#this is so dramatic i’m sorry i over analyze every line from these movies

[bucklway]

weird & random saw headcanon i have:

danica scott from saw 3 & mallick scott from saw 5 are siblings

my reasoning:

obviously they both have the last name scott which is where this whole hc came from but let me go into detail on the other thing

saw is known for it’s awkward dialogue & line delivery & one example of this that i’ve always loved was mallick’s “It’s Jigsaw. I knew this was gonna happen to me!” i’ve always thought this line was really funny, mallick is so overcome with guilt that he frequently worries that he’s going to be jigsawed.

mallick is the only character in the entire saw franchise who ever makes reference to expecting to be picked for a trap, so my explanation for this weird reaction is his sister being a previous victim.

if danica was mallick’s sister, he would be intimately familiar with jigsaw & everything to do with his victims. you couldn’t go through a tragedy like losing a loved one to a jigsaw trap & then be unaware of why, it adds context to his outburst if he were to experience something like that.

when he burned the building down & didn’t face justice, his guilt told him that he was going to meet the same fate danica did, instead of like.. something normal like getting arrested

[akayoko]

nights like these

summary: kenma falls asleep in the backseat of kuroo’s car while he waits for the two of you to finish shopping

a/n: just some soft SLEEPY kenma for the soul,, i actually listened to cavetown while writing this, hug all ur friends really made me feel things but it also inspired me a lot hehe please enjoy cuz i had a lot of fun writing this :)

pairing: kenma x gender neutral reader (and kuroo kind of, but mostly kenma)

genre: fluff! 

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

it’s another one of those nights, accompanied by muffled giggles and random banter bouncing off the walls of your cramped apartment. humming a random melody as you hold a warm cup of tea close to your chest, you lean back on the couch, glancing at your friends’ softly illuminated faces under the dim lights. closing your eyes, you listen to kuroo’s remarks at the movie you chose as he clings on to a tired kenma lying between the two of you. i could do this for an eternity, you think, inhaling the delicate scent of the chamomile tea between your palms.

“he is SO dense,” he exhales dramatically, sipping on his drink. “she obviously likes him!”

you laugh at his antics as you snuggle closer to kenma, both you and kuroo making sure to keep him warm and shower him with the love and affection he deserves. he claims he hates the kisses you occasionally place to the top of his head, but he never pushes either of you away. even if he does, he never means it anyway.

“stop that,” he mumbles when kuroo tries to boop his nose.

when he actually pulls away, kenma turns to frown at him, just as if he didn't reject him mere seconds ago. it's a lovely sight.

in the middle of the movie, you reach for the chips only to realize you have finished the third and last bag that night. kuroo looks at you knowingly, and in the blink of an eye, he’s unwrapping kenma from the pile of blankets, telling him you are going for a drive.

kenma of course protests, but you’re persistent. you grab him by the hand, promising you will cuddle him later if he comes along with kuroo and you, to which he scoffs.

“you think that’s enough to convince me?” he grumbles.

“i see you’re already putting your jacket on,” you throw his socks at him. “i think i have my answer.”

--

you leave the store with bags full of snacks and kuroo by your side, enjoying the crisp air biting at your cheeks. you take a deep breath as you look up at the sky sown with stars, admiring the numerous constellations adorning it. dragging your feet against the concrete, you wish you could stay in this parking lot longer. the tranquil midnight darkness reminds you to relax your shoulders, finding reassurance in the way the gloomy hues seem to engulf your senses. 

a faint sound of a car honking in the distance wakes you up from your trance, bringing your attention back to the gentle winter breeze. you sigh as you watch the broken street lights flicker, barely illuminating the vehicles driving under them. midnight trips to the store have always been your favorite, and you’re more than happy you get to spend them with the people you love the most.

“bet kenma’s fallen asleep,” kuroo chuckles, breaking the comforting silence.

“you think so?” you giggle, turning your attention to your friend. the truth is, you did manage to get kenma in the car after you had somehow established a middle ground. he however refused to enter the store, saying two people were more than enough to get food. you decided not to push him anymore given the fact that he was right, so you left him in the backseat of kuroo’s car.

actually, one of the reasons he wanted to stay home was the fact that both kuroo and you were very indecisive when it came to choosing snacks, and he wanted to avoid the trouble of mindlessly walking through the store longer than necessary. so, when you tell him you won’t take too long, he doesn’t believe you one bit.

rightfully so, you think to yourself when you get to the trunk of the car and check the time, realizing that almost an hour has passed. you feel the guilt stinging at your stomach so you place the bags on the ground and ask kuroo to put them in the trunk for you.

you peak through the window to wave at kenma, only to notice that he was sprawled on the backseat of the car. just as kuroo predicted mere seconds ago, he had indeed dozed off. you grin as you tell kuroo to be quiet when entering the car, to which he laughs, realizing what happened.

you do your best to close the door behind you as silently as it is possible for, well, a car door, turning around to look at the boy you oh so adored. his lips are slightly parted, emitting soft snores, and you can’t help but notice how uncomfortable he seems in that position. just as you are about to take your jacket off to cover his shivering body, he shifts in his seat, raising his head to analyze his surroundings. when he recognizes the interior of kuroo’s car he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall again.

“hi, kenma,” you wave at him, flashing him a soft smile. “i woke you up, i’m s-”

“can you come here?” he cuts you off, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away. “i’m, uh, kind of cold.”

he doesn’t need to ask twice. you immediately move despite the urge to tease him, since this side of him was definitely not something a person could see every day. you love him too much for that, though, unable to bring yourself to make fun of him when you see the way he fiddles with his fingers. his lips are pressed in a thin line, and he looks just a tad too small in his oversized jacket. perhaps he’s blushing too, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to notice it.

the moment you step foot outside the car, kuroo finishes what seems to have been a phone call, placing his hand over his chest when you reach for the doorknob of the rear door.

his eyes widen. “you’re leaving me all by myself-“

“shut up,”  you snort at him, moving quickly to sit beside kenma who has straightened himself up to make space for you. resting his head against the window, he flinches when kuroo enters the car, slamming the door shut.

you stare at him, to which he shrugs. “what? he’s up.”

ignoring his response, you extend your hand towards kenma as an invitation to your arms. he takes it only for a brief moment, before placing his head on your lap, turning his back to you. your hand immediately travels to his hair, the other rubbing his back. “sorry we’re late,” you murmur, squishing his arm.

it’s nights like these that allow kenma to let loose, relishing the familiarity of your scent. a fuzzy feeling travels all the way to his fingertips, which completes itself the moment you link your hand with his. he lets his eyes close shut, the sound of the mellow radio tune lulling him to sleep. what’s that perfume you’re wearing? it’s comforting.

somehow, everything clicks for him. he tries to recall the last time he felt this way, and he huffs when he can’t remember.

you hold his cheek before tucking his hair behind his ear, and he hums against your touch. “aren’t you uncomfortable like this?” you ask. kenma doesn’t respond, which leads you to assume he’s drifted off to sleep.

your question resonates in his ears just scarcely, that being the last thing he hears before his grip on your hand grows weaker, proving your assumptions right.

you turn to look outside the window, counting every lamp post you drive by. this time you can’t see the stars but you know they’re out there, shining in their full glory. you’re not certain if it’s because of the heating kuroo has turned on, or maybe because of kenma’s steady breathing on your lap, but keeping your eyes open gradually turns into a chore and you’re quickly nodding off, too; your heartbeat slowing down to reach a steady pace. you run your tongue over your dry lips as you part them to ask kuroo if he has a bottle of water somewhere in the car, but he doesn’t respond. wait, did you ask him anything at all in the first place?

the rest of the night is a blur; the only part you remember is kuroo practically dragging you out of the car and into the apartment, complaining about how lame his friends are.

he doesn’t let it go the following morning either as he taunts you at the dining table, claiming that falling asleep so early in the night wasn’t a part of the plan.

“let’s discuss the movie, shall we? oh right, we can’t, i forgot you two fell asleep again as soon as we opened the snacks.”

he’s exaggerating, yes, but you still apologize and lean over to give him a hug, when both your and kenma’s phones light up simultaneously. you pull away, glancing at the groggy boy as he idly rubs his eyes in the seat across you, freezing in his spot abruptly.

you reach for the napkin to wipe your hands as you hastily unlock your phone, only to be greeted by a picture of you and kenma sleeping in the car, your hand placed on his back as the other one supports your head against the window. kenma is curled up with his head on your lap, his hands resting close to his chest.

kuroo snickers at the scene unraveling in front of him, waiting for a response from either of you. kenma’s ears heat up at the sound of you chuckling, eyes boring into the wall behind you. you tilt your head just enough to catch them, playfully snapping your fingers in front of his face.

“kenma i might be wrong, but i think you’re blushing,” kuroo chimes, propping his chin on his hand.

you turn off your phone, lightly kicking kenma’s legs under the table. “we look cute though, don’t we?”

“if you say so.”

“call me crazy, but i think i’m kind of third-wheeling right now.”

“you definitely are.”

[emsartwork]

i forgot to add: how do design ????!?!??????

So I’m not expert but this is how I think of character design! (also sry if you were asking about clothing/outfit design thats a little different)

under the cut because this is long im so sorry

So in my opinion there are three really important aspects for character design!

AESTHETIC: obviously everybody’s aesthetic is different, but this is more about what vibe the character has, what makes them THEM design wise. 

INTENTION: who is the character supposed to be? this can range from their personality, their back story, their occupation, or their role in the story, but the design need to fit that intention.

COHESION: does the design go well together? or do certain aspects clash too much? obviously you can have disjointed parts of a character design, and if those serve a purpose then thats fine, but if its so disjointed its distracting from the character as a whole you might need to tweak things. 

AESTHETIC: the contrasting part of the design (white flowers in dark hair, dark trim on dress, and dark shoes) provide interest to the eye. The mixing of round and sharp shapes also keeps the design from feeling “boring” even though its relatively simple. 

INTENTION: so what role would this little doodle character have? according to her design elements, shes cute and friendly with her round shapes (bouncy balls, babies, etc), but could have a sharp/fast/active or even dangerous edge to her with the triangles (arrows, knives etc). of course the design doesn’t limit her possible roles. She could be a bubbly younger sister who teases the older protagonist, or maybe she’s the villain hiding in plain sight. the shape this character design doesn’t really have is squares(think bricks and rocks), which communicates that she might not be really strong, steady, or reliable. 

COHESION: repeating the curves across her whole design builds cohesion, it communicates that “yes, these are all part of the same character”, it also allows the eye to “rest” on a familiar shape or line. 

NOW LETS LOOK AT SOME DESIGNS

(Boku no Hero Academia) so both of these characters are super heroes, but have vastly different design elements. so lets analyze them.

OCHAKO(the pink one) is all rounds, with a few pointed shapes in hair mostly, but a little on her costume as well. Her personality is cute, bubbly, and friendly which perfectly suits her soft and bouncy design. Howevre she also has a very slight edge to her, which is seen her determination and drive to improve herself over the course of the anime. 

KIRISHIMA(the red one) at first glance, seems to be super pointy!! shapes that are usually seen on villains or really dangerous characters, but while he IS sharp(literally sometimes) and sometimes aggressive, he is also made of squares, which perfectly suits his loyal “i gotchu bro” attitude towards most of the other characters in the anime.  

ISSUE AREAS: so the only problems i have with Ochako and Kirishima’s designs is that their costumes each have one area that clashes a little too much for my taste. With Ochako, the belt over the color blocking stripes down her crotch are......questionable taste wise. I think the design would be better if the pink chest ended above the belt in a shallow v. not only would this mirror the triangle aspects of her hair, it would fit the belt outline, and continue the trend her costume has of being “grounded” or “heavy”. Kirishima has those.... gears??? around his shoulders??? and while the gear teeth are technically squares, the gear shape itself is a circle, which is a shape that isn’t present anywhere else in his design. I think changing the gears to something similar to his boots or his mask/headgear would create a more cohesive design(also the gears just look hard to move in)

These two characters are presented as individuals so their costumes don’t have to match at all even though they are still seen as “connected” because of the art style for the face, hair, and body. 

In a group giving the outfits cohesive motifs is an easy way to present a strong team image! In Yuki Yuna is a Hero, the girls all have colored lines(usually princess seam placement), armor or fabric hip accents, covered arms, and similar flower shapes in their hair. The Aesthetic of each girl is strong in a monochrome signature color, but not over whelming as the black+white connects them even in color so they aren’t out of place. 

Speaking of color! if your characters are all similar looking (like same body for all of them) you can communicate their personality and aesthetic just with color! (only gonna talk about a few of the ponies) Pinkie Pie (the really pink one) is energetic and playful, so her color scheme is a variation of the primary colors(happy, child like), and have one of the more saturated colors(high energy, intense) of these characters in a large quantity. Apple Jack (the orange one) is a down to earth farm girl, and her color palette is accordingly, mostly earth tones, its also warm analogous colors, which makes her appear un-complicated and warm personality wise. the pop of red is a nice touch to add interest, but notice that its uses sparingly in her cutie mark and tail accessory. Rarity on the other hand is elegant and fussy, her high contrast scheme of white and dark blue/purples gives her more visual interest and is something that makes her appear more “complex” in addition to the gradient thats included in her hair. the colors are also all cool colors, bringing to mind cool glass or water which both have connotations of grace and beauty.

however all the characters here are unified by their colors being on the pastel side, which is also important for a cohesive cast.

another, short, note on color; making the color/line/shading of your figure different from the background can help them stand out, this is used ESPECIALLY in children’s media, but can be applied to any illustration or animation as needed.

Color can also help your characters “read” quickly on screen, the powerpuff girls are a prime example, of having a distinct color blocking and silhouette. even the color blobs at the top and my crappy hand silhouettes STILL read as the characters despite being broken down into abstract elements. I also really enjoy the thick outline in the powerpuff girls, it really makes the characters pop to the foreground even though they have pretty simple designs and are often in a colorful setting.

Also, for a lot of animation, silhouette is INCREDIBLY important for your characters, some designers sketch silhouettes and then design the particulars its so important to nail the shape. These examples from Coraline are some of my favorites (though Laika wins in my heart every time no matter what lmao) because the simple shapes are SO CLEAR and indicative of the character, you literally don’t need to have watched the movie to know these are each different characters with different personalities and roles. 

silhouette can also help tell the story. In Kubo and the two strings (another Laika film) the above three characters are sisters. One has chosen to leave her home in the heavens to live on earth, and the other two stay in their roles as “heavenly” warriors. This is even shown through their designs, the two sisters are weighted on top and their cloaks don’t even touch the ground, while the first woman has trailing, heavy sleeves, hair, and robes all grounding her and emphasizing her connection with the earth.

another example of shape/silhouette reflecting the story, In The Croods, the family of cavemen are for the most part very top heavy, with large torsos and arms, usually in a more hunched over position, while the newcomer, Guy, is bottom heavy with thin arms and stands more upright. In the plot, the family represents the old ways, the strength and rules that have helped them survive, they look like very stereotypical “cavemen”, while Guy resembles the modern man, and appropriately is associated with new ideas and forward thinking.

MORE SHAPES, in DC super hero girls each girl has a distinct personality emulated by her shape language. Zatana is dramatic curves and edges, Super girl is hard, straight edges against curves, giving her a solid muscular shape. Wonder Woman, though also strong, is taller and leaner, lending to a confident leader type. Green Lantern is slim, her lines all flow into each other giving her a go with the flow look. Bumble Bee is, of course, tiny, but her boots and gauntlets add weight and strength to her otherwise small frame. Batgirl is lanky and has a lot of pointed style lines, reminding the viewer of a skinny cat (ironic what with cat woman i know) or weasel which mirrors her preferred “sneaky” crime fighting style.  (also yes this was just an excuse for me to gush abt how much i love the dcshg designs shut up)

so in my opinion, Cartoon Saloon’s The Secret of Kells is PERFECT in aesthetic, intention, and cohesion. Kells focuses very strongly on creating silhouette WITHIN the larger figure shape via color and line, most of the characters pictured here have no neck, the one who does, Brendan, is the main character and the use of negative space that cuts into his shape is used to draw attention to him. Kells is also very strongly inspired by Medieval Illuminated manuscripts (namely, the book of kells lmao). The characters still manage to stand out against outrageously detailed backgrounds via their simple shapes and strong color blocking. 

Aisling, a secondary but very important character, is not human, and has a totally different shape language from the rest of the characters. She is thin and pointy, while most of the others are round or square. Aisling also has the most negative space making up her silhouette, compare the triangles made by her arms and legs in the above picture to the figures in the first image where everybody’s body is self contained with no negative space. She is also very different color wise, very pale and cool colored, as opposed to the warm saturated colors of the human characters. (yes this was another excuse to gush abt one of my fave pieces of media deal with it)

hopefully that wasn’t too rambley and actually helps? if yall have more specific design questions lemma know lol

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

Summary: The long awaited first date arrives for both you and Kai, and the elders in your lives offer some meaningful advice (no matter how pesky). When the date finally comes, you and Kai find some common ground and interest, opening a doorway to an intense relationship to come. (In other words...the first date went great!)

Chapter: 8

Warnings: None

With your bosses blessing and Yuko’s help, you got off work early today and that gave you some time to prepare. You still hadn’t given Kai a certain time to come over, so any time tomorrow was fair game. With him being a germaphobe, you had to make sure your place was in tip-top shape upon his arrival. You would spend the rest of the day cleaning and then get some sleep tonight. You’d even squeeze a little self care in there somewhere so you didn’t have to look like a monster when he came tomorrow. Halfway through thinking up a game plan and digging out the broom from the supply closet, there was an interrupting knock at your door. You opened it and looked down, smiling when you saw it was the landlord Ms. Yumine. “Oh dearie would you mind if I came in? I’m walking around all the units today and checking the air vents. Some of the maintenance reports tenants sent in have been complaining about poor air and heating. I just wanted to see if I could help the maintenance man before he came over.” She asked you sweetly. “Of course!” You stepped aside and let the old lady enter the apartment. “My oh my, you seem a little distressed dear? What seems to be the issue?” You chuckled and shyly rubbed the back of your head with your free hand while still holding onto the broom in the other. “I’m having someone important over for dinner tomorrow and he doesn’t like germs very much. I’m cleaning up now but I’m still worried about how this is going to go and I just worry that maybe he might-”

“Pardon my interruption, but I think I know what’s biting at your heart. This man is important to you yes?” She turned and asked you. You nodded while feeling your skin burn with embarrassment. “Have you spent a bad moment with this boy ever before?” Ms. Yumine continued to press on. “Well no, but-”

“No butts then! If you feel comfortable with him, then that shouldn’t change now either. Just relax and stop trying so hard dearest.” She reassured you before going back to inspect the vents. You slowed down your cleaning efforts and bid her a goodbye when she was finished. Afterwards, you finished off the rest of your cleaning, showered and laid down for bed. As quickly as your eyes closed, they opened again at the sound of your alarm a few hours later indicating that the new day had begun. 

Meanwhile, Chisaki was scrubbing his skin like never before. He had to assure himself that he was clean enough for you. After his VERY hot shower, he got out of the steamy bathroom, put on his white suit, and began to vigorously spray himself with cologne until he heard the sound of a throat being cleared at his bedroom doorway. He turned to see Pops smiling (very obnoxiously might I add). “What do you want, old man?” Pops simply held his hand up in defense and chuckled. “Oh nothing, it’s just...well you’ll end up poising her/him/them at that rate if you don’t go easy on the cologne.” Kai scoffed at the elders words and proceeded to brush his hair in the bedroom mirror until he sighed and put the brush down. He turned and glared at Pops, old man still widely smiling. “Pops, what do you want? Are you going to stand there all day or something?” Kai was annoyed but also embarrassed, knowing that Pops was going to tease him one way or another. “Of course not, my boy! It’s just...I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming. It feels like yesterday I was watching you be rebellious and here you are preparing for your first date. Let me enjoy this moment since I didn’t get to see you have this in elementary, middle, or high school.” Kai blushed lightly and quickly turned away to check his appearance in the mirror. “Oh, I also have a gift to give to you! In fact, I left it in the glove box of your car. It might come in handy later on.” Then without further explanation, Pops sauntered off somewhere else in the house to do old man stuff. Kai sighed in relief having finally being given the moment to be alone before the date. He waited at least another hour or two, googling tips on his phone and watching helpful YouTube date videos. Finally he decided it was time to go when you texted him your address. 

He left the base and got into his car, pausing to curiously see what Pops must’ve left for him in the glove box. Once he pulled it out, he choked and quickly tossed it in the back seat, before reading the note that was also left in the glove-box. ‘Safe sex is essential to a relationship, so I got you this condom while I was out yesterday. I know you’d rather hear the talk from YouTube or the classes you took in high school, so I’ll leave it at that. Good luck!’ Kai crumpled up the note and tossed it in the middle console of the car before turning on the radio and drowning his embarrassing thoughts with music. In no time he had arrived and was standing outside of your doorway, pausing with his hand at the door. He wasn’t even sure how to knock properly until you opened the door and jumped back at seeing him. “Oh! You scared me there! I was actually just about to check the mailbox but I’m glad to see you here. Come in, come in. I tried to clean up as best I could by the way, so I’m sorry if it’s not up to standard.” You rambled on nervously behind him as he entered your apartment and looked around. “No, it’s just fine. It’s actually just like I imagined you to decorate and everything. Do you mind if I...take a seat here?” He asked you and you nodded. Kai removed his coat and hung it on the couch arm before taking a seat on the couch and looking around some more. You scrambled off to your room and checked your appearance one more time before coming back to the living room and sitting in the recliner next to the couch. You grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “I know this isn’t what you had in mind for dinner but it’s a bit early for that and I also wanted to catch the newest episode of my favorite show. Is that okay?” You asked him and he nodded. About 5 minutes through the show he was calling out the plot line and picking the actors apart ruthlessly. He stopped his over-analyzation when you started laughing. “Oh my God Kai, it’s just a show for enjoyment. If you think too much into it then you won’t have a good time watching. Haven’t you ever followed a series before?” He took a second to think before shaking his head. You gasped and dramatically picked up the remote. You scrolled through the menu and found the first episode of the series. “I’m only on like episode 8, so I don’t mind starting from the top for you. Let’s watch it together okay?” He smiled under his medical mask and nodded in agreement. It didn’t take long to catch up.The episodes were only 30 minutes a piece anyway, so of course it didn’t take that long. Now that he finally understood the story-line he was hooked. “When do the new episodes come out?” He asked you eagerly. You laughed and stood up from your spot on the chair to stretch. “Every Wednesday...so today as well, but we burned through it pretty fast. Hey, do you wanna just get together and finish out this first season with me every week? I mean only if you’re okay with that and all-”

“Yes! I mean...yes, of course.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention away to something else. You smiled at his enthusiasm before heading to the kitchen and washing your hands. You began to gather the ingredients and supplies for dinner when you noticed he had gotten up to join you. He eyed the stuff curiously and you felt your nervousness kick in again. “Is everything okay?” You asked him shyly and he nodded. “Yes, it’s alright. I’m just curious is all. Would you mind me helping? I feel bad about you having to do this all on your own.” You agreed and Kai showed you just how awful he could be in the kitchen. The only upside to the venture was that you got to see his beautiful hands without any gloves on. With dinner now burnt and Kai furiously apologizing for said mistake, you had ordered take-out instead. After consoling him, and sitting down to eat the take-out with him, you two had settled to finish the night off with a horror movie. You noticed 10 minutes into the movie, Kai was being really fidgety and kept glancing over to you. Finally you decided to grill him on it. You paused the movie and looked over at him. “Is everything alright Kai?”

“Yes but well...no. I mean, you are sitting over on the chair and there’s so much room here on the couch. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sitting by me?” Your eyes widened a bit and you looked away for a second. “Well it’s just that I know you’re germaphobe and all. I was keeping my distance because of that. I didn’t want our first date over here to be considered too much and-”

“Date?”

“Oh!!! No! no no no! I’m so sorry for calling it that! I mean, I understand that this was supposed to be us hanging out with no strings attached and all! I’m so sorry if I messed that up!” You rambled on and on with apologies, completely blind to the way Kai’s face was burning red with excitement. (Lucky for him the room was dark for the movie). “No! I...wanted this to be a date and I’m ashamed I didn’t ask you first. Would this be okay?” He asked shyly. You sheepishly nodded and headed over to sit on the couch next to him. You unpaused the movie, blinked and yawned in the middle of it, and woke up to Chisaki gently nudging you. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry Kai. Did I fall asleep on your shoulder? I know that must’ve been so uncomfy for you. I’m glad you woke me up.”

“Actually I let you sleep through the rest of the movie. I mean...you don’t bother me as much when it comes to germs. I rather enjoy your company.” You two stared at each other for a little bit after that. The intense curiosity as to what his lips might have felt like under that mask made you jump back a bit and quickly withdraw from the situation.

(Little did you know he was wondering how your lips felt too.)

“It’s uh...getting late. I don’t mean to kick you out but I’ve got a meeting tomorrow and...yknow.”

“Oh no, of course. I also have work as well so I’ll be going but...thank you for inviting me. I hope to see you again soon.” To show you he trusted your touch, he hugged you goodbye (a shocking moment for himself as well). Once home again, Pops was waiting for him in the living room. “How was the date?”

“It was fine, and Pops?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“DO NOT LEAVE ANOTHER SINGLE ‘GIFT’ IN MY CAR EVER AGAIN.” Kai stomped off to his room leaving Pops a laughing mess on the couch. That night he couldn’t really sleep because his heart was too busy fluttering with excitement and happiness at the thought of you...his first date.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹one love confession, please➹(peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who’s become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn’t something new; you can’t count with both of your hands the times you’ve heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn’t experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART I)

word count: 12.3k (oof)

warnings: cursing, alcohol, and mentions of sex (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: it’s five am where i live and this is already awfully long so i’m gonna make it as brief as i can. first, i’m sorry it took eight months, but at last, it’s here, and i’m so happy and proud of it ! thank you a million times for the amazing support this story got, seriously. second, this was also for @connorshero 1.6k followers writing challenge, and i can’t express enough how ashamed i am that it took so long lmao, i’m a clown. it’s here, tho, and i hope i hear your thoughts and that y’all enjoy it (:

taglist: @fanbase-jumper

Never in a million years would you have deemed possible a human could undergo through such a crushing feeling of dread, yet, sadly, you found yourself to be wrong, for there you were, a pressure smothering your lungs and an iciness washing over you. You never would have imagined yourself hiding in the bathroom from a certain Peter B. Parker, either; but then again, contrary to your previous thinking, there you sat on the closed toilet seat, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily as a frostbite in your heart eclipsed any other thoughts in your head.

For the last few days, you had tried to repress a memory which physically pained you as you worked at the bar, almost as if it were nothing more than a bizarre dream you had one night, or a movie you watched as a little kid and couldn’t figure out as a grown-up whether it was real or not. It didn’t take long before in your restless little brain, that date did not exist in the calendar. So… strange, how all of sudden you couldn't remember anything from that night. Yeah, nothing happened. There’s no reason or possible explanation as to why you nearly dropped dead to the ground every time the entrance opened, or why your lower stomach erupted like a geyser refusing to rest whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror of the bruises on your neck and, just maybe, somewhere in the back of your head, recalled how they came to be in the first place; how the small vessels burst, why they’re there. Your self-induced amnesia surprisingly worked. Yeah, like a charm. Until you looked up for the billionth time and it wasn’t another false alarm. The fortress of protection you constructed collapsed as if it took no effort to build it, because there he was— there stood Peter, just a few feet away from you.

Of course, you panicked; hysterically searched your surroundings for an excuse to leave, but no one wanted to bother you when you most needed it. Terrible luck, indeed. You only had two choices (although, really, you most likely had more): you could be, you know, smart and face your problems, or, Peter, to be more concise, or you could run away to hide and wait it out in the bathroom. So, after analyzing it thoroughly for approximately two seconds, what did you do?

Get the fuck out of there, obviously; you threw your towel, sped out of the bar, and instantly headed to have the meltdown of the century in the bathroom.

You screamed into your hands as you relived everything in your head, stomping your foot on the floor tiles. Remorse didn’t suffice anymore to explain the sharp pain in your stomach. You’d sabotaged yourself— you got a nip that night, a morsel of something greater, a catalyst for ‘what if’s and a total loss of self-control, because once the temporary high didn’t satiate you any longer, you’d seek it again. Regardless of your constant imbecility, you weren’t oblivious: it was nothing more than a distraction for Peter’s troubles and conflicting emotions over a woman he’d married, and it would never mean anything to him. It never would, despite how much it meant to you.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, narrowed eyes reading the recent message while your heart went ballistic.

‘You can’t stay there forever, he’s starting to get suspicious.’

You breathed out, partially relieved. It was your friend. You texted him earlier as you lost it in the bathroom stall, as one does. You were close to getting on your knees and start praying to any superior entity that he was simply imagining stuff like most of the time, attempting to read in between the lines when, in reality, all Peter did was drink his whiskey served over ice, totally unconcerned. Yes, perhaps, you running away didn’t signify ‘subtle’, and the fact that you two hadn’t shared a word or texted ever since you fled his apartment a week prior didn’t brighten the situation at all. Why should it matter if you chose to continue escaping your issues? You could stay there forever, and it was no one’s business. The bar’s urine-scented bathroom could be your new home.

Your phone rang again. ‘Dude, c’mon.’

Goddammit.

Your friend shouldn’t have the power to knock some sense into you with just two messages, but he did anyway. You required an abundance of courage you did not carry to hesitantly walk out of the stall, and then the bathroom. You were sure your heart could hop out of your chest, as gruesome as it may have been, at any moment as Peter’s figure came closer and closer to you with each dreadful step you took. It wasn’t as dramatic in real life, most likely (most definitely). But as if you finally understood your situation, the charisma awakened from its sleep and, in an instant, you let out a disappointed ‘aw!’, replacing your terrified features with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, man! Somebody else already took your order? Unbelievable.”

He reacted as though he overheard the most unbelievable noise— a call from God itself or extraterrestrial life, because he could’ve gotten some whiplash by the way in which his head jerked up.

Peter cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with his hands as he showed you a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, hey! Hey…” He exclaimed and you winked at him. “I thought you weren’t here, or something.”

You thought for a moment. For real this time. You couldn’t say ‘I was just having a breakdown in the bathroom’. “Nah, my boss just needed my help… with stuff,” You waved your hand, aware that your boss had left an hour ago. He hummed and nodded, downing his shot. Wait. Your eyes returned to his glass when you fully took it in. It wasn’t whiskey served over ice.

You pointed at the empty drink in his grasp. “What’s that?” 

He glanced down at it, raising a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a shot of vodka?”

“No, no, I mean— yeah, but what the hell happened to your whiskey?”

Peter pressed his lips together, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno, guess I just… got tired of it?”

The corner of your lips tugged down momentarily. “Ah, I see…” You distracted yourself with a glass, cleaning it despite its already pristine look. You just needed anything to focus on other than Peter. “This is so tragic, your whiskey days have come to an end.” You joked, laughing quietly and disguising the aching in your chest.

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow and grinning a confused smile. “What’s wrong with vodka?”

“It’s just… so boring.”

An incredulous grin stretched across his face. “More boring than whiskey?”

Your smile faded, a frown taking its place. “I… I’m guessing I had just grown used to it— I don’t know.”

For the first time in a whole year of weekly meetings and ongoing chatter, an uncomfortable silence sat amongst you two. And for the first time, too, you did not know what to say. “Y/N?” You looked up at him attentively, although you did not want to hear what he had to say at all.

Peter avoided your gaze, instead focusing on his lap, and opened his mouth, closing it when you couldn’t think up any words. “I think, uh… we gotta talk, right? About… y’know.” Your face heated up as red as a field of roses.

You laughed nervously, your hands on the bar as you slanted forward. “...About what?”

“Just, about what happened, and that thing you said the morning after—”

“Did I say anything the morning after?” You cut him off, wishing you’d stuck with your plan of moving into the bathroom.

To your horror, your biggest fear unfolded as Peter let out air through his nose, chuckling without humor.

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was a dream again?” You nearly passed out as Peter cited the words you so vividly remembered uttering. “‘You’re just dreaming?’” It all came back to you, everything— your forced memory loss received a fatal blow as memories bombarded your brain: Peter’s face twisted with puzzlement and sleep after you blurted out your utter nonsense and— how could you forget, oh God, how could you— the cherry on top, your uncomfortably intense five-second staring contest as you headed for the door and dashed out of his apartment.

“‘Wake up?’” He continued and you merely blinked back at him. He didn’t need to fucking quote you and remind you what a joke you were— who does that? But also, who tells the guy you just hooked up with that he’s dreaming after he caught you in the midst of trying to sneak out? B-B-Bingo! Of course, of course it had to be you out of all people.

You stood frozen, like you did that embarrassing morning, begging your head to stop it with the callbacks and breathing out. “What if it was a dream? You never know.” You said, unwilling to give up your idiocy. Peter stared at you, his lack of amusement terrifying you further.

“A dream.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“What?”

“Stop acting like an idiot, please.”

“Peter, you literally could’ve brought up anything else other than this.” You hissed, exasperated. “Any other fucking thing.”

“I can’t not bring this up.”

“Well, why not? I surely can.”

“‘Cause it was weird.”

You grimaced and covered your face with your hands, muffling your words, “Oh my God, I know, I fucking know. What did you want me to do—”

“I don’t know, maybe just talk, you know!” He suggested with raised hands, the harsh sarcasm in his voice deepening your pained expression. “Wh-why did you even say that?! Like—”

“I didn’t want to be there! I just wanted to leave, okay?!” You admitted loudly, uncaring of your blatancy. When you didn’t hear him, your shaking hands slowly unveiled your face. A man two seats away eyed you two as he drank, while Peter stared at the counter with knitted brows, digesting what you said.

“Do you wish it had been a dream?” He asked quietly. You began to tap your finger, your lips shaping the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t exactly know how to.

“No. That’s not it, I…” You croaked out. You couldn’t continue when you noticed what you thought was a flourishing desire in his eyes which you saw that same night back at his place. Just say it. Your fingertips thudded the wood faster, your feet shifting, voice stuttering. Say you’d do it again.

“It was just a one-time thing, right?” You whispered. Then, you doubted if that lust had simply been a delusion your brain fabricated. That, perhaps, you yearned for something bigger so badly you’d projected your own silly cravings onto the man, for all trace of that weakening glimmer was now nothing more than the familiar amity the always held.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Right.” You breathed out.

“It was just a one-time thing.” He repeated as if it were obvious.

“Yes.” You both nodded, unable to look at each other straight in the eye without squirming. As soon as some clients called for you, you shared a last glance before you left. When you returned, all you found were some crumpled dollar bills and no sign of Peter.

You didn’t buy him a gift. And neither did he, but he did send you a message saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’, and there exists a possibility that you broke down crying whilst drunk because of the smiley face he wrote along with it, but that’s something you wouldn’t ever disclose— even if it happened one more time during New Year’s Eve as your head pounded with the people around you religiously blowing their party horns. That was it, though. You didn’t see him at the bar, which a part of you could only be thankful for, but the remaining kicked itself for not fixing things when you had the chance to. For not being honest when you could have.

Your friend yet again with his wisdom from the gods told you to stop wasting time and move on with your life, albeit not as kindly, as if saying it in such a way wasn’t hurtful enough. However, after being too sensitive for two seconds, you sucked it up and knew that he was right. 

You managed to keep Peter out of your thoughts most of the time, focusing on your job and getting additional money with your paintings to treat yourself. You could go out more with your friends, buy a new TV, maybe save for the vacation you’d been dreaming of for the past years. For some time, as there was no Peter in your head nor at the bar, it was just like before the man nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose sat down in front of you.

You could only maintain him out of your orbit for so long, though.

You sat at another bar two blocks down your place, hunched over and your eyes glued on your cell phone’s screen, anticipation pulling imaginary strings connected to your fingers which fidgeted, tossed the device from hand to hand. Your friend was the fourth person you texted in the last thirty minutes, an act born from desperation, perhaps; created upon an urgency for an anchor, a quick fix that would momentarily patch up the heaviness in your chest that made an unwanted visit too many times to your liking and dissipate all the thoughts in your head. You needed something, a distraction, anything— hell, you’d even texted your boss, a known shopaholic, asking if she wanted to go shopping. But everyone appeared to be doing something that night, too engaged in their own affairs to remember you. It was selfish, you understood, to think that way; they had lives, after all. Nevertheless, that selfishness was a blemish you couldn’t vanish as the three dots emerged, followed by the exact same message you dreaded: ‘Can’t tonight, I’m with dad. What about tomorrow?’ There was no tomorrow, though. No, you ached for it right now, in that instant, something.

Peter.

No. You couldn’t. Another decline was a final blow you couldn’t withstand, anyway, especially from him. However, you weren’t the one making the decisions anymore. Your heart manipulated your limbs, and in a blur, you’d searched his contact. Too soon to your liking, you heard that tedious beeping, your heartbeat then the sole noise in your ears once it halted. All of a sudden, you couldn’t talk, your words lodged in your throat, because it was strange to hear that voice again and it was too much for you right now.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Peter said after you didn’t make the slightest sound, hesitance evident in his tone, for he wondered whether it’d been an accidental butt dial. You took in a big breath and pressed your phone closer to your ear, your elbows aching from the hard counter they rested upon.

“...Hi.” You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head at yourself.

“What… what’s up?” It was odd, you both knew, because when did you ever call each other, and when was the last time you two talked? But turning a blind eye to your friend’s advice, you itched to fulfill your own cravings that night— it didn’t really matter what kind, but just a friend was all you needed, just someone.

You stuttered for a while, internally grateful he remained silent and waited for you to clear your mind. “Nothing. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” You could hear the engines of driving vehicles in the background and you frowned, scratching the back of your head.

“Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to bother you. I can call another time—”

“No, no!” He stopped you, your heart growing wings, fluttering and capable of flying out of your chest with how gentle he sounded. “I just got done with something and I’m going back home, you don’t have to hang up.”

You hit the tip of your shoes against the bar, tense brows still not relaxing. “Oh, okay…”

“Are you at work?

“No, my shift ends at a normal time on Friday’s, thankfully.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I see— so you’re home alone and bored?”

You observed the place around you, focusing on the bartender and then on your drink. “Eh, not exactly.” You closed your hand into a fist, struggling to not dissect the skin around your nails like an animal in a biology class. “I know this is unusual, we never really talk outside of the bar and we haven’t seen each other in a while, but…”

“It’s kinda our first phone call, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah. Our first phone call.” You almost cursed when your voice wavered.

“Hey, you alright?” 

You sighed, scratching your head. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been better.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t know.  It’s a Friday night— everyone’s out having a good time, and I’m just… here, in a bar and on my own.” You shrugged, your nails carving the timber.

“It’s not stupid.” He murmured and you snorted, unconvinced. “If it makes you feel any less alone, I’m not exactly out partying and having a good time, either.”

“Do you even still party, grandpa?”

“Just ‘cause I’m old, it doesn’t mean I still haven’t got the moves.”

“It definitely sounds like you don’t.”

“Don’t sound so sure, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Seeing him wasn’t necessary, you could easily imagine his teasing grin.

“Hm, yeah, I’d immediately take off my clothes if you pretended to lasso me at the club.” You both giggled and you hugged yourself, glancing at the empty stool beside you, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you maybe want to come and have a drink with me?” You shot your shot, to your thumping heart’s dismay. Guessing by the click you distinguished, he probably just got back home.

“...Have a drink with you?”

“J-Just to hangout, you know.” You quickly explained. “Chat for a while. I can pay, if you want.”

You waited for a response, a rejection. But it didn’t come.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least, that after he agreed and you hung up, you almost dropped your phone with how the fright weakened your arms as you tried to send him the bar’s address. You eagerly waited, too, like a damn puppy anticipating its owner’s return at the end of the day. Using your phone’s selfie camera, you checked your appearance, tidying up all just to make yourself look way more put together than you actually were, even if you were in a bar, alone, and, well, drinking. Despite your awaiting, though, you were taken off guard when a man chose to settle down beside you and cleared his throat.

“I gotta say, it’s weird to see you on the other side of the bar,” Peter smiled as a greeting. Your eyes scanned him, taking in his presence, struggling to process it as if he were a ghost. In your defense, it did feel as if he hadn’t been part of your world for the last two months.

You chuckled, shyly moving your view to your beverage. “Sorry, I won’t be playing bartender tonight.”

“Too bad, I like it when you give me free drinks.”

“Technically, you still are getting free drinks from me tonight.”

He huffed, a crooked smile lingering on his face. You called for the bartender and side-glanced at Peter, quietly asking what he wanted and biting back a disappointed grunt when it wasn’t whiskey served over ice. Whatever. It was just a drink. You two didn’t share a look after that small interaction, though, your face flustered, redder than the bartender’s awful and painful-to-look-at-from-how-bright-it-was shirt. You preferred to believe it was the alcohol, regardless of the truth that you hadn’t drunk that much yet. But your skin burned since he was there, and suddenly, the last disastrous meeting you two experienced replayed way too loudly in your head, the scorching sensation only spreading further and gaining more vigor with the possibility that it did the same in his, too. The unspoken and evident discomfort was enough to make you assume that it definitely was on his mind. 

You made the effort to spark up a conversation with the dreaded small talk. ‘How have you been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘The weather’s been pretty cold lately, huh?’— blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, neither of you had more to say other than short, boring responses. It became so unbearable, you knew the only way you could get through this night— seeing as you couldn’t leave after he’d just gotten there— depended on your current and whoever many you could afford future drinks. Quite an alcoholic mindset, perhaps, but there was no way you were the only one or that Peter didn’t have the same wish as you.

Holding your third drink, tispy thoughts pressed you to climb out of the hell you were in. You turned your body to face him, nudging his leg with your foot. He’d been paying attention to a wildlife documentary and an animal hiding from its predator before he lifted an eyebrow and nodded at you. “What?”

“Where have you been?”

A crease formed between his brows as he found it hard to differentiate this question from the one you asked earlier. “I told you, I haven’t really been up to much—”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I asked. Where have you been?” Peter pursed his lips, contemplating.

“New York.”

You hummed, bringing your drink up to your lips. “Okay. So if you were here, how come I haven’t seen you since, uh—” You pretended to count in your head, tongue poking out of your mouth as you summed with your fingers. “—December?”

“I was busy.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hadn’t been up to much?”

“I… haven’t,” Peter said slowly, too far in to escape the contradiction. You bit your lip before finishing your half-empty drink all in one go, head spinning, the weight in your stomach drawing you down to the Earth’s core.

It’s difficult to perceive the line between overthinking and legitimacy. It’s so fine and faint, like a message written with chalk in the middle of the neighborhood’s road that can only be deciphered if you stare at it long and closely enough after the days have passed by and the rain showered upon it. On one side, the message was nothing more than scrawls and nonsensical letters, an unnecessary distraction on the road disrupting you from reaching your destination on time. But then, there was the other side: the truth. A truth that, funnily enough, you reached by overthinking in the first place. Which was what occurred when you suspected the reasoning behind the lack of Peter in your life could be pinpointed to the man purposefully avoiding you; and, right now, grasped that, after all, it wasn’t just another case of irrational overanalyzing. 

“Do you hate me?” You blurted out, your eyes going round with the disappearance of your filter. Confusion overflowed Peter’s head and spilled into his expression, adorning his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you hate me—”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Where the hell did that come from, though?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You stated the obvious, visibly hurt. Peter denied with his head the misconception, sighing.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He assured you not just with his words but his gaze, too. You pressed your lips together, not fully convinced.

“Was it not?” You asked with a small quirk of your mouth. He stared at you, embarrassment crawling across his skin.

“Alright, maybe it was.” He admitted sheepishly. You let out air through your nose, turning on your seat.

“So you do hate me.”

“Y/N,” Peter called for your attention, although he knew it was half-joke. You returned your attention to him. “If I hated you, would I be here, sitting next to you?” He questioned, motioning around him. You shrugged one shoulder, a grin growing on your face.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice.” You said and he groaned jokingly, sporting his very own lopsided grin.

“I’m being nice because I like you.”

Your smile fell for an instant, but you put the expression back up, reminding yourself that, once more, it didn’t go further than platonic. “Good. But you were mad, then.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You left without saying goodbye last time.”

Peter frowned, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did. Sorry.” He apologized, the sincerity interlaced in his voice worsening your state. You wanted to place your hand on your chest, as you diagnosed with your zero quantity of medical knowledge that you had a high chance of having a heart attack before the night came to an end.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?”

“Well,” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand, moving your eyes elsewhere. “First, for being a dumbass back when we hoo—”

“You know what? You’re fine.” He interrupted you. “Save yourself some time.”

Your brows snapped together. “But—”

“You were right. Let’s just not talk about it and move on, alright?” He waved his hand, grabbing his drink. “If you do talk about it, I think I’m actually gonna get up and leave.”

You laughed, nodding. “Ah, I see. So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, then?”

His actions halted in the midst of taking a sip. “Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Peter.” You pointed out like the hypocrite you were, particularly after that was exactly what you were doing not too long ago. Peter, unaware of this, however, had to admit you spoke the truth as he rubbed his nose with his knuckles, grumbling.

“You see, you say that, but I’m still gonna continue doing it.”

“No, you’re not, because we’re going to discuss this like adults—”

“As an adult, I’m telling you that all is good and I’m over it.” He finished with a warning tone you couldn’t take seriously and you giggled. “Next topic.” 

“Okay, grandpa. Sure thing. All is good.” You grinned, the ice in your heart melting off as he copied your countenance.

“For real this time.”

“Yeah. For real this time. Can I be honest with you, though?” Peter waited for you to go on, paying close attention, his gaze soft. You stared at him for a moment too long ‘till your eyes moved to your hand now feebly holding your empty drink. “I missed you. Kind of. Is that dumb?” You mumbled, your voice small.

You couldn’t properly see him, but through your peripheral vision, you didn’t catch any movement. That’s when you prepared to scream ‘sike!’ to his face— a real-life undo button to delete the emotions you couldn’t take back and shove down your system anymore. However, it felt… good. For once, it wasn’t spilling your guts out and regretting everything as you attempted to cram your organs back into you; you had plucked out a thorn that’d been hanging inside the palm of your hand for far too long. It was liberating. And you peered up at him, expecting that relief to be temporary, but his tender features didn’t let that happen.

“...No. I missed you, too.”

You both smiled.

The conversation began to flow. Words started to spill, and although you weren’t at the bar, you enjoyed that exact same security and blissful buzz. You realized then— a revelation that did not help your case— the location didn’t play an important role, and perhaps it never did; bar or not, if Peter was there, you’d still feel stupidly and overly content. Your worries faded away as you two caught up with no drop of MJ’s name, but some lingered anyway, because change was inevitable, looming over you. Laughter left your lips, his hand rested close to yours on the counter. You noticed, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, to walk away from the euphoria tainting your body. More liquor entered his, over time you stared at his mouth one, two, three, four seconds too long as you became intoxicated along with him, and so did he with yours.

“C’mon, tell me.” You pouted for an instant, interchanging it for a drunk smile. “Your secret dies with me.”

Peter slammed his fifth drink down, cheeks tinted pink. It was wrong, indeed, to take advantage of his condition and try to get out of him something you’d wanted to know for the longest time, and that he kept to himself as if it were government classified information. In your drunken brain, it did not seem too far off. Perhaps he went on outrageous underground missions. You laughed at yourself. Peter didn’t seem like a spy-type of guy. Unless…

“Do you, like, work for the government?” Peter screwed up his face at your absurdity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter opened his mouth, a giggle escaping. “I can’t.” You dragged your stool closer to him, as you weren’t close enough already. Actually, when did you get so close? It didn’t matter. You analyzed his face, hoping that somehow, if you looked at him long enough, you’d gain the ability to read minds and crack into his. Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, studying you like you were the most interesting being. You didn’t know why, but you felt tempted to move that strand of hair that always hung in front of his forehead away from his face. As any rational person wouldn’t, you did, your thumb brushing against the barely visible scratch that started the conversation in the first place.

“What are you thinking?” You questioned, brimming with interest. He went crossed-eyed as he tried to follow your hand.

“About stuff. Whatcha thinkin’?” He asked back, his view traveling down to your lips. You bit your lip.

The closeness, your full-blown pupils, the actuality that you could lean closer to him and you’d meet his lips. It all seemed too familiar. And so you wondered, if you did move and kiss him, if you stopped resisting and glanced down at his lips, too, what would happen?

“I don’t know. What does it look like I’m thinking?” You asked, lowering your voice. The stench of alcohol should have been enough to stop you both from advancing any further, but Peter licked his lips, smirking.

“It seems to me like you wanna fuck me.”

You gasped, hiccuping. “Oh, my! I didn’t know this part of yours, Peter B. Parker. Is it just the alcohol speaking?”

“Maybe. But is it true?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Your upper body swayed closer to him, tired, dizzy, and wishing to lie down. You gripped his shoulder and helped yourself add some distance, your other hand landing on his knee. “Maybe.” You simply said. Your eyes remained interlocked into one another, your hand running up his shoulder to his neck, and then all the way up to the back of his head, sensing his goosebumps. “Maybe…” You repeated as your touch on his knee traveled up his thigh. Peter took in a sharp breath, his hand unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You leaned in and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pull away, a voice said in your head as you felt his tongue momentarily slide against your bottom lip. Pull away, the nagging voice went on and you did, shaking your head.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again.” You whispered, yet your mouth came back into a messy kiss, even messier hands craving touch. Breaking glass startled you two apart and you looked down, sighing when you saw your drink’s contents all over the ground. “You owe me a drink.” You panted, your lips swollen.

Peter scoffed, his half-smile blurring your vision as he tilted his head towards your ear. “Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.” He said, mouth ghosting near your cheek despite his words, yearning to continue. You pecked his jaw, lips resting against his hot skin, careless about the other customers in the bar.

“I do want something to happen, though.”

You both ignored the conversation your sober selves had. ‘It was just a one-time thing, right?’. Peter slammed your apartment’s door closed whilst your lips were still connected, your hands clumsily coming down to try to unbuckle his belt. ‘Yeah’. His own hands aided yours, the clinking of his belt buckle speeding up your heartbeat as if it weren’t already dangerously fast. ‘It was just a one-time thing’. Peter groaned into your mouth, tasting like liquor, like something you’d both regret the next morning but did not care about the consequences, even if it was a lesson you’d already learned. Not at the moment.

But nothing happened.

You couldn’t recall much the next morning. The first proof that it didn’t go further from a make-out session was that you woke up in your bed, alone, and wearing the same clothes as the previous night. The second evidence you gathered when you barged into your living room and there slept Peter on your couch, his appearance also identical to the one in your hazy memories. He didn’t remember anything. As you struggled to cease your trembling legs, he simply laughed and asked if he got so wasted he had to crash at your place. You shrugged and smiled, still capable of tasting his lips and vividly feel his hot breath.

From then on, you avoided drinking or being too exhausted to have any common sense when you were around Peter. One day he invited you to go out and have a few drinks again, to ‘repay’ you, and to which you responded as calmly as you could that you had other ‘plans’; other plans that, truthfully, were faker than the disappointed expression of yours that followed. Then, as if you couldn’t ever reach a state of peace, he asked again a month later, and you had no other choice than to invent a faulty reason for why you didn’t feel like drinking that night, the next night, or the one after, even if, according to all the drunk stories you’d recounted to him in the past, you never really turned down a drink or the opportunity to get inebriated. Guilt poisoned you when he never brought up the idea after that, fingers crossed that he didn’t get the impression you didn’t want to meet him in other circumstances other than the bar; regardless that that’s exactly what was going on. Every other night after he helped you with closing the bar, you’d also nod goodbye at him and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting until he turned around the corner so your feet could dreadfully carry you to the subway station, your now-unfixable car present in your head like an aggravating piece of gum that stuck to your shoe.

Nothing could be more vexing than this, though.

Eventually, you began to wonder. Perhaps, yet again, you were as weary as that time you slept with Peter, seeing as you couldn’t think straight, almost as if you’d suffered from a concussion and all your neurons died, to your utmost dismay. But there was a dissimilarity: the unfortunate detail that, unlike physical fatigue, mental exhaustion wouldn’t pack its bags and wave farewell after a night-long sleep. Not when immediately after you woke up, the same worries still found their home within your head. So your imagination took it as an initiative to force feelings and schemes onto you, ones which involved the stomach-churning plausibility that maybe, just maybe, Peter liked you back and you could happily come clean. You had to laugh. But then you really started to wonder.

You needed at least six reasons to follow through with it. First. He was the one who made a move months ago. Second. He wasn’t drunk. Third, you listed in your head, you kissed. Again. And, fourth, this time he might have been drunk, but if he did it both as a sober man and a drunk one, it had to mean something, right?

You were struggling to distinguish the line between overthinking and legitimacy again.

You went to work that day, decided, the fifth reason simply being that you couldn’t get him out of your head, but the sixth reason missing. A truck landing on you would probably do the job, you thought. You didn’t mean it whole-heartedly, of course. But, apparently, the universe didn’t know about sarcasm and how it worked since, an hour after the thought passed through your head, it sent you a nice little gift and Spider-Man just so happened to get in a fight near the bar and an actual truck broke through the walls of the pub.

“I can’t fucking believe a truck landed right here. This is why I hate living in this city so much,” You scoffed, holding a towel wrapped around ice up to your bruised forehead as you observed the gigantic hole where the truck happily invited itself into. Peter barely reacted to your comment, too focused on disinfecting the wound in your arm. You pulled the makeshift ice bag away from your head, screwing your eyes shut. “I’m starting to get a headache from how cold this is, can I—”

Peter grabbed your hand and forced it back up to your forehead, shaking his head and focusing again on your arm. “No, trust me, it will reduce the swelling.”

“Should I be worried that you know so much about injuries?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “I know. Thanks.” You smiled, recalling the urgency in his voice after he called you, saying he’d seen what’d happened on the news. He moved on to the gauze and began to bandage your arm, making sure his movements were delicate lest he hurt you more. “I met Spider-Man, though. I think I can finally die in peace.” You caught the way the corner of his mouth lifted upward.

“Really? Did he apologize for almost killing you?” Peter grumbled, accepting the scissors you offered him to cut the cotton fabric. You released a huff of air, admittedly offended and immediately going to defend the masked superhero.

“He didn’t almost kill me, it was the other guy. Bad guys, you know? They’re everywhere.” He huffed. “He checked up on me and offered to take me to the hospital, though. Pretty cool guy.”

“And why didn’t you say yes?”

You contemplated his question. “Stranger danger.” You shrugged. Peter laughed softly, muttering ‘fair enough’. “It also wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to interfere with his, uh… superhero duties…”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t making sure you’re okay part of his duties?”

“I guess, but I’m fine, it’s no biggie.”

“Y/N, you could have died.”

“But look at me,” You patted your torso, then holding your arms wide open. “I didn’t. You’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly.

“Whatever,” He said, hesitance showing through his eyes. “I just think the guy should be more careful. His job is to protect the people, not to… hurt them.”

You scowled playfully, kicking him lightly. “Dude, fuck off, don’t talk shit about him like that. He’s Spider-Man. Give the poor guy a break.” He didn’t say anything, though, stirring your concern as you realized he seemed off since he first arrived. “Are you okay?” You inquired, frowning.

Peter glanced up at you before rubbing his face. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”

“Every day is a long day when it comes to you, isn’t it?” You joked lightly, nudging him a second time. “You helped me, now let me help you. What’s up?”

He moved his head from one side to another. “You’re always helping me.” He said almost as an apology, smiling sadly. You smirked back, standing up from your seat next to him to jump over the bar. You grasped an empty shot glass, checking no small debris had made its way into for the sake of Peter’s health (now, that’d be a hell of a lawsuit) before you slid it towards him.

“It’s my job as your bartender.”

He peered down at the glass and then up at you. Chuckling defeatedly, he took ahold of it, and you read it as ‘ah, the hell with it’ as you reached for the bottle of vodka. “I fucked up.” He whispered while you poured the liquid.

You screwed the cap closed, your eyebrows lifting high. “How come?”

Peter placed his head in his hands, nose crinkling. “I, um… talked to MJ?” And just like that, your mood took a fall as well, an inaudible ‘oh’ fleeting past your lips. “It’s the first time we talked in a long time.”

“...And?” You asked anxiously, folding your arms across your chest. Peter clutched onto the shot of vodka, watching the liquid dangerously reach for the edge of the glass after he slowly tipped it.

“Well, she’s trying to move on.” Surprise crossed your face. “And I was so distraught by it for the rest of the day that I really fucked up at work.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“That maybe I should move on, too.”

Your arms fell down to your sides. Maybe you really did hit your head too harshly, you thought, as your body started to feel heavy and you had to support yourself on the bar, for all this information you were hearing at once was colliding against you more vigorously than the pieces of wood which fled towards you earlier. Swallowing to bring moisture to your throat, you continued with the million-dollar question pestering you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You regretted uttering the words, something you seemed to be doing too much to suit your taste as of lately. However, Peter, although the question troubled him the same way it did you, clasped his hands together and you studied him whilst he went through every thought in his head and through every feeling, seeking an explanation he himself needed to know as well. 

“I’m not sure if I want to. But I know that I have to.” He finally breathed out. You leaned forward, not satisfied, needing to hear more and more even if it’d hurt, because nothing was more vexing than this feeling. 

“But you love her,” You said matter-of-factly. Silence. Your heart pounded rapidly enough you could sense it in your head. “Right?” You asked, embarrassed by the apparent desperation in your tone.

“Huh?” Peter snapped out his thoughts, blinking up at you.

“You love Mary Jane?”

He bit his lip as he went back inside the isolated room of his brain after only just sneaking his head out, evidently growing stressed. “It’s okay,” You brought him back out, sacrificing your curiosity as you gently smiled at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

Peter exhaled thankfully, downing his shot. “What’d you wanna tell me earlier, anyway?” He asked expectantly, his voice scratchy from the liquor. Oh. Yeah, right. Plans might have changed an hour ago, yet for some reason, you still wanted to come clean to Peter. However, right now, after hearing about Mary Jane, you forgot about the sixth reason and remembered why you never did in the first place after all this time.

“Do you… want to go get a drink?” You cursed your imagination for not working when it was necessary. Peter’s forehead creased with astonishment as if he never thought he’d hear that sentence again (in his defense, though, it’s exactly what you were planning to do).

“You finally wanna go and get a drink?”

“Hey, just be glad I’m feeling like it.”

It was an understatement to express you were feeling like it.

You continued searching for that sixth reason for the next weeks, even if the entire world knew that after you found it, you’d keep your lips sealed. Your friend put your friendship at risk when, during your September lunch with your boss, he couldn’t resist but telling her about your ‘secret crush’, saying he simply did it for a third opinion, but neither of you gained no new eye-opening advice for your boss dragged on about how Peter could be ‘the one’, which honestly worked in scaring you away from the topic. One day after, as you couldn’t fall asleep, you deliberated the reasons why you should forget about Peter.

One. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. You liked him being your friend. He’s funny, a nerd, and you could talk to him forever, even if it was merely absolute nonsense. Two. He’s a lot older than you. Not that eight years mattered that much, but it could. You were just entering your thirties whilst he was nearing his forties. Even if he’d made it clear kids weren’t his cup of tea, he could change his mind. You weren’t ready to settle down yet, despite most people reminding you the clock was ticking and you should start considering it. 

Three. The iconic Mary Jane Watson. Peter’s ex-wife whom he loved dearly. He might have not talked about her since he mentioned the idea of moving on, but you knew it was easier said than done. If you opened up, he could shut you down and reveal he’s still in love with MJ. Or worse, if you two did wind up dating, he could decide to leave you for her. Four. Your friend helped you with the fourth one. He had yet to tell you about why he’s bruised most of the time. It admittedly awakened the cynicism in you, for it could be something which had the potential of putting you at risk, or get you killed. Plus, if he did not want to give you an explanation, it meant he didn’t trust you enough. 

Five. You couldn’t lose him. You already almost did. Your absurd crush could be the last straw and get rid of him for good. If that was the case, then you’d do anything to muffle your heart singing its love songs when he crossed your mind or simply stood in front of you. You’d do it, even if it’d hurt.

Again, you couldn’t come up with a sixth reason. You established, then, that whichever reason you uncovered first, would be the final word. Your friend knew both a sixth reason for why you shouldn’t forget about Peter and why you should that, trying not to influence you any further, he kept to himself; it being clear in his head which one he hoped you’d find first.

It was another Friday night. You’d just returned home after wasting your money on some restaurant that definitely was not worth the price (goddamn New York) when your phone blared its ringtone in your pocket. Your heart clenched as you read the name and were about to answer immediately, until you stopped yourself. Counting eight seconds in your head, your thumb slid across the screen after you got to the last number and picked up the call. “Peter?” You were audibly and justifiably perplexed— why has he calling you at… you checked the time— ten P.M,? It may have not been the first one anymore, but phone calls were still a rare occurrence between you two.

“Hey! Are you busy?” His breathing was heavy, which made you wonder what he possibly could’ve been up to before he called you.

You opened your apartment’s door and blindly searched for the light switch. “No, I just got back home, actually.” You muttered, and then voiced a victorious exclamation when the room lit up in front of your eyes. “Why?”

He inhaled profoundly. “Cool. Great. Yeah.”

You guessed the barely distinguishable quiver in his voice could be defined as uneasiness as you sat down on your couch’s armrest, squinting.

“Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah!” He repeated, firstly too quietly but now with faux confidence. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ah, hell. You had one important question and one only: when would you get a break from confrontation and those words? The last time you and Peter ‘needed to talk’ didn’t exactly go as smoothly. That in mind, your organs plummeted down into an expanding black hole in your stomach as you brought your fingers up to your lips. “I’m all ears, as always.” No, not really, but you didn’t exactly have any other choice.

“Okay, okay. Um, I, uh… what am I doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I wanna say sorry in advance.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

You could solely hear what sounded like wind. “You’re not gonna believe me, so just, just look outside your window.”

The black hole having devoured the contents in your system, you raised to your feet and sped to the window, not capable of painting in your head a single picture of what in the heavens the man could be planning. You unlatched the lock and glided the window upward, your head gradually peering out. Your eyes went as big and round as the full moon glowing above you when you saw it.

You stared dumbfounded, close to pinching yourself to do a reality check. It had to be a dream. A strange dream. There was just no way. No fucking way, it was absolutely impossible. It was beyond the innumerable existing possibilities that Spider-Man looked back at you, stuck against the wall. Similar to someone’s lack of subtlety, it couldn’t have been any more evident. You didn’t even need a big brain or to think, to analyze deeply as if it were a riddle in a newspaper. Because it was just right there in front of you, plainly obvious and transforming your blood into ice: the phone he held up to his face.

“Hi…” Said the masked hero. And so did Peter through the phone call.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, yet you didn’t glance down at it. You continued to gawk at the man as he flicked his wrist and saved not only your phone, but simultaneously also your bank account from having to spend hundreds of dollars on a new one. You did not mutter a thanks, let out no relieved sigh when he gave it back to you. You just stared.

“I know I’m pretty cool to look at, but can you please say something?” He laughed nervously. Ignoring him, you took a step back and retreated your head, eyes close to falling out of their sockets. The phone in your shaky hands rang a second time and you answered without needing to look at the contact.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Peter, what the fuck.”

“I’ve done this so many times but I still don’t know what to say.” He groaned to himself. You put your hand on top of your head, disbelieving.

“Get in.” You abruptly ended the call and plopped down on your couch, clutching your stomach, blinking furiously after black dots uncontrollably twirled in your vision. You heard a thump, the floor shaking slightly; however, you didn’t turn around to look at your guest, instead focusing on the wall in front of you. It wasn’t until the cushion beside you sank with the man’s weight that you blew up. “Holy shit.” You cupped your face with your hands, laughing out of pure shock. “Holy shit… holy shit!”

“Don’t freak out.”

“How am I not supposed to freak out?!”

Peter— Spider-Man shrugged, his white lenses wide. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He admitted.

You scanned his mask, the mask you’d become familiar with after seeing it so many times on TV and pictures. Somehow, however, regardless if you knew that mask and the person behind it, you couldn’t believe its authenticity. “Take off the mask.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please.” You begged.

You first saw the stubble. Then his lips. Then his crooked nose, and soon, those eyes. The whiskey eyes. Peter’s whiskey eyes. Your hands wound up on his broad shoulders, and for some reason you yourself couldn’t work out, it just dawned upon you how muscular they were. Your eyes came back to his face. Yeah, that’s Peter. That’s Peter B. Parker. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. All the revelations crashed against you quick, glass shattering in your head, everything suddenly making sense. The bruises. His constant fatigue. Everything.

“Peter… oh my God.”

“I know I-I kept this from you for a really long time, and I know it’s hard to fully digest it, but I did promise I was gonna tell you one day.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching. But you weren’t smiling— all the terrible fights you’d watched on the news throughout the years flashed in your head, going all the way back in time to when you first discovered Queens’ brand-new superhero as a seven-year-old.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “You’re telling me you’ve been at this since you were a fucking kid?”

Peter let his mask drop to the carpeted ground, his back sliding down the sofa’s backrest. “Since I was fifteen, yeah.”

“Peter…”

He grimaced at your concern. “I know it sounds sad, but it’s not… it’s not that bad.” He promised you, but you couldn’t take him seriously. You picked up your legs, sitting cross-legged and playing with your fingers as you continued to go through your racing questions.

“I used to look up to you when I was little.” You revealed quietly. Peter scoffed, grinning playfully. 

“What, you don’t anymore?”

You shook your head vigorously. “I do. Shit, I still do. I never thought I’d meet my childhood hero the way I did, though.”

“Sorry I’m just a sad, old man.”

You rolled your eyes, prodding him with your elbow. “You’re so much more than that.” All humor fled his expression and he shut his eyes, throwing his head back. 

“Am I? I constantly feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. There it was, of course; he couldn’t talk about Spider-Man in a non-degrading way.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man!” You exclaimed, not accepting his utter bullshit, but he was willing to accept it as he peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I know, you always say that.”

You gave up in trying to change his mind and shifted closer to him, copying his position, unable to focus on your view of the boring, mundane ceiling; so you turned your head to see Peter getting lost in the white square. “You really didn’t have to tell me. This is a big secret.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.” You were glad he kept staring up as you felt the blood rush to your face.

“You do?” You asked, your chest warm, illuminated with glee. Peter glanced at you, nodding nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah. I really do.”

You turned your face away from him, your muscles close to tearing from how big and proudly you grinned. “Spider-Man trusts me.” You hushed to yourself.

Peter breathed out, exasperated, his eyes fluttering closed again. “Stop.” He pleaded, laughing himself nonetheless. You bit your smile back, moving to sit straight in what your friend liked to call your ‘parent worried about their kid’ sitting position. 

“I guess I was right for worrying, huh?” You smiled sadly, taking in the severity of the situation. He poked his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to worry.” He sighed. You snorted.

“That’s dumb. You’re saying you’re always putting your life on the line? Of course I’m gonna worry.”

“Well, I worry about you, too.”

“How come?”

“If you’re close to me, then you’re putting your life on the line as well.”

You frowned, squeezing his arm to comfort him. “No, don’t say that.”

“Y/N, it’s the truth, though.” He fully sat up to turn toward you, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the worst thing about this. How many times have the people I care about gotten hurt? All ‘cause of me?”

You remained speechless. Moments later, he placed his hands flat against the sofa, preparing to stand up. “Y’know, I get it if you want to keep your distance from now on. I actually think it’d be a good—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You warned him, expression stern. “It’s stupid.”

“I almost got you killed that other time—”

“You didn’t almost get me fucking killed, for Christ’s sake!” 

Peter’s jaw tightened and he ran his hands through his hair, that strand of hair falling back in front of his forehead. “Whatever. You can’t be so sure, anyway.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing that he was right. You nervously placed your hand on top of his. “Can I hug you?” You asked like a child, giving him a half-smile. Peter looked down at your hand before his eyes moved to you.

“Sure. Y-Yeah.” 

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him hard, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt him slowly embrace your waist, scared of  underestimating his strength. “I’m glad you told me. It must have been really hard.” You murmured against his chest. He chuckled humorlessly, his cheek on top of your head.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? Whether it’s to vent or for some weird spider shit. I…” Love you. “You’re my friend, dude.”

After he left that night, you’d never been more conflicted about your feelings. It was a conundrum; a whole headache-inducing brain-teaser. You’d striked out the fourth reason why you should forget about Peter, the original five down to only four, but you still searched for that sixth— now fifth reason. As if it didn’t scramble your brain enough that it left you dazed and your thoughts impossible untangle, Peter unknowingly joined the game with the objective of rattling you up more. 

You noticed he didn’t disappear without notice ever again, and if he did, he didn’t leave you hanging, rather he sent you a text the day after with an entire clarification. Then, you caught onto the increasing meter of his touchiness: new and unexpected hugs, holding your damn hand— although that only happened twice, but still. Your overdramatic friend didn’t even need to point it out. 

One Saturday, he sat down in front of you, and before you could greet him, he surprised you. “One whiskey served over ice, please.” He smirked. You gaped at him, laughing, face astonished.

“What’s up with that?” He shrugged, grin never disappearing.

“I dunno, I guess I missed it.”

You never thought you’d continue hearing ‘one whiskey served over ice, please’ ever again. But you did.

This year, you did give him a present for Hanukkah and Christmas. A painting of one of your favorite photos of his that he showed you one day; a day you so vividly recalled, for he asked you to come with him to take pictures of an exhibition at a museum, and you accidentally broke a statue after you leaned against it in the attempt of doing an extravagant pose. To your surprise, he gave you one, too: a photo album with pictures from that day, and a message that read, ‘Merry Christmas!’, accompanied by a smiley face. In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve again, except that this time, you and Peter were talking.

You came out of the party’s bathroom, unable to tear your gaze away for the fourth time from Peter’s New Year’s Eve message, until you bumped into someone and had to force yourself to pocket your phone. You lazily swayed to the music, your vision blurring out, turning it harder to find your friend amidst the people. While your body was there, all your five senses working perfectly, feeling the heat from the enclosed space, the music vibrating in your chest, the smell of alcohol and smoke fixed in your nostrils, your mind lived in December 20th. December 20th being last Monday: a date that continued to echo in your head, the entirety of the day playing from the beginning until the pitch-black hour of midnight. It played, played, played relentlessly, exhaustingly. December 20th, it continued, a stupid date that your drunk self could not let go of.

You distinguished your friend in the crowd, comfort kissing your body and your tired legs guiding you to him, until you moved a person aside and saw the full view of his lower body grinding against a girl all over him. “Ah, fucking gross,” You groaned, pushing the unlucky same guy as you took a turn and headed for the glass door leading out to the balcony.

You firstly bumped into the door thinking it was open, but successfully slid it open and made it out into the winter weather, the city more awake than ever twenty minutes before the New Year. But you weren’t focusing on the future. No, you held onto last Monday, gripping it so tightly it hurt, hanging onto it as if you’d be nothing once it left. You stumbled towards the bench to your left, falling defeated on it. December 20th. You turned on your phone, squinting down at the screen, eyes struggling to focus through the brightness. Last week. You opened your contacts and without hesitation called a number, bringing your phone up to your ear, humming along to the beeping whilst you awaited for the person to pick up.

“Hello?” Peter said. You hung up, eyes wide. What the fuck were you doing? You didn’t answer your own question, though; you pressed the button to call again. 

“...Hi?” 

You ended the call a second time, growing frustrated with yourself. Having finally made up your mind, you called him one last time, jumping when he answered in what appeared a worldwide record-time. “Y/N, what the fuck—”

“Peter! You answered.”

There was a short silence. “I did.” He agreed, undeniably puzzled. You slumped against the wall, muffling your dopey laughter with the palm of your hand. You could hear… ah, wait. You could see, not hear, his face in your head with no problem: his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“How are you?” You wanted to hear about his day. What had he eaten that day? What had crossed his mind? Hopefully you’d made an appearance at least once. That’d be nice.

“I’m good, thanks for asking.”  You hummed happily. “How drunk are you?” 

You shook your head, failing at rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. “Just a bit tipsy, maybe.”

“How much exactly is ‘a bit tipsy’ for you?”

“How many phone calls have we had?”

A question out of the blue, you knew, and you were expecting yet again the quietness as he processed your sudden need to quiz him about such insignificant rubbish. Well… did he think it was insignificant? So many questions bouncing off your skull all at once, worsening that awful migraine you could already feel coming… or was it the booze? No, who cares. All you cared about at the moment was his response, because knowing how many fucking phone calls you’ve had wasn’t that hard unless you didn’t care.

“What?” Really? He was going to make you repeat yourself? You dug the heel of the palm into your closed eye, white fireworks blowing up in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Like, for these past two years. How many phone calls?”

“I… don’t know, maybe like three?”

Your face fell ever so slightly. “It’s six, actually.” You heard an unenthusiastic gasp.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Do you remember the sixth one?”

“Isn’t this the sixth one?”

“This is the seventh one.”

“Okay, and why are you giving me a class about how many phone calls we’ve had?”

“Because you don’t remember the sixth one. I’m sure you don’t even remember the fifth one that well.”

He remained quiet for a moment. “It’s a blur.” Peter murmured.

“You were drunk…” You shut both eyes now, trying to dig through the fog to recall. “It was after you came to the bar…” Peter’s embarrassed stutters, similar to his inebriated ones, helped to uncover the memory further. 

“I-I was drunk, yeah,” He admitted, “just like you are right now.”

“And what did you say?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I think you remember better than I do.”

You grinned. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed, Y/N.”

“Well, what about the sixth time you called me?”

“I seriously can’t remember a sixth time.”

“It wasn’t a failed booty call.”

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, I’m glad, I guess.”

A frown took over your features. “You really can’t remember?” You needed him to. He had to. Or else...  or else…

“I swear on my aunt.”

Your heart shattered, the sharp pieces prodding and hurting your chest. “So… so I guess you didn’t mean what you said?” You mumbled to yourself, realization sobering you more than you wanted it to.

Peter couldn’t help but begin to panic a bit at the mention of expressing something without his knowledge, or at least without his not drunk self’s knowledge. You immediately grew conscious of it for this time, the silence was different. “...What did I say?” He questioned, somewhat afraid. You didn’t speak. “Y/N? What did I say?” He pushed more urgently.

“It doesn’t matter,” You changed your mind. Calling was just another bad idea. You took your phone away from your ear for a second, jumping off from your seat, but your foot accidentally knocked over your drink. You stared down at the growing pool of alcohol staining the floor, seeping underneath your shoe. Blinking, you looked at your phone, at Peter’s name, and the numbers of the counter below it rising, marking each of your thumping heartbeat. 

The sixth reason. You needed it to stop you right now; an instruction to back out, the reassurance that it was still an option and it didn’t stop being one long ago. But as your finger came down to end the call for the better, your head screamed, freezing you.

Sixth. You were in love with Peter Parker.

You dropped back down on the bench, eyes glazed over. That was it. The sixth reason. Peter. The man nearing his forties and with the loveliest messed up nose. The customer you met last year and that continued to come to bar you worked at just to talk to you, his bartender. The guy you laughed with, sang with, slept with, became too close with, fell in love with. You put the phone back up to its right place, anxiously licking your lips. “Look, I’m gonna regret this. I know I am. But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, so why should it now, right?” You chuckled, your eyes wide. 

“I’m really concerned about that phone call, though.”

“Peter,” You glanced up at the sky, gulping. “I’m so glad I met you. I really am.”

“I-I’m glad I met you, too.”

You smiled momentarily. “Good. Working at the bar had become such a pain in the ass, and it still kinda is, but then you came that first time, and you called me ‘kid’ which annoyed me, but I was still hoping that maybe you’d stay, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because…” Your free hand came up to aid the other which trembled too much, grasping it tightly. “I don’t know, it was weird, I just couldn’t… I-I really wanted to get to know you. And it took some time but eventually we did talk— you said that stupid pick-up line and somehow it worked. I really need to higher my standards.”

“Hey, it was a great pick-up line.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“You gave me your number, didn’t you?”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward, and you laughed softly at yourself. “I did, I did. And I’m glad I did, even if you were just trying to get your mind off of MJ.” The truth stung as it glided out of your mouth.

Peter thought for a moment before continuing, “Maybe I just wanted a friend.” But it lacked sincerity, and you both could recognize that.

“But, Pete,” You bit your lip, looking down at the mess you’d left on the ground, the sole of your shoe now sticky. “Am I really just a friend?”

More silence. You breathed in, your chest moving up. “Be honest with me, please.” You begged, your voice hushed.

“Okay.”

Your stomach began to cramp up. “That time we hooked up,” You paused, the eerie shortage of noise on the other side of the line pushing you to go on. “Did it mean anything to you? Was it anything more than just a distraction?”

“I…” 

“Or what about that other time at my place? Why did nothing happen?”

“We were too wasted. It was wrong.”

“So you do remember.”

“I do.”

You placed your hand on top of the other, beginning to pace around. “Are you lying about that phone call, too?”

“What is it with this phone call you say? What happened?” He repeated, desperate and with a hint of irritation. You approached the railing, placing your elbows on the metal.

“Just… be honest with me.”

“I am, Y/N.”

You kneaded your forehead with your knuckles, shaking your head. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been too long, and it’s so confusing. You’re so confusing. Or maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know. There’s… there’s this thing, I know you can feel it as well, and sometimes it’s as if there’s a chance that you might feel the same way I do, but then the next minute it’s as if not, a-and it’s so confusing.”

“Feel the same way you do? What do you mean?” He clearly knew what you meant. Your eyes traveled around the city, the cold and strong breeze nearly knocking your body backward. If he knew, why couldn’t he simply outright admit it? Why, all of a sudden, was it taking him so long?

“The phone call…”

He groaned. “Y/N, just please tell me why you’re so hung up on that phone call?”

“It was last week. You said you liked me.”

You said it. He heard it. He finally heard it, and you waited for anything like an idiot, yet it never came. You checked if you had accidentally hung up the call, but when you saw that it was still going, you sighed and decided to end it for once and for all. “We can be anything. Anything, okay? I can just be your bartender, you can be my client, we can be friends, w-we can be more. If it’s not supposed to be, then just as long as you’re there, I really won’t mind. Just, please… I’m begging you…” You whispered, not capable of discerning whether your body quivered from the winter or the fear brutally gnawing on you.

“Be honest.” 

Peter held his breath. “Y/N…” You waited, shoulders shaking, the stupid fucking silence clutching you by the neck as you waited. Just say it. Just say it—

“I’m still in love with MJ. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You said aloud, voice cracking. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Pete, no, I’m…Thank you. It’s just kinda hard to take it in, but I...” You tightened your jaw, your throat aching, swallowing back your pity. “I will. Thank you for being honest, though.”

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin things,” You could barely hear him: your brain too loud compared to his voice. You shook your head frantically, scrunching up your nose to hold back a sniffle.

“Never. I love you.” It wasn’t the way you wanted to say it. “You’re my friend. And I’m not going anywhere because you said I was stuck with you, remember?”

He laughed, a beam of light that almost mended your fractured heart. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.” You smiled brightly, wiping the tears you’d tried so hard to stop from running down your cheeks. You stood straight, but it was only for a mere second, for your arms plopped back down onto the railing from the lightheadedness which threatened to bring you down. 

“Okay,” You slurred, the bile rising up and burning your throat. “I’m gonna leave you. My friend will hate me if I miss the countdown…”

“Sure. Happy new year… be safe.”

You giggled, waving your hand at no one, really. “Don’t worry about me grandpa, I do this every year.” You doubted the idea that popped in your head, but voiced it anyway, “And if you need any help with MJ, I’m here. I can give you a discount at the bar for a date night!” The excitement you forced onto yourself was salt on the wound.

“I’m not sure if that’s a romantic idea, but thanks, I’ll think about it.” You both hesitated, waiting for something once again. But when you realized that it’d never arrive no matter how much time passed, you nodded quietly and unwrapped your arms from yourself, preparing to let go of that feeling you’d clutched onto for the longest time as well.

“I’ll see you around.” You finally said and hung up. You stared at your phone, grief by your side, holding your hand. Yet, to your surprise, a weak smile started to creep on you, relief slowly sewing your heart together. You told yourself that the heaviness in your heart didn’t matter, because at least you had Peter. At least he would still be there, at the bar, with his whiskey served over ice.

As you stumbled to your feet, ready to join your friend and drink away your bittersweet ache, your phone began to vibrate. Your brows twisted together and you looked down, sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Peter?”

[jackie-talks-about-starkid]

A Very Potter Musical (Rewatch #1, 9/7/2020)

YouTube publish date: July 5, 2009 (re-upload date)

Number of views on date of rewatch: 16,939,210

Original ticket price: Free (I know, right!?)

Director: Matt Lang

Assistant Director: Nick Lang

Music and Lyrics: Darren Criss and AJ Holmes

Writer: Brian Holden

Cast album price and availability: free to download on Starkid’s Bandcamp page (x)

Album release date: July 29, 2010

Parody or original: an original parody

Funding: $100 from Basement Arts (a student-run organization at the University of Michigan that provides space and relative funds for student-made theatre), $5000 from Nick Lang’s personal finances (x)

Main cast and characters

Harry - Darren Criss

Ron - Joey Richter

Hermione - Bonnie Grueson

Draco - Lauren Lopez

Snape - Joe Moses

Dumbledore - Dylan Saunders

Quirrell - Brian Rosenthal

Voldemort - Joe Walker

Ginny - Jamie Lyn Beatty

Musical numbers

Act I

“Goin’ Back to Hogwarts” by Darren Criss

     Characters: all, excluding Quirrell and Voldemort

“As Different As Can Be” by AJ Holmes

     Characters: Quirrell and Voldemort

“Cho’s Song (Ginny Version” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Harry

“Harry” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Ginny

“As Different As Can Be (Reprise)” by AJ Holmes

     Characters: Quirrell and Voldemort

“The Dragon Song” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Harry (and Dragon)

“Cho’s Song” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Harry

“Granger Danger” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Ron and Draco

“To Dance Again” by AJ Holmes

     Characters: Voldemort and Death Eaters

Act II

“Missing You” by AJ Holmes

     Characters: Harry and Quirrell (dramatic sighs provided by Voldemort)

“Not Alone” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione

“Voldemort Is Goin’ Down) by AJ Holmes

     Characters: Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Hogwarts Students

"Not Alone/Goin' Back To Hogwarts Reprise" - Darren Criss

     Characters: Entire cast

Fun facts:

In a YouTube comment under the video “A Very Potter Musical Prologue”, user Kylene Corpus cites Joey Richter as saying, “”There is a whole section that they didn’t include in the YouTube video where Bonnie did this kind of voice over at the beginning telling the story of Harry Potter and Voldemort would like walk out on stage in his cloak and they told the story about how Harry died and with his parents and when he said Avada Kadavra, they shined this huge green light in the audience’s faces and they have the music playing in the background and it was so cool.”

(I just discovered this bit of information as I was writing this particular part of the post [9/7/2020] and when I say I got CHILLS when hearing this for the first time…imagine listening to this and thinking “wow I guess this musical is going to be pretty sophisticated and true to the HP universe” and then seeing the first number and realizing that what you thought would not be the case at all)

Cultural Context: 2009

AVPM is performed roughly a year and a half after the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

The movie adaptation of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince releases on July 15th, 2009 in the US

Barack Obama gets sworn in as president of the US

Glee airs its first episode (Darren auditions for Finn and doesn’t get the part)

Iowa become the 3rd state to legalize same-sex marriage (and becomes the first state in the Midwest to do so)

Vermont legalizes same-sex marriage

Michael Jackson dies on June 25th

Movie tickets averaged at around $7.50 (x)

Personal Thoughts:

As someone whose first and foremost loves are Harry Potter and musical theatre, I could not sing the praises of A Very Potter Musical enough. For a parody of Sorcerer’s Stone, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, and a hint of Half-Blood Prince, AVPM lovingly makes fun of the characters and plot points of Harry Potter while maintaining the cast and creative team’s overall love and respect for such an important fandom in their lives. Much of AVPM’s success is owed to the fact that it was made not only for, but also by, Harry Potter fans. If a group of college kids made a Harry Potter musical for the sake of taking the piss on the entirety of the Harry Potter franchise, it definitely would not have reached anywhere near the level of success it has today. As an audience member, you can tell that each individual participating in the creation of this performance did so purely out of love for the theatre and love for Harry Potter. Even during the first opening notes of “Going Back To Hogwarts’ before Harry Potter even begins to sing, you can see something in Darren Criss’ eyes that’s so bright it can only be described as him being in love with what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. This love can be seen in every person’s performance throughout this comedic parody and that just makes it all the more enjoyable as an audience member, but most importantly, as a fan.

Every single performance stands out for me because each actor is so original and just SO FUNNY! They get what the AVPM is about and they play on that perfectly. My personal favorite is Lauren Lopez’s iconic performance as Draco Malfoy, because, WOW, talk about perfect casting and perfect execution. Her comedic timing is impeccable and I’m personally offended that she hasn’t won a Tony yet. The characterization of Malfoy’s character, as well of the rest, are so obviously hyper-caricatures of their source characters that it just makes sense. Criss’ douchey, charming, ‘guy who brings a guitar to the party and only plays Wonderwall’ vibes take James Potter’s characteristics to the extreme and make it so obvious that Harry is James’ son and it’s done with no offense to either Harry Potter himself or his father. I don’t know how he’s managed to pull that off, but it just works. Joey Richter as Ron Weasely is absolutely hilarious-he takes Ron’s tendency to be defensive and arrogant and turns it into a trait that I want to see more of. Honestly, if I’m watching AVPM, there’s an 80% chance that I’m not paying attention to the main action and instead focusing on Richter’s background acting. I wouldn’t have that any other way...Bonnie Grueson as Hermione is, at least to me, incredibly relatable. The writing for her character in particular is very sophisticated when analyzing it through the lens of Potter parody. While justice to her character in the books is done well in the show, it’s obvious that her over-competent levels of know-it-all-ness are making fun of the Potter movie adaptation’s tendency to make Hermione the sole brain cell holder of the entire franchise. (Unfun Fact: Half of Ron’s incredible lines and skills of observation from the books are given to Hermione in the movies and some of Dumbledore’s iconic quotes are given to her as well.)

If you’re not a Harry Potter fan and you end up watching AVPM, you could definitely enjoy the performances themselves because the actors and the numbers are hilarious, and you could appreciate the non-Potter pop culture references, but in doing so, you would not be doing this material any justice. This show is for Potterheads only, sorry!

Starkid’s parody musicals, beginning with this one, are its own very special brand of performance in which the group of people performing and the group of people watching have collectively agreed to come together to celebrate the fandom they love and strengthen the bond they have with it, whereas with most theatrical productions (at least in their premiere stage) the cast, crew, and the audience are there to create a bond that was never initially there.

[thetokenmuggle]

the frat boy slayer

Halloween Part Two 

M watched as Jane’s face scrunched up as she watched Minah and Sungjae seemingly get lost in their own world. He looked briefly at their friends but quickly looked away once they started to blur the line between dancing and well whatever it was they were doing.

““That’s disgusting,” Jane muttered. M hummed she did take a large gulp of her drink.

“The drink?” M asked, causing Jane to turn to face him. After Mark and Tara had left an awkward silence feel over the pair, while it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but it had left them just standing there awkwardly next to each other.“If you want I can go and get you a better one?” He offered.

“ No no that is not necessary the drink is fine, it’s the sight of seeing our best friends pretty much dry humping on the floor that is disgusting,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Oh right,” M said looking over to the dance floor before quickly looking back at Jane, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Do you wanna?” He murmured nodding to the floor.

“Do I wanna dry hump on the dance floor?” Jane asked, raising an eyebrow,smirking probably at how M’s face now matched his ears.

“I meant dance,” M exclaimed, “Not dry humping not that it is bad or I wouldn’t with you but-“ he rambled before realising he was digging himself a bigger hole. “I am just gonna stop talking,” he mumbled looking down.

Jane laughed, M sincerely hoped it was with him and not at him because he was already drowning in embarrassment. Maybe he was being hopeful but she looked well fond of him. “I would love to dance but quick question, do you even know how to?” she questioned eyeing him up and down. “And about that other thing, well you have to at least take me out for dinner first,” she smirked, M froze his brain malfunctioning as she tried to process what she had just said.

After settling down trying to ignore what Jane had just said M focused on the first part . “Oh fuck no I am awful, like I am not even been modest here,” M said with a laugh. “But you look like you want to and I’ve been a terrible kind of date so the least I can do is at least try ,” he said. “Though i should warn you my go to move is called the drunk giraffe and it will probably embarrass you so,” he shrugged.

“Doubt it I don’t know if you know this about me but I am pretty hard to embarrass,” Jane boasted. “ but you don’t have to feel obligated, you haven’t been an awful date at all,” she said with a soft smile making its way onto her face.

“I want to, I mean how many other opportunities will I have to dance with the prettiest girl here Jane the frat boy slayer,” he said with a grin. “So shall we?” He said holding his hand out. Jane was quick to skip her hand in his. They both tried to ignore how right that felt.

“Now it’s time for you to teach me this drunk giraffe move of yours,” Jane grinned as they found their spot on the dance floor.

“Are you sure you want to see it, really it’s pretty dumb,” M flushed.

“You can’t just bring it up and not show me now, teach me oh wise one,” she giggled.

“Fine,” M sighed in defeat. “First you put your hands up in the air like so,” he said, raising his arms up above his head. “And you shake them and kinda stumble around at the same time,” he said showcasing his dance move. Trying desperately to ignore the eyes that were on him no doubt judging him.

“Like this?” Jane grinned as she repeated the moves giggling as she did so.

“Exactly like that you are quick learner,” he said giving her thumbs up

Yeah, I’ve heard that plenty of times” Jane stated proudly, a smirk crossing her red-tinted lips as she playfully repeated the silly move.

“You’re giving me a run for my money” M laughed.

“Now it’s my turn to teach you a dance move.” Jane said wrapping a hand around M’s wrist and pulling him closer, M hoped she didn’t notice the way he stopped breathing. “Not that I don’t love the drunk giraffe, but if we do that all night long, I feel like my knees will hurt” Jane said, pointing at the pair stilettos she was wearing, M frowned he hadn’t even noticed, he hoped her feet were not hurting.

“Sure. Though you better don’t get your hopes too high, keep no expectations because i am really-” he started to say but Jane had completely zoned out. He waited for a second wondering if her eyes would leave his arms. Was their something wrong with his arms, was it that stupid birth mark?

Jane seemed to break out of her daze slowly turning around searching for something or someone. Within a few minutes the whole room was packed and looked like a moving montage of characters from movie and TV shows. Spiderman, Harry Potter, Darth Vader, Princess Leah, Scarlet O'Hara, angels, fairies, hobbits, witches and wizards, pirates and many other characters all danced to the latest summer hit.

Jane seemed to find what she was looking for, her eyes narrowed at whatever it was and a scoff escaped her lips.

“Is everything ok?” M asked her, looking around, apparently not identifying the source of her disgust yet. She shook her head but started laughing when she overheard a blonde girls response to a frat boy.

“Try rubbing anything of mine and the only wish you'll have, will be a death wish" She snarked before walking away leaving the two boys dressed as Jedi’s laughed their butts at the other frat boy’s - Jaehyun, M soon realized -, rejection.

“Jane,” Jaehyun spoke, clicking his tongue as he drew closer like some sort of Cicada. “Ok i get it, you are upset, but did you really have to bring some random guy to make me jealous?” Jaehyun asked, his eyes shifting up and down, analyzing M from head to toe.

“Do you even realize how delusional you sound just now?” Jane snorted, M felt bad, she was trying really hard not to lose her temper.

“Come on, Jane, there’s no need to flaunt your guy of choice in my face to make me jealous every other week” he said sending a condescending look his way before smirking at Jane. “Not that you’re trying too hard, either.” M was not a violent person but he was definitely considering wiping that smirk of that stupid jerk’s face.

“Because I don’t need to, even any of your hormonal, immature brothers would be better than you,” Jane stated her face contorting in anger. Jaehyun opened his mouth to continue this conversation before Jane stopped him. “Look, I’m sure you have better things to do tonight than to harass me, so why don’t you just leave me out of your egocentric and toxic-? “ Before Jane could complete her sentence, Mark and Johnny materialized behind Jaehyun. They gave Jane an apologetic look murmuring something to their friend and then dragged Jaehyun upstairs. The two jedi’s from before followed their brothers as well, looking rather concerned.

Jane sighed and slowly turned to face him, “I am truly sorry about that” she said briefly glancing into his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, other than his ego of course,” she attempted to joke.

“It’s fine,” M mumbled. He paused trying to think he should say anything else or if any comment would make the situation worse. “Not your fault his brain doesn’t work, maybe his hair gel leaked into his brain or- “ he continued, “though i guess you could say the same thing about me right now,” he said pointing his hair.

“No, trust me, he has never used that brain,” Jane said with an eye roll. M’s lip quirked up in a semi smile, he wanted to continue the joke on but couldn’t bring himself to. That was the type of guy Jane was into, not a boy who works in a coffee shop and has a go to dance move is called the drunk giraffe.

An awkward silence fell over them, M knew that he was just a friend but he couldn’t help but feel a bit defeated. That been said he didn’t want Jane to feel bad it wasn’t her fault she had type that wasn’t M. “I don’t suppose you want to teach me that signature move now,” M said awkwardly trying to break the awkwardness, they could at least get back to the jovial mood they had before Jaehyun had to show up.

“Honestly at this point i kinda just want to go home,” Jane said, a defeated sigh slipping from her lips. M nodded, eyes darting down to his feet. Well that was a bruise to his almost non existent ego. “Not because of you,” Jane added quickly, causing M to glance up giving her what he hoped looking a reassuring grin. He was pretty sure she was saying that to make him feel better but he did appreciate the attempt. “Why do I get the feeling you have taken a page out of your bestfriend’s book and are doubting whether you should believe me or not?” Jane said, the tiniest hint of annoyance could be heard in her voice.

“Sungjae doesn’t have a book, its contagious - you should hope Minah had her shots otherwise you are going to have some trouble,” M joked.

“Firstly don’t even joke about that,” Jane said, dramatically shuddering. “And secondly M don’t say things like that in places like this, they would assume you are talking about something else entirely and before you know it everyone on campus will talking about Minah caught something of Sungjae,” she said. M’s eyes widening that is the last thing he wanted to do.

“Excuse you,” Minah said pushing people out of the way Sungjae following behind her, lips noticeable a smeared shade of Minah’s lipstick. M snorted looking at the dumb smile loved up smile that was on his bestfriends face. “I caught what now?”

“Sungjae’s lack self esteem and constant need to question everything i say,” Jane deadpanned, “Apparently the last part was true,” she said narrowing her eyes at Minah.

“And we came all the way over here to check on you after we saw Jaehyun,” Minah said tsking. “Everything okay?” she asked surprisingly seriously.

“It’s fine, he was just being his normal self,” Jane said with an eye roll, “I was just going to head home,” she said. The two girls shared a look, M tried to decipher the silent conversation.

“Same well, actually -” She said in a sing song, “Sungjae and I were planning to head home,” she said with a grin. “But back to his place,” she said.

“We were?” Sungjae questioned before being elbowed in the rib by his girlfriend, “We were!” he said as he rubbed his rib. “Sorry mate,” he said to M.

“Well he could always stay at our place right Jane?” Minah said. “Our couch is very comfortable unless -” Minah continued.

‘Minah,” Jane groaned.

“What? I am just being helpful, i highly doubt he wants to be present for what we are going to do,” Minah hummed. “And did you know M has never actually seen Grease? Maybe you two you should watch it together?”

“You haven’t watched Grease?” Jane gasped in mock horror, turning to look at him with her eyebrows raised. M wasn’t sure why this was that surprising. He was sure he had seen movies Jane had never watched before.

“Well… I…” M briefly eyed Sungjae questioning what he should say. Sungjae shook his head mouthing a silent ‘no.’ “I haven’t,” he admitted after clearing his throat. It made Jane’e eyes widen comically.

“Ok, no. Now I can’t let you go anywhere.” Jane said seriously “You’re coming home with me and you can’t leave until you know everything about Danny Zuko” she said. M nodded supposing it would make sense for him to actually know something about the character he dressed up as.

“I guess I have no other choice” M joked, shrugging “Anything will be better than going home with these two” he pretended to lower his voice, but both Minah and Sungjae could hear his next word perfectly. “Walls are paper thin in our apartment”

Jane and M laughed causing Sungjae to slightly blush.

“And they’re already so fucking loud” Jane scrunched up her nose. “I really feel obligated to save you from that torture” Jane linked an arm through M’s and started to walk toward the exit with Minah and Sungjae following them closely.

“We can order something to eat or buy something on our way” M suggested tentatively.

“That works. And since she’s the reason you can’t go home, we can drink one of Minah’s champagne bottles. I doubt she would mind” Jane looked over her shoulder smirking teasingly.

“Hey! You two better keep your hands off that bottle. I’ve been saving it for months!” Minah grumbled as they walked out the frat house.

Jane was about to retort when a gust of wind whipped past them and lifted the dried fall leaves off the sidewalk, scattering them all over the street. She shivered and let go of M’s arm in favor of hugging herself and trying to rub away the chill.

“It’s freezing, you’re going to catch a cold wearing that,” they turned to see Sungjae taking his jacket off and placing it carefully over Minah’s arms. M bit back a laugh if he knew Sungjae as well as he thought he did, his being dying to do that since the ghostbuster wolf whistled when they arrived.

“Thank you, babe,” Minah said sliding her hand around her boyfriend’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Charming.

“This has truly been a horror night” Jane complained to M, clicking her tongue in disapproval and hoping this one was the last time —at least for the day— that she got to see her friends making out like two horny teenagers. “Thanks for tagging along and sharing my pain” she said with a faint smile “It would’ve been an awful night without you.” Jane said.

It was like M had no control over his face because he was smiling from ear to ear. He didn’t want to seem like eager puppy waving his tail excitedly at the smallest amount of praise yet here was surely smiling like a fool because he might have made Jane’s night a bit more bearable.

“Poke the dimple,” he was snapped out of his thoughts by his best friend chanting rather ghoulishly. “Seriously I am not close enough, Jane you need to do it , just -“ he continued making a poking gesture.

“I am not just going to poke someone’s face” Jane said rolling her eyes . Though admittedly she was tempted to.

“Not everyone is obsessed with my dimples mate,” M said with a laugh while Sungjae whined about missed opportunities.

“Not everyone is but I certainly know somebody who is,” Minah said giggling. Completely ignoring the glare her friend was sending her.

“Don’t you two have places to be,” Jane said with a huff. It was getting cold and Minah’s “help” was not helping at all.

“Hmm we do,” Minah said nodding. To Jane it looked like she was contemplating whether staying here and helping/terrorising her was worth delaying sex. The answer would ofcourse be it’s never worth delaying sex. “Come on baby we should let this two have their movie night ,” Minah said to Sungjae who had already wrapped an arm around her waist. “You better keep M there until lunch time tomorrow actually, pretty sure we are going to be busy all morning too,” she said with a wink loud enough for everyone to hear. M nose wrinkled in disgust , looking over to see his friend completely red burying his face in Minah’s neck to hide his embarrassment. It didn’t last long though because with in a few seconds the couple retreated down the street stopping every couple of feet kiss each other.

“Gross,” Jane muttered before a leather jacket was placed over her shoulders. She looked over to see M shifting nervously, ears slightly redder.

“I was going to offer earlier but those two happened,” M said scratching the back of his neck. “Is it okay because I know I am not your -“ he was stopped when Jane held a hand up.

“It’s more than okay, I was freezing,” Jane said, putting the jacket on properly. “ Are you sure your going to be okay though?”

M was about to reply but his best friend for it was the perfect time to call out that if Jane was wondering M liked his eggs scrambled in the morning, loud enough that random passerby’s looked over at them.

“Oh my god,” Jane said with an embarrassed laugh. “ How much would you really miss him? Be honest ,” she said causing M to chuckle.

“He grows on you but I think after that we definitely need to drink that bottle of champagne you mentioned earlier,” M said with a smirk. “Also I may happen to know Sungjae’s Uber eats account and his credit card details so I think he just volunteered to pay for our food,” he grinned.

“Well in that case we should get going,” Jane laughed. Her eyes drifted down to see M’s hand hestitaing to grab hers , she rolled her eyes linking them. “So on the way to my apartment you can tell me about all the other teen classics you never watched,” she said ignoring the way her heart seemed to race as M’s hands tightened around hers.

“Well you might hate me for this but I’ve never seen Mean Girls,” M said as Jane turned to him with a shocked look. “Let me guess we are going to be watching that next time,” he said his eyes widening as he realised that he implied there would be more of these types of nights.

“Oh no sweetie we are watching that tonight, next time I am making you sit through my favourite French flicks,” Jane giggled.

[ithinkthingsaboutstuff]

how would you analyze the rebooting scene?

Thank you for the ask, (but i think you’ll be sorry, lol)

Ok here we go (i did this to myself)

I said before that this scene is a masterclass and I’m going to show you why I think that, but strap in its going to be long one.

the version of the scene I’m looking at is 3:46 secs (note this version a quick cut to J’onn but i will ignoring that, for the sake of time and my sanity)  

the scene opens with this

Brainy is locked in a chair, but we are looking at his right hand of all things

Note: this is were he wears his ring (that has been taken from him) so this open shot is saying, Brainy is being held back and his ring (legion/ friends) can’t help him.

a few shorts later that is conformed for the audience.

Note: that the rings is what is in focus and not the man holding it and it too is locked up (on a chain)

so safe to say that the ring has always been a symbol for Brainy himself or his core beliefs (as a hero) he say’s as much in earlier ep’s (before the alien march i believe)

this is a good example of visual symbolism and its done in two shorts.

moving on.

the next few beats go like this, ‘don’t hurt her (nia)’ ‘or what’ he gets zapped

but then this dialogue

“Ever one else here got these crazy powers but you as far as i can tell are blue.”

“are blue” is met with this image.

he tilts his head and the Brainiac symbol is on full display, so dramatic irony, we (the audience) know there’s more and we are about to find out how much.

“The girl (Nia) on the other hand”

is meet with this

so this has done two this

1) he have moved way from thoughts of himself (getting away)

2) We are looking at his ‘human’ or organic face and eyes (not the brainiac lights)

Brainy’s face then moves from, ‘i need to leave’ and into ‘take me not her’ this done by Jesse closing is eyes for a second and opening then again

he next is a back and forth of you will not hurt her. but then he gets hit by the gun. this then leads to lights on his head flashing and then cuts away,

note that

1) His head is leaning back and is looking up

2) the sound (hissing) and lights flickering

so he is in a state we have never seen him before.

now this then cuts to Eve and J’onn so I’m going to skip that. this is how we renter the scene,

the sound is still happening, coupled with his discomfort (understatement), but we are looking in, like we are an unknown entity overbearing but distant

note that you can’t see face’s (expressions) from anyone most notable being Brainy

a shot like this distance us from the emotion of what is happening, that’s amplified with the next shot

we are literally creeping in, like we are the thing his is trying to keep out or away from him.

note: this could also be seen as brainy himself losing his emotional attachment to himself

but he can’t keep ‘us’ away as the very next shot is

a close up like this is always for emotion.

but he is sounding less human (voice being more robotic) or at least less himself (lights flickering)  it is also a dutch tilt and those are used to show ‘something is not right here’ or ‘this is not as it seems’

and he is not talking about himself “why would anyone hurt her”

so his self attachment is all by gone, and he has all but given up on his own fight, as stated by his captor

“he’s done…on too the other one boys.”

it is then meet with a music drop and a matter a fact

“no”

this is when things, get layered

there are a few more mechanical shifts sounds

met with different types of ‘No’

this is also meet by some flickers of back and forth between himself, this shows an internal shift of keeping them here “no, no” (don’t leave) to “No,you can’t.” (stay back, something is inside me) this is done with tone of voice and micro expressions.

so this writing when viewed the first time makes us question who he is talking to now, because dialogue alone makes it sound like he is still talking to the guards  

(and the not so micro ones)

this is when he falls back on or uses his last line of defiance his ‘Little Box’s’

this is the last big red flag for something is about to go down and its not going to be good.

“But eventually box’s get opened.”

but this makes the audience ask in Brad Pitt in the movie 7 fashion

‘What’s in the box!’

and for those paying attention Brainy answers that question before it starts  

“there’s a story about that right…Greek.”

(I have already mentioned this part before in another ask but since i’m lazy and unoriginal, i’ll do it again)

this moment is a good example of conscious and subconscious intertextuality

the use of Little Box’s has 2 meanings in this scene.

1)  the show made a coping technique out of it as a way to seal away unwanted pain

2)  as to what is in this book is ref to Pandora’s Box

now what was in Pandora’s Box you ask

Oh! Out of the box flew every kind of trouble that people had never known about before: sicknesses, and worries, and crimes, and hate and envy and all sorts of bad things. The bad things all began to fly away like little bugs, all over the place.

Pandora was very sorry now that she had opened the box! She tried to catch the bad things and put them back in the box but it was too late. They all flew away.

https://quatr.us/greeks/pandoras-box-greek-mythology.htm

this double meaning is used as a way to tell us was is going to happen without actually tell us, and is good solid writing.

and going back to the angle of this shot looking up at someone usually shows them having power over someone in the scene,

but thanks to the acting here

it shows that he is powerless against himself.

this is the moment before he loses himself (momentarily) to the Brainiac’s

the camera tilts again (this time onscreen) while it and Brainy move in a snake like fashion.

“your just primitives.”

in a Voice that is clearly not Brainy’s (in a literal and metaphorical way)  

“and I have worked so hard to….to get back here.”

the Voice in this line fades back down to his real voice (so he is still fighting)

the line is also solid writing as it takes on different meanings

1) the literal, ‘i have worked hard to come to the past’

2) the metaphorical ‘I am working hard to get control of my mind again.’

3) the emotional ‘I have worked hard to get to a good emotional sate.’

and again this angle show how he is powerless against himself.

the next few shots are the camera swaying back and forth and he goes a small disjointed rant about time travel (and space travel)

the camera swaying is showing the mood swings but it is also showing the state of his mind

‘it could go either way’

(and Jesse’s back and forth is seamless.)

then finally a calm before the storm moment as he ‘fully regains himself’

with “the point is, the point is..I’m from the future,”

then to a rational but angry

“my species has ancestral memory.”  

the lights are still going so this has not pasted.

“and my ancestors very bad people.”

then cut to

“I remember everything!”

oh this shot

(Jesse’s acting top notch here (that single tear still gets me) )

1) the lead in from ‘bad people’ to ‘I remember’ so sharp and intense

2) this shows that he is actually seeing everything they have ever done (world killers)

3) this shot removes the Brainiac symbol from sight again, as this is Brainy’s agony and not there’s (they don’t feel anything lest of all regret)

and this shot is also how we know he has just lost against who he is fighting. and the fact that this is only time we see him in profile this could mean symbolically he has just been ‘split in half’.

then a few moments before

“uh oh”

this angle again but this time meet with a ‘glee’ then leading into a cry (the last cry) for help Brainy uses.

“I don’t want to.”

then the head goes down and silence’s, then  

this time the Brainiac’s symbol is the main focus, the dutch tilt is back, so Brainy is gone,

then this leads to the rise and lifting up of Jesse’s body, like his is being filled with air  

the he says how he has been aligned with with his family, and how he has been rebooted,

as this happens the camera sways back and forth but slowly this time, as to show that shows its gently moving into his mind and making itself more comfortable before, so the camera straights up and he states

“that was a calamitous mistake.”

then he breaks free and beats them brutally braking bones and smashing in heads (but not killing oddly enough)

but the first thing he does is

pull the ring to himself but unlike all the other times in s4 he does not grab it rather

he garbs this guy’s neck

so if Brainy ‘is the ring’ (symbolically speaking)

then he is still chained up, in these next fighting beats. (again bashing skulls and breaking bones)

then there is this moment  

a taking in a new mind set (literally),

then the camera spins around him and cutting to his side to show him put out his hand and then this

remember Ring= brainy

high angle = power

so the rebooted brainy has power over the chained up one (symbolically)

then he pulls it off the chain (but dose not put it on, that we see anyway)

J’onn walks in and ask

“what happened”

his response

“i’m free.”

double meaning is double meaning (i don’t have to explain that one)

there are few other things i noticed in this scene

1) like how the fight scene had a deeper or inverted version of Brainy’s usual theme music.

2) there are 3 big lights on the wall hanging over the scene (like the brainiac’s)

3) most of this scene is close ups and that is not easy to do (acting wise)

4) he takes down the scientist last (thought that was worth pointing out)

so yes this scene is one of the best the show has ever made (for me anyway) its very layered and well planned and well executed,

now do i think every thing i listed here was intentional for the reasons i listed them, no (that’s insane)

but that doesn’t matter, the point is i was able to make and find these connections using the film language that was presented,  

but this scene is filled with character building (brainy with Jesse’s acting ability’s), season long payoffs (little box’s) and setting up story’s and premise’s for what was going to be next season, that is now this season (s5.)  

so no matter which way you look at it this scene is so well put together that it could be it’s own short film, and no one would have batted an eye.

that’s the mark of good story telling (in this case acting, writing and directing) if you can take out all context and still be its own peace of work.

and this is all just my take someone else could come in and see something totally different and that’s great. 

[and just for fun I will throw in the scene and you can take a look and see how you feel for your self 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPvPkDxhxoY]

[eclare-draws]

My ML/Enneagram Theory

So I was bored and have a huge interest in the Enneagram personality type test, so I decided to figure out what Adrien and Marinette are on the Enneagram. I was just making points, and it somehow turned into an eight page double spaced essay. I’m realy happy with it and it only took a couple of hours, so here it is to read. It will help with the art I’m posting tomorrow ;)

The Enneagram is a personality test based on a person’s basic fears and desires in life. It is a set of numbers one through nine, each of which represent a specific type of person but are all connected based on how each basic type (the one someone identifies the most with) reacts to stress and growth. The system is largely based on fluctuation, but by analyzing the fears and desires of characters in Miraculous Ladybug, their basic Enneagram type can be quickly identified by the actions they take to change injustices and make sense of the world around them. Here, the discussion will be based on Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Chat Noir in various contexts.

In every episode, we see both Marinette as well as Ladybug strive to make the world better based on her beliefs of what is right for the city and her friends (which is typically in-line with what we as a society associate with good and honorable behavior). This attitude and drive is often associated with Enneagram Type One: the Reformer, who wants “to be good, to have integrity, [and] to be balanced.” This analysis of character can be seen in both personas Marinette takes on: the busy schoolgirl and the savior of Paris. Ones are often faulted with “always striving to improve things, but afraid of making a mistake,” which is clearly displayed in “Stoneheart,” where Marinette struggles to cope with the fact that she messed up to the point where she feels she is so incompetent that it would be better for her to give up her miraculous for the sake of Paris. “[Ones] try to maintain high standards, but can slip into being critical and perfectionistic.” Marinette’s sense of perfectionism is clearly seen in her designs and plans. She spends a disproportionate amount of time on tiny details, such as an embroidered signature, that no one else would notice but add depth and meaning to her work. Not only this, but her perfectionism shines when she makes detailed and convoluted plans, whether it is how to use her lucky charm as Ladybug or how she will get together with Adrien (see Operation: Secret Garden in “Gigantitan”).

The audience can often see Marinette trying to improve the lives of others, whether they ask for it or not. She often zeros in on a single problem and tackles it in order to help the world align with how she sees it best. When she is criticized for a mistake or wronged in some way, she reacts dramatically and impatiently. This aligns with the direction of disintegration, where “methodical Ones suddenly become moody and irrational at Four.” When Marinette is wronged, she reacts brashly and “[has] problems with resentment and impatience,” easily showcased in situations dealing with Chloe. All nine Enneagram types are associated with a sin, and Ones are paired with anger. This makes sense with Marinette, because while she tends to be level headed in most situations, she gets mad and defensive whenever something is turned against her or goes against the plan.

“History is full of Ones who have left comfortable lives to do something extraordinary because they felt that something higher was calling them.” Marinette started her career as Paris’ superheroine just as anyone would expect: spilling macarons everywhere while preventing an old man from getting hit by a car he could have easily avoided. Master Fu’s intention with the ladybug miraculous was Marinette’s higher calling. One of the more famous figures often referenced in speaking of the Type One personality is Joan of Arc (Jeanne d’Arc). Not only was Joan of Arc in a similar position as Marinette - a teenage girl destined to save France - but she is also depicted in the show as a past holder of the Ladybug Miraculous (see Befana episode and Thomas Astruc’s art). This revelation could be interesting to anyone, but it also enhances and hones this theory into a definite explanation. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a Type One on the Enneagram personality test.

But what about her partner, crush, and friend, Adrien Agreste or Chat Noir? Well, it is made clear early on that Chat Noir is what Adrien would be if it were not for his father and the life he is expected to lead for the sake of looking good (pun intended). By analyzing this character in two parts rather than at the same time as previously done with Marinette, he becomes much simpler to understand. Chat Noir’s abilities allow Adrien to leave the fortress that is the Agreste mansion and live his life in a way that helps him grow and thrive, while being locked up puts him in a state of disintegration or stress. By evaluating the character from this point of view, it makes sense that Adrien would be an Enneagram Type Seven: the Enthusiast. 

Sevens want nothing more than “to be satisfied and content—to have their needs fulfilled.” Adrien grew up in a wealthy household and never had to worry about his physical needs being met but he constantly looks for ways to have his emotional needs met because his father refuses to do so and instead feeds into the basic fear of sevens: “Of being deprived and in pain.” Adrien’s worst nightmare is being locked up, as displayed in Sandboy, where bars appear in his room until he’s trapped and isolated. In “Riposte,” Ladybug hides him in a sarcophagus in the Louvre and, after escaping to be Chat Noir, he uses the excuse of, “I hate to be locked up.” While this is not actually why he left, his body language and tone show that he is being genuine in his words and that his clawstrophobia (sorry) is an actual problem. This claustrophobia is not only based in literally being in tight spaces, but also figuratively being trapped. His father over schedules him to the point where he, a young boy, cannot discover who is for himself or what his interests are. Despite the skateboarding ramp and posters in his room, does the audience ever see him even have the slightest interest in skateboarding? Or basketball? Rockclimbing? Piano? Fencing? Chinese? Modeling? While he seems to go along with these and generally find entertainment in them, there is no way to show that he is actually inclined to do these things - he is just expected to, so he does.

Being locked away in his room allowed him proficiency at the activities provided for him, but the only time he is ever depicted as actively enjoying one of these things is when he plays the piano with Plagg in “Puppeteer 2.” Sevens often prefer “to keep themselves excited and occupied, to avoid and discharge pain.” By giving in to the hobbies he is expected to have, he keeps himself busy so that he cannot worry about what he might actually enjoy. His ability to have high performance can also be attributed to the fact that “Sevens are frequently endowed with quick, agile minds, and can be exceptionally fast learners. This is true both of their ability to absorb information (language, facts, and procedures) and their ability to learn new manual skills—they tend to have excellent mind-body coordination, and manual dexterity (typewriting, piano playing, tennis).” While he might not be interested in the activities he participates in, he finds himself great at all of them because of this ability to adapt and learn. Despite this, it is likely that Adrien will struggle to figure out what he wants to pursue because, “Sevens do not feel that they can find what they really want in life.” The only thing he truly knows for himself and his future is that he wants Ladybug to be in it.

The few active decisions the audience sees Adrien make are in line with those associated with Sevens, in that he “[wants] to maintain [his] freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out on worthwhile experiences,” or, in this case, the experiences of a normal teenage boy. He decides he wants to go to school with other people because he deems it important in “Stoneheart”. In “The Gorilla,” he runs  away from home in order to avoid missing out on his mother’s movie. By keeping the black cat miraculous, he makes the choice to continue to have worthwhile experiences and make positive change to better his life. Sevens “do not feel that they know what to do or how to make choices that will be beneficial to themselves and others,” which is shown in “Reflekdoll” when Adrien holds the ladybug miraculous and worries that his choices are not the correct path without the assurance of Lady Noire. Sevens are known for “[keeping] their minds occupied, especially with projects and positive ideas for the future, they can, to some extent, keep anxiety and negative feelings out of conscious awareness.” As Chat Noir is being rejected by Ladybug, he quickly slips into a Marinette-like fantasy of moving to an island, living off fruits, and buying a pet hamster. By creating these plans, which one can only assume he spends much of his free time doing, he avoids the harsh reality of his family and love life.

Sevens are often referred to as being optimistic, which is certainly true of Adrien. Yes, he faces isolation and what is assuredly a deep set of insecurities and pain that a children’s show will not delve into, but he still finds the silver lining of every situation. When he is denied the love of Ladybug in “Glaciator,” he decides “her friendship is the best gift of all.” Even after he spent months trying to save Ladybug as Aspik in “Desperada,” he still decides that he can best help her as Chat Noir and sees the positive that can come out of what must have been a traumatic experience for him. Even in regards to his father, where most people would resent a parent who treats them like Gabriel treats Adrien, Adrien still manages to not only love but also respect his father and his wishes. When Sevens are at their healthiest, they “Assimilate experiences in depth, making them deeply grateful and appreciative for what they have.” When Adrien becomes his alternate persona, Chat Noir, the audience is able to clearly see the vivacity this character has and the beauty he finds in the world. Chat Noir often appreciates the smaller things in his life that others often tend to ignore, as he is unable to participate in life as Adrien Agreste. His separation from the world as his father’s son causes him to usually live in an unhealthy level for Sevens, where “their energy and health is completely spent: become claustrophobic and panic-stricken” which is again illustrated in his greatest fears of being trapped. “Sevens deeply resist feeling trapped or being in situations that continually produce unhappiness,” a statement that can easily be attributed to Adrien as he lives his life as a true Seven on the Enneagram.

It does not need to be stated that Chat Noir and Ladybug make a miraculous team (sorry). Their styles of planning, solving, and fighting are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Chat Noir tends to have a spontaneous take to his fighting, while Ladybug is methodical and calculating. This all makes sense with the analysis of the interactions of Ones and Sevens according to the official Enneagram study. “Enneagram Ones and Sevens have a particular complementary and reciprocal relationship. They are opposites who can either bring something needed to the other person, thereby helping both to achieve new growth.” The black cat and ladybug miraculous are said to be two parts of a whole, the yin and yang of the miraculous. Because of this, the interactions between them make sense to be reciprocal actions towards the same goal. While Ladybug creates, Chat Noir destroys. Their powers work together to create a balance in the world and within their lives. Occasionally, the audience sees examples of when their actions affect the outcome negatively because they are out of sync with the intentions of the other.

Sometimes, Chat Noir’s casual approach and joking attitude will get in the way of Ladybug’s plan, as seen in “Oblivio” and referenced in “Reflekdoll.” This dynamic between the two heroes can again be comprehended through the understanding of the two types, “Ones bring conscientiousness, orderliness, good work habits, methodical attention to detail, and a pleasure in maintaining excellence and high standards. Sevens bring spontaneity, high energy, curiosity, an orientation toward fun and adventure, the desire to try new things, and an ability to not get too hung up with getting everything done perfectly.” This is a perfect summary of their tandem relationship that balances out for a positive outcome. When things do not go to plan, Chat Noir finds a way to help Ladybug and solve the problems that they face most of the time. This spontaneity can sometimes cause issues between them, another common flaw between the two types. “As stress increases, Ones become increasingly critical, judgmental, inflexible, and insistent that things be done only one way, the right way—their way. They inevitably begin to see Sevens as undisciplined and inefficient, self-centered and childish. Ones feel that Sevens are scattered and tend to fool around too much.” In “Relfekdoll,” Ladybug points out these types of behaviors in her partner, going so far as to call his suit a “clown costume.” She also struggles to understand that Chat Noir’s approach to holding the Ladybug miraculous is vastly different from her own, which causes some bickering between them because her brain does not work in a “simple, straightforward [manner].”

As the audience does not see Marinette and Adrien interact in a normal fashion very often, it is harder to see these similarities appear between the two civilians. This is not only because of Marinette’s crush, but also because Adrien tends to guard his emotions to save face and do as expected of him. In “The Gorilla,” the dynamic between them peeks through as the friends have to rely on Adrien’s spontaneous changes of plan while Marinette struggles to follow along because she does not have time to make a cohesive plan. While Marinette can adapt quickly to her missteps around Adrien, she often finds herself floundering when she does not have a plan. Some of the few times she was almost successful in confessing her love can be noted in “Dark Cupid,” “Puppeteer 2,” and “Gigantitan.” In all three of these, she comes up with varying levels of plans in order to make Adrien fall in love with her. In “Dark Cupid,” she writes a love letter but forgets to sign it because she is distracted. “Puppeteer 2” shows her and Tikki devising a plan to play the role of someone who is confident around Adrien, but she had to go and almost kiss him in that situation. In “Gigantitan,” she develops what is easily her most in-depth plan (Operation: Secret Garden), which almost worked until she had to improvise. Her inability to improvise is greatly contrasted by Adrien/Chat Noir’s ability for the trade. He is a quick thinker and finds ways to avoid a negative outcome in the worst situations. When he tries to plan, such as his poem in “Dark Cupid,” it does not work out for him because he is able to do it on the fly with a higher success rate.

While Miraculous Ladybug may be a show intended for children, it is easily enjoyed by older viewers who look at each episode with a keen eye and interested mind. In the observation of interactions, mindsets, and attitudes, the Enneagram types of Paris’ heroes can easily be discovered and analyzed through a clearer lens. By doing so, an audience member can have a better understanding of the characters and make sense of their actions and thought processes without necessarily being able to relate to the characters all the time. By watching Marinette/Ladybug’s ability to plan and desire to do what is right for her city and her friends, one can see that her Enneagram type must be a One - the Reformer. She prefers a methodical approach to life that is filled with clear morals and a call to greatness and she often becomes frustrated when the world does not work the way she expects it to. On the other hand, Adrien/Chat Noir’s ability to see the positive in every situation as he improvises his way through life shows that he must be a Seven - the Enthusiast. Adrien’s family situation often places him in a period of stress or disintegration where he feels trapped and stuck in life because he does not fully understand himself. As the two characters interact with one another, it is made obvious that they are meant to be (whether as a couple or just the strongest duo in Paris) and that they can only improve and hone their partnership as they better understand one another on a deeper level.

(All quotes taken from “Miraculous Ladybug” and The Enneagram Institute.)

[werezmastarbucks]

Dusk till dawn

A request! I’m sorry I got carried away, and it eneded up being long and uneven. But I did what I could sigh! I really hope you enjoy at least a part of it, nonnie!

Pairing/Genre: Bucky x Reader, slow burn resulting in nothing YET, curiosity and warmth. basically absent-minded fluff.

Word count: 2564

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of self-harm, Bucky’s nightmares, language?

You knew you had a neighbour when he’s woken you up at half past four. You jumped up, like you’d never done before, literally like in the movie. The sound, creeping up the walls and crawling down your flat through the invisible cracks in the ceiling, was also just like in the movie. At that moment in the dark night, you realized something has actually happened, somewhere, to end up here. There was a loud thump on the wall so close to you, you could feel the vibration of the matter. Your bed moved. Wow, the walls were shit. Practically nothing but a thin paper covered with more paper divided you from that freak out there. Whatever on Earth he was doing at this hour.

But what if it was being done to him? Ah well, guess you’d never know.

You didn’t know why it freaked you out so much, this sudden disturbance, but you got dressed quickly, your sheer instinct being get the hell away. Not that you could leave your apartment for good. Just for an hour. Going to bed last night, you vaguely remembered you needed some cereal, but was too tired to move. Now, you felt quite refreshed, with all this. Who knew mad neighbours gave so much energy, waking up the body, making brains work.

You put on your pants and your hoodie, not forgetting to actually put a hood on your head, and took the keys, phone and money. The neighbourhood was quiet and relatively safe. The summer was the time for long walks in the night hours, walking slowly down the streets inhaling the jasmine scent, and eating cereal. You couldn’t explain it, but every summer you felt the urge to finally, decisively, stop eating anything but cereal and fruit. For good, and for the sake of the planet. The summer always got you mad happy, like you were going drunk on the smell of flowers and warm wind.

You left the building and stood below your windows for a minute, trying to figure out the one belonging to your neighbour. All of them were dark anyway. The shriek sounded male, but the tone of the voice… something about it made your veins go cold, just for a second. It was a dying cry.

You walked to the nearest shop and bought some stuff for breakfast. Stared at yourself in the dark glass, and then went back home.

Everything was quiet for the rest of the night.

 Next time it was in the dusk, but it was not that awful. He was just pacing inside his place, frantically, like an animal. Bam, bam, bam, circling in one room. Really, what the fuck was he doing there?

You fought the urge to lean to the wall and press your ear to hear his breathing. That was impolite.

What else was impolite?

Waking the whole damn house with yelling at two am.

No one’s seen this guy. You never spoke to other people living in the building, but after a couple of nights like this, should you meet each other, you were all silently observing, looking into faces, all guessing, which one of you is a monster with nightmares.

Couple of times you saw something. You could’ve sworn you saw a shadow slipping by on the stairs, when you were checking your mail box. Terrifying.

 “Have you called the police?”

You were brooding, staring at the orange anemone. She was the only survivor of a merciless lawn mower that’s crashed on here yesterday like a tsunami. But then again, how did they manage to miss this one little good flower? Maybe they felt for her and decided to spare her.

The young lady from one floor below was talking to you. Yes, you’ve seen her. Overall a nice one. She was holding her brand new baby, that looked really fresh, like very new. She always carried it around, and it always stared around with huge frightened eyes.

You asked yourself the question. You never liked the idea of the police, generally. You shrugged and smiled to warm up the mood. You hadn’t slept last night.

The lady didn’t buy your smile.

“He’s scaring the shit out of Gabbie. We can’t sleep”.

“Neither can I”.

“So why don’t you call the police?”

You shrugged again.

The monster was eating on somebody behind the wall that night. Your bed was just initially pressed to the wall that was crossing the line between the two flats. You didn’t have enough time to move everything in the room to move the bed away. It was a good positioning to the window, too.

You were so close you could hear his heavy breathing after he woke up. He was panting, his voice scrapped, like it was a torn fabric.

Until the very dawn you’ve been laying in your bed, the picture of your own brand new nightmare before your eyes. You got those as well, but who didn’t? This time it was a weird face, a long, thin man with dark arms and strange, black and white cat eyes, with wide black mouth, and he stared at you. He didn’t do anything, just stared and stood in the corner of your room. Until the very sunrise you couldn’t escape neither your bed nor your neighbour’s anguish because he wouldn’t leave.

You decided to call him the Monster, because it was dramatic enough. You passed the door every day and never once dared to pause or stop by. Or even look for too long at it, because you had this strange feeling that he was watching.

This morning, leaving for work, you were going down the stairs to this song in your earphones.

Can you feel why you're in this Can you feel it through All of the windows Inside this room

You imagined his dwelling to be very dark, because from the street, the curtains were always closed. The wall didn’t actually count, not really. It was so ridiculously thin that if he’d hit it three times in the same spot, it would fucking crumble. You were in this together, supposedly. You grinned tiredly at the refrain of the song. Yes, pretty much from dusk till dawn.

 “Just half an hour”, Lisa said, “please”.

Your job was rewarding yet very exhausting. Or the other way round. Border line: you finished at ten pm and was usually sucked out of the energy up to the point where your brain would send an emergency wave of endorphins  to cheer you up. Ain’t nothing of a rest like staying up late. You often went to a pub after work, just for ‘half an hour’. At nights like this, you’d come back home at three or four am, when the whole building was asleep, and the jasmine was glowing in the darkness like enchanted pearls.

“Half an hour it is”, you agreed. You made a face just in case they got used to your going out. You mainly preferred your own company, but you liked Lisa, and her calm charm, and how she was always generous for smiles.

After the clock stroke two am, you called the taxi and went home, plugging your ears with music and watching the city swipe by. By the time you arrived home you could swear you walked straight and saw the things as they were.

You went up the stairs and dived into blackness of staircase, swinging your head and feeling for the keys. It was all silent, the only sound being your hot breathing and the sonorous dinging of your trinkets.

You stepped to your door, bumping your head in it heavily. It was alright. You never got sad after getting drunk anymore. You weren’t seventeen anymore, and cutting your palms with scissors, something you’d never forget, was in the past. Honestly, honestly. It wasn’t that teen sadness, that gaping sadness. It was just frustration. The hard wood hurt your forehead, and you shifted a little, sniffing and rolling your keys over in your fingers. Then something happened, that you couldn’t analyze at first. The matter swayed, and you cocked aside, realizing too late that it was the door. You bent back, putting one feet behind you not to fall over. The door opened slowly, and from the darkness from the inside of the dreaded flat, thicker and blacker than the night itself – Jesus, it’s so hilarious – ahem, from the darkness emerged he, the Monster. You confused the flats.

The Monster looked at you, the lines of his face straight, lean and elegant. He wasn’t very ugly, that boogeyman. The scarce moonlight helped you see him a tiny bit. He stood in the doorframe and looked at you in silence.

“I’m sorry. I crashed into the wrong door”, you uttered.

He looked like a human man, but he couldn’t be, could he? The yelps, and the growling, so wild, so savage, so full of agony – a human being isn’t capable of producing such sounds.

“It’s okay I guess”, he said in a human voice. You plodded to the side, seeing your door clearly now, and listening. He didn’t move and didn’t follow you. You opened your door and crawled inside, closing it quickly and quietly, and then bumped into a pile of your own shoes. You fell on your face and moaned. Then you laughed. Your heard his door close.

 The Human Monster was silent for several nights after the accident, and you didn’t know whether to feel guilty, or to walk from door to door all round the building, gathering your rewards in local currency. You laid next to the wall, and listened, and couldn’t even hear him walk. He went full stealth mode, and now you were sure this guy could move like a cat, and did it when the least amount of people was around, in the dead of the night. But you’ve seen him, you saw his face, and could even remember his features. They turned out to be pretty nice, actually, although you’ve only seen half of his face, but it was highly unlikely that the other half was burnt, or eaten, or belonged to the screaming beast. He must have been a regular young man with a relatively handsome face, too large of eyes, and collected posture, broad shoulders and long dark hair.

One evening after another you listened and heard nothing, and suddenly it scared you more than when he screamed. You didn’t know if he was still there.

Well, okay, you might have got used to the Human Monster. Although his agony would get on your nerves. It’s basic human instinct, to reach out in case of danger. We were granted with voices to be able to send the signal should something go wrong. I’m here, help me!  You thought of that song again and felt guilty.

“Have you called the police?”

She was carrying her new baby around again. They both looked quite happy, and you didn’t. You still didn’t know this lady’s name. You looked at her child and suddenly felt spite. This is my monster! And we won’t feed him to your blood-thirsty baby.

You shrugged, as usual.

“He just stopped”.

“Oh god, have you seen him leave?”

“No”.

“God, what if he hanged himself?”

You raised your eyebrows. Someone watches too many shows.

But she did plant the horrible idea in your head, didn’t she?

 You still had nightmares, because summer wasn’t solely a cereal season, it was also that nightmares season. You got twice as many bad dreams from May to September, and pretty often you chose to just stay awake and go to sleep when the sun was out, because you couldn’t stand the dark.

This night again, you tried to sleep, but the creeps went circling on your belly and your shoulders, and the black and white eyes were staring at you from the corner. Something was breathing right above your ear, and you were afraid to even lift your eyes to see. The dusk was giving long blinding lines when you tried to keep your eyes open. Something banged loudly outside, like a lid falling on the ground, and you shook, sitting up in your bed in the state of horror and fury. It’s all his fault. It’s very easy to have a mental breakdown when there’s an actual howling ghost living next door.

You fell out of your bed and sprinted to the switch, slapping it and looking around. Empty room. You evened your heart, and then encouraged it, going to the kitchen. So, it would be Lisa’s birthday in the morning, and you made her a cake, but you can buy one later. You took it out and went back to your room, dressed up and entertained the possibility of being punched in the head deadly. But any experience is experience, plus, you felt for him. For some reason, the hell knows why, you felt for him on a human level. No one should be in such pain and alone. Absolutely no one deserves that.

You left the cake to warm up and breathe on the kitchen table and left your flat, ran down the stairs and stepped out, approaching the jasmine bush. The flowers were fresh and smelt so good you inhaled deeply several times before you could move on. You stepped to the bush and pressed yourself close, reaching to some of the flowers.

“Is everything okay?”

The voice startled you so much you jumped and strang yourself on a thin, sharp branch. You shrieked and tried to step back, moving the whole bush. Finally, you got out and looked in front of you. The night has almost fallen on the street, and the street lamp was working tonight, but it stood quite far away. The Human Monster stood at the entry.

“Oh, Jesus, it’s you”.

“No. it’s James”.

“What?” you snapped.

“Your face is bleeding. Has something happened?”

He motioned lazily behind his back and up.

“I heard you rush out of your apartment, and you left the door open”.

You stared at his arm. He had a metal arm, this dude. He was looking at you in a friendly yet annoyed way, like you actually bothered him. And yes, both halves of his face were normal. You touched yours and looked at the blood on your fingers.

“Never mind. I thought you hanged yourself in your flat. I was about to bring you some cake to see if you’re alive”.

James stepped away to let you in.

“No rope would handle me. I’m too heavy”, he said. He followed you back inside. You went up the stairs and stopped. “Is your cooking that good that it brings people back to life?”

“You wanna try it?”

Wow we’re so bold now.

His eyes were dark blue, and his hair was a bit lighter than you thought, a soft chocolate colour. He contemplated on something, staring through the floor at your feet, and then you’ve seen someone inside of him. A living human being, a young face hidden beneath a grimace. He had this queer look about him, like he was spacing out, and looking for something familiar to hold on to. Finally, his eyes landed on your face.

“Sure. I’ll patch you up. Do you still get nightmares?”

“Excuse me?” you wondered, slightly discouraged. Was it a burn?

“I can hear you whimper every night”, James said, stretching sleepily and turning to open his door, “the walls in this building are shit”.

[ppatibandla]

Quite a Few Things Wrong with ‘A Quiet Place’

So if you don’t live under a rock, you’ve probably already heard all about A Quiet Place and all the fantastic reviews and success it has gotten so far. But just in case you’re Patrick Star, A Quiet Place is a horror movie which came out last week, directed by John Krasinski, who also plays the lead in the movie along with his real-life and onscreen wife, Emily Blunt.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a horror and apocalyptic movie enthusiast, particularly of the zombie variety. I enthusiastically watch almost every movie/TV show which comes out in these genres and consider myself a connoisseur of sorts of all things eerie. Oh and not only do I enjoy horror, but I particularly love watching scary movies alone (well as alone as you would be in a movie theater full of other people, I guess). Call me weird if you will, but the adrenaline rush is well worth it and you should try it too!

So obviously I knew I had to watch A Quiet Place as soon as it came out when I first saw the trailer. 

I set out to watch A Quiet Place this past Friday night using my MoviePass - side note, I can’t sing enough praises on what an amazing investment the MoviePass has been! 

I went to my regular theater but the show I wanted to see was all sold out and the next showing wasn’t until 10.30 - 3 hours later. I did not want to wait that long so I looked up a theater which had an earlier showing and decided to drive 10 miles to get there. I’m not gonna lie, this theater was in the middle of nowhere and the route there took me through parts of Riverside which I never knew even existed despite having lived here for over 2 years now. That completely unnecessary adventure later, I successfully managed to catch the 9 o clock screening of A Quiet Place.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved the movie and enjoyed the experience of watching a movie that almost entirely had no dialogue, just silence, and sound effects. But I unwittingly had a lot of Taro milk tea earlier and expected more from this movie, so my bladder and brain were both in some serious pain for most of the movie. 

Yes, I’ve been on the receiving end of many “Omg, it’s just a movie, let it go” s and “Why do you analyze and rationalize everything so much” s but I’m sorry, okay?! Plot holes are usually glaring at me in the face and it's very hard for me to not see them. While there were many aspects of A Quiet Place that I thought were brilliant, a lot of it also made me go: 

SPOILERS AHEAD! You’ve been warned!

Firstly, a baby? Really?!

Yes, yes, I know this one doesn’t take Einstein and everyone who has watched the movie has already thought this. But I tried really hard to understand what was going on in the minds of the lead characters when they made this choice. Kids are hard enough to raise in a normal world. But in this specific scenario, there is a couple that’s living in a world where you can’t make a sound or you die. And they basically went:

“We had three kids out of which, one is a huge liability already because she can’t hear and one got killed for doing things that kids do like play with toys. You know what would be a brilliant idea? Let’s have a baby!! Because what do babies do? They cry and make involuntary sounds. That sounds perfect for a world where you can’t make a sound, doesn’t it?!”

Pregnancy is some seriously complicated shit and women risk their lives every time they choose to have a baby EVEN in a world with complete access modern healthcare. Let alone in one with no access to medication, food or even the ability to let out a fart. And there are dramatic moments in the movie where Emily Blunt’s character Evelyn says things like “who are we if we can’t protect them (the children)?”

Bruh! Really?? Maybe if you don’t keep bringing children into this post-apocalyptic world where it is highly likely that they will be eaten for reasons outside their control, they wouldn’t need protection!

Have doors stopped existing?!?

Okay so unlike most post-apocalyptic universes like the one in The Walking Dead, for example, these guys still, somehow (reasons never explained in the movie) have electricity so they are clearly more advanced than other typical characters in such scenarios. So what do they do? They build a beautiful, Pinterest weddingesque farm with string lights and sand and carpets and what not.

But why do they not have doors?!? They basically welcome the alien creatures into their homes with doorways which are always wide open apparently for the creatures to just waltz through at any given point in time. Why did they not use the resources they have to fortify their home and build a fortress-like Will Smith’s from I Am Legend? And Will Smith only had his German Shepard for help. These guys had an entire squad worth of child labor that they could tap into!

Well, you could argue that doors are loud etc. But seriously though, they were apparently living on that farm for over a year at least and had access to electricity. I feel like they have no excuse for not being able to figure out a creative solution with all the resources they had. They instead chose to use their time to make a liability a.k.a a baby.

In the same line of questioning, why didn’t they soundproof their entire home the way they did with the basement they built for the baby? Why didn’t they live near the waterfall when they were clearly already aware that the creatures couldn’t hear them near water? So many questions!

This movie should be called ‘A Series of Unfortunate Coincidences’

Okay so as we go through the movie, we are essentially taught two things about this world: 

1. The creatures can’t hear you over the sound of gushing water. 

2. The basement that they created was soundproof.

How did Evelyn wake up to find that the creature had not only conveniently found the basement despite the background noise created by the flooding water, but it also got in quietly (see people, this is why you need doors). And how did the baby, which was floating around in the floodwater (how the f*** did the crib’s lid come off in the first place?!), not make a single sound up until that point? I mean, these guys had to have had the worst luck in the world to achieve that level of coincidence.

Also, Krasinski’s character Lee MOST DEFINITELY did not have to dramatically sacrifice himself. Sure, he did a noble thing to protect his kids. But by getting himself killed, he was leaving his injured wife who JUST nearly died delivering a baby, to deal with a rebellious hearing impaired teenager, a terrified son, a newborn baby and terrifying creatures that hunt on sound. That’s a bit much to have on anyone’s plate, even a highly capable woman’s.  For all he knew, he was basically dooming them to die too.

Okay, end of rant. Again, just to reiterate, I loved the movie and in fact, I’m kinda itching to go watch it again. I do realize that you can’t enjoy most movies if your brain is actively picking it apart but I wanted to specifically write about A Quiet Place, maybe because it was one of the few movies in recent times which I engaged with the storyline, fully. 

I’d love to hear your thoughts too, cheers!

[you-are-worth-the-wait]

how did i know where to go in order to find you?  did i stalk you in order to know where to go in the hopes of you being there?  like, did i go to your walmart knowing that due to proximity there was a chance that i’d run into you there?  or did i stalk you and see some random post that said, “going shopping soon for gorceries”.  one of those scenarios doesn’t paint me in a good light.  you are still with him, and you run into me alone...and you are unsure about how to act around me?  and all i get is a “it’s good to see him”?  huh...that’s saddeningly humbling.  i can’t tell if that means you are “happy” with where you are.  or is that the “bigger person” persona?  my undecisiveness i running into you stems with you being with him at that moment of the encounter.  with an encounter with you without him there, there still would be some undecisiveness but ulitmately i’d know what i’d eventually end up doing...and i’d like to think that i wouldn’t just settle with a “good to see you” sentiment.  then again...i guess i could be wrong.  a part of me wonders if there is a “worse” situation than where you are in right now.  i don’t know.  the more i try to think and analyze your thoughts, your thought process, and actions in the dream, i can’t help but feel...i don’t know.  maybe it would depend on how long did i not know what to do as i stood in front of you.  i know there would be a rush of thoughts and emotions but i think the length of how long i stood still without reacting would give me a better sense of what was going through my mind.  without that, me trying to figure out my thought process at that moment is kind of helpless in the sense that every single thought i have and how i feel about you is in play and that’s just gonna mess me up trying to figure that out.  

i think it’s a sad/bittersweet dream.  i’d like to think that i would have done more if i met you alone.  i feel sorry for myself if that’s what i end up doing with that moment.  to “search and find” you that way only to do nothing?  poor dream lee...*smh*  i wonder if this will affect the way my dreams play out with you moving forward.  i keep myself sane by having hope and trusting the process that you are going through thinking/delluding myself that you will eventually realize who is meant for you.  i have “good dreams” about you.  i’ve only had one “nightmare” involving you and me in a dream but it was that one dream that i asked you a long time ago if you wanted me to tell you about a bad dream i had.  i told you it was pretty bad though and i gave you the option for me to tell it to you or not.  during the moment of that convo, i think you were feeling kind of down so you chose not to hear it at the time because you didn’t want to get sad.  the line between hope and delusion gets a little more blurred with each moment i try to figure out how you are doing/feeling and what’s going through your mind.  i guess i’m still trying to deal with the fact that it doesn’t seem too long ago when we both talked about “having our cake and eating it too”.  i felt that you could/did have it all at one point.  everything just seemed...right.  like, it was the way things were/are supposed to be.  to go from that to what i have now.  you over there dealing with whatever.  me over here dealing with whatever.  me trying to have some kind of semblance of a life but wondering what am i ultimately doing this for.  ha...i almost feel like one of those guys in the movies who go to some kind of whore house or gets with some prostitues and while they are pleasuring me, i’ve got that far away distant look in my eyes and i’m not even enjoying it because i think that this is what i need or am supposed to do to move on with my life but i know that it’s not.  so dramatic :) fun fun fun...

you know, every time i write something, i play it back in my mind and i have these second thoughts of how i feel.  i press save/send thinking, “that’s it.  that’s how i feel”.  be it angry, sad, happy, frustrated, full of love or despair...and i wipe my hands from it thinking that that’s the end.  but then my mind starts to drift towards you and i can’t help but confront what i honestly feel about things.  so i came back on here and with the thought, “this thing, what i’m feeling inside...” and my mind drifted to the scene in moulin rouge where the whole montage of how he starts the speaking the words of the song “your song” and how he eventually ends up singing it to her to tell her how he feels.  ewan mcgregor “your song”.  that’s how i feel...

recovery...to be honest...i don’t know.  they didn’t do what i thought they were going to do and a part of me feels i may have had this procedure for nothing but i don’t want to jump the gun and say anything about it at the moment since i’m going to get reevaluated.  i’m going back next monday for test results and i’ll discuss what they did so i’ll know more then.  it’s painful but i’ve been worse.  it’s a good thing no one wants to kiss me at the moment.  random...i know i didn’t get tested before we got together because i knew i had kept myself safe and i wouldn’t have put you at risk.  i did things backwards and i did get tested after you left me.  i’m clean, just like i figured and new i was.  he can thank me as well.  sloopy seconds...ha.  i don’t know if that’s the truth or to what extent of the truth that is.  i mean, there was nothing “sloppy” about you and me.  i mean, is there really a word you could use to describe what he have?  anyways...guess it’s just kind of weird how i wasn’t able to show that to you but you trusted me enough and now with other girls, i can actually show them proof...haha.  

FB post...” ...what's my line or play?  you don't even have to guess.  i'll tell you exactly what my game plan is...*hushed low tome*...i honestly have no idea :P  that's it.  i don't know what i'm doing and i just make things up as i go.  when it comes to "this", that's always been my strategy.  whatever happens...happens.  i mean, it's worked for me so far and it still does :) “  just kind of wondering what my interactions are/will be like and i kind of find myself in the same situation where i honestly still have no idea what i’m doing.  i just...do.  i mean, whatever i did with us, it worked.  i mean, it still does.  so why do anything different, right?  

[lyricanalysis]

the ryden song (FAKE)

okay, so we were realizing that for some of our analysis of v&v, we need to set the scene. so here we go. time to get a loot of hate. i’m also going to mention a couple other songs. also bear with me. my thoughts on this are a little wild and this is going to be a long analysis. it’s also a long song so..

anyway, i’m just gonna start off with the fact that this song, lyrically, had a lot of confusing parts and this was a pain in the ass to try and translate into something that made sense. (also, why is this the ryden song ??? this, to me and my opinions, is soooo not romantic) ALSO DISCLAIMER. this blog is something I’m doing for fun, i have 0 confirmed facts besides the things that i am taking within my own context. this doesn’t mean i have solved the puzzle and you are more than welcome to disagree.

and we’re getting right into this shit show. i guess i also need to point out, if it’s not obvious from my analysis on always, i’m not a fan of ryden. i just never saw the chemistry and i’m also really far up dallon weekes’s ass that i can’t function, so, just roll with me, please.

ALSO SIDE NOTE, i’ll mention it when i talk about the lyrics but certain lines are going to have the “..” in it. ALSO AGAIN, i believe this song is written solely by ryan so, just, ya know, mindsets and shit.

If all our life is but a dream

Fantastic posing greed

Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea

For diamonds do appear to be

Just like broken glass to me

so this first line i’m not really going too in depth on. it seems kinda blunt, honestly. though i am exchanging ‘life’ for ‘relationship’. basically, if all of our relationship (ryden) is just a dream (for the future, please keep the wizard of oz in mind). then it goes into fantastic posing greed. this is going to seem like a bit of a long shot cause i haven’t dived into the rest of the song. but anyway, again, as i’ve said a million times, i think ryden was one sided on brendon’s part. i think to ryan, it was just sex. he didn’t want a romantic relationship but boy did brendon. i think ryan led him on for a lot of the time that ryan was in panic. so this is coming to me as kind of a break up song in a sense. a warning break up song? he’s kind of saying that when brendon gets greedy (when he asks for ryan to love him) it’s over. now, sue me, it seems a little fucked up to say that, don’t you think? brendon has been led on, he thinks that they have something that’s just, for the time being, unofficial. brendon isn’t wrong to ask for love if this relationship has been happening for awhile which i think it has. so ryan could be calling it fake greed. ryan is saying that brendon is being greedy but i think even ryan knows that its not really greedy to ask for such a thing, it’s really just normal. i mean, you can’t force somebody to love you but at that point you should leave, right? it’s kinda like brendon is asking do you or don’t you. the posing could also be ryan trying to make it more obvious it’s him. he’s faking it. if he was very blunt that he wasn’t in love, i think that it wouldn’t have ended so dramatically, ya know? if ryan wasn’t lying and.. wait for it.. posing, things wouldn’t have hurt brendon so much.

now on that note, i’m gonna bring in a different song. ryan’s new band is called the young veins and they have a song titled ‘cape town’ and we’re all wondering what happened in cape town. in case you don’t already know, that was the last show ever played before ryan and jon left the band. so the lyric:

Woke me in the morning

Asked me if I meant it, I didn't

now, screw off, i’m not analyzing that whole song so fuck the rest of the lyrics. but this is kinda how i envisioned things ending. it also goes back to the greed. fantastic posing greed was kind of a warning for the future. ryan was saying, when you start getting greedy, when you finally ask me to love you, this is 100% over and that could be what happened in cape town. they’re laying in bed together after a wonderful night of sex (cause, remember, i’m theorizing that this relationship was sexsexsesexeesx). brendon woke him to beautiful rays of sunshine and he smiled, he asked ryan if he loved brendon and guess the answer? no. ryan admitted that he didn’t love brendon and it broke brendon because he’d been trying to believe for a long time that they were in love.

anyways, back to panic. he says that they should feed their jewelry to the sea. now, i can’t give you a 100% estimate or anything but this isn’t something that happy couples do. my sister mentioned that in divorces (not like it’s a practice but some people, also breakups, people who are extra), they throw their wedding rings into the ocean, sea, lake, river, body of water. i also remember in decoy bride (fave movie) the main character (and this is gonna sound wild but it’s soooo worth the watch and like,,, spoilers i guess sorry) went through a fake wedding with the other main character. she wore the ring and then all the old ladies thought she was really married. anyway, shit happens and he leaves her. she still has the ring and this rock these old ladies painted to look  like a bride. (also this takes place on an island) so she’s sad that he went off and married his real love and left her cause she fell blah blah blah. she’s leaving the island on a boat and throws the ring (or the rock i can’t remember) into the ocean. so,,, personal experience. ANYWAY, END OF RELATIONSHIPS, YA KNOW? it’s not something that she did when she was happy, nor will it be happy for ryden.

then the thing about diamonds and broken glass. broken glass is useless. you drop a glass on the floor and you sweep it up and throw it away. he’s comparing that to a diamond which is commonly used on engagement rings and wedding rings. so essentially, he’s saying that marriage is pointless between him and brendon. there’s no point to him because he’s not in love with brendon and he never will be.

GOD, that one fucking verse was wild, i tell you.

And then [s]he said [s]he can't believe

Genius only comes along

In storms of fabled foreign tongues

Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs

Northern downpour sends its love’

okay, this is another one that stumped us for a long fucking time. so i put brackets around the ’s’ in she because i don’t think that ryan is actually talking about a she. since this is the (anti) ryden song, it only makes sense to bring it down to he. he said he can’t believe. so i think that brendon was blinded by love (i’m gonna bring this up again in just a sec). brendon is essentially putting ryan on this pedestal because he’s so in love. you know that feeling where you’re like ‘they can do no wrong, they are perfect in every sense’ and then you break up and look back like ‘wtf was i doing they’re fucked up?’ that’s what brendon is doing. brendon is calling ryan a genius and ryan is saying, no, he isn’t because he’s not being a good person to brendon. a good person would have ended things when he realized brendon was in love (cause it was probably painfully obvious). a good person wouldn’t use somebody for sex the way ryan is. ryan is saying he isn’t a genius and lowkey saying he’s a bad person. brendon doesn’t believe him though. brendon can’t believe that a genius only exists in fairytales.

so just, breaking down that lyric so it’s easier to understand. fables are fairytales. i usually hear fables being used when it’s not like a common american one if that makes sense. like i have a story book on norwegian fables, you see? also makes sense why it’s foreign tongues because fables would originally be spoken in a different language. so again, brendon is saying that he can’t believe that genius (ryan) only exist in fairytales.

so now, this is fun. i say that every time don’t i? so i know i keep pushing answering questions and things back but like, just roll with it. i already said brendon was blinded by love but i want to amend that real quick. he was high on love. so i’m gonna have like 20 paragraphs on weed at the end of this so it’ll make sense later on but i’m going to be talking about a very specific strain of weed (yes, there are a lot of different kinds and types of weed) (*side eye emoji*).  anyway, i wanna save the name of this for later cause spoilers but, this specific strain when you first smoke it, users say that you first feel it behind your eyes and also temporal lobe. so, fun fact. also, high on love. when you’re high (personal experience?? i’ll never say), you don’t see things right. you really, really don’t. especially if it’s a hallucinogenic. weed is not a hallucinogenic but hasn’t panic already admitted that they wrote one song while on shrooms (WHICH IS A HALLUCINOGENIC)? so with that, we’re going with the fact that ryan is saying he’s not seeing things properly, it’s affecting his mind (COUGH COUGH drugs). because of this, he doesn’t see the downpour.

now, there was a post on tumblr that was saying this song was about seattle washington (and did you know i’m a Pacific Northwest (PNW) native???) which is kinda cool for me cause the PNW is *mainly* oregon and washington but i think it might be a lil of idaho (maybe? idk. washington and oregon for sure though). so anyway, rain and downpour are basically what the PNW is known for. and we can’t count my opinion here cause i actually love the rain. i think it’s beautiful. but then again, i’m a native and it’s super common for me. but people who aren’t from around here often categorize rain and clouds as depressing. you wouldn’t believe how many times i have been asked if i get depressed cause it’s always so gray here and rainy. i’m very quick to defend the PNW because i love the greenness of the trees but that’s irrelevant. so, i know just cause it says north doesn’t mean that it’s seattle or PNW related but i’ll explain that also later (GOD admin why can’t you hurry?).

SO ANYWAY, a lot of the rain that we get here comes from the…… north. northern downpour. hmmm. also, finishing that lyric, what could northern downpour sending it’s love mean? if we’re going with the common thought that rain is depressing, northern downpour would be like mass depression, right? now, i know you’re asking why i skipped flooded lungs so, here we go.

a lot of people have categorized that being depressed feels like you’re drowning. i’ve felt that way. you can’t breathe and it’s a lot terrifying. so the downpour of depression, ryan is saying is going to kill brendon. when brendon finds out, the depression is going to kill him. (not saying suicidal but,,,). i’m also just going to bring this up real quick. people say that when you’re drowning, right before you die, you get a moment of bliss. now, if ryan is saying that downpour is coming when brendon finds out it’s fake (remember, this song is a warning so it hasn’t happened yet. that’s cape town AFTER pretty odd has been released) then the moment of bliss is happening right now. brendon is drowning but he just doesn’t know it. maybe the drowning is anxiety (which i will touch on, you guessed it, later). HMM HMM HMM.

The ink is running toward the page

It's chasin' off the days

Look back at both feet

And that winding knee

“I missed your skin when you were east”

You clicked your heels and wished for me

back in the old days when people used ink to write and ya had to dip it, imagine spilling that. like you dip your quill or whatever in the bottle and bump the ridge of the top as your pulling your hand towards the page to write. the ink is going to fall towards your notebook, not away. now, that shit probably splatters and ruins the page quickly. just for this, we’re going to imagine all of that in slow motion since when this song was written, their relationship (read relationship as fuck buddies and brendon hoping that ryan loves him) doesn’t end until cape town which is after they’ve toured for this album. so the ink is running towards the page. the page is their relationship. ryan is saying that when brendon starts asking too much, when he realizes, is when the ink ruins the page. their relationship ends because you can’t fix something like that, really. it’s chasing off the days is just saying what i already did.

now this was a challenge. i say that about everything but just fuck it all. when you’re standing you don’t like, turn your head and look at your feet, it doesn’t work that way. my sister was the one who first kind of inspired the final thought. she was saying, so imagine like, ryan is leaning forward. now the way it is in my head isn’t plausible but just, imagine. like 45* angle at his ankles. the past is where their relationship is, where his feet are, his head is in the present. ryan’s head isn’t in this relationship. there’s no love, no affection (you can also read head as heart). but his dick, which is farther back than his head and heart, is farther back. so anyway, that was what inspired my thought.

what if they’re in bed. since i’m saying that their relationship was purely sexual. now i’m going to try really hard to avoid sex positions in this because the whole argument over who tops is a thing (maybe?? idk ryden stuff). so anyway, i don’t know about you but like, if i was laying on my stomach in bed (which is commonly where you have sex), i don’t crawl out of bed ass first. if i do, i would love (BAAAACK) to where i’m going. he’s looking back at his feet. backwards is also a metaphor for the past. now this is a little confusing i think and you might say I’m contradicting but just, hopefully i can write this out. when you enter a friends with benefits situation it’s usually like, agreed that no feelings will happen. i don’t think that’s how they started though. i think that when this first started ryan might have had like a crush on brendon or thought that hey, MAYBE i could love him. i think that’s how things started but then quickly changed into, hey he’s good at sex but fuck no, i could never love him. i just think that ryan knew that if he told brendon that there weren’t any feelings anymore then the sex would stop. lot’s of artists have said that relationships are hard on the rode because of the lack of intimacy. ryan wants the intimacy of sex but if he tells brendon that he can’t love him, the sex will stop.

so again, he’s looking back at the past when he thought that there maybe would be something. but now, all that’s left is a winding knee. WITHOUT NAMING TOP AND BOTTOM, one person is on their back and they wrap (wind) their legs around the other person’s hips. it’s missionary position, the most intimate (romantic) of them all. i think brendon probably liked this one. so anyway, the current relationship is just the winding knee because the love that ryan might have felt is long since in the past.

now, you might have noticed that ‘i missed your skin when you were east’ is the first lyric to get the “..” that i mentioned. the reason why it got that is i think this is ryan mocking brendon. i don’t think this is ryan saying that he misses brendon when brendon is gone. i think that it’s ryan pretending to be brendon (since he knows that brendon is in love with him) and saying that when ryan leaves, when they’re on break from tour, brendon misses him. this ties into the next line.

when ryan is gone, brendon wishes for him.

i mentioned earlier (about the dream) to remember wizard of oz. this is why. ‘you clicked your heels and wished for me’. in the movie, dorothy clicks her heels and makes a wish. correct me if i’m wrong since it’s been awhile but when dorothy makes her wish, she wakes up from her dream. like ryan comparing their relationship to a dream. when brendon starts wishing for more (time, more something) with ryan is when the dream is over, their relationship is over. It can also be taken as Ryan telling Brendon that he is everything Brendon has dreamed of. As far as we know, Brendon never had a real relationship with anyone before Ryan, but he wanted someone. He wished for Ryan and Ryan knew.

i’m also just going to mention a couple other things from the movie. first off, the plot is them going to the emerald city which is going to be of more importance (or maybe just a coincidence and i’m crazy) a little later. but seattle is called the emerald city. just another chin scratching moment.

Through playful lips made of yarn

That fragile Capricorn

Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves

I know the world's a broken bone

But melt your headaches, call it home

okay, this first line leads into the third so it’ll come up again but anyway. playful means sex. and yarn means words. basically, this means, words said during sex. now, subconsciously, maybe a little consciously, brendon can tell that it’s one sided but he thinks that if he keeps having sex, if he pleases ryan sexually, then ryan will love him. capricorn, yes, is a zodiac but i looked it up and nobody is. capricorn, though, does symbolize hard work. so we’re going with brendon having this mindset that sex=love. his fragile hardwork is all of these words and attempts that he’s making to try and essentially convince ryan to love him. ryan calls it a fragile attempt because he knows it’s not going to work. he’s tearing down each attempt in his mind because he doesn’t want to love brendon. he just wants good sex. now going into the next line. unraveled words (also actions) is ryan tearing down these advances. remember how i said that the yarn was words? words form sentences, paragraphs, books, yadda yadda. yarn forms scarves. also, moths eat holes through old clothes and things in attics that sit there for years. so he’s saying that ryan tearing down these advances is ryan being a moth. he’s eating through brendon’s attempt to make a romantic relationship.

so here’s where people really start hating me. ryan told brendon to pay special attention to this line. he told them that this meant a lot. tons of people take this in a loving way but i don’t think so at all. now, going back to the beginning. remember how i said that brendon couldn’t believe that ryan wasn’t a genius? that kind of thinking leads me to believe that it was almost like brendon worshipped ryan to an extent. that ryan was his world. so i think this is ryan being straight up and blunt. also, broken bones can’t really be fixed. once the bone is broken, it will never go back to being perfect. it heals, yes, but they’re essentially deformed. there’s a build up where the break was. something that is no longer be looked at as perfect can be taken as being shitty. that’s the easiest way for me to make this make sense. here’s my translation:

“i know that i (ryan) and a shitty person”

and the next line honestly bothers. me.

so without assuming things about people, just knowledge, chronic headaches and migraines are kind of unavoidable. you can take pain medicine but you can’t prevent them 100%. i know people who have these sort of headaches and they can be literally debilitating. my sister knows someone who, during school, is on the verge of tears because the pain is so intense and things like that can’t just be willed away. there are headaches that your brain is like ‘hey, take care of yourself’ but those are lesser in pain, just a ‘pay attention to me right quick’ sort of thing. so the way he says this is kind of.. odd. melt your headaches? as if you can just get rid of chronic headaches, just will them away. fun fact guys, you can’t. the way this comes out to me is just ‘get over it. deal with it’. if we put the two lines together it comes out as this.

“i am a shitty person so get over it.”

kinda rude, don’t you think?

also, pointing out things. “i know the worlds a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home”  is where brendon broke down on stage. maybe realizing what it actually meant? the only other song that he’s broken down while singing is casual affair and, well, didn’t i mention that this was a casual affair to ryan? oop.

so pre chorus time.

“Hey moon, please forget to fall down

Hey moon, don't you go down”

again, in the “…” cause this is ryan mocking brendon. so first, i’m going to bring in two songs.

“when the day met the night” by panic at the disco off of pretty odd. THIS SONG seems more like a ryden song than northern downpour:

When the moon fell in love with the sun

so this song to me, is written by brendon for ryan. this is brendon’s i love you to ryan. now before we go on, ryan is the moon and brendon is the sun. i could go on about personality traits and why specifically but i’m just not gonna right now.

“stall me” by panic at the disco off vices & virtues (i think it was like a bonus or pre order extra).

Why would you bring me in if you knew what you'd become?

So curse everyone and everything, even the sun

so i know that it doesn’t say moon but i’m pretty sure this is about ryan. now mind you, this came after pretty odd. this is after cape town, after his heart has been broken. this is basically brendon asking why ryan would lead him on if he knew that he would never love brendon. then brendon says fuck everyone and everything (common when you’re upset and pissed off to hate everything). what kills me is he says ‘even the sun’. brendon is the sun. he says fuck himself for falling and trying to believe.

anyways, those are two more examples of the reoccurrence of the sun and moon theme. unnecessary i guess.

so if we’re back to the hey moon part, i said that it was ryan mocking brendon. so mythology and stuff, not going too in depth (if you want me to then like, send an ask and i can do like a hardcore analysis on context of sun and moon vs relationships). the sun and the moon can’t be in love. day and night cannot be in love. one dies while the other survives and they are never together. as the sun is setting the moon is rising, ya know? what brendon is asking of ryan (the moon) is for him to not go away when the sun rises in the morning. he asks for ryan to forget to fall down, don’t go down. ryan is mocking brendon’s attempts to ask for ryan to love him (through sex). ryan knows that they can’t be in love so he’s mocking brendon because brendon still has hope.

i would also like to point out that in the live at chicago version (free on spotify for your listening fun), ryan acknowledges that he is the moon. duh, since he wrote it. but it just proves that if i am wrong about literally all of this, i got at least who the sun and moon is right. when they’re singing ‘hey moon don’t you go down,’ ryan ad libs “never will”. and i get that it can be taken as ryan saying ‘i’ll never go down, i’ll wait for you’ but this song doesn’t lead me to believe that’s what he meant. i think that ‘never will’ is more towards when “brendon” is asking him to forget to fall down. so basically, the way i see it, ryan is saying he’s not going to forget to go down, he will go down because he is the night and he has to. ALSO, in that live version, the never will isn’t like, super pumped and happy or even passionate. it’s kinda bland. doesn’t sound very in love to me.

Sugarcane in the easy mornin'

Weathervanes my one and lonely

OKAY THIS WAS MY FAVORITE. so there was a lot of research about this first fucking lyric and i’m sorry that i’m going to pull so many facts out but, this shit had me on the edge of my seat.

so at first, my sister was saying that sugarcane was weed. this whole album was written while high, i bet my life on it. brendon’s also said that he smoked while in high school and openly fucking admits to smoking weed currently so this isn’t a stretch in my opinion. now, my sister saw sugarcane and went ‘plant’ and was like wow, must mean weed. i wasn’t so convinced. i told her to look up strains of weed that had to do with candy. turns out there is a strain of weed called kandy kush. a little more digging by the 14 year old wonder and we found something even better. you can probably guess it’s name. sugar kush. now these next paragraphs are just gonna kinda seal my theory, alright? feel free to skip if you’re that bored of my rambles but, this shit was wild. connections up the wazoo.

now, fun fact. sugar kush is actually a cross between kandy kush and hash plant. which honestly had me laughing at the whole fucking everything, i dunno. a lot of the affects of sugar kush are relaxation. brendon has said that he’s ADHD which, i’m sure you know but still, means hyperactive. the boy can’t be still for more than a second. so sugar kush is commonly said by users to be ‘couch-locking’ which, from my understanding, is kinda like ‘i’m so fucking high that i can’t get off this couch’ or ‘i’m so fucking relaxed..’. now, since brendon is a hyperactive person, i don’t think that the couch-lock, will happen to him. i think that since he’s on a higher level than someone like me, it would bring him down to feeling like someone without ADD/ADHD rather than the couch-lock. it’s also common that sugar kush makes people happy and euphoric. now, just saying, sex doesn’t usually happen if you’re depressed. it’s hard to get your dick hard when you’re crying, alright? happy makes the dick hard. bluntest (BLUNT LOL) way of saying this.

now, there were a couple different webpages so i’m not gonna say this brief section is like a done deal. this was ‘most popular in:’ and one of the places listed is albany, oregon. which, heyo, is in the PNW.

so anyway, there was a description of the sugar kush. what type it is, who made it, things like that. then, i shit you not, (also, feel free to ask for links if you want, i’m not gonna do it here but i can answer that in an ask), “Sugar Kush nuts are emerald green” and did i not fucking say the shit about wizard of oz and seattle and the emerald city. like, shit, this is a big coincidence. moving on with the description, it’s recommended for more experienced users because of a high THC content (THC is the feel good high stuff). we all know that  brendon is an extremely experienced user. i’m also going out on a limb that during pretty odd, the whole band was experiencing a lot of weed.

type of high was a little interesting. enough so that i’ll quote it. “Sugar Kush marijuana strain induces uplifting cerebral euphoria, energizes the mind, uplifts mood, relieves stress…” it also mentions that it relieves eye pressure which i found a little curious since tripping eyes… hmmMMM.

anyway. this next part is very, i don’t know, subjective? this isn’t like a 100% correct thing but it’s just another things that just fit SO WELL. users that typically like this strain are, a lot of times, male. they’re also between the ages of 20-40. not to say that people under or over can’t enjoy it but, guys, when they wrote this album they would have been right around 20. also, it mentions which zodiacs like this kush which is an odd thing to put in but, hey, cool i guess. the zodiacs were scorpio, but more so than that, virgo. unfortunately for me, brendon is not either of those. brendon is an aries. but do you know who issss a virgo? ryan fucking ross. also i believe jon walker but he’s irrelevant to this song. fun facts with admin. the similarities to this band just kinda make me laugh.

anyway, back to places. the ones that stood out to me as places of importance. portland, oregon, seattle, washington, tacoma, washington, and las vegas, nevada. las vegas is only here because that’s where the whole band is from.

for those of you who aren’t super familiar with OR/WA geography, portland, seattle, and tacoma are all super close. also gonna mention albany again. seattle and tacoma are neighboring cities. literally the worst traffic i’ve been in back to back. it sucks if you’re trying to get to B.C. canada. anyway, those both are about like 2-3 (depending on traffic and such) away from portland. in the scheme of things, that’s not really far apart. i’ve done that drive a lot. also, albany was said to be into sugar kush a lot. albany is about like an hour away from portland. so they’re all really close honestly. the farthest apart being albany to seattle and even then that’s like 5-ish hours? that’s 100% doable in a day.

just again pointing out that seattle found a way to be relevant to this song.

then we get to a section with ‘makes you feel:’ and ‘helps with:’

so in the makes you feel section it says it makes you feel attentive, and for real, did you mean brendon urie? it also mentions sociable but that’s kinda in and out on being relevant. then helps with. it says arthritis and muscle spasms and those don’t quite fit but what does fit into things i’ve mentioned, HEADACHES. guys, like, i wish i could make up these amazing coincidences. STILL NOT SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT BRENDON, but the fact that headaches is coming back up and not only that, it was listed under migraines. like i said before, migraines are the type that are unavoidable, you can’t just drink more water and cure them. those can be extremely debilitating. so the fact that this specific strain helps with that is just.. mind blowing.

this part is a users testimony to it. this isn’t the same for every single person but it was interesting. “very sugary” is the very first thing he says (with a typo, damn stoners). remember, this is all has been in relation to the one fucking line ‘sugarcane in the easy morning’.’ then he says that when you first smoke this, the first taste you get of it tastes like cane sugar. which, sugarcane, cane sugar, do you get my point? he also says that it has, after the sugar, a lil fruity taste which is just slight. what he does say is that the sugar taste is really in your face. don’t take this as a dig at brendon, but he can be seen as a little in your face at times. i don’t think it’s bad but it’s just curious to point out. also, he says that the sugar flavor lasts a few seconds even after the smoke is gone.

so, with all that in mind, sugarcane in the easy mornin’ is literally just wake and bake. sugarcane is the first thing they taste when they wake up aka sugar kush. easy aka relaxing. thank you. give me a judges gavel so i can slam it on a desk.

the next line is weathervanes, my one and lonely. going back to seattle (though this could be literally anywhere that gets stormy so..) if you don’t know, a weathervane is an instrument, really. you see it on tops of houses, USUALLY a rooster but can be anything. it tells you which direction the wind is coming from (north, east, south, west. now, during a storm, the rain and wind go the same way. we’ve already concluded that the rain and the downpour are depression coming for brendon so this line is just ryan making fun of him.

my one and lonely is a play on the romantic phrase, my one and only. it’s cute, okay? so ryan has known for probably a long time that brendon is in love with him but up until cape town, brendon never asks if it’s returned, he’s just been hoping privately. who wants to put money on the fact that brendon has referred to ryan as his one and only? it’s been said that he slept around in high school which leads me to believe that ryan could be brendon’s first love. we all know our first love seems like the only love we’ll ever have. so this is kind of ryan making fun of him. ryan is going back to the northern downpour with the weather vane which is pointing in the direction of where the depression is going (at brendon). then he says my one and lonely because brendon is going to be lonely. brendon’s one and only isn’t ryan, it’s depression when ryan finally admits he didn’t love brendon and goes. so this line is kind of just him laughing. fuck you. i have no idea how this can even be turned romantically like ???

so the chorus is repeated a lot with the pre chorus and this whole song is kind of beautiful. it sounds like a love song but it really really isn’t. it’s done with soft instruments and soft voices and it makes you feel happy. ryan brings up the hey moon again. refreshing your mind after all that weed, is “brendon” asking for ryan to fall in love.

so then, the chorus changes a little at the very end.

“Hey moon, please forget to fall down

Hey moon, don't you go down”

You are at the top of my lungs

Drawn to the ones who never yawn

this is the very last thing we hear. the first two lines don’t change. it’s still mocking. the last two though, man. ‘you are at the top of my lungs’ really reminds me of moaning somebody’s name. like, when you’re about to orgasm and the first thing out of your mouth is their name. then, it’s saying that that moan is drawn to the ones who never yawn (replace that with sleep). this is all just ryan being really fucking blunt in his secretive subtle way. did anyone else notice that those two lines are very sexual? like.. their relationship?

the first two lines are brendon, asking for ryan to fall in love. the last two lines are ryan’s response. he says no, i don’t love you. i am here for sex.

again, ryan wrote this as a warning, all of this was ryan saying that it won’t last, that he’s not in love. i’d just like to mention tripping eyes again and the fact that brendon didn’t understand the meaning of this song. he took it as ryan’s way of admitting love. he was blinded yet again by his own naivety.

[jedifighterpilot2727]

Mr. Mxyzptlk

So 2x13 kinda sucked (a lot). This is my solution. Fits in canon with the rest of Eyes Like Kryptonite but the only things you need to know are that Supercorp is established and it's post 2x12 (assume they've been together since post 2x08)   

Let me know what you think! I wasn't sure I was going to get this posted today but then i got some nice feedback that spurred me on! so it definitely helps!

Read on AO3 -  http://archiveofourown.org/works/9100903/chapters/22132820   

"I'm so glad you're not in prison anymore." Kara snuggles in close to Lena under the blanket, a black and white movie playing on the television.

"You think you’re glad I'm not in prison, I’m really glad I'm not in prison." Lena's head falls over onto Kara's shoulder and she strokes her fingers through jet black hair.

"I'm sorry your mother got away though."

"Mmm, well J'onn said it was either save me or go after Lilian, so considering the circumstances, I'm glad you made the choice you did."

Kara leans forward to press a kiss against Lena's forehead.

"It wasn't even a choice."

They're silent for a moment, Kara's heart heavy as she thinks about just how close she was to losing Lena.

The characters in the screen play out a scene that Kara has watched a thousand times - could recite by heart if she were paying attention, but her mind is preoccupied with the memories of those final moments in Lex's lair.

"Thanks you again for believing in me." Lena whispers softly and if not for super hearing, Kara may not have picked it up at all.

"And I'll tell you again that are an amazing woman who has done so much good to combat her family's bad name. You deserve my trust, and everyone else's. Besides, I think the flowers said thank you enough."

She gestures a hand towards the white and red flowers taking up literally every inch of free space in her apartment. Lena lifts her head up off Kara's shoulder to look around, smirk growing as she takes the sight.

"I don't know, I think you could use a few more."

"You mean like the ones filling my office?"

Lena laughs a little and bites her lip, and Kara can't resist leaning in for a soft kiss.

"You deserve all the flowers in the world, Kara Zor-el."  Lena says when they finally pull apart, eyes tracing Kara's face like she wants to memorize every line.

"It's all over the gossip tabloids about you buying your reporter girlfriend thousands of flowers."

"Finally! Some good publicity! Maybe I should do grand gestures of affection more often - help stave off the bad press."

They laugh at that and Lena settles back in her arms.

"I'm shocked you read the tabloids to be honest."

"I don't usually. Winn sent me a few articles."

Lena giggles and the giddy sound makes Kara's heart soar.

"Winn reads the tabloids?!"

"Oh, he's the worst! Don't even say the name Kardashian around him if you know what's good for you! He didn't used to be as bad, but after I came out as Supergirl he was kind of my PR team -well, he was my only team there for a while- and so he kept up to date to make sure they weren't saying horrible things bout me."

"I guess now they're talking about your alter-ego too." Lena sounds almost sad, and Kara shakes her shoulder.

"There are worse things in the world than having tabloids speculate about my relationship with the most beautiful woman in National City."

"Oh, I'm sure." Lena doesn't quite sound like she believes her.

"There are!"

"Like what?"

"This one time, they got a picture of Supergirl eating a cupcake. There was icing all over my nose! Like how rude!!"

"I hope you know that it is now my life's goal to find that picture."

"Leennaa . . ."

"I won't show anyone, I'll just keep it for my personal records."

Kara groans dramatically and lets her head hit the back of the couch.

"I'm going to find some embarrassing pictures of you one day, and you'll regret it. I'll make a scrapbook."

In one smooth motion, Lena rolls over to straddle her hips.

"Sweetheart, there are no embarrassing photos of me."

She has to fight through the cloud of sudden arousal to form a complete sentence, but somehow she manages; thumbs rubbing circles on Lena's thighs.

"You're a giant dork, I'm sure there are lots of . . . what- what are you doing?"

Lena's lips pause the trail they're making down Kara's neck.

"Go on, you were talking about what a huge nerd I am."

"Dork!" She hisses when Lena's teeth nip at her skin. "I believe I used the word dork."

She can feel it when Lena smirks.

"My apologies."

"Are you trying to seduce me so that I-" She gasps, "So that I forget about my scrapbook idea?"

"Maybe." Lena licks her way up Kara's earlobe where she bites sharply.

"Is that a problem?"

"Nope! No, definitely not."

She slides her hands around to the backs of Lena's thighs and scoots her impossibly closer, maneuvering so that Lena has no choice but to capture her lips.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" the voice startles them apart and Kara is sure that she looks a mess - with Lena's hands tangled in her hair and Lena's lipstick smeared across her lips and down her neck.

But there's some guy!

In her apartment!

And she knows she locked the door.

She think she locked the door.

Did she lock the door?

"Kara?" Lena calmly asks. "Who is this?"

She shakes her head.

"I don't-" She turns to the visitor. "Who are you?"

He offers a flourishing bow.

"Mr. Mxyzptlk, at your service."

"Who?!"

“Kara?” Lena makes no move to get off of her lap.

“I’ve never seen him before!”

The man narrows his eyes at them and Kara begins to feel a tingle of unease. As gently as she can, she rises, setting Lena to her feet behind her.

“What are you doing here?” She asks the man in her best Supergirl voice -  a little hard considering she’s wearing puppy dog pajama bottoms and fuzzy socks.

“Why Kara Zor-El, I came to ask you to marry me!”

“Excuse you?!” She feels Lena stiffen beside her at the use of her real name and she reaches for the other woman’s hand.

“I- “ He seems at a loss as he glances around the apartment. “Well I was going to woo you but -“

He spins around, tossing his hands in the air.

“It appears there are already plenty of flowers . . . “ suddenly, he’s on his knees in front of her. “A ring, perhaps?”

There’s a sparkling diamond grasped in his fingers but she doesn’t even have a chance to respond before his eyes flicker to where Lena is holding tightly to her hand and he’s speaking again.

“And who are you?”

“Lena Luthor.” There’s a chill in her voice that makes Kara stand just a little straighter.

“Luthor, eh? I’ve heard that name before.”

“At least it’s a name you can pronounce.”

Kara snickers at that and Mr. Mxyzptlk frowns.

“Kara?” he questions.

“She has a point.”

His frown deepens.

“I have unlimited power,” He says confidently. “I could offer you the world."

“Kara has powers.” Lena offers.

“But together . . . .” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what planet you’re from, so maybe it isn’t obvious, but we’re -“ She gestures between herself and Lena. “Kind of a thing.”

“Right, well; not what I expected.”  He rises, glancing around the apartment once more. “Lovely flowers, really.”

He looks to Lena.

“You’re doing, I presume?”

She nods.

“I’ve never had this happen before.” He admits and Kara sighs.

“I think you should leave. Whichever way you managed to come in.”

He studies them for a moment before tilting his head.

“If you should ever get tired of Ms. Rich, Lush, and Beautiful, you should give me a call. Just say ‘Mxyzptlk’ three times in a row-“ he snaps his fingers, “I’ll be here like that.”

“Riiight.”

“Todeloo!” He calls, and with a twist of his wrist he’s gone, vanishing into thin air.

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

“Mr. Mxyzptlk,” J’onn sighs from the screen of Kara’s laptop. “He’s a fifth dimensional being with the ability to manipulate matter around him.”

“How did he get to this dimension?” Lena asks from beside her on the couch.

“He just appears.” J’onn shrugs. “It’s kind of what he does - floats around to wherever he wants. We’re lucky he didn’t stay longer - absolute power like that . . .  could wreak havoc.”

“Why was he here?” She asks, feeling Lena’s fingers tighten around hers.

“No idea, I’m assuming based on what you’ve told me, that he wanted to marry Supergirl.”

Kara shivers with disgust.

“How do we keep him from coming back?”

“That,” Winn wheels his rolly chair into the frame. “Is where I come in. Analyzing the information from the air scans Lena took in your apartment, I’ve been able to isolate a specific radioactive frequency and if he pops back up within a hundred mile radius of the city, I’ll be notified.”

“Thanks, Winn.” She feels like she’s finally able to breathe again, .

“Oh, Kara- you’ve got a little something . . .” He gestures to his neck and her eyes widen as she reaches out to slam the lid of her laptop closed.

“Bye, Winn!"

[hollywoodx4]

Sticking With the Schuylers (18A)

Hello again! I had to split this into 2 parts because I couldn’t even handle how long it got, and I figured I’d leave the actual dramatics for “Part B”. I feel like it’s...it’s hard to describe my feelings about B, I’ll just say that.

Also thank you for putting up with my drawn-out chapters (I always feel like ‘the side of Ham that wrote the other 51′ when it takes me chapters and chapters to get from point A to point B. But I also love character studies and what makes people tick so that’s my lame reasoning behind it. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

In this part, the pre-brunch ritual is thrown off and it makes Angelica uneasy...

1  2  3  4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   I   13  14   15   16   17

Loud disco music blares through the closed door. The third door from the staircase; twenty-six steps from the stairs, straight across the hall from the bathroom. It’s the second-largest bedroom in the Schuyler mansion only to their parents’ master bedroom, and lately it’s become more of a dressing room. Peggy is the beneficiary of it all, a senior in high school with her sister’s bedrooms empty while they’re away. She doesn’t use them, per say, but the youngest Schuyler liked to think she’d be crazy to deny herself the opportunity of two ‘walk-in closets.’

               And although she often claims Eliza’s style is too preppy, and Angelica’s too business, there’s often an Instagram photo or a moment on Skype that brings the two older sisters barreling to her door. Eliza will ask for her clothing back. Angelica will demand. But the best part of having her older sister’s bedrooms out of use for the better portion of the year is when they do come…Angelica’s room, because it is the largest, has been transformed more into a ‘ready room.’ It’s the latest addition to the ritual of Sunday brunch, the girls arriving at the first signs of morning with coffee and duffle bags stuffed full of supplies.

               First they’d sit around the breakfast nook, Laurie the chef having prepared an array of pastries the night before, knowing of the serious light which Sunday morning brunch was painted in this family. The girls would chat, catching up in a more filtered light. Laurie was a gossip; they’d discovered that truth when she’d told both Paul, the driver and Elena, the housekeeper, about Angelica’s first time. (Luckily the story hadn’t gotten back to their father, but oh boy did Angelica ream her out for that one).

Peggy also often used this ritual as a regular addition to her continually-updated Instagram story; clothing strewn over every surface, the three huddled close and leaning over Angelica’s vanity, the occasional 3-part harmony to a Beyoncé classic…it was a ritual that had become loved by America nearly as much as it was by the sisters.  

Today is no different. Peggy Schuyler rolls out of bed (7 am is unreasonably early for a Sunday, she always argued) to a barrage of social media notifications; people getting ready for the weekly update on the sisters they looked forward to with such anticipation. She runs a hand though her unruly, sleep-mussed hair and yawns, jumping in the shower. By the time she finally gets out she can already hear Angelica’s voice. The oldest Schuyler is the continually eager and early to Peggy’s regularly late, so when she barrels down the stairs in her usual leggings and large sweater combo Angelica rolls her eyes, teasing. The only difference to the day is that Eliza hasn’t arrived yet.

The oldest and youngest Schuylers set out their clothing for the day, draping dress choices over Angelica’s queen-sized bed and helping each other choose which might be the best look. Angelica’s gaze flips back to the clock. She watches as the time ticks away. It’s 8:30. Eliza still hasn’t arrived.

Peggy notices the change in the air of the room and turns from her place at Angelica’s closet. Her sister’s rapidly dialing numbers on her phone, pressing it to her ear as she paces around the room. One ring, two rings….Eliza finally picks up on the third ring, her voice soft and guarded. She immediately puts her on speaker phone, gesturing to the youngest Schuyler.

Betsey’s using her ‘phone voice.’

There’s something to be said about conversations had through the phone; for one, Angelica finds that it is almost easier to discern somebody’s honesty through the phone, if she knows them. When John uses his phone voice with her it’s lower, slower...calculating. Typically, it’s when he’s waiting to bring up a difficult conversation. Peggy’s loud, voice turning higher pitched and sweeter than her typical sarcastic tone. She uses her ‘phone voice’ to sweet talk her way into things, or to pretend she hasn’t done something they both know she has. But Eliza…

Eliza is honest; always honest. Angelica has heard her subdued, stoic timbre only twice in her entire life. Once, when she was eighteen and Eliza fourteen, she’d called her little sister in early September to catch up on their new lives apart. She’d just gone off to college, leaving Eliza fending for herself in her first year of high school. Of course, Angelica worried. And of course, her little sister didn’t want her to be worried. So when she called for their nightly chat that second week of school, she immediately noticed the change in her sister’s voice-which caused her to break down crying on the phone. Some kids she didn’t know had been teasing her about being adopted into wealth.

Angelica skipped her afternoon class the next day to dismiss her middle sister from school, linking arms with her and marching straight toward the gaggle of awkward, stone-faced freshman. All it took was one look from the oldest Schuyler to set Elizabeth’s year right. Nobody messed with a Schuyler sister without hearing it from her.

The second time…the second time is more difficult for Angelica to remember, only because she wishes it would be wiped from her memory. She’d called on a Thursday morning, when she was twenty-two and Eliza was eighteen, nearly nineteen. Her sister had just moved in with her boyfriend-much to Angelica’s dismay. She’d only given a slight nod of approval at the forward direction of the relationship, feeling a bit uneased about the man who was her age and not her dear Betsey’s. He was mature, sure, and yes that’s what Elizabeth needed. Angelica wasn’t sure that he was completely right for her. But this was her kind, sweet, trusting middle sister. She needed approval. She needed her older sister’s support.

When Eliza picked up the phone she practically whispered her greeting…her breathing was obvious and slightly ragged, as if she’d been crying. Angelica fed her small-talk questions to analyze her voice, wondering why she seemed so off. It wasn’t until she heard James on the other line that she’d began to put the pieces together. It wasn’t until Eliza rushed her off of the phone until it hit her.

Maybe, if she’d realized things sooner, Angelica could have done something more.

So now, on this Sunday morning where she’s twenty-four and Eliza’s twenty, her breath hitches in her throat when her middle sister’s greeting rings through the now silent ‘ready room’ of the Schuyler mansion.

Betsey’s using her ‘phone voice.’

And although Peggy doesn’t quite understand how Angelica can hear the slight differences of voice, they’re there. They’re there in the muted volume; in the slower method of speech. She can hear the rushing of cars in the background, competing with the volume of Eliza’s voice.

…

“Sorry I’m running late, it’s been a crazy morning.”  Eliza holds the phone close to her ear, burrowing her head further in her scarf as the November wind blows breezily around her. A shiver runs through her body. She frowns, unsure of whether it’s from the brisk weather or the half-a-lie that spills immediately from her lips.

By any other standard of the word it hasn’t been a crazy morning at all; she’d rolled out of bed only ten minutes before, running a comb through her hair before throwing on a pair of sweatpants and toting her bag to the place their driver was supposed to be picking her up. She’d already had to call him, apologetic for making him wait for so long. But it hadn’t been a crazy morning. Not by any other standard.

She would, however, admit that the night had been rough. She hadn’t slept again-had seen every hour on her clock. Elizabeth had tossed and turned, twisting in her blankets until she’d given up on sleeping in her bed completely. She’d tried the armchair, then the sofa in the living room…finally, she ended up on the carpet in the kitchen. No matter where she was, though, the nightmares followed her.

They would start differently; a random scenario her brain would suddenly recall, in vivid and horrifying detail. Sometimes, they were first person dreams. Others, it was like she was a bug on the ceiling, watching a horror movie tailor made to her own personal terrors. And everything felt so real, so shockingly real, that she’d wake up to run her hands up and down her arms, her legs, checking to see if any damage had really been done.

Stop crying. Don’t be so pathetic. You’re stronger than this.

But she wasn’t-she isn’t. Elizabeth Schuyler, waking up in a cold sweat and running a hand over the scar in the center of her chin. She hadn’t been strong then and certainly, she supposes as she attempts to shake the nightmares away once more, she’s still the same person she had been; Weak. Frail. Mentally and physically afflicted by the personal tornado that had been her relationship with James Reynolds.

And then, the kicker; in the early morning hours, when she’d finally felt like exhaustion would carry her into a dreamless sleep, her phone began to rang. 6:30 a.m-Alexander. She’s let it go to voicemail. He actually leaves her a voicemail. She rolls back over without listening to it.

6:45 a.m. Voicemail. 7:20 a.m. Voicemail. The call at 7:56 wakes her from a particularly bad nightmare, and she wipes beads of sweat from her face as she pushes her hair back, fighting to keep her eyes open and the lump in her throat at bay. This one, she considers answering. But then there are flashes-moments from her dreaming hours that come flying back through her conscious mind. She denies the call from even coming through.

Sorry, Alexander. Late for brunch-Calling back later. x.

It’s the best response her mind can formulate right now, through shaking hands and thumbs just barely grazing the keyboard on her phone. She feels awful.

She feels even worse when she finally gets to the Schuyler mansion, apologizing profusely to Paul for making him wait so long while she stumbles through the front door, kicking her shoes off before thundering up the stairs. It doesn’t take long for the raucous disco music to subside; actually, it’s stopped the second the walks through Angelica’s door. Her older sister sits on one of the bar stools in front of her vanity, legs and arms both crossed in a show of…Elizabeth can’t quite read the expression on Angelica’s face. It’s shifting, continually changing as she throws her own duffle bag of clothing and makeup near the bed and pulls her things out to get ready.

For once Angelica’s speechless-part of her isn’t sure there’s a conversation to be had within the slight change of voice she’d heard over the phone. But she also doesn’t want to take the risk of leaving her middle sister alone to her thoughts-she’d made that mistake before. Eliza was too concerned about everybody else to actually ask for help when she needed it. Angelica had made it her job a long time ago to do the talking-and the nurturing. It was her job to shelter the person who took care of everybody else. It was her job to speak up.

She lets the awkward silence hang in the air as Eliza pulls her makeup bag out, finding her seat next to Angelica at the vanity. Peggy turns the music back on, and they fall into a hesitant rendition of their usual routine. Peggy cracks a few jokes. The laughter is forced. The atmosphere is forced. Something feels different about the day, and it sets Angelica to the edge of her seat until finally, as they’re zipping up each other’s dresses, the oldest Schuyler cracks.

“Okay, talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Bets.” It’s Peggy who speaks up, throwing the curse word her way before throwing her hands onto her hips. “We know you’re still upset about the James thing,”

“And you have every right to be.”

“I’m tired, alright?” Eliza’s voice comes out somewhere between a shout and a low whisper, cracking on the last syllable as she plops back onto Angelica’s bed. Her dress a mess of aqua colored tight-fitting lace with a flare-out bottom that bunches underneath her laying form. “I’m tired of pretending that everything is alright when it’s not. Alex called me ten times this morning. And here I am ignoring his calls because I can’t bear to pick up the phone in between vivid, horrifying nightmares to hear him tell me how happy he is with me. Because eventually I’m going to tell him and it’s all going to end and then what?”

“And then none of that is going to happen.” Peggy’s quiet, placing an arm gently on her sister’s knee before she and Angelica flank her on either side. The sisters lay on their backs, heads touching as they grasp for each other’s hands. For a moment they let their middle sister just lay with them, basking in the familiarity and comfort of each other. And then,

“Girls, the car is waiting for us.” Phillip Schuyler yells up the stairs to his daughters. All three take in a collective sigh before rising from the bed. Angelica threads her arm through Eliza’s. Peggy does the same. They show up to brunch like this, managing a bright-eyed public profile as they’re escorted to the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria. But then there’s a moment-a photographer Angelica recognizes. She gives Peggy a silent alert.

The published photo shows the Schuyler sisters, New York darlings, dressed up for their weekly brunch. Elizabeth Schuyler does not look at the camera but her sisters do-in fact, they look directly into it. And it’s a familiar, alarming look-Angelica’s eyes are narrowed and darkened. Peggy’s grip is tighter. It’s a solidarity, and they’re directing it right at someone they know will publish it.

And for once, Angelica can’t wait to see this one on the news stands-for him to see it.

[sinrau]

Personal Experience

–Medium

Reid Gan

Everyone is asking how I’m doing and for the most part, I’m just angry at myself. Physically, at the moment, I’m actually fine. But I’m emotionally livid.

I’m angry that I clearly didn’t take the proper precautions, and didn’t take it as seriously as I should have. I’m angry that I’ve put my roommate and close friends in danger. I’m angry that I can’t leave my room without a mask and gloves just to feed my dog or make breakfast.

I’m angry that I’ve done a whole bunch of work on fitness this year just to take at least two weeks to lay down and not do anything. I’m angry that I can’t even go do socially distant activities. I’m angry that others went on spring break and didn’t get sick. Or maybe they did but didn’t bother to get tested because they were asymptomatic.

I’m angry because it’s a complete guessing game as to where I might have gotten it, but it still feels like entirely my fault. I’m angry that I can’t talk about that without feeling selfish.

I’m embarrassed that I got it, honestly. I took my pup for a short walk today (mask and gloves) and I felt like the character in a zombie movie that had been bitten and it was only a matter of time. I have an overwhelming feeling of guilt — it’s like I let everyone down. Truthfully, that’s been the worst part about it, for me.

For that, I’m sorry.

What COVID-19 Feels Like Physically, Thus Far

I should start by saying, I’m a 30-year-old in good health. No medical conditions to speak of, like maybe a cavity. I played sports all my life, and played soccer in college. I’ve continued on with fitness and competition somewhat rigorously. I’m in decent shape and I try to eat healthy meals as often as I can, with the occasional fast food, pizza, or cheeseburger.

On Wednesday, earlier this week, I felt it coming on. I just started to feel like shit — not really a better way to put it. I felt a bit congested and had a headache brewing. I felt really tired, more so than usual, like it wasn’t just the typical 2 P.M. workday slump, but I didn’t know what it was. I do remember hoping that it wasn’t the coronavirus.

I went home and made soup and started treating myself like I was sick already. After eating, I took a hot shower, popped vitamin C and ibuprofen, and bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants. I’ve found that sweating out a flu and embracing the fever is one of the best ways to get it to break quickly. I’ve become a master of kicking any sickness — I get sick once a year for 24 hours and then it’s over — and was going to approach this the same way.

That night it took me for a ride in waves — I had the chills and then hot flashes. I woke up in puddles of sweat on a couple of different occasions.

In the morning, I called out of work, gave my boss and coworkers the proper warning, and started monitoring my temperature. It was 99.0 when I got out of bed. A little later into Thursday afternoon, it was 99.5, then 99.8.

And suddenly it was 100.9.

My skin started to hurt and I started coughing a bit. Then it would pivot and I would be freezing, literally shaking. It was definitely a fever and definitely a flu.

“My skin started to hurt and I started coughing a bit.“

Friday morning, after sweating it out one more night, I actually felt almost entirely normal.

Today is Sunday, and while I still feel fine, I’ve started to lose my sense of taste and my sense of smell. While I was cooking dinner, I twisted off the top on a jar of minced garlic and took a big whiff. Nothing.

I don’t mean to be overly dramatic by any means. Other than the taste and smell, it’s quite candidly like any other flu I’ve ever had. Don’t get me wrong, it sucked. But for me, it wasn’t the devil knocking at my door. At least not yet.

So far I haven’t had any trouble breathing, my lips haven’t turned blue, and things seem to be returning to normal.

Getting A COVID-19 Test

Thursday, my sickest day, I spent much of it trying to register for a COVID-19 test. The CVS website portal was slow as molasses, and it wouldn’t work. It kept showing me available times and then after I would fill everything out it would tell me that the appointment slot was not available and to choose another time. I did this seven times. This was hell while trying to cope with the sickness.

I knew I needed a COVID test because I needed to warn whoever I may have been in contact with, as well as take the proper precautions moving forward. So I kept trying.

I called the CVS nearest me and they were no help. After a 20 minute hold to speak to the pharmacy (I eventually just drove over there, while on hold — I spoke to someone faster that way), I was told that they can’t see me unless I make an appointment and they can’t make an appointment for me.

The gentleman told me to call CVS corporate and complain that the site was down. It seemed he’d been dealing with this problem every day for months.

“This was hell while trying to cope with the sickness.”

I grabbed a couple of Gatorades and drove home. I was exhausted, so I got in bed around 8:00 P.M.

Friday morning, one of my friends sent me a screenshot-flyer with the names and addresses of the testing sites set up by the county. After unsuccessfully trying three different addresses, I found one in the fourth. The first three were actually occupied by major protests.

The testing site I ended up going to was in a parking lot of some government building. There were a couple of tents, probably seven volunteer workers total, and a long line of cars serpentining through the otherwise empty lot. The workers were blunt and concise, but friendly.

One of them made it a point to reassure each person that it wasn’t the excessively long q-tip test that went viral, and that it’s not painful. I’ll admit I was a bit relieved at that, because going into it, I was scared to have my brain fluid swabbed.

When it was my turn, one of the workers approached my car in what was essentially a hazmat suit. They used a long stick with a claw mechanism to hand me a plastic bag with the materials I would need to perform the test myself. I drove up to the testing station, leaving Claw-Man behind. A nice woman approached my vehicle, also in a hazmat suit, and instructed me on how to administer the test.

Basically, they gave me a long, thin plastic stick with a slightly thicker sponge on the tip — the sponge was maybe one inch in length. I was told to stick it up each nostril, one at a time, until it was uncomfortable and swab it around five times.

She said it should make me want to sneeze. I sneezed both times, after removing it from each nostril. Then I put the stick, sponge-side-down, into a tube filled with some kind of fluid, that I imagine makes it easier to analyze. I sealed the tube, put the materials back in the bag, and handed it back the woman, who grabbed it with her claw. Claw-Woman.

It was not painful. I’ve heard some places are still using the q-tip, and that it can be painful, so I don’t think this is any sort of guarantee. Either way, worth it to know for sure.

The next day, within 24 hours, I got the text that told me my test did, in fact, detect COVID-19.

That text sucked. I already had plans for that evening, assuming that I was fine, mainly because I felt fine.

And then came the guilt.

Dealing With COVID-19 Mentally

The very first thought I had was actually to tell my family, warn my coworkers, and cancel my plans.

After that, I felt really guilty. I have been social distancing to some extent, but had a decent-size circle of friends that I had started to see with some regularity. I missed them and I needed them.

If you’re at all like me, you’ve been preoccupied with a lot of other issues happening, and COVID has kind of taken a backseat. Also, you’ve seen thousands of your friends and your friends’ friends protesting, partying, vacationing, and enjoying some of the newfound freedoms of early openings and more.

It seems like no one is getting sick.

And also, if you’re at all like me, you’ve been tired of social distancing for a while now, and you just want to feel normal again, especially with what’s going on in the world. This is a really scary, weird, sad, and new time for all of us. We all need each other.

I took the current scenario as a sign to be sure to show my friends and loved ones just how much they mean to me. So I wanted to spend time with them. I wanted to hold them. I wanted to soak them up.

But fuck, man.

Now I feel like a jerk. Now I may have just put all of them in danger. As someone who typically feels responsible for my friends’ wellbeing, the guilt that comes with that is unbearable for me.

“…you just want to feel normal again…”

I also realize that any one of them may have given it to me. And that it’s not exactly just my fault. For all we know, I’m just the only one who showed symptoms and was therefore the only one to get tested. Everyone’s just hoping, with blind optimism, that they aren’t carrying it.

Shouldn’t it be mandatory to get tested? If we can administer the tests ourselves, why haven’t we sent testing kits and instructions to every household, and made everyone find out? Why are we just relying on scout’s honor?

It’s a hopeless game to start guessing and trying to figure out how I might have gotten it, what surface I might have touched, etc. So I know I can’t let my mind wander down that path for too long. But then you’re also faced with an actual, legitimate, extra-cautious quarantine, which feels even longer than two weeks given the circumstance and your mind can’t help but take a gander.

My roommate (also my best friend) and I aren’t even seeing each other now, which is a little awkward, but we both know it’s for the best. It’s like we don’t exist. Meanwhile, I’m just in my room in silence, or with music or Netflix, thinking about how I let him down.

I’m particularly aggravated seeing people party on social media now, too. Like how are ya’ll not sick, and I’m in quarantine with COVID? It doesn’t seem fair. Not that I was some stellar example of social distancing myself, but I definitely was more careful than sharing a funnel and doing body shots on a boat.

My mom reminds me that sometimes doing the responsible thing doesn’t come with a reward.

Another aspect of dealing with this mentally is fear.

I’ve heard and read stories about how people get released from the hospital, thinking they’ve handled the coronavirus, and that’s when it rears its head and puts you on your back. It’s a scary virus.

It sort of seemed too easy to me. I actually was convinced that it couldn’t have been the big, bad coronavirus based on how quickly I was over it and felt fine.

So I’m sort of stuck between the ideas of laying down and resting constantly and also trying to remain mildly active. I don’t want to become weaker than the virus is already making me, but I also don’t want to overexert myself. I’ve been taking extra vitamin C to be sure my immune system is in working order, but doesn’t over-respond. I’ve been drinking tons of water and being sure to sanitize and disinfect whatever I can.

Strangely, as of writing this, I feel totally normal.

It’s a very similar vibe to the scene in a horror movie that’s just too calm to be unessential. And then they just cut to a new scene and it turns out everything was literally fine.

It’s like that, every day.

Again, this all may come off as mildly dramatic, especially with a lot of the other horrors that are going on right now. But I’m only trying to depict an accurate image.

I’m sorry this hasn’t been more of a feel-good rendition, so I’ll try to end on a happier note.

Honestly, I actually don’t feel sick at all. And I have been more than grateful for my friends who have reached out to check on me each day. They’re still making all the difference in the world.

So yes, definitely hold and love yours.

But it also wouldn’t hurt to get tested. And please, exercise more caution than you currently are.

–Medium

Reid Gan