating a moodboard) could be achieved on a website like Pinterest. Take your time with it, find the right visual clues that really match the essence of your story, and create a final mood board with a limited number of panels that will be your novel’s ‘true north’ when it comes to feelings. If you're artistically inclined too, you could draw sketches of things relevant to your world too.  

While this stage is really important for solidifying the feeling and mood of the novel, don’t get stuck here and spend forever procrastinating on Pinterest or whatever. Once you’ve crystallised that ambiance, it’s time to move on. It’s also perfectly fine to come back to this at a later stage if you find yourself running out of inspiration or drifting a bit. Daydreaming, drawing, mood-board-ing are all great ways to work on your novel on days when you don’t feel like writing.

Things to Consider:

Alicia Lidwina asked herself some questions which helped me get past the ‘block’ that I’d created when thinking about the novel, and those were:

What scares me about this story? (in my case it was the scope of it - it was easy for me to get lost in over-thinking tiny details and get too overwhelmed to handle the big picture)

What will readers take away from it? (in my case, I hoped that it was a sense of friendship, people from desperate cultures finding common ground, and a sense of being grounded in a real, tangible world.

What is its selling point? (essentially, why would an agent/publisher choose yours over the next one in the pile?). Don’t be bashful about this. This is your notebook, so if you’re proud of a feature or aspect of the story, write it down. In my case, there is no ‘Big Bad come to destroy the world’, no Chosen One who is the only one who can stop it. There is an antagonist, but it’s on a personal scale, and that’s the selling point. It’s about two people going on a personal journey to uncover a lost piece of knowledge that’s arguably not all that world-changing on its own, but which means the world to them.  

What will be the three biggest issues in writing the first draft? Identify the three biggest roadblocks, and then take a bulldozer to them. For me, it was time management, getting mentally stuck, and the sheer darned effort of it becoming overwhelming!

Important Bullet Points  

These are five key facts about your novel, distilled from the sections above. They include: What’s at the heart of the story? How long is the story? What’s the narrative focus of the story? What are the maximum number of main characters? And the maximum number of supporting characters (this obviously doesn’t mean you can’t have other, less important characters too!)?  

Relationship between the two main characters is forefront

50-100k words

The novel’s focus is on the characters’ main goal (had to be more vague here so I didn't give it away)

2 main characters

3 supporting characters  

If you find you’ve got too many main characters (not necessarily a bad thing to have a lot of characters - look at A Song of Ice and Fire after all!), then figure out whose story you want to tell here. You can always write another story with other characters in a connected novel, or a sequel. You don’t have to tell everything all at the same time.  

Speaking of characters… 

…Get to Know Your Main Characters:  

Here you can write character sheets for each of your main characters and cast. There are hundreds of these templates available on the internet, asking questions like ‘how would your character react to [insert event]?’ etc. to get to know your character. If this isn’t your thing (it isn’t mine) then at least write down some useful information about them. Rough height and weight, hair, eye and skin colour, general temperament, and any other defining physical or mental traits. 

Next came the Chronological Order

This does not have to represent the final order of the novel’s structure, nor the order in which you write the manuscript, but you need to know what happened within the timeline, and when, in order to be really clear when you’re telling the story. You can write the manuscript out of order, and you can tell the story with flashbacks or in a different order, but you need to have the underlying chronology securely in place so that your writing makes sense and so that you don’t confuse yourself or the readers in the process.  

Preceding and Tangential Events

These don’t need to be in the novel itself, but it may be important to define the sequence of events that also led up to the moment where we pick up your story, and what is happening elsewhere so that you can be sure of these too. In my case, I defined the events that concerned one of the supporting characters’ lives so that I knew how and why they were at the point they are in the story. It relates directly to - and heavily influences - the events of the novel, so I needed to have this person’s history nailed down as well, even though I don't tell it all explicitly in the book (because that would be unnecessary and a bit dull).  

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, and Sub-Plot Ideas (plus writing a synopsis)

Alicia Lidwina defined the story premise helpfully with the following formula:

Story Premise = Main Character + Desire + Obstacle

Pick a different colour for each of these components, and write a short paragraph to explain them in the context of the novel. Alicia Lidwina used the following:

[Main Character] “Harry, an orphan who didn’t know that he’s a wizard, [Desire] got invited into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and wanted to live his school life to its fullest, [Obstacle] but a certain Dark Lord who killed his parents is trying to rise into powers again and kill him in revenge.

Do this for your novel, and keep it really short.  

Plot Definition: This is even shorter than that! It’s a single sentence!! It’s most closely tied to the desire of the character, and lies at the heart of the story. It’s most likely a distilled version of the ‘what happens in the story’ from the Project Stats page, so check that to see what you wrote there.  

Sub Plot Ideas  

Five bullet points (no more) for things that are happening concurrently and which are related in some way to the main story. For me, Kae and Tomas are doing their research, so that’s the main theme, but beneath that there are a few other related incidents.

Writing a Synopsis - developed out of the points in this section, and includes:

Who the main character is

What the stakes are (the story premise is your guideline)

What the main plot line is

How the MC resolves the problem in the main plot line

How the book ends.

List of Locations  

Start with the main ones and add to it as you go on. Write a little bit of information about them so that you have something to refer back to. I also drew a big old map which I found very helpful and also really fun to do.

List of Scenes

It’s very important to map out every single scene that happens in the novel. Use your timeline to help with this, but remember a scene is not necessarily a chapter. You can have more than one scene within a chapter, but try not to have too many.  

I used small post-it notes (sticky notes) and wrote down things like “M joins K’s clan at the fire and K learns about magic” and “K studies at Citadel, intro to Citadel, magic, and characters” as separate scenes. Once you’ve written down everything that is going to happen (this will take some time! Get a drink and some snacks ready, and go slow), you can stick them into your notebook in the order you’d like to tell the story. Some chapters may have just one scene, while others may have two or three. I didn’t have more than two in any of my chapters, and actually ended up splitting some scenes that I’d made too vague in this section into more chapters. It doesn’t have to be set in stone, but it will form a road map.  

Additions and Notes:  

I left a section of the Scene Outline bit of the notebook blank for things to add in as I went along. I haven’t used it yet, but I might.  

Chapter Outline

I arranged the scenes into the chapters already by sticking them in order, but you could do a chapter outline separately after this. It’s up to you. 

NaNoWriMo plan:  

I did this back in October, and wrote down the main goal for nanoprep, which was to finish the background info. Breaking that down further, I listed - magic (how does it work exactly), geography, and politics. 

After that, it was just a case of writing the 1667 words a day. *spoilers, I got distracted and didn’t do NaNo this year* . What I should have done, was break it up into chunks and write down my goals so that I had something tangible to use as a road map, and I will be doing that now for the novel as I take it up again outside of NaNo. Having check boxes and manageable goals really works for me. Find what will work for you, and if it turns out not to, adapt!

Some final pointers and tips:

Set regular goals for yourself. Whether you work by saying ‘I’ll write 1000 words a day’ or ‘I’ll write something every day’, make a structure for yourself. If you slip and miss a day, week, or month (I didn’t meet NaNo this year because I chose to work on another project instead *slaps forehead*), don’t beat yourself up. Writing is a craft and it takes a long time and a lot of discipline to master a craft.  

Your first draft does not have to be good. At all. Your first draft is just words on paper. A first draft is the block of marble taken from the quarry, and subsequent edits and reworking is the process of carving the sculpture itself. The editing that is done by the publisher or the professional you employ to edit it for you later, is the final polishing. Don’t be demoralised if the block of marble seems very rough when it first lands in your studio. That’s ok!  

Take regular breaks. Writing is hard work, and most people can’t concentrate on something successfully for longer than 55 min's, and if you’re doing that, you’re already doing really well. Personally, I’m at 15-20 on a good day. Write in little sprints of ten minutes or so, and then get up and stretch, look out the window, maybe leave the room, come back in with a fresh approach.  

Stretch your hands, and wear wrist braces when you work. Seriously. I gave myself tendinitis on my first major project, and couldn’t use either hand properly for weeks. The ones I have are these, and they allow me to work safely for much longer.  

Keep hydrated. Have a bottle of water on the desk in front of you between your arms as you type and sip it, otherwise you’ll forget. 2 litres a day is usually recommended, but know your body and drink accordingly.  

Treat yourself. Whether that’s something as simple as a decadent hot chocolate after your first chapter/chunk/sprint is done, or a new notebook or a pen or that sticker set you wanted on Etsy or literally anything nice, reward yourself for the hard work you’ve put in, with tangible things you can look at or experience and say ‘I have that because I did the work’. It’ll help with your sense of achievement, especially if the project is a long one.  

Join a local writer’s group for feedback. With the current Covid-19 chaos, this is probably not possible right now, but getting constructive feedback on your work from someone who hasn’t been cocooned in the project in the way you are, but who respects you as a writer and wants to help you grow, will be invaluable. It’s too easy to exist in a little isolated bubble and think you’re doing ok, when in reality you could be creating bad habits which will be difficult to break later. By these, I mean things like ‘filler words’ you don’t realise you use, or other pit-falls it’s easy to tumble into when you can’t see the wood for the trees…It’s intimidating, and it might take some courage to work up and do, but I promise it’ll help you grow. You don’t have to do what the people suggest, but it’s great to get outside opinions all the same.

Submit work to writing competitions. This will help with showing agents and publishers later down the line that you’re not only committed, but hopefully talented, and will help you to push yourself. Use the world of your novel for the setting, and get to know it by writing short stories on the competition’s theme set there.  

Read. Read the writers you admire, and read them ‘actively’ - figure out exactly what it is about ‘that’ sentence that made you shiver, and use the same techniques in your own work (don’t plagiarise, obviously, but if it was alliteration that made the sentence work so well, use it yourself! Perhaps it was the metre of the line? Great, now you know a rhythm that will drive a sentence forward or slow it down etc.)

Enjoy it. If you’re not enjoying what you’re doing, it’ll show in the work. Take a step back if you start floundering, and ‘interview’ yourself about why it’s not fun any more. Refer back to the sections in the notebook that helped to clarify the plot/process, and see if you’ve wandered away from them. Make yourself answer questions like: ‘What is the main reason I don’t want to do this?’ ‘What is the character’s motivation?’ ‘Should I scrap this section?’ (don’t delete it, but cut and paste it into another ‘scraps’ document, and then start afresh from the last place you were happy with. Nothing is wasted - it all goes into building the world and getting to know the characters, even if it doesn’t get explicitly told in the finished product, so don’t be afraid to do that last bit).  

Good luck!

I hope you found this helpful, and if you have any questions or things you’d like to add to this, please feel free to send me an ask here on Tumblr.

If you’re a new writer hoping to get an agent or publisher, you might also find this post on ‘talking to a published author’ helpful or interesting.

If you would like to keep up to date with my own novel’s progress, you can follow me here on Tumblr, as well as on my writing Instagram @rnpeacock

[flowerspecial]

You Are Really Talkative

JB

This would actually be a very funny mix. JB isn't the most talkative person in the world, so it's kinda like you speak for both of you. Something that JB finds absolutely adorable is that you don't really need anyone else to keep the conversation going, you can kinda just do it on your own. Genuinely JB loves to just sit next to you and ask you a simple question like ‘how was your day?’, and then just listen to you ramble on for hours about every tiny detail. It also puts JB’s heart at ease, because in social situations you don't find it difficult to talk to other people, so he doesn't have to worry about you being scared.

Mark

If you get Mark talking about the right thing, then this boy won't shut up, but for the most part he is a silent person. You on the other hand can talk for hours about any given topic. Mark finds it sweet that you can just go on and on about any given thing, and it's a good way of getting to know you because with being talkative you're also kind of an open book. Mark is happy to let you be the speaker in the relationship, he likes just standing back and letting you control the conversation. In fact it was one of the biggest things that attracted him to you, so keep going!

Jackson

Well this is a match made in heaven. Well maybe not for everyone around you, but for you two most definitely! The reason why you guys hit it off so quickly was because you just started talking about absolutely everything. It was as if you guys had known each other for years! Literally every since the first meeting you two were joined at the hip and talking for hours. If you weren't so damn cute together, everyone would be telling you two to shut up! But it was nice you know? You enjoyed having someone who you could bounce off, someone who was just as involved in the conversation as you were.

Jinyoung

So Jinyoung actually gives off this vibe that he doesn't really like overly talkative people. Jinyoung is a man who enjoys the peace and quiet, and you, well you are the complete opposite. Jinyoung will definitely see the irony that he fell for someone who talks a lot, and it will definitely take him a moment to adjust to it. The thing is though, you'll definitely know when Jinyoung is actually paying attention to you, because you can see it in his eyes when he is dazing out or not. But don't worry, I’m sure there are other aspects of your relationship where Jinyoung is happy that you are talkative ;)

Youngjae

Youngjae could listen to your voice all day. No joke, when you guys first started dating, he asked you to send him so many voice notes of anything and everything. Youngjae is definitely the type of boyfriend who prefers calling over texting, just because he knows that you can ramble more over the phone instead of over text. Youngjae doesn't even have to say anything, he just adores hearing your voice so he sits in silence while you tell him about your day. Honestly, Youngjae would love your voice so much and every time that he is sad, he will ask you to just talk to him about anything.

Bambam

Yes, yes and yes. This is practically a requirement for Bambam. Bambam needs someone who he can talk to for absolutely hours about nothing. Seriously you guys won't even know what you are on about half the time, but you check the time and three hours has passed. You and Bambam are absolutely buggers for gossiping as well, seriously you two act like you're in high school. Every piece of information that one knows the other one will know by the end of the day. Yeah, you and Bambam would be such a cute couple, but god forbid if anyone ever told one of you a secret.

Yugyeom

Yugyeom is a funny one actually, because he really bounces off how other people act. And generally speaking, Yugyeom is a rather happy go lucky kind of guy. Therefore, if you are rather talkative it would really help Yugyeom be more forward in his conversations. It's nice that he knows that you will always respond to him with a genuine answer when he talks to you. You won't just say a one word answer and want to move on, hell no, you are giving Yugyeom a 1000 word verbal essay on why you think strawberries are the superior fruit. Yugyeom enjoys the genuine communication between you two.

[nearlymanaged]

4. Remus’ Secret

It had been a couple of weeks since Sirius had come out to his friends, but Moony still hadn’t flung himself into his arms, confessing unbridled attraction. If anything, he seemed more distant now. Almost as distant as he used to get every month before Sirius, James, and Peter found out about his furry little secret. They did have quite different schedules this year that sometimes caused them to not run into each other for half a day, but Remus’ strange coldness seemed to go beyond that.

Sirius was starting to feel a little hurt, thinking that maybe Remus wasn’t as okay with him being bisexual as he claimed, so he confronted him about it one evening in the common room. It turned out to be a rather anticlimactic exchange since Remus assured him, quite convincingly, that it was completely ridiculous of Sirius to even think that. He said he was simply tired all the time since they had come back to Hogwarts and then made some stupid joke about being ready for death to take him.

This particular evening he seemed perfectly energised and happy while doing homework with Evans in the corner of the common room. Sirius was sitting in one of the prime armchairs in front of the fireplace with James and Peter, and if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with repeatedly stealing glances at Moony and Evans, he would have seen that James was doing the same thing.

“Since when is Moony such good friends with Evans?” Peter unknowingly voiced what they were all thinking when the sound of Remus and Lily’s laughter filled the room momentarily.

“Nerd solidarity, I suppose,” Sirius mumbled, watching Remus push the sleeves of his jumper up, seemingly oblivious to how unexpectedly attractive that was.

“I never realised Ancient Runes homework was that much fun,” James mumbled, pouting slightly.

“Are you jealous, Prongs?” Sirius asked, a tickled grin spreading across his face.

“Aw, he is! Prongs is jealous!” Cackled Peter.

Just then, Remus walked over to them, still beaming. “Prongs is…” He glanced back at Lily over his shoulder. “Prongs is jealous?”

“No, I’m not,” James folded his arms over his chest, which didn’t help make his statement any more convincing.

“How curious,” Remus said brightly and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Peter while Sirius draped himself across the armchair, his head hanging off the side.

“D’you know what? I’m jealous too.” He looked over at Remus with a smirk.

“That’s messed up, Sirius. Lily’s the mother of James’ future children.”

“Who said anything about Evans?” Sirius locked eyes with Remus, that same smile still playing on his lips. For a second, Black thought he saw Moony blush, but he couldn’t tell whether it was just the flickering fire light playing tricks. Moony scrunched his eyebrows and turned away to point at the notice board.

“Did you lot see that? Hogsmeade dates have been posted.”

“Yeah, first one’s in a couple of weeks.” Peter nodded. “I’ve thought about this, and I think the best thing for me to do is ask Lydia if she wants to meet up in Three Broomsticks. Then she won’t feel like she has to spend the whole day with me...but if she wanted to, she could.”

“Wormtail.” Sirius impatiently propped himself back up. “Why wouldn’t she want to spend the day with you? You need to have more confidence, mate.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, it’s not. You think it was easy for me to listen to my dear mother list all the ways in which I’m a disappointment for years?”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just saying, you can’t please everyone, but you can’t let that get to you. Lydia seems pretty interested in you, and even if it doesn’t work out in the end, well...c'est la vie,” Sirius ended his little pep talk with a shrug and Peter went back to his essay, looking slightly more bewildered than before.

“Anyway,” Remus enunciated slowly. “Perfect timing, I have just about enough chocolate to last me two weeks.”

* * *

The heavy clouds above the castle seemed to be turning a darker shade of grey every day, and the sixth years were becoming more and more stressed with every lesson. Now that Remus had positively become friends with Lily Evans, he was thanking his lucky stars for it. He strongly suspected he might have lost his mind without someone to do Ancient Runes homework with.

He also noticed that Lily didn’t mind being in James’ immediate vicinity as much anymore, and James in turn had halted his incessant hitting on her for the time being. Remus had also noticed that Sirius hadn’t been spotted snogging or asking anyone out in quite a while; in fact, it hadn’t happened once since the beginning of term. He couldn’t help but harbour a secret hope that it would go on indefinitely and then he wouldn’t have to pretend that seeing Sirius with someone else didn’t bother him.

Although realistically, he didn’t really count on that. Especially since Sirius had come out about being bisexual. That just meant that now Sirius could choose out of twice the amount of people who were more attractive than his boring old friend.

Still, Remus could not refrain from coming up with imaginary scenarios in his head, in which Sirius would ask him out or confess his feelings for him, or kiss him… Initially, completely against his own will, Remus let his hopes go up just a tiny bit (that’s when the daydreaming started in full force), so he started avoiding Padfoot as a means of self preservation. That hadn’t lasted very long though, because Sirius interpreted that as Remus having a problem with him and confronted him about it...

This particular morning, a few days before the Hogsmeade trip, saw the castle brutally whipped by ice-cold rain. It was looking like their Saturday was going to be spent sipping butterbeer indoors instead of wandering around the village.

“You’ve got jam on your face, did you know?” Sirius grabbed a napkin without missing a beat, leaned over the breakfast-laden table, and dabbed the corner of Remus’ mouth. “There you go, skip along now, my love.”

Remus, who had just announced that he needed to leave to make it to Ancient Runes on time, felt his ears go ablaze, the colour spreading to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why it startled him so much. Surely, Sirius would have done the same to either James or Peter, wouldn’t he have? That was just how he was. “Right,” Remus cleared his throat, gathering his composure. “I’ll see you lot at lunch then.”

“Wait up, Lupin!” Lily caught up with him in the middle of the entrance hall. “So I’ve noticed…” She began brightly, yet hesitantly but then trailed off. “Are...are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, what do you mean…” Remus tried to sound normal, very aware that he was still blushing. “What have you noticed?”

“Nothing. How did you get on with the Einang stone essay?”

They talked about their homework all the way to the sixth floor, but Remus couldn’t shake off the feeling that Lily was going to say something about the scene at breakfast. He wasn’t even sure that Peter and James had noticed it, but he had gathered by now that Lily was a lot more perceptive than most people. Plus, she kept giving him strange looks all throughout the Ancient Runes lesson and then it continued on the very windy grounds (it had stopped raining), during Care of Magical Creatures.

“Obviously, you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to, but...” Lily began, her voice ever so gentle, while they were making detailed sketches of fwoopers with notes about all their magical properties. “But can I ask you something personal?”

“You can ask, yes.”

“Do you like boys?”

Remus stared at her with a mixture of surprise and horror, until he felt a sharp pain in his hand - he had squeezed the little bird he was using for reference so tightly that it pecked at his flesh angrily. “Why-- Why do you ask?” He tried to sound politely surprised as he shook his hand in the air.

“Please don’t get upset with me,” Lily was gazing at him tentatively with her brow furrowed now. “I’ve noticed a while ago now, sometime last year… And then lately, since you and I... I couldn’t help it, really. I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think that no one’s watching…”

Remus felt a strange mixture of his heart sinking and feel lighter all at once. Now that someone else knew, it felt like that would make it easier to carry this secret around, somehow. He blankly stared at his half finished sketch for a moment before speaking in a low, determined voice. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“You have my word.”

“Not that it matters anyway,” he added before he could stop himself.

“How do you mean? Is it because you’ve been friends for so long?”

“Well that too, but… I mean, look at me,” he laughed out uncomfortably rather with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, I am…?”

“I’m about as exciting as Binns’ lessons, with a sweet bonus of ugly scars.”

Remus was surprised by how open he was with Lily. Curiously, it was really easy to talk to her about it. He’d shared so many secrets, confessions, and pains with his three friends, that sometimes he felt like he had maxed out, like he didn’t want to trouble them with any more of his problems. But it was different with Lily, perhaps because they were just becoming friends.

“I don’t think that about you at all, if you care to know,” she informed him, a strange spark lighting up her eyes. “I’ve grown to like you a lot lately and I can objectively say that you are tenfold better than what you seem to think about yourself.”

“You’re only saying that because you thought my friends and I were enormous pricks for years,” Remus smirked at her, feeling his heart grow to twice its size in his chest. “That’s a low bar.”

“Thought?” Lily grinned devilishly, making them both laugh. “Seriously, the more I’m getting to know you, the more I feel like maybe your friends can’t be all that awful after all. You are a beautiful person, Remus. You are!” She added when he rolled his eyes again.

“Sure, Evans.”

“I’ve heard he’s into boys too.” Lily ignored Lupin’s retort and then her face split into an excited smile.

Remus rolled his eyes once more… And yet, he couldn’t help but feel happier and lighter for the rest of the day, even when it started raining again towards the end of Cary of Magical Creatures.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 24 – 3rd Elder’s Bizarre Experience

Practice makes perfect.

Frankenstein would have thrown that in 3rd Elder’s face upon seeing the latter at work shopping for groceries, comparing products by price, details, and manufacturers before he paid the cashier.

Now the ex-elder was more than practiced; however, he was not perfect.

Partially because for the first time ever, he got to put himself against a self-checkout machine.

‘What should I do...?’

The white-haired man gulped. He could swear he did exactly what his preceding customers did, but the machine just would not let him pass on to the checkout stage.

It has been quite long since he has moved into Frankenstein’s island. With the owner of the island stuck in his lab for the majority of his time spent awake, 3rd Elder has been entrusted with getting supplies whenever needed.

Unlike before, he had plenty of time, now that he lost the title as the elder of the Union.

There were a lot of options available for him once he crosses the sea, but today he opted to visit Korea.

Among many rules Frankenstein required his consent on upon entering the island was the rule of shopping: do not consecutively visit the country or the market he has visited, lest the Union finds out what he is doing.

Which is why he was beyond bewildered to find a self-checkout machine – a modern artifact he has never seen in his previous visits.

He managed to memorize what the other customers would do, and he mimicked them accordingly, scanning each product on the small transparent surface. However, the machine simply whipped up a noise that was far from pleasant to the ears, refusing to let him actually check out.

To top it off, it was a weekend with thousands of people, and the employees were nowhere to be seen.

The 3rd Elder was sweating over his entire body, feeling how the eyes boring into his body were growing sharper and hotter, until a help arrived from someone not at all expected.

“Hey, mister!”

Yelled a little girl, making the 3rd Elder start and stare down at her.

Barely taller than his waist, a girl stuck her head out to look up into his eyes, revealing a set of teeth missing an incisor above.

“You need to put them here! Or else you can’t pay!”

She pointed towards an empty spot on the machine, her finger extremely short of a threat despite her apparent attempt at a threat.

Upon turning his eyes, 3rd Elder spotted a sign, so big and fat and obvious that he could not even fathom how in the world he missed it: Please put all your products here before check-out.

“Okay? Now be good and follow the sign!”

Her hands very proudly on her waist, the girl trotted to her mother, who was just packing her groceries at the machine right next to his.

Check-out completed so ridiculously fast, 3rd Elder’s eyes chased the girl, now far away and smaller than a dot, a feat for which he needed an effort, with the market teeming with children.

In fact, the market was teeming with more than children.

Girls and boys about to write college application essays in a year or two.

Young men and women preparing themselves for the bigger world outside lectures.

Middle-aged couples and elders.

The 3rd Elder could see a variety of age groups, which was rare considering how at the Union, whether they were agents or researchers, most employees and personnel were in their twenties and thirties, in forties at most.

Which was probably why 3rd Elder was deep into reflection – also a rare occasion – probably thanks to the fact that he has been staying away from Union.

‘If I were not part of the Union, would I be in these people’s shoes by now? Worrying about studies and job, dinner for the day, and living for tomorrow? Ordinary as hell?’

Just because the people here are not physically fighting for their lives would not mean their lives are far from fierce.

He could not feel any of the innate-slash-natural possession any Union-affiliated being would beget: razor-sharp, touch-me-if-you-dare atmosphere based on daily struggle for survival, betting on one’s own life as well as those of others, or otherworldly presence fashioned from experiments, combats, and training beyond human understanding.

And the point was that this place was full of men and women around the same age as the people of Union, which led to another reflection for the 3rd Elder.

‘My trusted, faithful followers at the Union must have had lives like these before meeting me. So if it weren’t for the Union, if it weren’t for our encounters, if it weren’t for me... Maybe they would have been happy in the ordinary world, without throwing away their lives in vain.’

Never before had he regarded his followers’ sacrifices for the sake of Union’s progress as “vain.”

But now, simply and offensively put, Union is done for.

These days he was seriously haunted by a question perhaps a bit belated: just for what had his followers thrown their lives away?

“Haa......”

He could not help sighing in the middle of the street as he exited the building, with no one’s attention on him. The passersby merely gawked at him for a second or two out of pure reflex to his sudden halt.

Which was rather odd to him as well.

Every soul at the Union would bow to him as soon as his cloak flapped in the air, but nobody was treating him with awe and distant respect, and he knew it was not simply because he was missing his elder’s cloak.

In addition to the fact that as of now he looked like a highly ordinary man, everyone was busy with themselves.

“Honey! You forgot to put socks on our baby!”

“Hey, do you mind if I copy your homework? Oh, come on! Just for one day! Be a pal and save my ass, will ya?!”

“So what’s the last item on the list, darling?”

Man or woman, young or old, everyone was occupied with their lives.

And 3rd Elder found this situation rather difficult to comprehend, for as far as he was concerned, the public’s interest on nobles has skyrocketed ever since Crombell played his mind game on the world.

Nevertheless, contrary to his knowledge, the people he was witnessing could not be less interested in nobles, Lukedonia, or non-human entities.

Not that these people would represent the entire public in the world, but at least they were too busy devoting themselves to their everyday lives.

And in their presence, 3rd Elder could feel everything he has gone through fading into tiny dust, as Union, as an elder, as a modified human.

He believed everything he had ever committed was for the sake of mankind; however, his belief was melting away as he was standing in midst of plain life so very far from body modification, wrestle against werewolves and nobles, or struggle for power to stand at the apex of the world.

Everyone was busy bustling, rustling, and being busy.

He could see how each face bore personal challenges and ordeals of life, but he could also see such things could not hinder them from fully dedicating themselves to their lives.

‘And they look happy.’

He could feel his mind growing dreamily numb in the middle of a crowd boasting the perfume of ordinariness as they weaved minute knots and ties of their ordinary lives.

And he could feel guilt.

This was not his first time ever feeling guilty, but recently his guilt has grown more dominant as his question grew.

‘What if my goal – the Union’s goal to make mankind flourish was but nothing?’

The 3rd Elder broke free from his reveries, mortified by his own thought.

And then things took a sudden flip, like a set of dominoes stroked in a flash of light.

Pow!

A boom of cacophony made everyone within 100-meters radius eject themselves from their spots, and 3rd Elder joined the others to find the source of the noise.

He could find a car entering the parking lot dangerously shaking to the side, leaving angry skid marks on the road with one of its tires burst.

There was a good chance its driver forgot the very basic rule of driving: never speed in the parking lot. Which was why everyone could feel threat for their lives just by watching the said car.

“Aack!”

“Everybody, run!”

People were making themselves scarce, looking for a safe place; meanwhile, the car with a flat tire was rushing towards a child and her mom.

And the 3rd Elder recognized the child – his little lifesaver at the self-checkout machine.

‘No...!’

Without wasting even a split second, he focused his gaze on the mother and the girl, and his eye long sealed away blinked with life.

I am about to push a pair of eggs onto the floor, and I must save them without breaking them.

Telling himself to be extra-careful, he pushed the girl and her mother to a nearby bush with his power. And he could not hesitate to find out if they were safe, for he had to stop the car as well.

Screech!

Glaring into the car that was stampede-rolling into his direction, 3rd Elder concentrated his power on the mold of metal, as if pushing the thing into a stop.

To his relief, his effort was reciprocated in a good way.

“Someone call 911!”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Are they out of their goddamn mind? This is a parking lot, for Christ’s sake!”

The voices told him the girl and her mother were safe, except for a few scratches they could not avoid.

The driver looked unscathed as well, apart from the fact that his driving record would not remain so.

‘Thank god... Oh, THANK GOD.’

The 3rd Elder had never been more grateful in his life, his shoulders and chest heaving and slouching in a huge sigh.

Once he saw things settling down, he finally took his leave.

But he could not fancy where he was headed; his legs were uncontrolled, his mind disconnected from his body.

This was the very first time he used his power for the purpose of protection, with no return on his side.

It was a bizarre experience, but it did not feel so bad.

However, such small delight did not last long.

‘What the...?’

He did not classify himself as a combatant elder.

Of course, as an elder with a one-digit number on his title, his battle competence was by no means to be underestimated. Nonetheless, his specialty was coordination of things from behind the scenes.

But that did not stop him from shaping his so-called battle instincts, as one of the top fighters in Union.

And his instinct just signaled him he had someone trailing him.

Scurrying around a dozen corners to find a place with no eyes or ears, 3rd Elder at last turned around once he made it to an empty alley, before he immediately stiffened.

“You...?!”

(next chapter)

This is personally one of my favorite chapters for this fic. Years ago, I once read an interview featuring authors of Noblesse, and they said they wanted to show how precious is the ordinary life we are born with. I don’t remember anything else from the interview, but that comment remains vivid in my head. So through this chapter I wanted to shed some light on the ordinary life in 3rd Elder’s point of view. Of course, it was a challenge writing this chapter, but it was definitely worth it. XD

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

but lately I've been feeling strange

(read on ao3)

For as long as she could remember, Dina had been able to see the future.

Okay, well, no. Not see the future. Sense the future, if you could even call it that. Or sense like, three seconds ahead. But maybe that gave it more credit than it was worth.

Whenever Dina woke up in a bad mood for no reason, which was pretty rare, bad things happened that would totally justify a bad mood. She’d told her mother this when she was younger, on the day she broke her collarbone. Her mother said that her attitude was the reason the bad things happened; believing it to be true made it true. If you’re happy all the time, her mother said, then happy things will happen to you. And ten-year-old Dina, like a moth to a flame, took to that idea.

Most days, it seemed to work. She wasn’t exactly the cheeriest person around, but no one could deny her happiness. Her father took to calling her a “little ray of sunshine” while her sister took to kicking her out of her room when she got a little too positive. She may not have had pep, but she made up for it with a genuity no one could doubt. And the days where she woke up with that sinking, gnawing feeling that something bad would happen - well, she pretended it didn’t. She had to be happy all the time, or bad things would happen. She wouldn’t bring misfortune upon herself.

Most days, it seemed to work.

One day, when she’d tried to act happy, her (former) best friend told her she was too cheery all the time. She didn’t listen, she said, only thought about herself. She wasn’t real enough. And that best friend became her former best friend.

And one night, she awoke with a jolt like she’d begun falling in her dreams, but her stomach never picked itself up again. She could hear voices in the kitchen, so in an attempt to calm her nerves, she eased out past her bedroom door just in time to hear her father whisper to his mother that he’d lost his job.

And when her mother picked her up from school, she knew a second before her mother told her that that was her last year at the school, that they were moving, and she knew that that’s what the dark feeling in her gut had been trying to tell her since she woke up.

Upon their move to Brownsville, she found she liked sports. Basketball, soccer, tennis, any team that would take her. Her advisor had suggested them as a way to burn off energy, but she wasn’t too bad at them, either. It helped that she knew exactly where every opponent was at every moment and could guess with an eerie accuracy every move they were about to make. She always felt a little...odd when playing. It didn’t feel quite right. It felt like she was doing something wrong, even though all she was doing was sending her environment.

She had a dream before her first day of school in Brownsville that at the lunch for new students, there’d be a girl sitting there with hair cropped into a pixie cut and no one to talk to. They’d be the only sophomores there at the relatively small lunch, and she’d slide across the seat from her and say…something. And sure enough, with a bright, bubbly feeling just behind her eyes, Dina’s eyes locked onto the girl from her dream at the lunch, and her feet carried her there of their own accord.

“What type of sacrifice do you think I’d need to make for a milkshake?” She said, dropping her tray down at the table and allowing her body to follow. The girl furrowed her brow.

“Like, ritual sacrifice?”

“Sure,” Dina replied. “Do you think it’d be a nice, tame, Percy Jackson-esque scraping food into a fire? Or would it require slow-roasting a freshman over a Bunsen burner?”

The girl took a bite of her sandwich - peanut butter, as far as Dina could tell. “Maybe like, that lizard in the advanced bio teacher’s room?”

“I like the way you think,” she replied. She stuck out her hand a moment later. “I’m Dina.”

Her companion took her hand in a surprisingly fine handshake, voice dropping a few notes from where it had been before. “Sydney. Or Syd.”

“Always good to know the names of your accomplices in sacrifice.”

Sydney shook her head. “You really want a milkshake, don’t you?”

“I’d kill a classroom lizard for one.”

“Seems gratuitously violent.”

“I take my milkshakes seriously.”

Syd shook her head again, incredulity taking over her features. Her nose scrunched up just a little, and Dina could suddenly see all of the freckles on her face. She’d noticed them before, but they’d all blurred together. Now, she could see each tiny dot in perfect detail. She wrenched her eyes away as Syd began to say something else. “I mean, my mom works at a diner that sells milkshakes if you want one that badly.” She backtracked, cheeks flushing a little. “But you’d probably have to, like, wait for after school?” She took another bite of the apple.

“God, it sounds perfect.”

And so she and Syd sat at a booth in her mom’s place of work, splitting a milkshake as they’d do so many times in the future. Dina didn’t know how she knew they would - it was just something she could tell. Just like she could tell that a defender was going to cut in front of her a moment before they did, she knew that she and Syd would end up right there time and time again, and just the thought of that made her smile like Syd smiled when she thought Dina wasn’t looking.

Sophomore year passed in a blur of essays and all-nighters and milkshakes, and then she and Syd were free to roam the streets of Brownsville as they pleased. Sometimes Syd’s little brother Liam joined them, and Dina secretly loved those times. She’d always been good with kids, since she seemed to know what they wanted to do or talk about, and Liam was no exception. He was a cute kid, always happy to chatter on about armor on superheroes or the benefits of mac n cheese or any other topic that interested him that day.

“Grown-ups are so boring, you know?” He said to her one day. “They just like the same thing day after day, like they have to pick one thing only. They can like lots of things! And one person, too! I think you and Syd are already getting to be like that. You spend all of your time together, just one person. It’s weird.”

Dina choked out a laugh. She was glad Syd was checking out freeze pops for them while they waited outside; Dina got the feeling she got embarrassed when Liam said stuff like that around her.

“Maybe you’re right, Liam,” she said, dropping her hand to his head. His curls always felt smooth and soft under her palm, making her weirdly nostalgic for when she used to do her hair with her mom all the time. “But wouldn’t you like to be stuck with your sister if you had to be stuck with anyone?”

“Definitely,” he said, and Dina felt her heart warm a little at his honest admission. Syd appeared a moment later and he was quickly distracted by the blue freeze pop in his hand.

She’d be lying if she said that Syd’s reaction to having Liam around, her tone of voice as she said “Goob” and her gentle hand on Liam’s back and the smile she smiled while looking down at him, didn’t have something to do with her enjoyment of their time with him.

Their time together sans Liam, though, was more than nice, too. They’d truly just started hanging out because they were the new kids, but Dina had a feeling that they would have been friends anyway. They were too close to not have some kind of innate connection.

Junior year was a harsher year in general. Even Dina’s normal happiness was tested day after day, just from the course load and social stratosphere.

Of course, there was a day when she woke up with a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she tried to mask it. Syd could tell something was wrong. After school, they walked in the direction of the supermarket, but Dina had a sudden tingle of pain run up her spine. She grabbed Syd’s arm and dragged her towards the closest bench, the heavy feeling in her stomach growing so that she wondered if she’d throw up for a moment. She could feel her arm vibrate slightly like it might when her phone was underneath it, but her phone was in her backpack. Syd followed her and sat when Dina tugged her down.

“Are you okay?” she said.

“Yeah,” Dina said. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just kind of...lightheaded...”

She trailed off as Syd’s phone began to ring. She got a sudden, unbidden mental image of a dark basement, but it was gone and forgotten as soon as she’d seen it. Sydney looked away from Dina, still frowning slightly, and swiped the call open.

“Hello?” Syd said, and suddenly Dina knew what the person on the other end would say before they said it. Her hand found Syd’s arm, trying to instill her with some kind of strength, as though she could protect her from the contents of the call.

And as Syd learned that her father had hung himself in her basement, Dina took her hand and watched as her expression shifted from neutral to panicked to shocked. Dina would learn, later, that there was no note when Mrs. Novak found him, that her best friend would have no closure whatsoever. She didn’t know how she knew Mr. Novak had even died before the caller had said it; she just knew that she had to keep her touch on Syd, to make sure she was still alive and physically okay. And when Syd hung up on the call finally and her expression shifted, Dina felt the despair reflected on her face. When Syd turned her rapidly tear-filling eyes to Dina, her own eyes become teary. She didn’t pull her in for a hug since she didn’t know if that would be the right thing. She just tried to be there and hold her hand and she cried a little bit herself. She didn’t want Syd to feel alone like Dina knew her friend felt at so many times; she wanted her to know that she was feeling similar things and that she was allowed to show her sadness. She didn’t think Syd always knew that.

That overshadowed most of everything in Junior year, but eventually, summer came and went again. It felt weird without Mr. Novak there to push puzzles on them and tell wandering jokes with no punchline, but she knew it wasn’t as weird for her as it was for Syd. Her best friend became even more withdrawn around everyone, but she took comfort in the fact that she knew when to pull her out of her shell and when to leave her in. She got Syd to dance with her on the empty streets one day as school started again, putting one foot after another and another laugh after another, and that felt pretty nice. More than nice, even. A feeling she didn’t have a word for.

She’d never had a boy be interested in her, is all. And Brad Lewis...he was interested in her and her sudden lack of braces and growing of boobs.

She’d recount it all to Syd later. In the diner, over a milkshake, of course. “And he’s all like,” in a bad imitation of a male voice, “‘who’s the new girl in town?’ And I was like, ‘shut up. It’s me, Dina.’”

“Right, this is Brad...Lewis?”

Dina shouldn’t have been surprised that Syd was skeptical. She was skeptical of most people. And she didn’t need to have her improved hearing to hear the skepticism in Syd’s tone. “Yeah,” she breathed, thinking of the night before. “He’s sort of sweet, you know?” She continued, ignoring Syd’s quirked eyebrow.

Bradley - Brad - well, he really was very sweet. Not nice, exactly, but sweet all the same. An absolute knock-out, too. She almost considered calling Syd to moon over him, but Syd had never once shown an interest in talking about boys and she doubted she’d start then.

One of her friends from her old school told her on Instagram that football boys liked it when you came to their practices. She did, one day. It wasn’t really her cup of tea - she’d given up on playing sports after sophomore year. They took too much time and the intuition was beginning to scare her a little bit - but she definitely enjoyed watching Brad run around in tight pants. He caught her eye a few times and smiled at her laughter.

She met him at his car after practice, greeting him with a kiss.

“Come to homecoming with me?” He breathed before she could even say anything about the practice.

“What?” She laughed, letting her hands rest on his chest. “That was a non sequitur.”

“I know, I know,” he mimicked her laugh. “It’s just, well, this may sound kind of dumb.”

“I’m sure it won’t.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you. And seeing you there today - well, I’ve never had someone come to my practices. And I wanted to ask you before I lost the high of seeing you there.”

Her smile grew. “Well, I’ve never been asked to homecoming before.”

“I guess it’s a night of firsts.”

“Yeah,” she said, moving to hold his head more firmly between her hands. “It is.”

She opened the backseat of his car door and fell back into it, dragging him with her. Some small voice at the back of her head, that feeling she sometimes got, said night of firsts again. She kissed him, only pulling back to whisper “of course I’ll go with you.” She could feel the curve of his smile against her mouth, and she felt it there for quite a while after Brad shut the door to his car, locking them into their own little world.

It was almost surreal to think of it the next day, sitting across from Syd at her mom’s diner, sharing a milkshake as they always did.

“And then…he asked me to homecoming,” Dina said.

She opened her mouth as though to say something, but nothing came out. She found her voice half a second later. “Wait… and you accepted?”

“No, I told him to take his washboard abs and chiseled jawline and get out of my face.” For someone who was sarcastic almost every time something came out of her mouth, it seemed to take Syd a second to process the fact that Dina meant the opposite of what she’d just said. Dina laughed, trying to force her way through the feeling that Syd’s disappointed face gave her. ”Yeah. Of course, I said yes.”

She could feel, literally feel, Syd’s eyes on her face as she looked back down. She realized why Syd was studying her so intently a moment later. “Oh my God. You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

Dina just smiled in response, another laugh building. She couldn’t seem to get the words past her lips, but Syd didn’t have the same problem.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, you gave Bradley Lewis your v-card??” Syd practically spluttered in an undertone. Which, admittedly, was exactly what she’d done, but hearing it laid so plainly out like that was a bit unsettling. She...wanted it, though, didn’t she? She liked Brad, and she liked what he did to her. But she could still feel Syd’s eyes on her face. Damn Syd for always being able to read her like an open book. She kept laughing through Syd’s questions, but eventually, something in her eyes made Dina crack.

“I really like him, okay?” She finally said. She wanted Syd to believe her. She wanted herself to believe it.

“No, yeah, sure. I get it.”

“Just give him a chance! Now, c’mon. There’s gotta be someone you sorta like. Just a little.”

She felt a response on the tip of Syd’s tongue, as though she were bursting with the fact, as though she almost planned on saying it. She could feel it, but it rolled away. Syd’s eyes, widened like a deer in the headlights, might have betrayed the answer, but Dina was distracted by the “I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, think about it,” she said firmly. “And maybe we can all go to Homecoming. Like a double date.”

When Brad slid into their booth, bringing with him an air of superiority and several kisses, she knew that Syd wasn’t happy. It didn’t take a superhero to sense it. And with whatever transpired between Syd and Bradley while Dina got ketchup, the air at the table was so stiff and dry that she couldn’t be surprised when Brad’s nose started bleeding. That was just what they needed; an injury.

Of course, she and Syd would sit at the table again. Between shallow breaths, Syd would breathe “I sort of...hadsexwithStanleyBarber?” and God, didn't that hurt. She wondered if that’s how Syd had felt, and then she realized she should have been happy for her best friend, but what she felt was mostly shock. She told herself it was because she’d fucked Stanley Barber of all people, rather than any feelings she might’ve had herself.

When the topic of Stan’s sexual prowess (or lack thereof - Syd was never a great liar) exhausted itself, Dina frowned down at her phone.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just - it’s just Brad. We were going to go to the party tonight, but he’s not sure if he’s feeling up to it. With his ankle and all.”

“Oh, well, we, um, we could go? Together?” Dina looked up for her phone, locking eyes with Syd. “If you still wanted to go, you know. I know you were...looking forward to it.”

Dina finally shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Syd finally allowed herself to smile. “Great. Cool.”

It seemed like the next thing she knew, she and Syd were at the party. Brad had been in a terrible mood, bitching about every little thing all day. She told herself he was worth it, a bad mood and all, but it was honestly nice to be at a party with Syd. Just to have some...friend time. Gals being pals. They hadn’t hung out just the two of them in too long, even if Syd had brushed it off earlier in the day.

And, when doing her makeup, she knew she didn’t imagine the hitch in Syd’s breath as she applied the cherry chapstick to her lips.

Weirdness with Stan aside, she was having a fantastic time. Syd seemed to actually be happy, which was a feat those days, and the drink in her hand was starting to numb her mind and make her fingertips tingly in a pleasant way. Their chat on the couch with drinks in hand was awkward enough that Syd didn’t seem to mind when Dina pulled her away to the dance floor.

“This is my favorite,” she’d said by way of an explanation and apology for Stan. Although discomfort practically radiated off of Syd when Dina stopped them in the middle of the crowd, she didn’t object.

“C’mon,” she said, basically shouting over the noise. Syd laughed, and Dina would’ve been surprised that she could hear her laughter over the music, but she’d realized before that she could always hear what Syd did, so she didn’t waste too much time dwelling on it. Syd just shook her head and laughed. Dina could feel Syd’s pulse in her fingertips as she grabbed lightly at her wrists.

She couldn’t seem to stop laughing, and the funny faces Dina was making as she got into the music certainly didn’t help. But eventually, persuaded by the music and her best friend, Syd acquiesced and shuffled a bit, which Dina figured was probably the most she’d get.

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol muddling her brain, but as Sydney started to move more, she found her eyes tracing her every move. They both moved close together, ignoring the ways that one was supposed to dance at a party. With a jolt, Dina realized they were much closer than everyone else. If she’d tried, she could easily pull Syd flush against her body. But of course, she didn’t. Syd’s breath blew across her chin in short, warm puffs. Dina could see the peaks of goosebumps on Syd’s arms even though the room was sweltering.

The music stopped, but they stood together for a moment, breathing in the same breath.

And then, of fucking course, Brad arrived. Of course he was the source of the music discontinuing. She was torn between annoyance and fondness at the sight of him; one part of her wanted to go back to the moment before, but the other was desperately glad he was there.

(She might’ve been afraid to go back to that feeling of dancing with Sydney rather than actually being glad to go back to Brad, but she pushed the thought away.)

He was angry. Unbelievably angry, and for what she didn’t know. He dragged her away - well, he didn’t exactly drag her away. He sunk his claws into the air around her and tugged, bringing any of the high of before and the flush of alcohol away from her. So she followed as though she were a puppy on a leash, leaving Syd behind with a heavy heart.

He was so goddamn angry she was half surprised he didn’t hit her. He only hit the wall, but that seemed to hurt, and he was “already injured enough.” Brad, his voice low and steady like it had been when he’d breathed out an invitation to homecoming, asked for his jacket back. Dina’s eyes found the moose on the ceiling just as he asked, but her eyes snapped back on him.

His voice had been just as low, but it held none of the affection, none of the gentle tone.

“Fine,” she said, managing to keep her voice cool even as her eyes welled with tears. The jacket slipped off her shoulders easily, and he snatched it from her hands as though disgusted by the thought of touching her. Only when he was gone, the door slammed behind him, did she allow herself fall back onto the bed and let the tears fall past her eyelashes.

She could tell it was Sydney as soon as the door peeked open. Her breaths were shallower than anyone else she’d met, but surprisingly steady considering the circumstances. One quick glance to her right, even with tear-filled eyes, confirmed that it was Syd. She had a gentle way of moving that made quiet little sounds across the carpet. Every nerve in her body seemed to recognize the moment that Syd’s body came in contact with the mattress. Heat radiated from her thighs and shoulder, comforting and unprecedented. She must have put her sweatshirt back on.

“Hey,” Syd whispered, her voice catching on nothing in particular.

Dina didn’t remove her eyes from the ceiling. She sniffed.

“You’re crying because...there’s a dead animal hanging over your head?”

She’d honestly begun to tune out the taxidermy moose, but she wasn’t quite ready for one of Syd’s jokes.

“Hey, talk to me,” she whispered. Dina felt the barest shift of Syd’s forearm closer to hers. “What happened?”

Music pounded from the main party, echoing in Dina’s head like a dull headache. She sniffed, lifting her shoulders in a half shrug. She hated how her voice still wobbled. “It’s just Brad,” she finally said, not moving her eyes from their point on the ceiling. “We got in this - this huge fight, I honestly don’t even know what it was about.”

Syd’s face was tilted on its side, angled closer to hers. When she spoke, Dina could feel her breath against her tearstained cheek. “That happens with me and my mom a lot.”

She sounded almost - almost eager. Like she was excited that she could finally try and help Dina rather than the other way around. Like she was glad that she could relate to whatever Dina was feeling. The thought made something bloom in her stomach. She swallowed harshly against the feeling. She could tell that Syd’s eyes were at the corner of her jawline and the bob of her throat before they turned back to the ceiling.

“And then he-” her voice broke. “He asked me for his jacket back.” She angled her head towards Syd, the movement making the pillow crinkle under her. Syd did the same and met her eye barely a second later.

Dina turned onto her side, far past the point of caring about her hair or makeup, and cradled the pillow between her head and arm without breaking that eye contact. Syd mirrored her, lowering herself so that they were face-to-face, barely any space between them. Warm breath blew onto her own lips. “Well, look on the bright side. At least you won’t have to wear that hideous jacket ever again.”

The corners of her lips quirked up a bit at Syd’s joke, some kind of squeaky laugh escaping her throat, and Syd’s followed suit.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.”

She felt very lips curl into a smile. “I wanna be stuck with you,” Dina admitted, her voice low and catching on the unshed tears making a home in her throat. Syd’s mouth mirrored her own.

Dina knew it was coming a moment before it did. She didn’t know how she knew, just like she didn’t know how she knew anything else. But she didn’t pull away or sit up. She was content to wait for it to happen, to monitor the shift in Syd’s expression and to get distracted by the warm chestnut color of her eyes. She’d never noticed that color before. She had thought they were brown like her own, but they were warmer, a little more golden. Her smile deepened, muscles in her face pulling tight.

Syd’s breath hitched a bit, but she was still smiling, even as her head jerked up almost involuntarily as though she’d moved innately. Then Syd leaned over with the support of one arm braced across the bed and pressed her lips to Dina’s. The sudden, warm pressure of them set a contrast in Dina’s brain, like a flint against a stone. The sudden fire in her brain almost got her to reciprocate. She had not sensed before that she would have wanted to reciprocate. Some new, sudden part of her wanted to do more than smile against Syd’s lips; it wanted her to move, to part her lips and keep kissing her, kiss her back, to press Syd against the cushions like Brad had done to her not so long ago. But that sudden part of her brain scared her. She pulled back, instead, and sat up. Her drinks had muddled her head; she knew she was still dating Brad, even though they’d fought. It was...wrong, wasn’t it? To want to kiss her best friend? Especially when dating golden boy Bradley Lewis.

“Syd, we’re just drunk,” she said, her voice too loud for the eerie silence of the room. Syd sat up as well. Even with the drinks and the low light, Dina could see every freckle on Syd’s cheeks.

“Oh, yeah,” Syd said, her cheeks rapidly flushing. Her voice had pitched upwards, an expression Dina couldn’t decipher on her face. “Sure, I didn’t mean, um.”

Panic flaring in her gut, Dina attempted to keep it out of her voice “Um, it’s just not-”

Syd sat for another moment before she was all motion. Dina could swear she felt the ground vibrate for a moment as Syd stood.”Yeah, no, totally, it’s fine! It’s fine, really, I’m just, I’m, uh,” it was almost painful watching Syd try to come up with an excuse. She gestured vaguely outdoors. “I’m just, uh, getting a ride home with Stan, so, um.”

“Okay?” Dina said, trying to clear her own head with a shake, but Syd was out the door with a shaky smile. It began to close behind her. “Wait, Syd-” but she was already gone, and the unsteady ground went with her.

When she walked out of Chem class on Monday, tracing the same unsteady ground as before that it seemed like only she could feel, she felt the heavy weight of Brad’s jacket once again around her shoulders. She’d almost forgotten about it all morning, even though a few of her sort-of friends had commented on it by her locker in the morning. The only thought she was really capable of thinking was of how the floor had seemed unsteady as Syd rushed out. She’d felt it; she was sure of it. As sure of it as she was sure that Syd was carefully pulling her glances away from Dina. She traced the feeling of the unsteadiness, like the world’s worst earthquake, into the girl’s bathroom.

Knocking on the only occupied stall door, Dina prayed that it really was Syd and not some random freshman. That would be awkward.

“Syd? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. Her voice was pulled tight.

“Well, look, I wanted to. Um, to talk to you?”

“...Okay?”

“Uh. Brad and I talked. He gave me his jacket back.”

“That’s...nice.”

It was clearly sarcastic, but Dina didn’t really care. She had something else on her mind.

“Look, about the party…”

“Dina, it’s fine,” Syd replied. Dina could see her feet angled awkwardly under the stall door. She frowned.

“So...we’re cool?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“Okay,” she said. She almost turned to go, but at the last moment she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tampon. She slid it under the stall door, bright against the plain and gross tile of the bathroom. “Feel better.”

She could’ve sworn she heard Syd laugh, a slight exhalation of nervous energy she’d held inside of her up until she finally let it out. Dina smiled a little as she left.

In detention, when Stan and Syd approached her - or pulled her away from Brad, quite rudely, too - she knew they weren’t telling the truth. They were each forcing the words about their “sexcapade” out of their lips like it was something foul to think about (which it, admittedly, was).

In fact, as she’d been pushed against the wall by Brad, she could’ve sworn she felt something low in her gut just before they came to get her. Something like the bottoming out of your stomach when you drop a glass of water and know it’s going to collide with a harsh tile floor, but distant and larger. That lingering feeling was part of why she pulled away at all; nothing would’ve been able pull her away if she’d really been into it.

Stan’s plan was, admittedly, ridiculous. But so was the whole, faux-honest situation. She was preparing to have to pull some sort of save, and as her ears picked up a faraway clacking of dress shoes on tile, she poised herself to sneak down the hallway. Summoning several years of former ballet classes that she’d quit when the hobby had become too time-intensive, she tiptoed down the hallway, praying to every deity she could for the principal to not hear her. It came in handy; she made a crashing noise just before he could reach the door.

It was odd to feel victorious when the deed was done. But she did. She felt...victorious. Like she’d done something, stupid as it was. And so she said “oh, fine,” to Stan and Syd’s offer of a joint. With smoke curling around her fingers like a fond snake, she found it difficult to worry about much of anything. She was high on victory and about one-twelfth of a joint, and she was happy with that.

When Syd and Stan had dispersed, for the bathroom and fuck knows where, respectively, Dina rested her head back against the lockers and took a deep breath. She could hear, distantly, low voices. Panicked, really. But resigned. Syd’s voice mingled with Jenny’s and Brad’s. She grimaced, resigning herself to retrieval duty.

Syd was really much more loyal than anyone gave her credit for. She barely hesitated before telling Dina everything about Brad’s betrayal. She’d expected fury to overtake her, or overwhelming sorrow, or something. And she surely felt angry, and maybe a little sad. But mostly she felt like her relationship with Brad was fated to end with him not caring about her and doing something insensitive.

Somehow, seeing the library in ruins made her even angrier than Brad cheating on her had. Even though she’d known something bad had happened completely unrelated to Stanley Barber ever 69ing, the extent of the damage made something harsh and angry rise in her throat so that she thought she might choke. It might’ve been the sudden knowledge that she and Syd weren’t really best friends anymore win the way that they should be, just like her former best friend had once told her. She’d been too self-involved, or maybe Syd had been too self-involved. It just hurt to know that Syd couldn’t bother to tell her the truth. Went out of her way to tell lies with the help of Stanley Barber.

“What happened, Syd?” she demanded the next day, pulling to a stop in front of the bench where Syd sat. She’d been scribbling away in something but looked up as soon as Dina started to speak.

“What?”

“I saw the library. I’m not stupid. What really happened?”

It almost seemed to pain Syd - she choked for a moment. “I can’t tell you?”

Dina just looked at her for a long moment. “You asked me to help you steal something and you can’t even tell me?”

“...Yes.”

She knew Syd could read her like an open book, so she didn’t try to explain her feelings. She just turned and walked away. But before she fully could, she turned on her heel again.

“We’re best friends, Syd. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. Best friends talk. They’re supposed to tell each other everything. But we don’t! We haven’t spoken about anything. We don’t tell each other anything. I just - you should be able to tell me.”

Syd swallowed hard. She looked down at the book in her lap. “I know. I’m sorry. I just - I can’t. I can’t tell you.”

Dina’s eyes roved over Sydney’s face. She nodded after a moment, a small, exasperated sigh leaving her. “Right.” And she finally turned on her heel in favor of heading to class.

Syd shouted after her, but she pretended she hadn’t heard.

She never could keep a grudge against Syd, though. And Syd knew it.

So she shouldn’t have been surprised when she turned up outside of Syd’s house in time for homecoming, as planned. She was weak for Syd. But she did have to blink in surprise as Liam opened the door.

“Ah, Dina,” he said. “Come in, come in. Syd is still getting ready. Girls, you know?”

“I...do know, yes,” Dina said, fighting back a smile. The kid had always been able to make her smile, she’d give him that.

He was in rare form, talking on and on. He’d gotten into a fight, apparently, which made Dina’s lips tug downwards, but he wasted no time in assuring her that he was happy with the outcome as his (very tall) crush was now interested in him. She just nodded through his commentary, sending half-hearted glances up the stairs. When she finally saw Syd coming down, she thought her heart might stop for a moment.

She wasn’t sure if it was the dress or the necklace or the sudden flare of confidence that filled her like a balloon, but Syd looked beautiful. Dina had always known that her best friend was pretty, and what was more, she knew that she was pretty inside. Which sounded a little creepy and either serial-killer-esque or like a Hallmark card. But whatever it was, she was painfully reminded of that feeling that twirled inside of her stomach and refused to stop, that warmth growing in her chest, and her darkening cheeks.

She smiled at Syd, and Syd smiled back.

And later, when she and Syd swayed together on the dance floor, she could’ve sworn that another kiss was coming. She wanted another one. Dina desperately wanted another kiss, which was a little terrifying and a little thrilling at the same time.

“You know, that kiss at the party…”

Syd’s brow furrowed preemptively, as though she anticipated something bad.

“I didn’t...dislike it.”

And slowly, ever so slowly, Syd appeared to let herself hope. That same confidence she had standing on her stairs came back, filling her up. “Yeah?” She said, words slipping out between a rapidly growing grin.

Dina smiled back. “Yeah.”

She thought there was another kiss coming, but before there could be she heard (felt?) distant footsteps. They had the same pattern she’d heard stomp away at the party - Brad’s gait had become somewhat unique with his injury. Turning to watch homecoming king and queen be announced, she could only swallow the sudden crop of anxiousness that exploded in her stomach. He couldn’t do anything then, right? Right.

Oh, how wrong she was.

And just a moment before it happened, she felt a pressure bomb tick. It was that horrible moment before glass makes contact with a tile floor when you know that a crash is going to happen but can do nothing to stop it. Like that feeling at the diner, when Brad’s nose started bleeding, but five times closer and a thousand times more powerful. She saw the moment in painful detail. Brad’s hand coming too close to his body, his eyes a little more bloodshot than a moment before, his lips parting where the microphone began to hide them. A curve of glass the second it reached the floor, destruction when it was nothing but beauty, eerily reminiscent of Stanley Barber’s body hitting the polished gym floor. Thunder before lighting.

Still, in her ears, she could hear the vitriol he’d spat. Kissing my girlfriend. As though he knew anything about Syd, about her, about them. As though he deserved a tenth of what Dina ever gave him. She could hear Syd’s tiny, soft sniffle. Dina’s own thousand thoughts praying for some teacher to intervene. Syd’s confidence leaching out of her, sucked away in a second, no smile in sight. She could almost hear her embarrassment, her anger, her sadness. Her hatred of Brad for taking over everything else at that moment, and Dina had to admit that she felt the same way.

She sensed it, just as she had been able to for years.

She heard, right in front of her, Brad’s head explode just before it really did.

(A minute later, her only thought would be of Syd. Where did she go? Was she okay? What did she think happened? Maybe she and Stan would try to find out together. She had a feeling that they would.)

But right then, all she could do was press her hand to her mouth and try to ignore the warm feeling of blood on her skin. She didn’t believe what she saw; she thought her brain had made it up.

A minute passed, and Brad still had no head, and blood was seeping her dress and pooling on the polished floor, a liquified version of broken glass reflecting the fluorescent lights of the gym.

For the first time, Dina really fucking wished she could see the future. Sense it. Sense even a few seconds forward, past the overwhelming overload of activity in the gym - feet against floors, screaming, all kinds of emotions hanging in the air but mostly terror and horror.

She lifted her head, just slightly, and locked eyes with Stanley Barber. He cocked his head to the side, and she stared back.

They had something to do, right?

[captaincharpen]

Movie Optimus and Megatron are actually really deep guys, seriously

You know what, screw it, I’m dropping all of my thoughts on why I think Bayverse Optimus and Megatron are tragically underrated here. So buckle up kids, here we go

So everyone seems to think that the Optimus Prime and Megatron of Michael Bay’s movie series are either terribly shallow husks of their classic characterizations at best, or atrocious bastardizations of sacred childhood icons at worst.

However I, an intellectual, have unwisely spent several hours of my life poring over every detail of them to come to the conclusion that there’s actually a lot going on with them. So I’m going to drag you, kicking and screaming, into my head and break down exactly what makes these two tick. Starting with Megatron.

Now most people see this guy and think “generic movie bad guy. Makes evil plan, screws up evil plan, slinks away to return in sequel with a more messed up face”. But this Megatron actually has so much going on for him that I think he could almost be seen as a would-be hero in his own way.

While starting a war that effectively killed his planet does dock him quite a few sympathy points, one thing that can’t be denied is that he truly cared about Cybertron when all’s said and done.

While his plots to destroy Earth to restore Cybertron can easily come off as bog-standard bad guy scheming, looking at it from his perspective, he’s fought for centuries to reform his home for, what he thinks, is the greater good. And now that he’s done so much damage to it for that goal, he’s determined to fix it, no matter what it takes.

That’s why he risked stranding himself on an alien planet to find the Allspark when, arguably, it would’ve been easier to simply press on with the war he was winning and find another planet to colonize when the dust settled. It’s also why, no matter how many times he’s left for dead or forced to work with people who’s ideals he’d normally hate, he still chases every chance to restore life to Cybertron anyway. Because that genuinely is the most important thing to him, and he’s perfectly willing to give his life as many times as necessary to save it

And even though his negligence of human life seems terrible from our perspective, in his eyes it’s a necessary evil to sacrifice a bunch of tiny aliens to finally bring his home back from the brink of a death that he’s effectively responsible for. Of course that doesn’t make it okay, but it’s not like he’s a cackling villain who wants to screw over humanity for fun. From his perspective, Optimus abandoned the planet they’d waged thousands of years of war over for the sake of some random alien planet he decided he liked better. And the thing is, he’s kind of right

The Optimus Prime of the movies is usually seen as either a noble, if bland, hero or a psychotic maniac who’s prone to chronic bloodlust. But honestly, he can be, and very much is, a little bit of both

So it’s obvious that this Optimus is a little cracked in the head, and it’s hard to see how he could NOT be after having his figurative and/or literal brother turn on him and failing to stop him from nearly destroying their homeworld and killing millions of people, all of whom Optimus was responsible for protecting. Not to mention being forced to willingly seal his planet’s fate by throwing the Allspark, the one thing that could save it, into the far reaches of who-knows-where.

And through all of this, he HAS to maintain a stoic, optimistic appearance. He can’t show any doubt, hesitation, grief, or even the effects of the general stress of the job, because he’s the one pillar holding up what’s left of the Autobots. They’ve lost literally everything else, and if their perfect leader who’ll get them through any crisis were to ever show that he’s vulnerable, the last thing they could really believe in would effectively be shattered.

So instead he dedicates himself to an, admittedly very unhealthy, black-and-white view of “Autobots and humans good, Decepticons bad”. He’s tried pleading, negotiating and showing mercy to the Decepticons and it got his planet nearly destroyed and him and his loyal friends stranded light-years away. So he’s essentially lost faith in himself and allowed himself to go further than he ever would otherwise just to see an end to the Decepticons for good

I think the best character to compare him to would be, believe it or not, Batman. No matter how far he goes, he’ll always hold onto his one rule. And for Optimus, that “one rule” is humanity. He clearly sees humanity as a reflection of what the Cybertronians used to be and as a result, projects his guilt over his failures and desire to see Cybertron start over, and do things right this time, onto them.

When he makes the decision to sacrifice himself and the Allspark to save Earth from Megatron, it’s arguable that he was effectively running away from what he sees as his failed legacy and giving a new chance to humanity in its place. Now obviously that’s an incredibly short-sighted idea, which even Sam could see, but by that point Optimus had effectively given up on Cybertron and adopted Earth as his “new Cybertron”. In his final speech at the end of the first movie, he seems incredibly dismissive of the loss of Cybertron and seems totally fine to just chill on Earth forever.

And no matter how many times the Decepticons uncover new ways to fix Cybertron, at the expense of the humans, he immediately shoots them down, while never trying to find a more mutually beneficial solution of his own. Even when the cracks start to show in the Autobots’ alliance with the humans and his own mentor and father figure seemingly comes back from the dead to tell him he’s given up on Cybertron, he still gives an optimistic speech at the end of DOTM and says that he’ll never turn his back on humanity. Even after seeing his old world right in from of him, he seems to feel no affinity for it anymore.

That is, until he has his mid-life crisis after the soft reboot of the last two movies. Humanity outright betrays him, almost all of the last of his loyal followers and friends are dead because of it, he could’ve seen the obvious signs of this coming, but he didn’t.

He decides to break his one rule and kill whoever’s responsible for all of it, but still clings onto his black-and-white defense mechanism of convincing himself that this one human is the SOLE instigator of their betrayal, as he’s still unwilling to admit that his new favorite aliens could be just as terrible as his own people can. And when he does finally kill him it’s only when his new human friend would die if he didn’t act immediately.

But once that line was finally crossed, he hits rock bottom. Sure, he goes back on his threat to abandon Earth and commands his Autobots to protect yet another special human friend, essentially falling back on his old ways of having maybe a little too much faith in humans. But once he leaves to find his creators, to “find himself” essentially. He’s forced to confront his failures yet again, this time in front of someone claiming to be his creator and, by extension, the supposed authority on what he should and shouldn’t be. And, in his vulnerable state, he allows himself to become corrupted into “Nemesis Prime”.

Now one could argue this was just simple brainwashing, but I could argue, have you SEEN this Prime? This is essentially what he’s like all the time, only now he’s stripped of the tenuous limits he’s placed on himself. In keeping with the Batman comparison, he’s “lived long enough to see himself become the villain”.

But the thing that brings him back from the brink isn’t one of his precious humans, it’s the voice of the one Autobot who stuck by his side all this time and is still there believing in him even at his worst. When he’s finally reminded of what he’s really fighting for, the Autobots who pledged their loyalty to him, knowing that he could lead them to victory, his faith in himself is restored. Maybe not completely yet, but he’s remembered that the awe inspiring leader that his Autobots see isn’t just a facade. Which is why his “did you forget who I am” scene is one of the most underrated badass moments in the entire movie series. Even without my painstaking overanalysis in your head to back it up.

And with that, I think I’ve rambled long enough that your brain has been reduced to a fine paste, so if you’ve really soldiered on this far, total props to you on that and I appreciate you caring this much about my mad rambling. Obviously, I’ve romanticized both characters here quite a bit, but I kind of had to for the sake of the argument. In practice, both of them are unstable, single-minded and admittedly kind of selfish. But I just wanted to point out that both of them have their own reasons for being the way they are, that could have easily gone deeper and made them into truly iconic takes on these characters if the movies had only run with the concepts they set up.

And so my only solution was to amend that with a hastily slapped together essay on my Tumblr blog that nobody reads. Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk

[eddiebaresgazebos]

Beautiful Trauma

*Location* Canada Toronto 1985

The snow fell down heavy. Leaving a beautiful pure white mist behind like a paranormal entity delicately fluttering across a dark room being lit by the moonlight blooming like a snow drop on a beautiful springtime day. This world has many mysteries, horrors and dark secrets that not even everyone can come to terms with no matter how hard they try.

Kimberly Rough Watson is a petite girl for her 17 years of age, withholding a pasty white complexion, deep emerald eyes anyone could be possessed by and the richest shade of caramel locks that trailed down to the very ends of her back. Kimberly in reality was a “sad” girl always looking into the latest crime cases and keeping every snippet of Crime articles containing horrific detail about Milk carton kids, Certain Serial Killers, conspiracy’s and the most spine chilling thing of all exposed experiments kept top secret for years. It gave the girl mixed feelings of amusement and fascination what went through the average humans brain to make them think such despicable thoughts? Was there something in their backgrounds that snapped them into the sinister infamous killers they are known for today? All of Kim’s thoughts were put on holt as she was put into a feeling of great shock when a violent tapping sound came from her window slowly and hesitantly picking up the thickest book she owned of her bed titled “ The secrets of a serial killer” for her protection, peeping her head slightly out from behind her mahogany coloured curtain’s all traces of crippling anxiety and blinding fear taking control over her entire body, plastering her into place like when you use a thick, sticky white substance to plaster wallpaper onto a painfully dull wall when moving into a new house.

{tap, tap,tap} the noise came again only more violent this time Kimberly in this moment becoming blinded by fear with every tap against her window.By the seventh tap something snapped in the back of Kimberly’s mind and her anxiety and fear was exchanged for shear fits of rage “how dare someone or something do this to her in her own house” still hesitant the poor girl gathered all traces of courage she had and picked her book up leaving it protrude over her head, levelled exactly to damage whatever was bothering her and attacking her window. “one…..two…….” counting slowly in her head ready to attack Kim took a breath after each count “THREE” Kimberly screamed in her head pulling back the drapes protecting the secrets of her room from the outside world and shot the book out of her window in sheer fits of aggression, crippling anxiety and paranoia. “OUCHHHHHH FRICKIN TAP DANCING JESUSE!!!” a familiar voice screamed out in agony Kimberly looked out her window analysing with great care for who she hit and after a few seconds of analysis she concluded that she hit her best and only friend a tallish boy withholding a tanned skin tone with the cutest of freckles to compliment his face , soft chocolate coloured eyes in which anyone could get lost in and deep brown hair neatly cut and styled that went by the name of Jack Hunter Andison splattered onto the floor like a fly being smashed against a wall. “Oh well done Kim you’ve done it again” a quick thought passed through Kimberley’s brain as she raced down the stairs to aid her friend back to health. “Oh, Jack I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you” The petite girl screamed in sorrow and guilt

“No, no” Jack insisted “Surely it was my fault, I mean its not everyday you get stones attacked at your window and spattered back with a book onto the sidewalk” Jack laughed in pain and embracement from the events which just occurred. “What did you come here for Jack?” Kimberly askes with a hint of interest in her voice as she carefully aided Jacks bruised head, Jack took a few moments to answer thinking with great concentration on how to spill the news.“Well.” Jack winced in pain as Kim aided his injury “You know about the Russian Sleep experiments from the 1940’s right?” “Oh boy! Have I ever, it’s so fascinating about the events that occurred and how the human body reacts to certain things Jack!” Kim’s voice projecting the happiness in her voice, this was one of the worlds mysterious experiments that intrigued her deeply. “ Well something like this has happened again recently Kim.. and.. there’s been one lone survivor. There bringing the survivor to our town for recognition and because this is the last place the creators of the experiment will look, nobody ever comes here to our crappy lil town” Jack explained in great detail slightly ranting towards the end.

Kimberly was hit with a wave of confusion soon after following with a massive wave of unanswered questions. “can we check this out in the library at school tomorrow Jack?” making it sound more of a fact then a question. “Yes but we have to be careful, if anyone finds out were getting ourselves into this were basically screwed” Jack stated in complete seriousness. The very next morning Kim and Jack arose before the slightest beam of sun touched the Earth giving it’s usual Morning greeting. Out onto the crunchy white blanket called snow a petite girl and lanky boy roamed the winter wonderland that was set before them like a black and white picture taken at Christmas time capturing the very essence of “perfect.” Soon after the duo set out onto their journey they were met by Juniper Hill founded in 1920 and the only high school in town, met to educate 600 this old fashioned bricked building educated 1200 making everyday a literal world war 3 creating a sense of irony since the second war ended in 1944, 14 years after the third held at the one place that was supposed to educate and protect juxtaposing its entire existence. Jack swung the doors open allowing the sudden violent bursts of heat to attack their cold body’s and bring a sense of hope to both teens, down the dark hallways a tapping of poorly made winter shoes made its calling down the one hallway which for once possessed all signs of peace, tranquillity and relaxation.Trailing down every book stall and looking through book after book they finally found what they had come for an entire essay had been written about this survivor with crimpled pictures provided and showcasing how old and long this case has gone undetected and heard. Two pairs of eyes scanned every detail being shown to ma kind the columns read { Project B~ Number 1927 formally known as Dylan Robinson as been under scientific measures for 8 years and in that time the founders have concluded that this experiment has given extraordinary results that could change the world however this experiment is very dangerous and with the results in the wrong hands mankind could be obliviated so all traces will be destroyed, results will be said to be conclusive and project B will be disposed of.} “This isn’t real” Kim said to herself

“It’s very real Kimberly” a sinister voice responded trying to mask it’s dark deeds with Jack sweet and husky like voice “What did you say Jack?”“Hmmmm” Jack managed to let a random noise escape this lips, Jack still deep reading and deeper in thought wasn’t properly listening to Kimberly and made some random noise to keep her from becoming angry and annoyed“Kimberlyyyy” the voice summoned again dragging out the Y in a very painful way “Non of this is real, Your crazy, Your Crazy Kimberly, Your never alone when your with meee, You’ll never be sane” Like when dragging chalk across a chalk board this dark and dangerous voice kept hitting Kimberly down shot after shot like a gun firing a full round of bullets intending to cause agony at any cost. Kim looked around her, her head becoming heavy. Body light like helium. The world begun to spin. The confused and scared girl turned to her only friend for comfort and support in this scary event that was taking place but her so called best friend just stood and stared withholding a stone cold face and neutral expression. Kimberly couldn’t believe him. She had been there for him for so long and when she really needed him he does nothing and just watches her, Jack’s face begun to change shape and slowly melt away his cute freckled face, adorable chocolate caramel eyes, his neatly cut hair it was all gone.The floor beneath Kim’s feet ripped open like when a saddo picks their grossly set ruby red scabby wounds the teen was submerged to a world of darkness and shadows as a shocking sensation attacked the left side of her rib cage.

A blurring light shot into Kimberly’s defenceless eye’s as the same shocking sensation as before weakened then disappeared leaving the poor girl’s body on the edge. “Yep it’s she’s been having a Episodes again Doctor” a mysterious voice emerged out of thin air“Take the Patient back to her room, well sort her treatment out later first I must see to Miss Gittus , she has been well mannered enough to return to her room were she has been placed with Miss Watson ” A tiny light blue room with two beds on one side of the room and another 2 on the other side of the room with a single wooden cabinet to contain house the patient’s essentials awaited Kimberly and her future roommate. Kimberly awoke from a peaceful slumber gazing out of the window into the outside world trying to remember what life she had outside of the Ward, her mind was blank the only thing she could think about was Jack. His soft caramel hair neatly styled back, his perfectly tanned face complimented by his freckles and his mesmerising deep brown chocolate eyes anyone was guaranteed to get lost in. Was her real? Or just part of the episodes Kim suffered from? Kimberly was suddenly pulled from her thoughts startled as to what was making a nose, slowly peering over the night Curtin that separated the beds Kimberly was shocked to see a girl in the bed next to hers. You see that bed had been empty ever since Kim was brought into the Mental Hospital which was exactly 5 months ago.

“Hello?” Kimberly questioned walking towards the mystery girl’s bed the girl just sat there staring at Kim blankly. “It’s okay” Kimberly protested in a innocent voice “I was scared to when I first arrived here but I’m not going to hurt you.” The girl still looked blankly at Kim who by this point had already given up trying to make her first friend in this place. The expressionless girl then got up out of her bed and exited the room with out a word. Kimberly soon following into the Dinner Room and she saw the girl from before just sat there with the same expressionless face staring down at a glass of water “Look you don’t have to talk to me, but I hate sitting alone and it’s good to have at least one person you can trust” Kimberly explained taking a seat opposite the girl “I’m Kimberly by the way what’s your name?” after a few agonising seconds the girl responded with “ Lauren” giving a weak smile after. “Well it’s nice to meet you Lauren, if you’ll let me I could show you around since it’s your first day here?” “Hmmm Okay deal” Kimberly took in every detail of the girl sitting before her taking note of her perfectly thin body, Beautiful brown ish eyes which reminded her of Jack’s and light brown locks trailing down past her shoulders. Although Kimberly didn’t believe in love at first sight she believed in that single moment that this Girl was the most mesmerizingly gorgeous person she had ever seen, in some ways Kimberly saw Lauren as an Angel all Elegant and Stunning. Soon after finishing their breakfast the 2 girls entered the game room or so it was called it basically consisted of checkers, chess and cards as Kimberly and Lauren were playing cards and having casual convocation getting to know each other since they were sharing the same room the topic of why they were there was soon brought up which made both Girls entire body’s go ice cold and paralysed with fear.

Kimberly first spoke breaking the silence but not really knowing how to start “Well I’m here because I suffer with Episodes or Hallucinations as they are most commonly known.” Kimberly explained to Lauren watching the girls eye’s have a river of sympathy and somewhat understanding, when Kimberly finally got around to the second reason she was locked up and treated like a disease she became very very hesitant and scared of what the girl in front of her may think. “I’m also here because.. em..Because…. Because I’m apparently sick up here for liking girls” Kimberly finally got the right words out motioning her fingers to tap her head.“Ahh I see well there’s nothing wrong about that Kim don’t you worry I’m here because I had a break down and people think I’m off ma rock for suffering with Social anxiety when it’s not even my fault you see a few years back I lost my brother due to him being taken for a top secret experiment inspired by the 1940’s sleep experiment only it went horribly wrong and my brother and several others faced a sickening death.” Lauren explained raising her voice with tears forming in her eyes, Kimberly felt really bad for Lauren because she couldn’t really do much but explain to her that everything is going to be okay and that’s exactly what she did Kimberly the petite teen wrapped her arms around Lauren’s slim frame embracing her into a hug and whispering in a gentle and sweet like honey tone “everything is going to be alright, I’m here sweetie, everything is going to be okay you are safe with me there’s nothing to worry about.” Lauren felt safe in the girls arms, like nothing could harm her and she was on top of the world soon after Kimberly was loosening her embrace around Lauren when Lauren hugged tighter causing Kimberly to do the same for a few moments.

Both girls never wanted it to end but knew it had to especially Kimberly who refused to get another shocking treatment for being “mentally Sick for liking girls” soon after the comfort Kimberly showered Lauren with all patients were sent of to their room for medication time.

[padfootagain]

The Flower Shop Around The Corner (III)

Part 3 : The Question And The Answer

 Here comes a third part for my series for Chris Evans! I hope you all like it!

Nothing to be warning you about, it's a cute story :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2666

How could anyone be that annoying?

HOW?!

It was beyond comprehension.

And the worst part was that everyone else seemed to love you. When him? He was starting to seriously hate you.

Hate may have been a strong word but you were just… so… argh!

There were no words that came to his mind. What was beyond absolutely annoyed?

Not that you were a total jerk, and that was the worst part, what annoyed Chris the most. Because he couldn’t just blame the fact that you were evil, as you weren't evil at all. There was just something about you that went on his nerves. Perhaps it was that lack of humour in your demeanour. Perhaps it was the way you rolled your eyes at him everytime he tried to make a joke, and how serious you always seemed to be, couldn't you just loosen up for a change, and… he could make a whole essay about how your sternness annoyed him. And the way you bit your nails when you were focusing on learning your lines, or that little pout you made when you were thinking and…

He pushed the thought of you aside. Around him, the sun was beginning to set already. Orange hues mingling with the pale blue of a late summer, honking cars down the boulevard surrounding Central Park, the tall trees calling for his tired frame to rest under their shade…

A few deep breaths, and his thoughts had travelled away from you and settled on this girl whose letter was waiting for him. He didn't realize it, but he quickened his pace at the mere thought. He needed to read her letter. He had longed for it all day long. It was strange for him, actually, to feel this way. He had never minded working hard and go home late at night only to get up early again the next morning. And yet, these days, all he could think of was that moment when he would leave his work and go to this flower shop and get the letter this stranger had written for him in the morning…

What was happening to him?

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening, deep down, in his heart, he knew exactly. He had a severe crush. This stranger he had never met had become, over the course of the past few weeks, such an important part of his life. He was like addicted. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to listen to her for hours, and to tell her everything about him too… But they had an agreement. Nothing too detailed, nothing that could make them guess who the other person was beyond the doors of this little shop. He didn't know what she did for a living, and she didn't know he was an actor. He had told her he was from Boston and had a dog. These were all the characteristics she knew about him that could lead her to identify him… so good to say that is was far from enough.

On the other hand, she knew how close he was of his family. She knew his struggles and his thoughts and his beliefs and his dreams and somehow… somehow he had said more about himself to this perfect stranger than he had to his closest friends. How strange… sometimes it really felt easier to speak to someone he had never even met.

Finally he pushed the door of the shop open. It was empty, no customers left at such an hour. Actually, the shop should have been closed by now, but Carlotta had once more kept her flower shop opened for Chris. She welcomed him from behind the counter with a grin.

"I'm sorry, I'm very late tonight, work was crazy," he apologized, and giving the woman a hug.

She chuckled.

"Oh, there's no need to apologize, I don't mind waiting for you. Here's your letter… And we need to talk about all this."

"Why?"

"Read your letter first, darling. Then, we'll talk."

Chris smiled, leaning on the counter and tearing open the envelop. A smile formed on his lips as he recognized your handwriting. And as soon as he was lost in your words, the whole world around him faded away.

 Dear Wallet Guy,

 Thank you for your kind words, and I'm sure that you are right about my colleague. I shouldn't use so many thoughts on him, but it just seems like I can't help it. It does sound a little like your situation with your own colleague though. I hope you don't take her words too much at heart. I'm sure she was wrong. I know you're talented. Perhaps she was just angry.

And sometimes, people say things they don't really mean. Like, me and my co-worker, for example. Whenever I'm around him, I don't know why, I become colder than usual. I make remarks that are unusually cold and sometimes even a little mean and then… I spend the rest of the day feeling guilty for saying these things. It's not who I am, and I don't even know why I say those things. All I know is that, as soon as the words pass my lips, I start wishing for being able to take them back.

 I am very proud of you for pissing off these people on twitter. Keep up the good work! I wish I could see this account of yours, it looks crazy!

 I had such a nice walk to the shop this morning. The sun was coming up, and I passed through the park to see how it reflected on the lake. There was this old woman on the bench with her grand-daughter, they were giving food to the birds. It seemed so peaceful somehow, this all so-familiar scene, such a simple thing as a granny and her grand-daughter giving grains to birds while the sun rose up above the skyscrapers. It was such a simple sight and yet… yet is warmed my heart so much. If only we could always appreciate such tiny things, wouldn't we be much happier?

 I'll see you tonight, Wallet Guy… or well, I will read your thoughts tonight, I guess it's a more adequate turn of phrase. The though brings a smile to my lips no matter the way I put it though.

 Peony Girl

 Chris folded back the letter in its envelope, and he finally noticed that Carlotta had given him what he would need to write his answer too. But before he could reach for the pen and paper, she cleared her throat, her arms crossed before his chest.

"So… how was the letter today?"

"Huh… great…"

"Great? Hmm… interesting…"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, Chris… Nothing, except the fact that you didn't do what was planned yesterday."

She stared intensely at him, and Chris tried to keep a straight face, but he just couldn't. He eventually heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, dishevelling it a little.

"I… Look, I don't think we're ready for that," he argued, but Carlotta was not buying any of it.

"You've been writing to each other for weeks. She is so happy to read your letters, and you are so happy to read hers… you should meet!"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"What if…"

He stopped, looking away from Carlotta and to his hands instead. His next words came out like a breathy whisper.

"What if she doesn't like me? What if she's disappointed…"

But Carlotta shook her head and took one of Chris's hand in hers, making him meet her eyes again.

"Trust me, she will not be disappointed. You should meet. She will say yes. She will like you. And all will be fine. And when you two get married, I expect an invitation."

Chris laughed, but a touched glimmer lingered in his blue eyes, and when he smiled at her again, it was a fond gesture.

"We're far from there, don't get ahead of yourself."

"Ask her to meet you. Do it. Do it!"

"I don't even know if she's single."

"She is. I asked her."

"Carlotta!"

"ASK HER!"

"Alright, alright…"

He heaved a sigh, finally picking up this pen and paper that he needed to ask such an important question. Why was it even so important? In the worst scenario, he would have gained an amazing friend. In the best case… well… maybe a little more than that.

He had been thinking about this for a while now, actually. And the truth was, he wanted to meet you. He wanted to see what you looked like. He wanted to be able to call you in the middle of the night, and he wanted to spend an afternoon with you in the park just talking and he… he wanted to meet you. He really did.

But his feelings for you were already bending in the direction of a romance. And he didn't know how he would react if all you could see in him was a friend.

But his motto was to do things that scared him the most. That's how he had come so far. It would take him a little further. He just needed to gather the strength to trace the letters on this piece of paper.

He answered your letter first. Talked a little about his day. But soon he was motionless. The pen a few inches above the paper.

There was no coming back from this. It was a leap of faith to take.

Slowly, he put the tip of the pen against the paper, and he traced the letters, almost reluctantly despite his longing to do so. And once he was done, once he had added this little dot under the question mark, he felt so relieved. He grinned up at Carlotta.

"I asked her."

"YES!"

She jumped in happiness a couple of times while Steve signed the letter, making him laugh.

He sealed the envelope and put it down on the counter, letting his fingers linger on the blue paper for a few more seconds.

He heaved a sigh.

His fate was in your hands now.

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

 The words struck you so much, you had to read them again. It was still early in the morning, and at first, you thought that maybe you had failed at reading his letter properly. Perhaps your brain was just too foggy still, like the weather outside. But you read and read and read the sentence, and the words didn't change.

I've been thinking about this for a while now. Don't you think it would be nice to have this kind of conversation face to face, instead of going through paper and ink? Would you like us to meet? For real?

You didn't notice that your eyes had grown round and your jaw had fallen open. You were too busy reading one more time these words… these words that echoed through your mind now.

Would you like us to meet? For real?

Would you like us to meet?

Would you like us to meet?

"Is everything alright?"

Carlotta's voice finally snapped you out of your torpor and you shook yourself, bringing your mind back to reality.

"I… I'm fine," you stuttered. "He… hum… He wants to meet me."

Carlotta carefully studied your reactions.

"And… do you?"

Slowly, a smile formed on your lips, as you eventually wrapped your mind around the thought. You had been thinking about this for a while too, actually. But what if he was disappointed when he met you? What if… what if he already had someone?

But you pushed these negative thoughts away. You wanted to know who he was, you were too curious to refuse.

"Yeah, I do want to meet him," you nodded, and Carlotta let out a happy squeal.

"Tell him! Tell him!" she cried, excitedly handing some paper and pens, making you laugh. "Propose a date and a place. Go ahead!"

"I don't know…"

"The bar at the corner of the street."

"Yeah… sounds good. On Friday?"

"Great! Perfect! Aww… finally!"

"Stop it!"

You laughed at her while you wrote your own note. A few minutes and it was all done. All the while, you couldn't manage to slow down your heart though. It kept on beating so fast, and that smile on your lips, it was impossible to brush it off.

You just hoped he would be able to come.

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

 Chris was quiet. It was strange to have him so quiet. You almost preferred him bubbly and talkative and laughing his annoying laugh. He seemed very nervous. Not that it was a problem to shoot your scenes, but as soon as the camera was off, he seemed to be back in that nervous state. He kept on checking the time as well.

"Are you alright?" you asked him around a coffee.

"Of course. Why?"

"You seem… preoccupied."

"It's nothing."

He checked his watch once more.

"Are you late for something?"

"No… I'm just…"

He heaved a sigh. He was about to do something he would regret, but damn with it all…

"I've asked someone out and I'll know tonight if she says yes or no, and I'm a bit… nervous about it."

"I had noticed that," you chuckled, but your expression was warm and soothing. "Why do you have to wait until tonight?"

"Long story. But I won't get her answer before I can go home."

"I see… Well, you shouldn't be so nervous about it."

"Because I shouldn't be so worried about a woman?"

"Because she will probably say yes."

He raised a surprised eyebrow and you rolled your eyes in response.

"You're not a psychopath, you have a job, and in bonus you're rather hot."

He frowned.

"So… not being a serial killer is already most of what is needed to get a date?"

"You have no idea how low we have to set the bar," you replied in a half-amused tone.

"I can see that."

"More seriously, why would she say no? At least for a date? Perhaps she'll say no for more, but it's probably just a drink or something of the kind, right?"

"You would say no for a date."

"Yes, but… that's different. You would say no for a date with me too."

"Yeah… you're quite right."

You exchanged a smile, and were soon called back by your director to shoot yet another scene. And somehow, Chris was a little less nervous about tonight, after all…

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

 He took a deep breath before entering inside the shop. He could feel strangers walking down the street behind him, but he needed a few seconds to enter. The fog of the morning had since long lifted, but a wet smell lingered in the air. A cab drove behind him, and for a second, Chris wanted to call for that cab and run away. But instead, he opened the door and walked inside the flower shop.

Carlotta was there, but her face didn't reveal anything about her response.

Chris hugged her as a hello, and he asked her with worry in his eyes.

"What did she say?"

But instead of answering, Carlotta merely handed him the letter you had written.

He tore the envelope apart in a hurry. If he had been hesitating before entering the shop, now, he just couldn't wait to know your answer.

Unlike all your letters before, this one was a mere note. Only the answer to his question, nothing else. A grin formed on his features as he read the words traced in dark ink on the red paper several times, as if he wanted to engrave them in his memory.

I'd love to meet you, Wallet Guy. How about Friday night, in the pub at the corner of the next street. Carlotta knows which one. I'll be wearing a red scarf and bring a book with me, so you can recognize me.

And for a moment, Chris couldn't be happier.

**************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @madamrogers @marvelcapsicle @theonelittleone @bookgirlunicorn  @simamenickk  @mxriblxckthorne  @xceafh @illi-vanilli

[kingofthewilderwest]

I have a super hard exam Monday morning and I really think I can't make it. I have been studying, but I can't understand a think! I thought It was the way I was studying but it's too late to look for alternatives. I have been reading my notes crying all day (I'm doing it right now and sobbing) but still no light.

I’m really sorry about the stress you’re going through. Exams can be extremely tough and I feel for you on that one. I’ve cried over tests and schooling and all that as well. It sucks to feel this stress. Academia many times pushes us to the brink beyond what we should be given, and I hope that you come out of this on the other side feeling relief.

When I was in school, one of the ways I calmed myself was to think about long-term. In less than 48 hours, this stressor will be completely gone from your life. It’ll no longer exist because you’ve taken the test. It’s a stressor, but it’s one for a VERY short time frame in your life. In the long scale of things, it’s very soon going to be out of your life and over with. And while tests can change our grades and that’s important, in the very long scale of school and academia… it’s not a big impact on our life. We can retake a class if we need to, or do better on the next test, or any and all sorts of options that will all result in a happy, fulfilling, awesome life of many years to come. This test is a very, very small part of the grand scheme of your life, and it’ll be completely over with and out of your life very, very soon. Whether you get a good grade or a bad grade here, your life will move forward, and provide you many great experiences to come. My happiness for the decades I will live is not reliant on one number on a sheet of paper.

I don’t know if that helps you, but it always helped me: once I remembered how small this thing was in the grand scheme of things, and how soon it’d leave my life as a stressor… it helped me realize… it shouldn’t be a stressor even now.

I hope I don’t sound like I’m brushing aside what you feel, because I mean the opposite. I know there’s many situations going into why academia feels SO IMPORTANT in our lives, both for our personal situation, and in the way society trends go. I do hope it helps to say that, in the grand course of whether or not your life will be complete on one test grade, it’s a minuscule thing, and I hope that that perspective can give some ease.

You’ve done your best. You’ve been studying. You’ve been working extremely hard and I want to commend you for that diligence. You’ve rocked that. And that’s something important. You have already shown a lot of character and drive working on this, and that’s better than any number you get. You’re already a hero and a succeeder in my eyes.

And, it’s not a shortcoming on your end that you don’t understand things. We all need time to understand anything; all information we first hear is something we don’t understand at first. That’s okay. That’s the nature of it. Every single human on this planet doesn’t understand things and may take a while to understand something; you are not ever going to be a failure for being confused, even if it feels understandably frustrating to not understand.

It’s always fine to talk to instructors about your struggles. I don’t know if you have or haven’t yet, but honest conversations with instructors can work wonders. I’ve taught college courses and have definitely played the mercy game with my own final grades once a student has come to me. I’ve been on the side of mercy with professors, where they’ve been willing to extend deadlines or work with me one-on-one to succeed. Many, many teachers want you to succeed, and will extend extra help and understanding to you if you talk to them. I know how much mercy can be given once they understand how much you want to succeed, and show you are willing to talk to them about ways in which you can. And I hope your instructor is one such person who will listen. It’s always worth talking over, and it can ease buttloads of stress.

Also… though you are on a time budget… if you’re really feeling this stressed, please give yourself a break. Please give yourself sleep. Please give yourself something nice, even if it’s eating a special treat for dinner or watching half hour of your favorite comedy show. Your mind in this state won’t learn the material most productively. Stepping back away from studying will actually help you and make a more efficient and productive study schedule.

I know it’s late in the game and you think there aren’t other ways to study, but if you want, I’m happy to list off some of the ways I’ve studied before. I hope I’m not overextending my bounds. I know you came here to vent and you might not want advice, but if you want some studying suggestions, here’s things I’ve done. We all learn different ways, and you’ll notice I tend to be text-oriented (with some hearing-oriented)… but maybe something here will click. Some of these studying strategies are time-consuming (not helpful for you right now), some of them are fast, but they’re different ways to work at the same material:

Do NOT just skim read notes or engage in “passive” reviewing. If you’re just looking over the books or old homeworks without engaging, it’s less likely for it to stick. Rereading is one of the least interactive ways and least demanding ways to try to “study,” and thus is often not effective for long-term retention and mastery of concepts. Make your study sessions as engaging as possible without destroying your brain cells and giving you a migraine.

Build up. Start simple, with easier learning devices, and then make it more challenging for yourself. For instance, for foreign language, I might start with flashcards or matching tasks. Then, I’ll eventually get to the point where I will try to write my entire vocabulary list from memory. Build up from easy to harder.

Multiple study sessions throughout a day or throughout the course of a week (when you have it) will almost always be better than one massive study session. Repeatedly engage with the material.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat frankly is always the way to go.

PRIORITIZE. Focus on problem sections. Focus on sections that are most likely to be on the test in large quantities. Prioritize what you work on. You don’t need to know every tiny detail to get a passing grade; you just need to know what big stuff is most likely to be hit.

Tackle one section at a time. Don’t think about the full breadth of the unit. Master one concept at a time. Smaller chunks are always more manageable, more efficient, and more effectively learned. If you don’t understand the full breadth of your test, start with the smallest thing you can, work on that, and get that one thing right first. Just that one thing. 

Try to engage in the different styles of learning. Reading. Speaking. Acting out. All these will help you retain the information in different ways. For some subjects, this may be easier than others. But do what you can.

Flash cards. When you go through the flash cards, don’t go through each card once. Put aside the ones you get wrong. Rework the ones you get wrong a second time… or a third time… until you get them right. Then put them into the big pile again of every flash card and restart. ENGAGE with these things rather than quickly skim over the fronts and backs.

Draw diagrams. Venn diagrams. Tables. Charts. STUFF. Organize your information in new ways.

Make tests for yourself. Create tests that are multiple choice, fill in the blank, short essays, anything. Then, after you make those tests, give yourself a break, go back, and take your tests. See what you do and don’t remember.

Make memory devices! Memory devices for the win! Make them silly and absurd! Make it fun! Make memory devices from puns. Set key phrases to musical melodies. Make silly analogies. Do whatever you need to to memorize the material, even if in a dorky way. Like, I first learned the kanji 白 was ‘shiro’ because it looks like the character Shiro from Voltron. It’s got a square face with a scar in the center, and even a little tick at the top to represent Shiro’s WHITE hair floof (and ‘shiro’ means ‘white’ woot victory!). Other times, I’ve memorized numbers by setting them to tunes.

Rewrite your notes or key pages from your textbook. Type up your notes from class, or rewrite them, or take notes from your book again. Note that you can rearrange your notes as you do this; maybe you could make a page that’s all about X topic?

Study with friends! Quiz each other, talk to each other about problematic points, try to figure out difficult sections together. And don’t skimp, but don’t be afraid to make it fun. Learning goes better when it’s fun.

Write a “study guide” or “cheat sheet” for yourself of all the most pertinent material.

Talk out loud as you reread your notes. Engage with the material both with eyes and ears.

Try to quote your notes. Talk to yourself about what you remember. Then look and see what you didn’t talk about.

Try explaining to someone else what you’ve learned. This is a really good one. This will help you really pinpoint what you do and don’t know, and will mentally solidify the things that you do, in fact, understand. Nothing says “learning” like having to tell someone else what you’ve learned.

Especially if it’s mathematical, but also for other subjects, rework problems from your textbook or homeworks, get new problems from textbooks, or go online to find other problems with solutions. 

Find tutors. Or talk to teachers. Seriously, talk to teachers!

Any academic videos on YouTube explaining concepts? What about Wikipedia? Other websites on these topics to help you see the information presented in a new way? My ass got saved in Mathematical Logic due to a good logic wiki.

Give yourself breaks. Everyone needs different break points and has different levels of concentration ability, but one not-terrible-rule to consider is 50 minutes studying, 10 minute break. I personally prefer longer sessions and will do something like 2 hours, then 30 minute break. But that’s for you to decide with yourself.

SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. You do no favors for yourself if you don’t sleep. Sleep as best as you can. Fatigue prevents us from using our full mind, will prevent the recall we could have had if we were more awake. Fatigue prevents us from learning and retaining information we would have learned faster in a more rested state. Sleep allows us to process the information we’ve just thought about; we’ll wake up with a more solid understanding of materials because there’s been some unconscious processing. I know you want to maximize those study hours, but you’ll be wasting those 75% of the time if you’re up to 3 AM trying to work on something and can barely keep your eyes open. 

Make it about you. What is it about this material that you can care about? Find ways to relate it to what you care about, whatever the subject.

I know that’s not a very widespread list - I could write a lot more - but unfortunately I have to get going to my own time crunch for work. And I know I’m not covering every angle in which this is a stressful situation and how we may engage with it, and how people with different learning styles and minds and social situations interact with materials… but I hope that something in here helps you nevertheless.

Please give yourself a break right now.

To say the least, I’m wishing the absolute best for you. I’m rooting for you. I’m sympathizing. My heart feels for you. And I hope that you can find a bit of stress-relief in the midst of this. Take care, friend, and please take care of yourself through all this.

[zoeygreensimblr]

Stay Beautiful (episode 15)

"Can I just have a tiny clue about the surprise" I beg Angus, Wednesday night after the gym, sitting in his office of blandness.

"How are your Essay's coming, there will be no surprise if you haven't finished them" He asks me, I swear he's worse than Don and Mr Landgaarb put together

"I've finished my Simlish one" I explain, hoping that will win him over and he will give me a clue

"And History? Zoey, we had a deal remember?"  He reminds me

"I'll start it Sunday, it will be done by this time next week." I promise him

"And you have to leave time to do a practice test or two, I want you to be well prepared when you take your final exams" He harps on

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, practice tests, got it. Clue please?" I think I'd sell my soul at this point just to know what the surprise is.

"I'll give you two clues" He tells me and I get so excited I jump up from my seat and run up to him for a hug, "Wow, I haven't even told you the clues yet and you're all over me."

"Are you complaining?" I ask him joking

"Never" He says, kissing the top of my head, "Ok, clue 1, You will need swim wear because the climate is warm there will be a spa", I smile at him, I wore him down

"Is that one clue or three?" I ask, still confused about where we could be going

"That was one clue but I threw in some detail to tease you" He laughs, "Now clue two, we will be flying there".

"Ive never flown anywhere before" I tell him, getting more excited

"You're too cute baby" He laughs, "What do you want to do tonight anyway?" He asks me and I just stare at him, suggestively, he just laughs and asks "What else do you want to do tonight Zoey? We could go for dinner or see a movie?"

"Don't you have to work early tomorrow?" I ask

"I have Thursdays off" He informs me, how did I not know this? Maybe it's never come up before because I'm  usually at school every Thursday.

"I'd like to go out for dinner" I tell him, "But nowhere fancy, just somewhere casual coz I only packed casual clothes" I add

"So burgers and fries is what she desires tonight?" He asks, laughing, "You're determined to make me fat" He says, shaking his head

"I'd still love you if you're fat Angus" I promise, he grabs my hand and places it under his shirt so I can feel his washboard abs

"Say goodbye Zoey" He knows me too well

"Fine, salad it is" I laugh with him.

Angus held my hand as we walked from his office to the desk at the front. Annabelle had returned to work today but still looked unwell. We stop to farewell her on our way out and I remember I had knitted her a scarf, I pull it out of my bag and drape it around her neck.

"Oh Zoey, it's beautiful, thank you" She says, giving me a hug

"It's nothing Annabelle, I was thinking about you all last week and thought it would keep you warm at work" I explain, "If that's ok with the boss of course? I know it's not uniform but I didn't like the thought of Annabelle getting more sick overtime the door opens and lets those cold, windy gushes in" I probably should have cleared it with Angus first

"It's fine Zoey, It does look beautiful too. I'm more concerned about when you found the time in your schedule to knit a scarf?" He frets and I squeeze his hand

"It really didn't take that long" I assure him, "Knitting is how I destress and writing that essay stressed me out a lot"

"I'm sorry Zoey, I didn't mean to make you feel bad about it, you destress how ever you need to, I remember it being a stressful period" He pulls me in close to him, I know he means well, he just doesn't want me to fail.

"You remember year 12 Angus?" Annabelle laughs at him

"I remember fucking it up and having my arse handed to me by Landgaarb and then again by Imogen" He says seriously, "I don't want that for Zoey"

"Zoey is nothing like you were Gus" Annabelle tries to rationalise with him and I hug him tightly

"I know she's not, I just worry, you both know that" He resolves

It's interesting seeing Angus and Annabelle talk about the past that I was never part of and for me it's so hard to imagine Angus doing anything that would warrant getting expelled in his final year, the Angus I know is always in control and structured.

On the walk home, when it's just us I feel that it's the best time to ask him more about why he was expelled, I know it's a sensitive subject and i'm hoping he trusts me enough to open up.

"How close where you to completing before Mr Landgaarb kicked you out" I ask in a small voice. He stops walking and turns to looks at me, it's dark but I can still see his facial features in the streetlights, like he's tormented by the memories.

"It was about this time, we had just started term 3, I had spent all my holidays working on 3 assignments I had and Steph was so pissed off because I hadn't spent any time with her over Winter break. Steph was always angry at me about something so that was nothing new. I was in the top 2 of my year too but I wasn't a good kid, I'd get into fights and mouth off" He explains and it breaks my heart to hear that he was so close to finishing and it was taken away.

"Was it because you got into a fight?" I ask him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I need a haircut, I should probably do that before we go away" He says, changing the subject and I decide to let it go.

"I love you Angus, you're perfect to me" I give him a confidence boost

"Starving is what I am baby, I'm tempted to get street food although I've heard bad things about the Pufferfish, that if it's not cooked right you can die" he grabs my hand and walks us to where the food stalls are, "You wanted casual" he reminds me.

We order hamburgers from one of the stalls and wait for our food, I snuggle into Angus to keep warm.

"I'm not going to tell you why I was kicked out, you have this image of who you think I am and I don't want to destroy that image. I love you Zoey but I want you to understand that this is the one thing I will never tell you. I'm not proud of what happened and if I could change it I would." He has that pained look on his face again.

"I understand, I won't ask again, it's in the past" I reassure him

We eat our burgers in front of the fire, the crackling flames create the perfect romantic aura.

"Did you like the burger?" Angus enquires

"It was so juicy, I loved it, have you had street food from there before?" I ask, knowing if he did it wouldn't be often given his aversion to carbs.

"Never, you're just a bad influence Amelia, making me fall off the wagon" He laughs

"I have a way for you to work it off" I suggest

"Where?" He asks

"Where what?" I reply, confused

"Where do you suggest we work it off, keeping in mind you can't pick any location we've done it in before, those are the new rules" He challenges me, "That rules out here in the lounge room, my bedroom and the laundry, oh and Immie's room coz thats just a world of creepy"

"We didn't really have...sex, in the laundry though" I remind him.

"You came on the washing machine Zoey, I'm counting it" He gives me that cheeky smile. Think Zoey, you can be creative

"The kitchen?" I decide, based on nothing more than that it's close to the lounge room where we are sitting and anywhere downstairs will be too cold.

"I want you to go into the kitchen, take your clothes off and bend over the island bench and wait for me" He orders me and I obey

I don't hear him walk up behind me but I feel him run his hand up my inner thigh and slip his fingers inside me

"Thats my good girl, always so wet" He praises me, moving his fingers to my clit and my breathing starts to quicken, "Are you ready baby"

"Where are you putting it" I ask, suddenly aware we never discussed trying anal and I'm not ready to be that experimental

"Same place I always go" He assures me and i feel him slide in, he settles in and starts penetrating, I instinctively push back so he can go in deeper, he spanks me hard enough to send the electric volts through my body and I can't help but let out a loud "fuck" which just spurs him on, his hand leaves my ass and slowly makes it way to my left breast, he cups it and squeezes my nipple, it's enough to send me over the edge, I collapse on the bench and feel Angus have his own climax seconds after mine.

"Sorry baby, that was over before it started but the bench was great choice" I feel him-up out of me and I still can't move, that was absolutely satisfying  and I'm spent. I slowly peel myself off the bench. I have no idea where Angus has disappeared to until I hear the bath water running, I make my way downstairs, naked and cold and find him in the bathroom, he wraps a fluffy dressing gown around me and I wait for the bath to fill up so I can put the spa on.

"Fuck that was good Zoey" He says, kissing me deeply on the lips.

"I think that was my favourite so far" I inform him and he laughs

"Theres plenty more to come, maybe even tonight" He tells me, "Just for future reference though, I would always tell you before I go up your arse, no surprise attacks I promise."

He climbs in to the bath and holds out his hand for me to follow him in, we find a corner and stretch-out, me between his legs.

"Have you done that before? Anal?" I ask curiously

"Yes and I wouldn't force it on you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you Zoey" He nuzzles into my neck

"I don't think it's for me" I tell him

"I'm perfectly ok with that Princess, I'm satisfied with what we are doing now" He reassures me, "Can I make one suggestion though?" He asks and my heart start racing, I'm not doing this right, I should be putting in more effort

"What is it?" I ask, expecting the worst

"I want you to go on the pill, we can use it as a back up method if you want to but I would feel a little bit of relief knowing we're not going to have any accidents." He suggests

"I think thats a good idea, Tess is on the pill, she goes to our doctor in Brindleton Bay but I can't ask her to come with me, she will ask too many questions" I tell him

"Zoey I will go with you" He offers, "Otherwise if you go alone you will antibiotics for the flu all because you can't say the word sex" He jokes and I splash him, he knows me all too well.

"Can we go tomorrow?" I ask

"We can go tonight if you want? There's a late night clinic just up the road, it's designed for people who need to see a doctor but not for anything serious outside of business hours and the doctors there are good too." He explains

"Is that where you go?"I ask him

"Yeah, when I need to, I do get sick sometimes." He tells me, "Do you want to go tonight or wait until tomorrow" He asks me

"Go tonight" I reply, "The doctor isn't going to poke me with anything right?" Ive seen way too many episodes of Grey's Anatomy at this point where people go in for simple health issues and the Doctors end up putting a tube down their throat or sticking a giant needle in them. Angus starts laughing at my completely rational fear.

"They're not going to poke you with anything" he says trying to keep a straight face, "I am, but they won't" He gives me that cheeky smile

The clinic is a small space placed between two giant retail stores. Theres 1 other person waiting when we arrive, we check in at the desk and the receptionist hands me a form to fill out, questions about previous medical history. Our wait is short and a female doctor calls my name and ushers me into a smaller office than the one Angus occupies at the gym but unlike his, this room is way more decorated.

"Hi Zoey, my name is Doctor Evans" She introduces herself, "what can I help you with tonight?"

My nerves kick in, I know what I'm here for but I can't say it, she's going to judge me and give me a lecture about how I should never of lost my virginity, Angus can see I'm struggling and takes me hand

"It's alright Zoey, you're in a safe place here, Dr Evans isn't going to make you feel bad" He comforts me, "Zoey is a highly anxious person, she finds it hard to talk about certain subjects, that's why I came in with her tonight" Angus explains to the doctor and I can see Dr Evans starting to understand what's going on

"Is this your boyfriend Zoey?" she asks me and I nod yes, "And are you sexually active?" she continues

"Yes" I say shyly, preparing myself for the lecture

"Zoey there's nothing to feel ashamed of, a lot girls become sexually active around your age and it's natural. My only concern is that your protected and safe."She reassures me, "Have you been tested?" She enquires and I look at Angus, he promised no needles tonight

"Zoey was a virgin before we started having sex, we use condoms every time too" Angus answers for me, Dr Evans turns her attention from me to Angus

"And when were you last tested for STIs?" she questions him

"After my last sexual encounter, I'm clean" He replies and I sit there thinking that these should have been questions I asked him before jumping into anything, I didn't even consider it. Dr Evans turns her attention back to me.

"Zoey would you like me to prescribe the pill for you?" She asks me in her concerned doctor voice.

"Yes please" I reply, my own voice is soft and shy

"I can do that tonight, I'm going to also prescribe a low dose of anti anxiety medication too" She tells me, "The pill must be taken at or around the same time every day for it to be effective and it can take up to 7 days for it to become effective so please keep using your back up form of contraception. Also I must warn you that antibiotics can make the pill ineffective so be aware of that if you are prescribed antibiotics at any stage" She says as she types and prints out two prescriptions, "Also Zoey, don't ever feel ashamed to talk to a medical professional about being sexually active, we are here to help you, never judge you" She smiles warmly at me

"Thank you Dr Evans" I say. We leave the clinic and find a late night chemist near by, I put my prescriptions in with the pharmacist and we sit and wait, Angus takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze.

"Proud of you Princess" He says

"I really didn't do anything, you did all of the talking, my nerves just took over" I'm ashamed that I couldn't speak up

"Zoey it's all good, I know you have anxiety and thats why I went with you tonight and maybe the medication for anxiety will help keep the nerves away." He comforts me

"I should have ask you that question before we did anything" my mind is going into overthinking mode

"I would of told you if you had anything to worry about, I knew I was clean and yeah, maybe we should of had that conversation, that falls on me more than you not asking, I didn't think about it honestly because I knew you were clean" He reassures me, "You're safe with me Zo, always", I feel it too.

We walk back to the apartment, past the food stalls that are packing up for the night.

"Do you want a cupcake Princess?" He asks me

"You ask me like you don't already know the answer will always be yes" I laugh

He orders 2 red velvet cupcakes and we eat them in front of the fire.

"I feel bad for Joanna" I randomly blurt out

"Why, she earns $165 a day here, I think she's not doing too bad" He laughs

"Yeah but what do you think she thinks now that she has to empty your trash bin after we've, you know?" It's only just dawned on me now that, apart from Dr Evans, Joanna would be the only other person to know Angus and I are sleeping together and I've never even met her.

"Zoey I don't give a shit what she thinks, I'm an adult" He tells me, "You worry too much about what other people think" He states the obvious. I see his point though, it's no ones business what we are doing and it's not shameful either

"I'm going to tell Tess next time I see her" I announce

"Only if you're sure? I can be there with you if you want me to be?" He's asks knowing I may need support

"Thank you, I appreciate it but I think it's best I do this alone, Tess has been my whole world for so long and now she shares it with you, I love you both but I don't want to make her feel like it's now you and me and she's been pushed out. I need sister time." I explain and then a panic sets in, I don't want Angus to feel I''m pushing him out either, "Is that OK?" I ask

"Of course thats OK Zo, you never have to feel like you're choosing Tess over me, she's your sister and your best friend" He says, kissing my head

[movedyourchair505]

Hi, here's my essay on NN, please give me a good grade!!! 💞💞💞

Babe. I’m not okay. So here I go, I’m officially writing my “last” ask for Napule Nights. I opened a proper document to write this and everything, usually I just use the notepad on my laptop, but this is serious business and you deserve to know how magical, special and incredible this story is. Fifty two chapters? I’m so shook by that number. Every single one has been filled with excitement and rich, gorgeous description that makes my heart tingle for Alex, that has drawn me deeper and deeper in love with our Mafia prince. As you know, I read the last chapter last night in bed after you finished the first draft and you know how much I cried, how much it all means to me, how overwhelmed I was. I’m going to attempt to dissect this chapter in all it’s glory as best I can and as I’m submitting this (deffo not gonna be worth the effort of 100 asks), I’m truly going to go off.

So first of all - We open on my darling Jade, my triple fire bish. God I love her so much even though I hate her so much. She genuinely feels like a lifelong friend at this point. You know I’m weak for character development and the satisfaction on Jade’s face, the power she has as she’s going to see her man, the fact she’s flanked by and not being escorted by Matt and Jamie is so wonderful. 

Special shoutout here to every single character and OC you’ve added to NN. From Matt and Jamie being badass, sarcastic babes to Miles being the most extra, flamboyant, hilarious Mafia icon/hoe, to Serena, Alex’s parents, the truly putrid Adriana, Alfonso, Mancini, all of the people who hurt our babies, (quick mention of my number one hun Rocco, best character I ever named, love him) and I just really love “Lana” for obvious???? reasons. It’s incredible how you’ve adapted already established people from Al’s world into the universe of NN and created such believable OC’s at the same time, they all play such a vital part in the story. It’s a talent I’ll never quite be over.

Then Alex, oh my sweet tineh babeh, he’s come so far but has never been any less hot. We’ve watched him struggle internally and externally, fight for power and dominance in his love life and work life and he really is on top of the world now. He’s cocky, possessive, arrogant and extremely rude but I love him fiercely. It never gets any less hot when you’d describe him and this time was no exception. You know I’m weak for him just greeting her by saying her name - I’ll never be over it. I love how addicted they are, how they radiate towards each other and have learned each other so naturally, it’s so perfect. Love Jade being a badass business woman who secures deals for her man (side note: imagine how jealous he’d be knowing she’s surrounded by other men when he’s not there, mmm). They’re so proud and attracted to each other’s brains just as much as how hot they both are and that’s just incredible. Each tiny soft touch makes me melt.  He is such a tease about her contract and I’m just as excited for it as she is. And honestly, can’t blame her from wanting to sleep with the boss, I mean same. He is so desperate to prove he owns and is in charge of her and the smut as a result of that is too good. Puppy has made a return and I cannot with that nickname, he is such a tineh puppeh. He’s so hot and demanding and got himself worked up so quickly, I love it, their fire will never go out. Him taking his time undressing and using his belt - mmmmm what a bitch. I hate him. As always so many poetic lines even in the smuttiness. ‘She was too much, her desire matched by only his own in a way that was so unapologetic, so beautiful, and he never wanted to tame it’, ‘he was satisfied knowing she’d be bruised the next day, inside and out and he had every intention of tending to her every wish when she was’. Can he leave???? Please??? You attacked me a lot, he’s so soft with his kisses and touches even when he’s being this hot powerful bitch and I can’t with it. The “I’m ‘ere…” mmmm, I love him. He makes me so happy. Redressing her, being needy for her to stay, to enjoy the afterglow with him. It’s so perfect. Can he not kiss her jaw? Them sharing a smoke, teasing each other, being so wrapped up in the warmth as they drink together is so intimate and so different to the first time he had her over his desk. The parallels are wonderful and I obviously noticed them all but it’s so incredible how much has changed. They show so much obvious love and care for each other, the pride he has watching her work, the silly giggles they have together, the respect they show for each other - ‘getting lost in the way he spoke, the way his mind worked, brilliant and unapologetic’, ‘finding herself hopelessly lost in everything he stood for once again’. It’s all so final but full of hope and I love it. My king and queen of Naples. I love them.

So here we go, hope you’ve enjoyed my essay.

This story has helped me through so many shitty days, has been there when I’ve been feeling my absolute worst and has brought me so much joy and endless escape, I seriously cannot thank you enough. I have so many favourite chapters and moments in NN, too many to list here but you know I’ll tell you in detail why I love them over and over again. I am so excited to re-read it from the beginning. I loved learning Italian with you. I loved researching fanceh food and drinks with you, naming cocktails and places and bars. I loved (hated) describing Jade’s dress in every chapter, envisioning each setting and brianstorming ideas with you. I loved thirsting over how hot Al is when he’s in control. I loved every conversation and idea we had about them. Reading it, developing it and planning NN with you has not only genuinely made me a better writer, it has also been the biggest honour and it really is part of the reason our friendship became such a huge, important part of my life. I am so thankful I get to be a part of this universe, their world, these tiny idiots who have grown so much and so beautifully. From the bottom of my heart thank you, for this story, for your love, your friendship and for being the incredible, selfless, talented pisces Queen you are and always will be. I love you now and always 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

I honestly adore you for being so immersed in this story and taking it so seriously and always helping me out with it when I needed it and genuinely making it a better story. It would be nothing without you, the true Mafia prince our tiny son is wouldn’t have developed that way!! You know how hard establishing OCs is so the fact that you like Jade so much as a character (and hate her too) honestly makes me so so happy, thank you for helping me describing her outfits, discussing how she would react and what she would do and just generally stanning her and talking about her. And I’m so happy you liked all the other characters too, how I’ve put them in or developed them (especially Lana 😏) and thank you for helping with that as well, thank you for helping me research and just discussing everything in this story, it truly is so fun and I could not have done it without you, it’s improved my writing for sure to write with you and I don’t know what I’d do without you! I know I did you a massive attack with everything Alex says and does, he is a soft puppy but he’s a hot and dominant bitch and I love writing him that way, mmmmmmmm. That’s our son. Thank you for pointing out my lines that you enjoyed too, you know how much I value your opinion. 

I love you so so much, this story wouldn’t be what it is without you and I mean that and I want you to not doubt that because it’s true. It would be boring and generic without you and you made it what it is. I am so excited to develop the one shots with you and I’m so excited to write everything with you. You’re the best and I’m so thankful that you’re my friend, you’re a Queen!!! 🧡💝💓💛💕

[junionigiri]

Work In Progress [BNHA] [Preview of Chapter 1!]

Rating: T for strong language (since Bakugou is in it )

Summary: For the year’s Interscholastic Fantasy Festival, Class 2A is working on a musical! The reluctant Bakugou is assigned to work on the script with Uraraka, who proves to be a more eccentric writer than he thought.

Relationship: Kacchako <3

Notes/Warnings: This is a preview of a part of chapter 1. Since there’s the main story and the story within the story, the chapters are pretty darn long. I’ll start publishing the chapters in full once I’m five chapters in ^^’ Apart from Bakugou’s language and liberal 4th wall breaks I don’t think there’s anything to worry about in this fic~

Bakugou seriously did not want to work on Uraraka’s dumbass script. It’s not that he was bad at writing--in fact, beyond his good grades, he knew he was pretty good at it. Principal Nezu had personally informed him that the essay he submitted on “Why I Want To Be A Hero” was one of the most well-composed ones he’s ever read.

It’s just that Bakugou hated fantasy. And hated fiction-writing (because fiction was not real, therefore it was a waste of his fuckin’ time).

Most of all though, he hated having to work with other people to achieve any kind of common goal. Look at his damn stats for cooperativeness in the character book and anyone with half a brain would get it. And to cooperate for a stupid ass waste of time like the Fantasy Festival? Who the hell thought up of the stupid Fantasy Festival anyway?! Weren’t there more important things in society to worry about?

And the fact that he was working with Uraraka fuckin’ Ochako was in itself pretty aggravating. It’s not that he hated her--in fact, she was one of the few to earn Bakugou’s (grudging) respect, since their infamous Sports Festival encounter when they were first years.

However, since their encounter at the festival, Uraraka learned not to be the tiniest bit afraid of him anymore. He knew that this girl wouldn’t be the type to just shut up and do what he tells her to, and he really didn’t feel like making such an effort just to write a stupid play.

But now that he knew that fuckin’ All Might was counting on him to write the script, well… he couldn’t get out of it now, could he? Bakugou was many things, but a disappointment to All Might, he’d rather not be.

So that was how he found himself stomping his way away from the common areas to his room, with Uraraka bouncing right behind him. They were going to sit down there to look over her draft, but it was overrun by the costumes, set-design, and props people with all their shit.

“Why your room?” Uraraka said, huffing as she struggled to keep up with Bakugou’s pace. “I don’t think girls are allowed there…”

“Let ‘em try to kick you out, Round-Face,” he growled as he tapped on the elevator button impatiently.

“If you say so, Explodey-face,” she teased, earning her a growl which was received with a giggle. This was what Bakugou was talking about. This damn girl knew no fear.

They eventually made it to his room, with Bakugou stomping the entire way and Uraraka skipping like an oblivious little red riding hood romping through the forest with a picnic basket, the purest picture of ignorance and innocence, unwitting of the ravenous wolf who lurked in the foreboding shadows of the dark, nightmarish wood.

Ugh. Really, Bakugou? Already gearing yourself up to write this fuckin’ fantasy shit? You guys haven’t even sat down yet. Don’t be too fuckin’ eager. 

“Uwaa, your room’s amazing, Bakugou! I didn’t think it would be so neat and sparkly~”

Much to his annoyance, Little Pink Riding Cheeks was already making herself right at home next to his desk. He felt a vein or two pop over his forehead, like in animes if they were in an anime. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be neat and sparkly?! You expect a guy like me to just live in a dump?!”

“I’m just sayin’, I wish my room was as neat. I knew you were great at lots of things, but even cleaning?” she said wistfully. “Hey, I have an idea! Next time, let’s go to my room, and--”

“I ain’t helping you clean your damn room, Round-Face.”

She pouted and innocently twiddled her thumbs. “I -wasn’t- going to say that, but, you know, now that you mentioned it…”

He grit his teeth so loudly Uraraka gasped and asked him if his teeth were okay. “Let’s just…!!! Get this fuckin’ script over and done with already!”

“Eh, fine, fine. Sorry for teasin’ ya! Watch yer blood pressure, a’ight?” She reached over to open her bag and pulled out a messy folder that was crumpled, filled to its limit with papers with tags pointing in all directions. A post-it with a messy scrawl on it flew out as she pulled out the mess. “So, this is what we’re gonna be workin’ on!”

“What the fuck is that mess? Did you fuckin’ sit on it and flush it down the toilet and set it on fire?”

“How rude!” Uraraka puffed her cheeks. “I only sat on it once! On accident! And I don’t bring homework to the toilet! That’s just unladylike.” She opened up the folder and revealed a disorganized array of handwritten scripts scrawled on legal pad, post-its, sketches, more post-its, reference photos of their classmates with post-its on them, receipts, a grocery list, and a few folded-up paper bags from Tokyu Hands.

Bakugou’s fingers itched. He spent so much energy restraining himself from fixing the mess that was now taking over his desk that he barely heard Uraraka’s spiel.

“So, in the meeting which you missed, we drew lots. Everyone’s working on the production and stuff but all of us will be acting in the play too. Some of us bit parts and stuff, but yeah. I asked everyone what they wanted their roles to be. Based on those ideas, I sketched out my ideas on what their characters would be.”

She pulled out the sketches, and Bakugou had to admit, they weren’t badly done. He would go so far as to say that she might have a talent in drawing. They were scratchy and messy, but Uraraka seemed to place great care in drawing out the likeness of each classmate, and the details of each character and costume and even background information were at least 70% fleshed out for each of them.

“So based on the lottery, Deku-kun’s the lead character. You, me, Tsuyu-chan, and Todoroki-kun are gettin’ large roles, plus we gotta pay attention to All-Might-sensei’s important cameo. We’re gonna write the story based on all of this! And, if we want to allot time for practice and stuff, we have to finish most of the script in a week!”

“The f-- I’m gettin’ a large role too?! Nobody said that!”

“It ain’t my fault you weren’t at the meeting, Bakugou-kun.”

The blonde boy scowled as he went through the sketches. The fucking nerd Deku’s role was that of a ‘Squire’ (but his costume made him look like a fucking hobbit). Uraraka had a hood (fuckin’ coincidence from his red riding hood fantasy earlier) and a staff, and she was a ‘Mage’. Frog was a froggy lookin’ barmaid. IcyHot was a Prince (probably of the Land of Half and Halfs where people were always shitty and constipated). All Might was a Legendary Knight in exile (also fitting, in a morbid sort of way).

And Bakugou was… a Bard. His sketch had him wear fuckin’ poofy pants and a stupid fuckin’ hat with a feather on it and a stupid shitty tiny harp that the chubby babies in those old fuckin’ European paintings had. He all but made the paper disappear from a blast from his fist. “Oi, Roundface. Who’s the fucker I gotta kill besides you for giving me this pansy-ass role?!”

“Hey, it’s your fault. You weren’t there yesterday.” Uraraka repeated, not even the least bit apologetic. “And that thing you destroyed was a brilliant joint effort between me, Kirishima-kun and Kaminari-kun. Nice goin’, Explodey-face.”

“Fuck y’all! I’ll kill those idiots!” He shredded the paper further. “Gimme that pencil!” Within seconds, he sketched out something different, muttering expletives the entire time. After he was done, he dumped the pencil on the desk, almost breaking it into tiny little pieces.

Uraraka gasped. “Wow, Bakugou! That’s really impressive! A Dragon Tamer, huh?” She traced his sketch with one finger, which showed him with a fur cape, tattoos, a necklace made of the fuckin’ skulls and teeth of his enemies, pants and boots, and lots of fire blazing in the background for extra badassery. She grinned at him teasingly. “So you have been thinkin’ about this so-called fantasy shit too!”

“Fuck you,” he said, shoving her in the face unceremoniously. “Now I know that I gotta change that fuckin’ script of yours. Let’s just get this fuckin’ shit over with.”

“Okay…” Uraraka pulled out the legal pads, but shielded them from Bakugou. “Um. Just so you know, Bakugou, these are really, really, rough drafts, okay?”

His jaw jutted out in annoyance. “The fuck you mean by rough drafts. I thought I was just gonna edit your shit.”

She gave him a ridiculous look. “Well, you are. But also, I started workin’ on this just a week ago sooooo you gotta help me finish like a teeny bit of it.”

“How fuckin’ teeny do you mean.”

“Um. Like. 50% of it, mmmaybe…?”

Bakugou could almost see the smoke coming out of his own fuckin’ nostrils.

“Anyway, that’s exactly why we can’t waste anymore time, right?” said Uraraka, a positive beam glowing out of both ears. “And don’t you worry! The story’s practically finished in my head!”

There’s probably nothing in there but a single light bulb struggling to survive, thought Bakugou in annoyance. He put his palm to his face and tried his hardest not to yell at her. “Fine, Uraraka. Let’s just fuckin’ start already. No matter what, I’m kickin’ you out of my room by 10 PM.”

“Okay! Glad ya see it my way, Bakugou-kun!” She smiled and pulled out the first page of the script, which read:

*

 - Deku and the Final Fantastic Lord of the School of Wizardry!: The Legend of the Airbender’s Song of Ice and Fire -

(A Work in Progress)

Act One, Scene One: In Which Deku-kun Leaves His House and Adventure Begins

Written by: Uraraka Ochako

 *

“The fuck? Are you trying to outdo Class B’s lameass play from the last year’s cultural festival, Round-face?”

 “It’s a work in progress! We can edit it out later.” Uraraka said as she scribbled Explodey McSplodeface next to her name on the by-line.

[theconservativebrief]

Several stories showing racial profiling of black Americans by police and white Americans continue to go viral — in one video, a white woman calls the cops on a black man babysitting two white children in Georgia. In another, a white student calls 911 when she sees a black classmate sleeping in a dormitory common room. In this essay, a former police dispatcher remembers the racist calls she used to take every day and law enforcement’s rules that forced her to respond to every caller, regardless of the incident.

It was the end of an 18-hour shift. My butt hurt from sitting in one place with only a couple of five-minute bathroom breaks. My brain hurt from staying awake that long, and my stomach ached from all the coffee I’d drunk to keep myself alert.

But the phones rarely stopped.

“911, what’s the address of your emergency?” I said into the headset.

The man gave me his address and then said, “There’s a woman pushing a shopping cart in front of my house.”

This one stumped me. I worked in a large metropolitan area. Yes, the city where I worked was affluent, and most people used their cars to get groceries. But surely he’d seen a person using a personal grocery cart before.

“I’m sorry, I’m not getting it. What’s the problem?” I waited for more clarification as I racked my brain for the correct penal code under which this infraction might fall.

“You need to get out here now.”

“Um.” A dispatcher has to be cautious about how she phrases things. Of all the jobs in emergency services — firefighters, police officers, nurses, doctors — dispatchers are the only ones who are recorded during every single thing they do. Everything they say — and their whole job is speaking — is part of public record. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re reporting.”

“She’s black.”

My heart sped up as it did every day when I heard this kind of thing. This Northern California city was affluent and very white, bordering Oakland, much of which was neither. “Sir, I’m still not seeing the problem. Is she being loud? Is the noise of the cart disturbing your peace?”

His tone got harsher. “Where do you live?”

I was so startled by the question that I answered it. “Oakland,” I said.

“You wouldn’t understand, then. This isn’t Oakland. We don’t have people like her in this neighborhood. Just send someone out to get rid of her. I’m not talking to you anymore.” The click in my ear was his goodbye.

The worst thing about it? I had to send someone out. Dispatchers usually don’t get to choose which calls lead to the dispatching of emergency personnel and which don’t.

If a person wants to make a report, they get to make a report. You can think of police reports as being like lawsuits. Anyone can make one about anything, no matter how stupid. Shortly after 9/11, I had to send an officer to take a report from a citizen because she’d had a dream about a knife-wielding man from Afghanistan.

Of course, dispatchers do have a tiny bit of control. I sent our one Afghan officer to take the report from her. He was amused; she, not so much.

By now, you’ve probably heard about the white Oakland woman who called the cops because black men were using a charcoal grill at Lake Merritt. She’s been memed and mocked, and the department has been criticized for sending officers out. But it all started with a dispatcher, answering that first phone call.

According to the computer logs, which have been made public, the call came in 11:22 am. A woman reported a 40-year-old heavyset black man using a charcoal grill. The dispatcher spent less than a minute asking her for more information. He typed NFD at the end, which stands for No Further Details.

Here’s where I start guessing things, based on 17 years of dispatching in the Bay Area. I’m guessing that the dispatcher rolled his eyes at this call so hard they almost fell out of his head. Yet another white lady upset over what black people were doing. Every single day of my career, I took that call. Every single day, I wanted to slam down the phone.

Instead, the dispatcher typed NFD. That’s subtle dispatch code for “this caller was a pain in the butt and couldn’t give more information about this lame-ass complaint.” It was entered as a Priority 3 call, which essentially means “not important” — the police officers on duty at that moment had much better things to do in a city like Oakland.

Two hours passed, and police had not responded. But then someone called to report the original caller was still on scene and now fighting with the people barbecuing, which prompted an immediate dispatch. “Life before property” is the code by which emergency services run. Potential property damage reports will hold for hours, if not days, if officers are busy intervening in situations where people are in physical danger. Once it was reported that people were fighting, an officer arrived at the scene of the barbecue eight minutes later.

Am I saying police officers aren’t racist — that they question black citizens more aggressively than white citizens because responding to most complaints is obligatory? Heck no. Many are. We live in a country still mired in institutional racism, including its policing. I’m not in the business anymore, and the relationship between police departments and communities of color was one of the reasons I left to write full time.

But I am pointing out that those cops on the video didn’t look happy to be forced to take the complaint seriously. They had way better things to do that afternoon than investigate some guys cooking out in a park.

In every city in America, 911 rings around the clock. Dispatchers are usually too short-staffed to take real breaks, and they can’t shut the center for weekends and holidays. They are the ones who suck it up and keep hitting the answer button, no matter what.

My co-worker once got a call from a man who said, “My neighbors keep parking in front of my house. And they’re black.”

Dispatchers all have moments when they reach the end of their patience, and that was Bonnie’s moment.

She said, “It’s a city street. Unfortunately, anyone can legally park wherever they like. I’m sure it’s very frustrating for you. Why would you bring race into this?”

“Are you black?”

“I am,” she said.

“Put your supervisor on the phone.”

He filed a police report against her instead of his neighbors.

She went through an internal affairs investigation because, of course, any report against a member of the police department has to be investigated. She was cleared of breaking any technical rules — she had stated clearly that no laws were being broken; she hadn’t had an attitude in her voice.

But she was sternly advised to be more circumspect in the future or her job would be at stake. She told me later, “That was the moment I decided to leave the industry. Every time I answered the phone, I felt like I got punched in the face. And I had to shut up and take it.” A few years later, she became a therapist on San Quentin’s death row. She said her new job was easier than dispatching.

The phone rings again. You mime stabbing yourself in the eyeball as the next caller says that she thinks three kids outside the 7-Eleven are getting ready to rob it.

“Why do you think that?”

“They’re wearing hoodies. You never know what those kinds of kids are carrying in their pockets. Every one of them could have a gun, you know. They probably do.”

“Did you see a gun?”

“Just check.” Click.

You swallow your cold oatmeal, you roll your eyes at your cubicle mate, and you enter the call for eventual dispatch even though you wish you could pretend you never got it. (If you don’t enter the call and something happens, you could lose your job for negligence.) Then you grab the next call.

Of course people should call 911 if it’s an actual emergency. But think before you call the cops to handle your feelings about a barbecue, or where someone is parked, or if they’re playing music on a Saturday afternoon. If you get it wrong (and all of us, living in the privileged bubbles of our own creation, often get it wrong), you could be the reason someone gets hurt or even killed.

With some rudimentary math, I’ve worked out that I’ve answered at least a quarter of a million 911 calls in my career. Amid the meaningless, racially charged calls, I’ve gotten so many by concerned citizens who genuinely want to help someone who is hurt or in danger. Good typically wins over evil. But it’s awfully damn close sometimes. And we all have to pick a side.

Rachael Herron is the best–selling author of the novel The Ones Who Matter Most, named an editor’s pick by Library Journal, as well as more than 20 other novels and memoirs. She received her MFA in writing from Mills College, Oakland, and she teaches creative writing in the extension programs at both UC Berkeley and Stanford.

First Person is Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays. Do you have a story to share? Read our submission guidelines, and pitch us at firstperson@vox.com.

Original Source -> I used to be a 911 dispatcher. I had to respond to racist calls every day.

via The Conservative Brief

[rell4godsglory]

Return To Sender (Using Your Gifts To Glorify God)

God has designed us so carefully. Pondering our creation, God must have been very meticulous, crafting every little detail of us from the inside out. Think about how amazing your fingerprints are (that’s a line you can use fellas, they say women like when you notice the small things) These tiny swirls , something so small and insignificant has the power to identify us if need be. Our fingerprints are connected to who we are but they are unique and different from everyone else’s in the world.

Similar to our gifts and talents. God designed and placed something in us that comes directly from him. A gift that is yours, it is unique and different from everyone in the world. There may be people who have the gift of writing, singing, playing piano, athletics whatever your gift is, but they all differ in some way.

My ninth grade English teacher told me that I had a gift of writing. I can’t remember what I wrote or what it was about but I took that compliment and ran with it. Even until this day! Whenever we had to write five paragraph essays In school, it came super easy to me. Only five paragraphs? I would write at least eight-to-ten paragraphs because I knew that was the area where I could shine.

My early years of writing were mostly vent sessions on a peice of paper, on my blackberry phone, computer, anywhere that had a blank canvas I could spill some thoughts on and feel better about what I was going through.

Fast forward to being adult and having bills. I used to think, “how can I monetize this gift?” “How can I use what the Lord has blessed me with to create another stream of income?” Which is not necessarily a bad mindset to have but I was inspired by tv shows, movies, plays and had ideas of writing projects that had nothing to do with God. I was money driven, accolade driven, success driven and not driven by God.

**Return To Sender**

As I started getting closer to God and taking my relationship with him seriously, I saw how he was working in my life, for my entire life actually. Now I am at the point I don’t want to purse anything unless I feel like God is leading me to it. I want HIS will to be done, not mine. I have tried it on my own and I hit a brick wall and crashed. We are Gods children, we aren’t supposed to figure out this life thing on our own.

Now imagine your gift as a tool. Imagine someone gave you this tool and they called you to do a specific work for them and you would benefit from it in the process. You then take the tool and go start working on something that you want to do. Or you go and work on a completely different project because you think there will be a better reward, only to see that it is not working out. You get burnt out, frustrated and want to give up.

Many of us know what our gift or gifts are, we are just mishandling them. I wholeheartedly believe that we are not fully operating and getting the best out of our gifts and talents because we are not acknowledging or glorifying God in the process. There are some qualities that The Lord has placed in me that I used for the world. And guess what? It still didn’t work out. No matter how hard I went, no matter the inspirational posts from social media, I still failed.

I understand that some of you may have trouble figuring out what your gifts are or how to use your gifts from the Lord but after reading this, take it to the Lord in prayer. The answer cannot be found anywhere but taking some time with God and being *transparent* with him. Tell him how you feel, what’s on your mind and your heart and trust that he will reveal all of these things to you. Ask him to lead you in every area of your life but also ask him to reveal what *HE* has planned for your gifts.

Once our Almighty God reveals these things to you (in his timing) hit the ground running. Use your gifts to advance the kingdom of God. My hopes in my writing is to return my gift back to the sender, give him his glory and pray that what I write, may encourage the reader. Give them a perspective change and truly pursue God and the things that he has for them. We serve a great God and he wants his glory through whatever we do. May God bless you and allow the peace that Christ gives rule in your hearts.

[kxlinthesky]

On Trust (Or Barring That, Mutual Feelings of Some Variety): Why I Love Shuuichi / Shinichi Interactions

It’s 2 in the morning and I can’t sleep, so allow me a moment to rant about my most beloved relationship in the Detective Conan series. And by “relationship,” I mean platonically, not romantically, though I won’t stop you from interpreting it as such.

I don’t know I’d go so far as to call it a “theme,” per se, but a large factor in many Detective Conan cases is withholding information until the right moment, which may never come. Naturally, Shinichi keeping things from Ran is the biggest example, but there’s also hiding things from Shiho that might cause her anxiety, and hiding crucial details of a case from everyone, viewer/reader included, for the maximum dramatic effect. When something is shared, it tends to be for that huge dramatic effect, or the information is pried from the holder one way or another, like how Heiji finally got Conan to admit he’s Shinichi in the Holmes Freak Murder Case.

This withholding of valuable information can be called lack of trust, or protectiveness stemming from love, or maybe insensitiveness, or whatever. But this pretty much pervades most relationships in Detective Conan, due, I think, mostly to the whole nature of the show’s premise.

Which is why the interactions between Shuuichi and Shinichi are so much more memorable and striking and refreshing and whatever other adjective you want to put in there that fits the general theme. The level of trust these two display in each other is frankly astounding given the series’ track record, given how leery Shinichi is of him at first (I’m thinking specifically of the phone box scene in the snow, not by the series’ skewed in-universe chronology), given that Shuuichi shows no signs of remembering their first meeting on the beach and that if that’s true and he doesn’t he actually trusts a six-year-old with dangerous FBI stuff oh my God.

Allow me to present evidence to the court because it’s about fifteen minutes later and I’m losing my grip on reality just a touch:

During the FBI operation in the hospital, Shinichi/Conan and Shuuichi are walking down a hallway, discussing information regarding Rena Mizunashi and the NOC and whatnot, and then this small exchange happens:

There’s no fanfare, no pause or anything to indicate that this is a big deal, because really it isn’t. It shouldn’t be. This is just two intelligent people discussing a plan and sharing information they aren’t sharing with other people. This tiny exchange, no longer than four or five seconds, displays a level of mutual respect that’s very rarely seen in this show.... No, that’s not quite right, characters respect each other, but the fact that it’s a grown-ass man and an apparent six-year-old doing the mutual respecting makes this a lot more striking. Since Shinichi is stuck as Conan, he very rarely receives that sort of...recognition, I suppose? From other people. I mean, Kogoro regularly bops him on the head and bodily tosses him away from crime scenes, Megure no longer listens to him since he’s six, he’s stuck with grade schoolers, his possibly-closest ally Shiho/Ai is acerbic and unwilling to open up, the list goes on. So this? This isn’t just a breath of fresh air, it’s opening up a window for the first time in five years on a cold mountaintop. It’s heartening to see this mysterious guy whose intelligence seems to be on-par with our hero trusting him like this.

Then there’s this subsequent scene:

Shinichi doesn’t really give warning that he’s about to do this. He just knocks on the door and starts using his voice-changing bowtie, no big deal, no big deal. Except Shuuichi definitely had no idea that’s what the bowtie did. He’s surprised. There’s no audio to go with pictures but in the scene he even makes a small “hm?” sort of noise. If I’m remembering correctly, there’s a case where someone -- I think Ran? -- discovers the bowtie and Shinichi panics, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse that, given that it’s Shinichi “I Heard It On TV” Kudou, doesn’t sound all that plausible. (I might be wrong, who knows.) The point is, this kid doesn’t reveal these sorts of things lightly. And since he has plot armor courtesy of Aoyama, he could’ve easily ducked into a corner or out into the hallway and tried to fool Shuuichi too, but he didn’t. He chose to stay there and use the gadget in plain sight, and that’s big. 

This wasn’t going to be a part of this rant originally, but hell, it’s close to 3 now, let’s see if this makes any sense. Let’s not forget that Shinichi, upon realizing that Shuuichi as Subaru no longer has a place to live, just casually offers up his own house. His house. And like, there’s so much going on there. Like, if the Organization noticed there was someone living there now, they could draw the conclusion that Shinichi is still alive since there’s activity in there or whatever. And all of his personal effects are still in there, so there’s really nothing from stopping Shuuichi from poking through and deducing stuff about the owner, and Shinichi knows this, he has to know this, and he offers the house anyway. And Shiho, who’s right there, calls him out with this:

And. She’s right, you know. Even knowing that Subaru is Shuuichi, Shinichi doesn’t know all that much about Shuuichi. He just knows he’s a smart FBI guy who takes him seriously and is good for fighting the BO, faked his death, maybe knows he once had the Silver Bullet moniker but I don’t quite remember at this point. But the trust goes that deep. And that’s amazing for this show. Especially when you compare it to how Shinichi tries to calm Shiho down:

This boy is immediately trying to keep Shiho in the dark with a patented Shinichi “I Learned It In Hawaii” Kudou excuse, and given the amount of time he’s spent with Shiho versus the amount of time he’s spent with Shuuichi at this point, that’s kind of telling. In some way. I don’t know, I’m getting tired.

I guess the thesis of this crazy-long essay or whatever is, I want more of these interactions. Not necessarily Shuuichi and Shinichi, though God I won’t say no to those. I want these beautiful relationships where characters aren’t hiding things from each other, even for possibly good reasons. I want this mutual respect. Give me this.

(On a somewhat related vein I’d like a continuation of the scene from Episode 304 you know the one)