#you also win the lottery of getting the line i wrote last | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kimmyyang · 4 years ago

Text

210408 Zhang Zhehan's interview with Elle Magazine

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, be a gentle yet strong person."

On the day of the photoshoot, it was a rare windy day in Bei Hai. The weather forecast reported it will rain, which made everyone slightly heart-stricken. "Can we still take photos by the seaside?", "how about changing the location?", we were worrying, but fortunately it didn’t rain, only left with steer drop in temperature and roaring wind.

On the way to the photoshoot location, Zhang Zhehan recorded the sound of wind outside of the window. To be able to use the last bit of daylight before the sun sets completely, after filming, he only had one hour and a bit to go back to the hotel, have dinner, change clothes, and get his makeup done. And now, when we have done everything, he uses the time in the car to chat with the long-waited fans in the drama interactive zone.

Busy is an expected state. But when we saw him at the location, you can’t tell any trace of being busy from his face. The strong wind blew the gravels on the beach in the sky. During the interval of the photoshoot, everyone couldn’t help but complained about the cold wind and getting sand all over their faces. Only Zhang Zhehan looked more relaxed as if he came back from a different beach as us.

When we moved to the coffee shop, we finally had time to sit down and talk. He asked the staff to give him a cushion for his back, at that moment, it was probably the first time that made us realize that he is actually very tired. "It’s tough and tiring to be an actor, right?" we haven’t even finished the sentence, and he disagreed, "it’s all the same, every job is tough and tiring."

It seems that he has a big heart.

He chose to ride to Tibet with his friend for his graduation trip. Like his mum said he always has the spirit of seeking out suffering. Speaking of this journey, he said: "we’re living too happily, most families don’t have to worry about clothes and food, don’t need to go through a lot of hardships. I like what Huang Lei teacher once said, ‘people will only have faith after suffering, people will understand kindness after suffering.’ I think after seeing the suffering in the world and feel the suffering yourself - you will be kind to others."

After hearing what he said, you will realize that ‘big heart’ could have been a misunderstanding. He can’t dilute ‘sufferings’ more than others, instead, in the moments of ‘seeking out sufferings’, his feeling towards ‘sufferings’ is stronger and more abundant compared to most people.

He has a very meticulous side, he feels, understands, and hides his ‘sufferings’. Then, those experiences and feelings related to sufferings become something that is hard for others to spot on him.

He said, "when we’re going through a hardship, we can only see the hardship itself, you don’t realize that it’s actually reminding you something and teaching you something else." This is also his understanding of being mature – you can see the many sides of one thing.

‘Bruce Almighty’， ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’， ‘The Bucket List’ are his favorite movies. He said, "there’s a line from Bruce Almighty that left a deep impression – do you really hope God will give you happiness? Maybe everyone’s interpretation of happiness is different, but in the movie, the protagonist only realized it at the end, God was giving him happiness, but not the so-called happiness, God taught him the ability to gain happiness." He pressed his thumb again his chin, slightly looking down, earnestly sharing his impression of the movie.

He added, "you’re actually changing your perspective of the problem." Like what he wrote before, "being mature is being able to see the things that you couldn’t see before."

Maybe if the settling time is long enough, you will be able to stay calm in the change of tides and guard yourself in the quicksand under your feet. Speaking of popularity, he was calmer than we expected.

He said, "popularity is very important for an actor. I think it’s complementary, when you’re popular, you will receive more attention. You will be able to carry some things on your shoulders, first, it can prove that you have the ability, second, it can prove you’re acknowledged by the market."

He continued, "as actors, we also need to be acknowledged by the market. I have seen some amazing actors, they put so much effort into every character but maybe haven’t been acknowledged by the market yet, so they remain unknown. Therefore, a lot of great characters won’t fall into their hands.” It sounds cruel but it’s an undeniable fact. He added, “if you’re not popular, good scripts won’t even land in your hands."

The success of ‘Word of Honor’, to Zhang Zhehan, is like winning the lottery.

He said, "the success of a drama depends on timing, geographical and social conditions, none of these is dispensable. There are hundreds and thousands of dramas filmed each year, but in the end, there will only be one or two that everyone would love. That kind of feels like winning the lottery."

Working hard is very common, it’s nothing special, he thinks it’s unreasonable if you just use ‘working hard’ and ask why you are ‘under appreciated’. Just like how everyone praises him for being an experiential actor and praises his immersive acting. But he thinks, this is the passing line to be an actor, this is what actors are supposed to do.

He said, "if you’re an actor and you don’t experience the character, how could you portray it well, if you don’t get into the character, how could you make the character come to life?"

Working hard, experiencing, and immersing… he views them as a refined definition of actor, these are the preconditions of the lottery ticket. As for whether you can win the lottery in the end, no one can predict it. At least in his experience, he waited for 11 years for that winning lottery ticket.

After the filming ended, he wrote ‘jianghu, goodbye’ on Weibo, when the last episode aired, it was exactly 6 months after the last day of filming. His Weibo is on the setting of showing only the recent 6 months’ posts, as if it was a ‘long been destined’ farewell.

Perhaps the character Zhou Zi Shu is destined to be his. During the four months of filming, he had to gradually reveal Zhou Zi Shu’s two thousand layers of gray, he had to find him, become him, and lastly live the rest of his life for him.

Actors are probably all like this, they always must pour in their own life, emotions, and experience to make the character come to life. The process of making the character come to life means the actors get to experience life and emotions once again.

"Life is experience, you need to put some of your experiences into your characters."

Hegel mentioned in ‘Lectures on Aesthetics’ - 艺术通过供观照的形象可以缓和最酷烈的悲剧命运, 使它成为欣赏的对象。(thank you @sixteenthshen for providing the original quote!)

the specific lines zzh mentioned is bolded: If we are in a general way permitted to regard human activity in the realm of the beautiful as a liberation of the soul, as a release from constraint and restriction, in short, to consider that art does actually alleviate the most overpowering and tragic catastrophes by means of the creations it offers to our contemplation and enjoyment, it is the art of music which conducts us to the final summit of that ascent to freedom.

The reason why those so-called pains are endowed with aesthetic tension may lie in ‘being watched with pleasure’. Those most beautiful things aren’t been torn in our real lives, they become one ‘tearing performance’ after another, being shown on the stage, shown on the screen. The existence of aesthetic distance made ‘those so-called pains’ into something that can be bearable, having its own appreciation.

That so-called ‘pain’ experience comes more direct towards actors, there’s not much room for leeway. In his previous interview, he commented that Zhou Zi Shu is the most memorable character, the character that hurt him the most. Talking about ‘getting hurt’ again, he thinks that is unavoidable.

"I say that an actor has to get into the character and get out of character quickly. But when you’re acting in a happy scene, that happy feeling might last for a day or few days. When you’re acting in a sad, heart-broken scene, even you say it’s ok, it’s fine, it won’t affect me. But it will affect your mood, including your actions. When I go back to my room, I can’t help but to think about that scene, I might not be willing to go out and walk around."

"So, do you think acting is a process of wearing yourself out and wearing emotions down?"

"Of course, of course, of course, it’s wearing myself out." He said of course three times consecutively, "it’s not just wearing my emotions down, it also wears my physical strength out, wears my experience out, and a lot of my own things. So, if I want to do well in a piece of work, I can’t go into the next crew right after I have finished filming. Because you will have traces of the last piece of work, it’s actually hard to accept and get into the next character."

"I personally really like to stay in the filming crew, the reason why I said Zhou Zi Shu is great is that we couldn’t have any other work due to COVID-19 restrictions. I was in the crew for 4 months, in peace. I was looking into and experiencing the character carefully."

On the day of the interview, the Q&A part about acting was the most ‘unrestrained’. Every time we throw out a question, we would always get a powerful and resonating reply. From the perspective of a bystander, you could feel that he is the kind of person that is shining in his professional field.

At the end of every drama/ film, he would choose to leave that environment, and go out to have fun for few days. "I’m not insisting that I need to disengage from the drama/ film, I just want to relax, return to myself, return to Zhang Zhehan’s life."

"So, when you’re looking at Zhou Zi Shu again now as a viewer, do you have any different sentiment?"

"Of course, I would think of the funny parts and incidents. A lot of interesting bits that I’ve added in myself, you can see it in the character." Fortunately, as an actor, he can also feel the happiness that ordinary viewers have.

In our conversation, the words that he mentioned the most were 'gentle yet strong'.

"I really like netizens' comments that Zhou Zi Shu is gentle yet strong."

"The quality that I admire the most now is gentle yet strong."

"I feel like now I want to be like Ah-Xu, someone who is gentle yet strong."

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, become a bit gentler."

He thinks this seemingly contradictory combination is very interesting, "strong describes a person who is strong, whereas gentle is soft. These two words may seem to have no connection, but when they’re put together, it’s also a perfect connection."

"I didn’t feel this way before. I used to think people have to be strong, powerful, how can you be gentle yet strong? I think that’s something I need to learn now. This person must make everyone around them feel comfortable and think of others, but at the same time he/ she is also an individual who’s very strong and full of capabilities."

"Like water, it’s like this when it’s calm, it’s like that when it’s surging high."

He used as many hand gestures as he could as he wanted to express what’s on his mind as much as possible.

Gentle yet strong, this is what he saw, felt from Zhou Zi Shu, and it’s also the character experience he most wants to leave behind.

"Speaking of what hasn’t changed for 11 years, is that I’m still acting; speaking of changes there are a lot. All these years of experience, it became my understanding of each character, in contrast, 11 years of acting experience allowed me to learn a lot from my characters."

To him, every big or small character he had in the past 11 years is a mutual encounter, he gave something to the characters, and the characters also left him with something.

Those who have seen his acting praise him that he truly understands Zhou Zi Shu, so we asked how he could stand in the perspective of Zhou Zi Shu to understand his words and actions. He doesn’t think that it was understanding, it just naturally happened.

"I didn’t deliberately try to understand him, I think what he did was just following his heart, that’s how I feel, so that’s how it should be. I would ask if it was myself, can I do that? Is it acceptable? If I think it’s ok, then it’s right. If I think it’s unacceptable, I will definitely tell the director - 'I don’t want to act this way.'"

"I read another book today, the main idea is the most important thing for people is to know themselves. Know yourself, know what kind of person you are, then you will know the world. You need to learn how to reconcile with yourself, learn how to communicate with yourself, tell yourself when you need to keep going, when to compromise, when you need to understand, when you need to be strong… you need to keep being yourself and convince yourself at certain times."

Meeting Zhou Zi Shu, to Zhang Zhehan is also the process of meeting and knowing himself. "But I’m probably not as mighty as Zhou Zi Shu," he laughed.

He thinks that he’s not at the age of looking back, the things that have happened, just let them go. "There’s nothing to remember in particular, there’s nothing memorable. And my occupation, a lot of people will remember for you, they will remember your good, remember your various moments, so I don’t need to remember. What I need to do now is to live well, my current life, future life, and get into the next role."

"When I can’t act anymore, I think I will look back more."

Now, he wants to challenge a new area, "I really want to act in movies, act in more movies. 40 episodes of acting and 2 hours of acting are different, condensed acting is the quintessence. I still need to learn how to act well in the 2 hours."

And "I hope I can be a director one day."

The beautiful scenery in spring is as deep and wide as the sea, it’s fortunate that we get to meet.

"My occupation, many people will remember every moment of yours."

"Immerse into my next character, and live well - that's what I need to do now. "

Translation by: KIMMYYANG

325 notes · View notes

hypocrisyofandrewdobson · 4 years ago

Text

Dobson's Patreon: An Addendum to His Monument of Sins

(The following is a submission from @soyouareandrewdobson, meant to be an addendum to the multi-post submission @ripsinfest made a while back. Ironically, this one also had issues when being submitted, so I’ll be copypasting it here with all the images and links originally intended.)

In 2018, user @ripsinfest wrote a multipart series of posts for THOAD, recounting Dobson’s attempt to establish a patreon in 2015 and how it resulted in failure on a massive scale, to the point that his patreon is arguably “a monument to all his sins”.

Personally I think the post series is extremely well researched, rather “neutral” in terms of tone (letting the posts provided as evidence speak more for themselves than the opinion of the writer) and gives a detailed but quick rundown on what went wrong. Primarily that Dobson overestimated his own “value” as an artist and did NOT attempt to give his few supporters what they wanted through his artwork posted around the time.

I do however want to use the opportunity to also point out at certain obvious things that in my opinion (and likely the opinions of others) added to the failure of the patreon account, that were not accounted for in detail and are primarily related to how the internet perceives popularity and Dobson’s inability to understand, how to “sell” and make himself look good to the public.

To begin with, let’s just point out a certain truth about making money via Patreon: To do so, depends a lot on your popularity as a content creator online. That is simply because the more popular you are, the bigger your fanbase is and as such the more likely a certain percentage of people may be willing to donate money to you and your work in hopes they get something out of it, even if it is just the altruistic feeling of having helped someone they “like”. It doesn’t take a genius to see, how e.g. internet reviewers such as Linkara or moviebob (around 2800 and 4400$ earnings via patreon each month respectively) can make quite some money, while other, more obscure content creator or artists barely make money to go by, earning essentially pocket money at best.

In addition, popularity is fleeting. A few years ago e.g. internet personality Noah Antweiler aka The SpoonyOne managed to earn 5000$ a month via patreon, just shortly after establishing his account. But his lack of content over the years AND his toxic behavior online resulted in a decline of popularity and with it people jumping off his Patreon. As such, Antweiler only earns nowadays around 290$ a month via Patreon and most of that money is likely form people who have forgotten they donate to him in the first place anyway.

And Noah is not the only one who over the course of the last couple of years lost earnings. Brianna Wu makes barely more than he does, despite having once been the “darling” of the internet when the Gamergate controversy was at its peak. Many Bronies who once made more than 2k via video reviews on a show about little horses at the peak of its popularity (2013-15) earn less than 300-800 on average nowadays because interest on the show as well as people talking about it has declined.

Heck, in preparation of writing this piece I found out, that one of the highest grossing patreons nowadays is “The last podcast on the left”, a podcast that earns more than 67k a month by making recordings on obscure and macabre subjects on a regular basis.

So there you have it folks: As the interests of the internet users change, so does the popularity of certain people online and -in case they have a patreon account or similar plattforms- their chances of making money via their content.

Which now brings us back to Dobson, who was not popular at all at that particular time and managed to become even less popular as the months and years passed by.

Sure, Dobson had his fans via deviantart, people knew who he was. But the later was more because of “infamy” than popularity and the number of fans he had accumulated online were representing people interested in him at least since 2005 and did not quite represent his actual present day numbers of supporters at the time.

And mind you, the number of supporters was less than 100k, most of them likely underaged deviantart users. And if my research indicates something, then that most content creators with a halfway decent patreon earning need at least 100k+ followers in total. Because of those fans, only around 1-3% will on average then spend money on you, if you actually create content they enjoy and on a regular basis.

Which brings up the next major problem: Dobson did not create content people enjoyed and that in more than one meaning of the word.

On one hand, as pointed out by ripsinfest, he barely released any content at all over 2015 after a few initial months, despite the fact that he was obviously active online a lot, as shown by his presence on twitter. On the other hand, the few things he did create were not the stuff people wanted.

As an example: If you go to a restaurant and pay for a pizza, you expect the cook to give you a pizza. If however for some reason he just gives you a soda, you get ripped off and never come back. In Dobson’s case, the thing people wanted was not pizza but comic pages. But what he delivered was mostly bland fanart, such as of Disney and Marvel characters crossing over or KorraSami. Sure, a few strips of “So…you are a cartoonist” were still released at the time, but not really many.

To give an overview: Taking the release dates on Dobson’s official SYAC site into account, he released around 16 strips of it between March and August of 2015, the last two being “No Leia” being titled “Zip line”

Afterwards, the next official strip released was “Anything at all” in October of 2016.

Now to be fair, there was at least one more strip at the time Dobson released via patreon, that is also save to see on kiwifarms and other plattforms, which has not been uploaded to his official SYAC page. Likely because he simply forgot about it.

But I think that in itself should tell you something about Dobson’s work ethics when it comes to his webcomics. He promoted his patreon in his own video as a way to ensure he can make comics in a timely fashion again for others to enjoy, but in an environment where certain artists are capable to create multiple strips per week at minimum, Dobson could overall not manage to produce more than 16 over a course of six months, which means an average production of 3 strips per month.

For comparison, Tatsuya Ishida of the infamous sinfest webcomic (a garbage fire of epic proportions from a TERF who I think should be put on a watch list) has produced on average 4 strips per week, including full page Sunday strips, for years and nowadays even releases stuff on a daily basis to pass the covid crisis. So a mad man who wants to see trnas people die, has better work ethics than Dobson.

In other words, people expected Dobson to actually get back into creating comics (with some even expecting a return of Alex ze Pirate), but he got in fact even lazier than before, releasing only SYAC strips and random fanart as a product. Which he then also tried to justify as his choice to make because a) he had mental health issues and b) no one can tell him what to do.

And sure, people do not need to tell you what to do. But when people pay/donate money to you expecting to get a certain product in return, they should get the product. Linkara e.g. by all means doesn’t NEED to review comics to have a fullfilling life, but he got famous for his reviews, people want to see his reviews and they pay him for those reviews. So obviously, he will continue those things.

Then there is also the fact that despite Dobson’s claims how he wants to create comics for everone to enjoy and that he aims to keep his artwork online for free so anyone can view it…(his exact words in his promotional video AND text on his patreon once upon a time)

youtube

…the reality was, that he wanted to use patreon as a paywall. Something I actually kinda pointed out at on my own account (shameless self promotion) once, but want now to elaborate a bit. Basically at the time Dobson opened up his patreon, he also was on the verge of leaving deviantart as a platform people could look at his work behind. Which he eventually did.

Meaning that the only major platforms for people to watch any “new” stuff by him were his patreon or art sites such as the SYAC homepage or andysartwork. Which granted, he did EVENTUALLY put his stuff on.

But unlike other content creators who would put “patreon exclusive” new content up on more public plattforms often within a few days, weeks or a month after making them “patreon only” at first, Dobson waited longer and did barely anything to promote his sites as places to look his stuff up for a public audience. In doing so creating a “bubble” for himself that hurt him more than it helped, as Dobson made himself essentially come off as a snob.

A snob who did not create content for everybody to enjoy, but ONLY for those willing to pay him at least one dollar per month. As evident e.g. by the fact that as time went by, certain content was never released outside of his patreon at all, such as a SYAC strip involving Dobbear screaming at the computer because he saw a piece of art that featured tumblr nose.

Lastly, there is the issue of his patreon perks and stretch goals.

See, his perks were essentially non existent. Aside of the beggars reward of “my eternal thank you if you donate 1 dollar”, two other perks that come to my mind were the following: If you donated up to 5$ at minimum, you got your name thrown into a lottery to potentially win buttons and postcards of his artwork. Unsold cheap merch from years prior he failed to sell at conventions basically. There was just a problem with that thing: That lottery thing, which he also was only going to initiate when he reached a stretch goal of 150 dollar a month? It was illegal!

Patreon itself has in their user agreement a rule that forbids people from offering perks that essentially boil down to “earning” something via gambling, which this lottery by Dobson was.

(THOAD chiming in here to add that, in addition to all this, he fully admitted he would be excluding Patrons that he “knew were clearly trolls” from the lottery. Which made the already illegal lottery also fixed, so...yeah.)

The next thing coming to mind was his “discount” on previous books of his he offered online, if you donated at least 10 bucks per month to him. Or to translate it: You would get a bare minimum discount at pdf files of books such as Alex ze Pirate and Formera (you know, the permanently cancelled Dobson comics) if you paid up 50-75% of their original price on Patreon already. And considering the quality of his early works, he should have given you at least a book per month for free if you dared to donate him that much.

As for the stretch goals… lets go through them, shall we:

100$: A wallpaper per month. Something he did provide with eventually, but barely. And after less than five of those he stopped to make them overall

150$: Monthly Gift basket Lottery, which as I stated, was illegal and almost got him into serious trouble with his account. Also not an initial stretch goal he made up but instead came up with a few months into his accounts existence. Finally it got temporarily replaced by Dobson playing with the idea to use 150$ per month to open up a server and art site where people could upload stuff for free similar to deviantart, but under his administration. Promising a “safe space” for other artists. Which considering Dobson’s ego and inability to accept criticism or delegate responsibilities would have likely ended like this:

175$: Establishing a Minecraft server for him and his fans to play on. Meaning Dobson would have just wasted time he could spend on creating comics to endulge in his Minecraft obsession.

200$: Writing a Skyrim children book. Aside of the legal nightmare that this could have been (I doubt Valve would have been happy of someone else profiting of their property) I have to ask, who was even interested in Skyrim by 2015 anymore? Sure, Skyrim was a popular game and it had its qualities, but it was also a trend that had passed by that time. So in other words, there was not a market to cater towards here.

300$: A strip per week guaranteed.

… are you fucking kidding me? 75$ per strip essentially? Something people expect you to produce anyway if you want to be considered a “prolific” creator worth supporting online? Imagine if certain internet reviewers would do that, telling you that if they do not earn at least a certain amount of money, they will not produce anything, period, or less than usual. And Dobson had already proven that he can release more than just one comic within a few days, if he is motivated by enough spite.

600$: Starting a podcast with his friends to talk about nerd culture. In my opinion could only work under the assumption that people even like the idea of listening to Dobson and his opinions. Which considering how very little people like talking to him sounds doubtful. Also, considering how Dobson tends to be late to the party when it comes to nerd culture, likely tending to be out of date faster than he could upload. Finally... what friends?

700$: Returning the love, as he says it, by donating some of the money patreon users gave him to other content creators. This in my opinion is the most self defeating cause possible. On one hand sure, being generous and all that. But essentially Dobson admits here he would blow the money people give him to support HIS art on others, essentially defeating the purpose of HIS own account. He also does not clarify how much of that money he would donate, meaning there was a high chance that he would spend less than 10% of it on other creators, only creating the illusion of support while putting the actual earnings/donations into his own pocket.

2000$: A massive jump ahead. 2000$ per month would result in him getting better equipment (as in a new computer e.g.) and as such “potentially” make more comics. Mind you, only potentially.

This goal in my opinion is also the most fucked up one. Primarily for the following reasons:

Lets say Dobson would have achieved the goal and actually earned over 2000$ per month for at least a year. His annual earning would have been 24k, minus whatever he had to pay as taxes and payment for using the patreon service. And what would he do with this money? Get himself a better computer and equipment by paying a minor fraction of it once. Then he could use that computer for years to come while still having over 10k in his account, plus his monthly earnings. And he may still just produce 3-4 comics a month of a series that has as much depth to it than Peppa Pig if not less.

Sure, many patreon users have 2k+ as a stretch goal on their accounts to signify that if they could make that much monthly, they could have the necessary financial security to focus their time primarily on their content instead of a regular job. And if the content they create is actually well made, many people would support that or be okay with it.

But 2000 dollars to buy ONE computer and not account for how this money will add up over time? And that in light of such profits people may actually expect you to create more than you barely do already? That is either a case of narcissism, plain stupidity because you can't look further than 5 feet or just shows how Dobson did not understand at all the tool he had at his disposal.

Bottom line: Dobson, like many times before, fucked it up. He overestimated the potential support and resulting profits he could make, he expected that his name alone would be enough to assure gainings instead of creating content to justify support and he was unwilling to really give his supporters anything worthwhile back.

And while I am sure that there were also many other factors guaranteeing his failure, those at least to me, were his "common" mistakes most other people familiar even with the basics of internet popularity would ahve avoided.

#long post #patreon #syac #submission #very long post #andrew dobson #adobsonartworks #tom preston #adobsonart #soyouareandrewdobson #ripsinfest

46 notes · View notes

theroyalmile · 4 years ago

Text

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog. Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times. There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see. But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare. So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way. Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing? More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable? Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us. There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame. That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now. So here we go.

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while. It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.

Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund.

Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer. This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one. I certainly needed a few.

The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to. It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief. It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November. My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.” A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure. I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next. I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event. That’s a longer story for later).

Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled. The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob. She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in. “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode. It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.” I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma. No returns, no exchanges.

I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.) This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair. Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself. And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body. I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer. And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later. To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life.

Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me. The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.” That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen. Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever.

Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old. I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I know some of what’s coming. On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming. Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life. I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious. Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.

So where are we right now? Taking it day by day. Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure. But all the same I feel truly lucky. This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable. Why? Well, I found this tumor. I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI. My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have. But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower. Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed. The fact that it was caught early: pure luck.

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle. I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human. If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true. There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others. Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me. I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.

And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume.

#cancer #breast cancer #personal #newly diagnosed

8 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 4 years ago

Photo

Satisfied?

We examine what Letterboxd reviews of Hamilton reveal about the musical’s cultural currency in 2020.

In this absolutely insane year, when our love of movies feels helpless in the face of pandemic-induced economic collapse, some extremely good decisions are being made on behalf of audiences. Studio Ghibli on streaming platforms. Virtual screenings to support art house cinemas. Free streaming of many important films about Black experience. And: Disney+ releasing the filmed version of Hamilton: An American Musical—recorded at the Richard Rodgers Theater in 2016 with most of its original Broadway cast—a year ahead of schedule, on Independence Day weekend.

“Superlative pop art,” writes Wesley of the filmed musical. “Hamilton wears its influences and themes on its sleeve, and it’s all the better for it. Lin-Manuel Miranda and his team employ an unlikely cocktail of not only hip-hop and showtunes, but also jazz (‘What’d I Miss?’), British-Invasion pop-rock (‘You’ll Be Back’), folk music (‘Dear Theodosia’) and Shakespeare (‘Take a Break’) in service of developing an impressively vast array of themes. This is a testament to the power of writing, an immigrant narrative, a cautionary tale about ambition, a tragic family drama, and a reevaluation of who decides the narrative of history.”

2016 may only be a half-decade ago, but it feels like an eon in American political years. With theaters dark and America’s long record of racism under urgent scrutiny, the complex smash-hit lands back in the spotlight at an interesting time. Is Hamilton “the most offensive cultural artefact of the last decade”, as Lee writes? Or “timeless and wholly of the moment”, as Tom suggests? The answer, according to a deep read of your Letterboxd reviews, is “all of the above”.

First things first: why now?

Sophie has a theory:

“Disney executive: Hey we’re losing a lot of money because our parks are closed. How do we start making money again?

Other Disney executive: It might be nice, it might be nice… to get Hamilton on our side.”

Sure, business. Still, it’s historically unprecedented that a Broadway show of this caliber (a record-setting sixteen Tony nominations, eleven wins, plus a Grammy and a Pulitzer) would be filmed and released to the public while it’s still, in a Covid-free universe, capable of filling theaters every night. Will people stay away when Broadway reopens because they’re all Disney+’d out?

No chance, reckons Erika. “I’d still kill to see Hamilton live with any cast… I get why producers are afraid that these videos might hurt ticket sales, but I’m fucking ready to buy a ticket and fly to NY one day just to see as many shows as I can after watching this.”

Not every musical fan has the resources to travel, often waiting years for a touring version to come near their hometown. And even if you do live in a town with Hamilton, the ticket price is beyond many; a daily lottery the only way some of us get to go. So Holly-Beth speaks for many when she writes: “I entered the Hamilton lottery every day for almost two years but I never got to be in the room where it happens… however, this 4K recording of the original cast will do very nicely for now! Finally getting to see the context and performances after obsessing over the music for years was so, so satisfying.”

“Finally” is a common theme. Sydnie writes, “I love this musical with every fiber of my body and it was an extraordinary experience finally getting to watch it in Australia”. Flogic: “To finally be able to put the intended visuals to a soundtrack that I’ve had on repeat for such a long time: goosebumps for 160 minutes.” Newt Potter: “Now I fully understand people’s love for this masterpiece of a musical!”

I’ve got a small query for you.

Where’s the motherfucking swearing? Unsurprisingly, Disney+ comes with some limitations. For Hamilton, it’s the loss of a perfectly placed F-word.

“I know Disney is ‘too pure’ to let a couple of ‘fucks’ slip by,” writes Fernando, “but come on, it’s kind of distracting having the sound go out completely when they sing the very satisfying ‘Southern Motherfucking Democratic Republicans!�� line.”

Will agrees: “Disney cutting ‘motherfucking’ from ‘Washington on Your Side’ felt like sacrilege akin to Mickey Mouse taking an eyebrow pencil to the Mona Lisa.”

Nevertheless, sings Allison:

“Even tho Disney stripped the story of its f***s, Don’t think for a moment that it sucks.”

(Yes, she has a vegan alert for Hamilton.)

Does it throw away its shot?

The crew filmed two regular shows in front of live audiences, with additional audience-less sessions for a dolly, crane and Steadicam to capture specific numbers. The vast majority of you are satisfied. “It’s the most engaging and expertly crafted life filming I’ve seen since Stop Making Sense,” writes ArtPig. “The film does an incredible job of placing you right in the action. It feels like the best seat you could get in the theater. You can see the sweat and spit.”

“Translates perfectly onto the small screen,” agrees Ollie. “There’s a level of intimacy that feels hard to replicate in any other filmed production. We see those close ups, the passion and gusto behind every actor’s performance.”

“Shockingly cinematic for something filmed on such a small stage,” is Technerd’s succinct summary, while Paul praises director Thomas Kail: “He knows when to back away along with moving nearer when appropriate, and the choices always serve to govern the power and stamina of the performances.”

Though cast members’ voices were recorded on individual audio tracks, Noah had a few quibbles with the sound quality. “Some of the audio capture is off in the recording, sometimes voices being too soft or too loud. It’s not immersion breaking, but it is noticeable enough to irk me a little in pivotal moments. Some of the shot composition doesn’t fully work either. Of course nothing is going to be as good as seeing it in person.”

Robert, recalling another recent cinematic escapade of musical theater, lets his poetry do the talking:

“This will do for now until the true movie’s made, Though if Hooper directs, there’ll be an angry tirade.”

I think your pants look hot.

Hamilton fans have their cast favorites, but something about being able to see Jonathan Groff’s spittle and Leslie Odom Jr’s scowls in 4K has you losing it all over again. Several specific shout-outs we enjoyed:

“Daveed Diggs the Legend! Go watch Blindspotting (2018), it’s one of the best movies ever!” —Kyle

“It’s hard to believe anyone will ever top Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr. I already loved him from the original cast recording, but seeing his full performance in all its glory was just godly.” —Erika

“Thankful that it was made possible for me to view with such clarity the phenomenon that is Renée Elise Goldsberry and spectacular Phillipa Soo.” —Thea

“Daveed Diggs was electrifying and Jonathan Groff was absolutely hilarious. If they interacted together the stage would’ve combusted from the sheer will of their talent.” —Nick

This is not a game.

On one hand, the release of Hamilton is sweet relief for music theater nerds riding out the pandemic. A generation of kids knows every word by heart, rapping (this version of) American history like it’s no thing. On the other, the Obama-era musical already feels behind-the-times, even for many Hamilton lovers, and the filmed version has brought that into sharp focus.

“I listened to the OG cast album about 50 times when it came out, the production is about as good as I’d always hoped,” writes Josh. “Since then however there’s been a very important and broader reckoning with the failures of neoliberalism and the Obama years ([from] which this has to be the most emblematic piece of art) and for me personally a drifting further to the left that has resulted in a very different relationship with the material. So my feelings today are a bit more complicated.”

“Hamilton is extremely non-committal about its politics,” writes Sting. “It doesn’t examine much of what Hamilton dictated besides ‘he wants complete financial control of the country’ (which would sound like a fucking supervillain in any other context, including reality).”

That lack of political commitment, reckons Morgan, is what helped Hamilton as a musical become so popular: “It’s fun. It’s catchy. It interweaves trendy and socially relevant artistic tools to infer a subversive subtext, while simultaneously sanitizing and, at times, flat out fabricating the historical narrative and downplaying the brutality of the true origin story, for the sake of appeasing those in power. Classic Bill Shakespeare stuff.”

History has its eyes on you.

Much criticism lies with the fundamental storytelling decision to make a modern ruckus about America’s Founding Fathers, the men (including Alexander Hamilton) who in the late eighteenth century united the thirteen colonies and co-wrote the Constitution. Undisputed titans of history, they also have blood on their hands, and HoneyRose writes that the musical “glorifies these men, and paints them as self-sacrificing heroes, and honestly normalizes and validates slavery, as well as the behavior of slave owners.”

Stevie, who saw the Broadway production as well as the filmed version, confesses: “I’ve tried (I’ve really tried) to understand what makes people lose their minds over this but I’m still completely baffled by the hype… These were horrible men and a romanticism of them through song and dance just seems entirely misguided.”

Sean is not convinced that Hamilton is a hagiography. “I can’t imagine anyone watching all of this and thinking it paints a portrait of the Founding Fathers as anything other than childish, greedy, venal and self-aggrandizing.” Wesley agrees: “I don’t think Hamilton is trying to be a history lesson, so much as a lesson about how we think about history. It’s a compelling human story told in a revolutionary way.”

That “revolutionary way” is the musical’s central conceit: that of a cast-of-color playing the white founding fathers as they bumble towards independence. Journalist Jamelle Bouie, who regards the musical as “fun, exciting, innovative and, at points, genuinely moving,” wrestles with the “celebratory narrative in which the Framers are men to admire without reservation. Through its casting, it invites audiences of color to take ownership of that narrative, as if they should want to take ownership of a narrative that white-washes the history of the revolution under the guise of inclusion.”

It’s complicated for Matt, too: “It’s widely agreed upon that the show encapsulates the Obama era better than anything, how it coddles white liberals with a post-racial vision of history in a superficial sense, overlooking the insidious and oppressive systems that they benefit from (hearing the audience clap to ‘Immigrants, we get the job done’ unsettled me). Of course hopefully its legacy will be that it opened up more Broadway roles for POC. But I really think that the show doesn’t make Broadway more appealing and accessible to POC, it just makes hip hop more accessible to white people, a launching pad of course to listening to Watsky or something.

“No hate though to anyone that’s completely in love with this, it’s definitely worth seeing despite any hang ups.”

I wanna build something that’s gonna outlive me.

The story doesn’t end, just because the music does. Kai_Kenn has a suggestion: “I have been a part of discussions that dissect the culture that created Hamilton, as well as the culture that Hamilton created, and whether or not Hamilton appropriately addresses the modern issues [that] the cult following proposes it does.

“This is an ongoing discussion that I am trying to be an active listener in and, if you consider yourself to be a conscientious consumer of art, you should too.”

Noah is on board with that: “Reflecting on the past and focusing on the future are not two mutually exclusive actions. Both are a must, regardless of who you are or what you do. A five-star experience in a four-and-a-half-star film. I think that’s just fine.”

Related content

Want to see more of the key cast? Watch Daveed Diggs in ‘Blindspotting’; Renée Elise Goldsberry in ‘Waves’, Jonathan Groff repeat his role as Kristoff in ‘Frozen 2’, Lin-Manuel Miranda in ‘Mary Poppins Returns’, Leslie Odom Jr. in ‘Harriet’, Phillipa Soo in the forthcoming ‘Broken Hearts Gallery’, Christopher Jackson in the forthcoming ‘In The Heights’, Jasmine Cephas Jones in ‘The Photograph’, Okiereriete Onaodowan in ‘A Quiet Place II’ and Anthony Ramos in ‘Monsters and Men’ and ‘A Star is Born’.

Ways to support the Black Lives Matter movement

Official Black Lives Matter’s Resources

Teenagers that have ‘Hamilton’ stuff on their bedroom walls

Films where they mention ‘Hamilton’

6 notes · View notes

kusunoki-tomori · 4 years ago

Text

How to get a Tomori sign for HAMIDASHIMONO (IMPORTANT UPDATE)

I wrote in my previous blog post about how if you buy from limista you can get a Tomori signed postcard. Here is how and with tips we found out from round 1. I’ll update this if they release new info for round 2. Last update: 7/20/2020

Sales for the 2nd round of signing starts 7/20 at 12:00 jst and ends 8/2 at 23:59. There will be 3 sessions available and the sign will be given out via lottery. You will not be charged if you don’t win so if you want one just buy one.

You can get 1 cd per session per version (4 cds x 3 sessions = 12 cds in total) (you could only win 1 sign per session though)

If you managed to buy from the 1st round, they will give priority to people who were not able to get a ticket form the 1st round so that more people can participate.

Important: You will only be charged if you won so if you were planning on buying just buy from a session anyways. You will receive a pending charge and it will only go through if you won so don’t panic if you see a pending charge on your card.

The 3 sessions are:

8/8 19:00jst 8/15 14:00jst 8/15 19:00jst

First before even talking about how to buy it we need to talk about being able to buy it. You will need a credit card. I know they accept VISA credit cards because they accepted mine when I bought during round 1 but I cannot say any other foreign credit cards work.

Also they do not ship overseas so you will need a proxy service like tenso japan or blackship. They will accept your mail and ship it to you when they get it. They’re pretty easy to set up but can take a while so I suggest looking into that as soon as possible.

When you click on the link above you will see something like this. Click the see more text (I have my mouse over it in the screen shot)

Scroll down and you will see something like this.

You can see that it’s for session 3. (session 4 is blue and session 5 is purple)

From top to bottom the items are First press limited edition version A First press limited edition version B Standard edition Limited edition (anime) There is no difference in the difference sessions except the time they take place. So just pick which one you want based on what’s inside. (Do note that they only have certain amounts of a certain version per session so each version might have difference chances based on how popular they are)

I’ve covered what each version has in my previous blog post so check that out.

When you click on the version you want you will be taken to a page that will look something like this.

Either click on the picture or the white text on the bottom right of your desired version/session.

The page will tell you to enter the name you want to have signed. Remember to use common sense when putting in a nickname. If they don’t approve of the nickname they will use the name on the shipping address you gave them. For example I used “Xinちゃん” as my name.Then you would click the green button and it will add it to your cart. There will be a pop up like this and it just means its been added into your cart.

Right above the green line(?) is where the cart is click on that and it’ll take you to your cart.

There will be a part where you can write a message but you can change that later so in an interest of time just leave it blank and click on the bottom right button for checkout.

Next it will as for you to enter in your address, put in your proxy service.

Next page click on the green button to enter credit card info.

In the interest of not being charged for something I don’t want I’m not going any further than this but this is pretty standard stuff of putting your card number exp date name and the 3 digit number on the back.

They will ask if you want to make an account and I suggest doing so if you want to change your message and nickname.

When the order is done you will be taken to your member page if you made an account and it’ll look like this.

You’ll be able to change the message and nickname here. There maybe a chance for your message to be read during the live stream so write something good! There is a 120 character limit so be concise. Also once again exercise common sense when writing your message.

When you’re done changing your message and/or nickname click the grey button and it’ll change it.

Good luck everyone!

#tomori kusunoki #kusunoki tomori #tomoriru]#hamidshimono

3 notes · View notes

geekygoddesss · 5 years ago

Text

B.F.F (Part 2)

Summary: Journey through the life of a girl whose heart belongs to her best friend, but he doesn’t feel the same way.

Words: 9.2k

Taglist: @dreamer-loves-lyrics (if you wanna be added, let me know)

She did not sleep that night.

It was impossible for her to know why or how but she could not sleep one bit after last night’s events and it was the worst feeling in the whole world. At least that is what she thought at the moment, because the feeling of having him sleeping soundingly by her side, so close but so far away and then that strange feeling of not being able to make her mind shut up and overthink every little thing that crossed her mind, were the perfect recipe to have her fidgeting all night and not being able to rest how she initially intended to and it was driving her crazy.

The minutes became hours and the seconds were eternal as she tried her very best to shut her body down for at least one more hour, but it was only until she started hearing those familiar birds singing right outside her window when she knew she would not be able to rest for one more minute, whatever she had in mind was foolish because her previous sleeping schedule was just a joke compared to the current events and just the thought of taking a couple of hours for herself to rest were instantly cancelled. Her day was already sketched out, she had no time for any extra sleep.

She woke up at first light and let her friend sleep it off and hopefully drown his hangover in his sleep; She opted to have a small breakfast and a full cup of coffee that would keep her up and charged for the next couple of hours, she put on some decent clothing, made her usual pancake mix for hangover day, got those done before she was too lazy to do them and then laid on the sofa, hoping that maybe (just maybe) her body would shut up at any moment and let her mind rest.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen and she knew that, especially after all of the things that went through her mind just a couple of hours ago, she was too awake and aware now. After last night events and a lot of thinking, it all has come down to this; she thought about it, had a good old pillow talk, analyzed it just like she has done before and know had a clear decision in her mind. She needed help because this was not normal.

It was not normal for her to get so nervous around him, it was not normal for her to be so jealous and it was not normal for her to keep having the same feeling about him after five years. It was time to move on. She really needed help and she was not going to get it just sitting down on her ass and waiting for something to happen, she needed to act rather sooner than later before her mind played her one bad trick and something disastrous happened.

That is just why she took again that last decision she made just a couple months ago over a mental breakdown. Right where she was she laid on her couch, waiting for her alarm to go off and just before it could strike, one minute before her selected time, she picked up her phone and she dialed that number written on that presentation card sitting on her coffee table, the one that she had pulled out with decision just when she woke up. She called and hope for the best, because only gosh knows how difficult it actually is to get professional help from the best of the best, or at least from the best recommendation she could find.

At least she tried, that’s what counted at the end of everything.

“Hello! Mrs. Davidson office, what can I help you with?” Said that sweet voice at the other side of the line after the fourth ring with a tired but still oddly polite and enthusiastic tone.

It was the only thing she wanted to hear in that particular moment and knowing someone answered at the other side of the line was just music to her ears.

Maybe it was a little extremist of her to be so rushed about such a thing that might or might not make some kind of difference in her, but before she could come down to any sort of conclusion, she needed to try and get professional help, just to see if her mind was in the right place, and it’s only fair to say she really wanted to try, because it has been a month worth of trying to get a hold of this and she was finally getting response from the only therapist worth paying to in the whole area.

and Oh lord she does need those sessions.

“Hi! Uh, I don’t know if you remember me, I’m (Y/n) Pritchett” She said nervously, already getting up and starting to pace around her living room in pure nervourness “I’ve been calling for a while now, I was wondering if you had any open places right now?” She asked, diving in directly to the point without any kind of filler, she needed it now. “Oh, honey, of course, I remember” She says sweetly after the mention on her name. She smiled a little in instinct, of course she remembered, this was not the first time she tried to reach them. “We just had a patient discharged from their sessions, you called just in time” She announced with some kind of happiness in her voice and made her heart beat faster.

She jumped in place in happiness, she felt like a winner, mainly because getting a spot in this place was so difficult this thing felt like winning the lottery, but also she saw some kind of hope in what her main goal was, she finally saw a solution to her problems and that was just what she needed right now.

It was an exciting moment, In fact, it was so exciting she didn’t think twice about it, she ran to the kitchen and picked up some pen and paper right where they always were, she didn’t want to lose any single detail, this was some important information.

“Yes yes yes” she said, her voice sounding like she was in a rush “Sign me in”

“Alright” the lady said, again, in that overly enthusiastic voice that seemed a bit odd to hear so early in the morning, “There are three sessions open at the moment if you want to take them, Are Thursday afternoons okay? At 5” She said, sounding like if she was moving stuff around and setting things down.

She moved quickly, grabbed her agenda and took the quickest look at it. She wanted to fricking yell in happiness right now, because that scheduling was just fitting so perfectly in her timing it was like destiny calling to her and she had no doubt to answer. “That’s perfect, thank you!” she cheered, writing down the day and time down as quickly as she could “Can I start this week?” she asked, hoping for a quick answer. “Of course” The lady answered right away “I’ll just need a phone number and....” that’s where she stopped listening, from now on it all seemed like just words floating in the air for her, because she was so excited she was just giving out every single piece of information they need, it was worth it.

She wrote down everything, from the timing she had to take to the place to all of the information she needed to bring with her, address, phone numbers, possible prices for extra timing, everything. She needed to be completely sure she would be ready for this new therapist because after getting a date with her there was no going back. It won’t happen twice.

“Thanks, thank you” She said, once she had all of the information down and could finally breathe properly “Thank you so much, I will be there” she assured, nodding various times as she heard the secretary say her greetings at the other side of the line and hung up the call.

Finally.

Her mind finally seemed to relax a little bit and some of that tension left her shoulders, finally, she would be able to talk about her situation openly to someone who will help her do something productive about it. It was all she wanted and needed.

It was needless to say that even when she still had two days left to that appointment, she was already feeling pretty excited to show up in that office, she has never been with a therapist, she was never tried to go to one (until now), so going for the first time seemed like a big deal and she was excited about it. She could not wait to know what the hell was happening to her, because at this point, she didn’t even know a fraction of it anymore. She needed to know more.

She took one minute to close her eyes and breathe properly, letting her muscles relax a little after she finally got what she wanted, because this is pretty much what’s been keeping her up all night, the thought of being so torn on the inside and the feeling of looking for help but not knowing where now she knew where to start and that was a good feeling inside of her.

Her thoughts were heavily interrupted by the series of grunts sounds and motion of things moving behind her back that scared the shit out of her. Those really came in as a surprise and she was seriously at the verge of having a heart attack once she heard those out of the blue. She turned around way too quickly, she had almost forgotten Luke was still there, sleeping his ass off back in her bedroom, which apparently was not a thing anymore, now that he was all awake and serving himself a pancake while eating another one with his hand. She bit out a curse, because that was what she felt like doing once she turned to see his tall figure in front of her, she had totally forgotten about his presence and now she was speechless, it was like she’s seen a ghost, it was weird of him to be up this early in the morning, especially in this state, so her being surprised could be easily justified.

“Good morning” He said in a mumble, glancing over at her and walking to the kitchen counter in a slow motion to take a sit, a clear sign that he was not in the mood and not on the right energy.

“Hello” she answered, putting her phone down and away, as she tried to calm her breathing down that perfectly matched her heavy beating heart. He had really scared the shit out of her, it was not even funny.

Although he was looking like a total mess, in her eyes he was still glowing like any other morning. His hair was a complete mess of curls and tangles, suited by the small peaks of sunlight that came from the window and made his hair look like gold strands on top of his head. His eyes were sleepy and still so bright, his body curved in one lazy posture that could never look attractive for any other person but not for her, this was his worst look and even on it, he was looking flawless on her eyes. The way he walked around her kitchen barefoot and shirtless, with that heavy look on his eyes after his sleep and not feeling even a bit annoyed for having to deal with her so early in the morning was something that seemed so small but very valuable, and silently, she wished for herself that this could be something she was able to see every morning, because it was one hell of a show she wanted to look at forever.

Shit happens though and now it was on her to move on from things like this and she will not get it distracting herself with things like this. This was one clear call that she needed to focus, he is just a friend, she needed to act like so. “Oh wow, you couldn’t wait for me to get in those pancakes” She sighed, trying to not look like she was just pushed at the verge of a heart attack and intending to act cool. “They are calling my name” He excused himself in one weak and raspy tone that made clear he was sleeping just a couple of seconds ago.

For some reason, his voice sounded so sweet for her, like music to her ears…

Focus. “Right” She nodded, pushing all of those things she had in hand aside and proceeding to grab some pancakes herself.

He did not look at her at any time since he sat on the table, he was just there, leaning both of elbows over the counter and resting his forehead on his hands. Some may say he is crying, but she knows him too well, the reason he is like this only means he is feeling too much to even be awake by this time and the whole world might seem to weight a heavy one on him after one crazy night. She understood that feeling so well and with him, she knew what it looked like.

“What time is it?” He groaned, pecking over to the side just to see her pour herself a cup of coffee and sprinkle a couple chocolate chips over her pancakes. “For you, It’s early, it’s 9” She chuckled, looking over at him for a small second just to see his reaction because he had clearly zero sense of what was happening around him at this time. “God dammit” He groaned hard, dramatically letting his fist fall on the table and shaking his head “this is not right” he stated, closing his eyes as an emphasis.

There was nothing she could do or say more than to laugh, because that was somehow true, this was not right; on a regular hungover morning she would usually expect him to get up around three in the afternoon, sometimes four if the night was too heavy on him, but today it was like he felt extra especial and decided to get up earlier than ever, maybe something was up, it was weird and yes, it was not right. He would have to get through that though. “How are you feeling?” she asked, walking over the counter to leave her plate over her assigned spot and taking advantage of this to take one good look at him.

He was still a beautiful mess. “My head is killing me” he admitted, still not daring to open his eyes and pressing them together tight with annoyance “It’s like a small ticking bomb is going on again and again-” “There’s an Advil there, take it” she interrupted before he kept going because they both knew he could go on with the whining for a while. She grabbed the box she laid there earlier and pushed it his way, along with the cup of water beside it. “You really went in last night, holy crap, you could have warned me about it before, I would have prepared myself mentally to babysit twice” she said, totally ruining his whining moment and turning it into one small pep talk, but he didn’t need it, at least not now, his whole self was feeling too crappy and unstable to give a damn.

However, she still had a point. Whenever this kind of days came and Luke would come to her for moral support on those drunk nights, it would usually be on the kind of nights were she had to charge batteries to take care of her little brother on the next day, which was certainly a job on her eyes, so having to take care of a baby and then one big baby earlier that day was for sure double the job, but she didn’t complain about it, she was fine with it. “Funny” he mumbled, opening his eyes just a tiny bit to have one look at her to then say “I’m sorry for not telling” She nodded “Apology, barely accepted” she teased, before grabbing the metal spatula sitting on the right side of the counter and pointed it at him “Next time you knock my door so late at least have someone call me” she warned in a not completely serious tone, but still somehow serious “Understood?” she asked, raising one eyebrow as he processed what the hell was going on and decided on what to do. He raised both hands off the counter and looked up at her straight “Put the spatula down” he said slowly and totally following her lead “I’m innocent”

She chuckled, nodding a little as she lowered the tool and rolled her eyes “Yeah, right” she mumbled, giving a step back “Coffee?” she asked, now in the mood to wake him up in a better way than this.

“Black” He said in answer, even though she only needed a yes or a no, she knew how he had his coffee in the mornings.

They would usually either have small talks or really in depth talks at this times in the morning, it was their thing whenever one of them stayed over, it was like their time for catching up and to build up whatever their mood was going to be for the day. On mornings like this, it was when he would think clearer, even when hangover, so she thought it would be a good time have a good check in him and see what’s been going on in his life, make sure he was okay, because after last night she didn’t exactly know what was going on in his head and she was fairly intrigued by that, she just wanted to make sure he was doing fine.

“Who was that on the phone?” He asked, swallowing down the pill with some water to them munch on a piece of pancake from his plate.

Her feeling sparked in one split of a second.

Has he been listening to her conversation? How long? and what part of it?. She had a million questions but she had to act natural.

“No one” she said, pouring out some of his coffee in a mug “Just, you know..” she continued, trying to find the right word and excuse to drown down any sort of questions. So she looked over her shoulder and meet his eyes “Dentist” she answered, hoping it would work.

“Ouch” he cringed, scrunching his nose at the mention of such a thing “is it that bad?” he asked.

It was no secret that Luke Hemmings was not the bravest person when it came to going to the dentist, so in his case, he would only show up at this kind of places either at the most painful times or when someone made him go, so hearing that his best friend would have to go there meant that she could possibly be in pain. She stayed still, shrugging a little bit “My tooth hurts” she simply said, turning to him and walking on his direction to hand him his cup of coffee. “Oh man” he said, grabbing the cup for himself “that could be your wisdom teeth you know? I heard this is the age when they start bugging around” he mentioned, cringing even more “When is your appointment due? Do you need company?”

Now, he was probably asking too many questions and she needed to drown them down as best as she possibly could, this lie didn’t need to be a bigger lie. “No thanks” she said, taking a seat on the table “I’m sure it’s just a small thing, doesn’t feel like wisdom tooth pain” she assured him with a very awkward chuckle “it’s whatever”

He looked at her with a weird gaze as she dug in her pancakes and instantly knew there was something up with her. How? she didn’t know, he just knew she was not being completely honest with him, maybe it was because of how awkward she was acting, or maybe because she was giving him too little information, he just knew something didn’t felt right; however, he just let it pass, it was too early to think, he would ask later. “You’re acting weird” he mentioned, grabbing the small syrup container on the table and fixing his pancakes up.

Her eyebrows raised up high, suddenly fake acting like she was upset. “Don’t talk to me about weird, you are the weird one here mister Rum Coke” she chuckled, pointed at him with her fork, which was a bit intimidating in a way if you asked him.

He closed his eyes and nodded. He knew this was coming in some way. He came here drunk in the middle of the night, gave her one accurate but still a bit distorsionated version of what went down that night and then slept it off, he couldn’t sit here and just pretend like nothing happened, he was almost in the obligation to explain himself, especially to her, he owed her a lot.

“How bad was it? Give it to me straight” he asked, knowing that she could possibly know more than himself about what his actions were in his drunk state.

Things were partly crazy and part underwhelming, but he still needed to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, not only for his image but for his safety, her safety. All he needs is for her to fill up the empty spots of the story in his head if she even knew what happened around those times.

“Did I break something? Fucked something? Said something weird? I would like to know” he kept asking as she ate, slowly stopping to grab the next bite as she heard his questions loud and clear. “You don’t remember anything?” she asked in disbelief. “I remember most of it but I just want to make sure” he said, raising both of his eyebrows and shrugging.

They stared at each other deeply in the eyes, one of them waiting for the other to speak first, but they both knew he was the one who needed to start off with something because after last night, she only knew so little about what happened and she needed to know until what specific point he had memories of the night, she couldn’t just guess and tell him the full story, she wasn’t even there. She wasn’t invited.

“Okay, so, I went there and had a good meal and I promise I was completely sober by that point” He started telling the story, making his very best to narrow it down but at the same time not hide the important details “Mitchy got there with the rest of people at one, I think, and we went outside, lit up a blunt, that’s when things seem a little blurry and then... Tatiana” he said, closing his eyes at the awkward reminder of that weird moment. “Sweet Sweet Tatiana” She teased, grabbing a bite of her food.

He ignored that, he didn’t want to touch on the subject of how a stranger grabbed his ass on the first hook up. “I don’t know how I got here after” he admitted, moving on from his story, but he had a bad feeling about this one.

Her eyes sparked to the mention of this one because her posture changed into a straight one and the corners of her mouth went into a straight line. “I do, you drove” she said, almost containing herself into pouring out all of her feeling about that situation. “Are you still in the mood for a speech about personal and community safety?” She asked, leaving her food aside and totally getting serious about the matter. He closed his eyes “I’d rather not” “Good because it’s incredibly irresponsible” She started, knowing how annoying she was probably being at the moment, but she didn’t care, he needed to know. “You know who never gets drunk? Michael, you could have waited for Crystal to get drunk and ask for a lift like we all do” She went on, making sure he knows he definitely had other options than driving himself “you could have called me to pick you up, you brother is here too! You could have told him to take you home, you literally have no excuse, you could have run over someone, Luke, it’s a big deal!” her voice raised a little, and even herself found it to be annoying, but it was necessary, pep talks are never supposed to be nice. “Okay, in my defense, she was not drinking and I’m very sure Michael was tipsy and Jack didn’t even go, he had to work today or something” he said, munching on his food and still keeping a low attitude on this. “My point is still there, Michael and Crystal always desígnate a driver, you could have asked” she said, shrugging, she knew this by heart, she would always come back home with one of them whenever she went partying and this was pure proof that Luke had zero excuses for drunk driving. Hopefully, he learned something. “So, you had a date” he changed the topic, smiling cynically and hoping she would drop that last topic, because his head hurt and he was in no mood to talk about his responsibilities, he knew he was irresponsible. The way she stopped only to glance at him and then roll her eyes was powerful, she even let out the most bitter chuckle he has ever heard he do at this time in the morning, but she wasn’t mad or anything, she was just trying to make him see that what he did was wrong and she did that successfully, but maybe this was something it would be better to talk about when he was on his five senses, so she dropped it, just like he wanted to, it was no time to get in this kind of conversations.

“I thought you’d mention that, nice way to change the topic by the way” she chuckled, pointing at him with her fork for a couple of seconds before letting it go completely. she was shaking her head in agreement, she would touch on this particular topic later when he had full awareness that this was completely dangerous. “Tell me all about it” he nodded, leaning in on his seat and getting serious. She narrowed her eyes before saying “We’re not done” she said in a threatening tone. “Just tell me” he said, totally sounding like he was tired, but he really wasn’t. She got it, though, he was in no mood to talk about such thing and he didn’t blame her, because she wasn’t either, at all.

She took a small second to have a recap of what went down for her night and what kind of feeling it brought to her. It was not like she had much to say about it because it was seriously underwhelming, and if there was someone she didn’t want to be commenting this with, was him, because he is the one person that makes her feel real feelings and the guy who she tried something with was nowhere near what he could be. She didn’t need to be discussing that with him, and yet here she was. “It was okay” she simply said, nibbling on pieces of her food and not looking directly at him.

Again, she really didn’t have much to say about it since it was literally the most boring and simple date she’s ever had, she didn’t want to be talking about it, she told him last night anyways. If only he remembered the whole thing, if only he hasn’t been that drunk, if only he would leave this kind of topic for some other time like he did with him. “Just okay?” he asked, completely being uncomfortable and not conformed with her answer. “It was alright, I told you already” she said, shrugging, but that wasn’t enough, he was looking at her with this look that was so demanding she could feel the pressure on her. So she took a quick bite of her food and gave him whatever he wanted. “Right, Uh, we went to this Italian restaurant and had dinner, it was really nice” she said, starting up her story. “What did you had?” he interrupted her before she could even start up properly. “Pasta” “Okay, go on” he allowed, moving his hand in confirmation that she could keep going. She nodded, understanding what she said and taking one small sip of her coffee. “Then we went for some beer and he dropped me off here” she explained, pretty much closing up the story and going back to her number one priority, Food.

Luke stayed quite all of that time, waiting for more information, details, a story, but none of those things came in, because there was no story aside from that, there was nothing worth talking about, it was just a regular date with a regular guy that didn’t have anything exciting in his life. That was all. “That’s it?” he asked in a surprised tone, clearly waiting for something else to come up, but with that kind of date nothing more than that could ever come up. “That’s it” she shrugged at his reaction.

His face was really one beautiful poem, because as he tried to get through the horrible feeling of having a hangover he was also trying to get through the fact that his best friend had a date and it was the least interesting date in the history of date, he wished he could know more, but there was nothing more than that to know. “Didn’t he tried to stay in for a while longer, at least?” he asked, clearly being upset over this story more than she was. “Nope, he drove me here at midnight and that was it” she shook her head, not really helping on the situation of how boring this was.

He sighed, rolled his eyes and put the biggest piece of pancake in his mouth, already being over this story and not believing she has such back luck on this one. “Bummer” he groaned, sighing deeply. She didn’t know how else she could make him know that she didn’t care about it at all, so she just nodded and followed his lead. “He’s boring anyways, I don’t care, I was the only one talking the whole time, to the point my throats was just so tired of making sounds” she mentioned, chuckling at that but it was really not funny. One deep silence felt between them, that only lasted a couple seconds before she let out the most important detail. “he ordered for me” She said, in small tone, which didn’t make the situation any better.

His eyes went wide, he was left speechless and the most bitter laugh ever left his mouth in disbelief. “What?!” he exclaimed in surprise. She nodded “Was it good?” he asked. She pressed her lips together. Now that was a tricky question.

“Carbonara” she said, shrugging. It was not that bad, but not that good, pretty average. He blinked in pure surprise “Fuck” he let out without any second thoughts “and he made you pay for that? That sucks” he said, frowning even more as he spoke.

She sensed he was getting a bit upset about the situation and she guessed it would probably be better if tried to make the story a bit better. But that was not possible in any way. “I don’t care, I like carbonara” She excused in one blank tone, acting indifferent about the situation “pizza looked great though” she added, knowing by heart it would not make the situation any better, but she was speaking the truth after all. “He’s not right for you, you deserve a lot better” Luke said without any kind of hesitation, not even thinking about it twice. “Yeah” she chuckled, trying to agree with him but that would be a bit pathetic.

Instead, she looked down, not being able to hold any sort of eye contact anymore and trying to focus on something else, anything else, that could possibly go through her mind. This is why she didn’t like discussing her love life with him because it was just so pathetic it was kind of painful to be admitting such things out loud. The fact that he was playing a big part in that was also not helping in anyway, she just wanted to move on from this.

To her sudden silence, Luke takes it as a chance to give her some support, because he could see she was now feeling weird and as her best friend he wanted to do more, he felt like he had to do something, like it was a responsibility for him and he didn’t mind it at all, he would give her support at anytime. So he leaned over the table and placed his hand over hers. She froze, this was not something that she expected from him.

“Listen to me” he said, now in a serious tone “if he takes you on a date and doesn’t pay for your food, don’t makes the minimal effort to keep you with him a little longer, can’t grow balls to make up more conversation and keeps you talking the whole time, it’s a clear sign, he’s not right for you” he keeps going, growing more and more serious each time and totally making her nervous.

She didn’t know what to say, the fact that his hand was holding her like that made her a bit nervous and she couldn’t help but think, this could turn out differently if she wasn’t such a coward, she could grab his hand back, look at him in the eyes and just say it, speak her real feelings out loud and finish with all of this mental conflict inside of her head, but she wouldn’t do that. This was no moment for something like this and she new it, she had to keep going with her original plan. “Sometimes you win sometimes you lose” she simply said in one weak tone. He pressed his lips together, nodding in understanding as he said “You just have to look for someone you’re really in love with, not just any guy, someone who is really worth your love, you know?” he stated, giving her one small and supporting smile.

She appreciated the effort. She really did, but he had no idea... “I know” she softly, smiling back at him and nodding, already giving up with this whole situation and ready to move one.

The second she felt his hand squeeze hers, was the same second she decided to pull her hand away and put it right on her lap. It made her nervous, this kind of contact for them was usual, but sometimes, it was still weird for her to be this...intimate, especially giving her current situation, she needed to distract herself from this.

“Anyways” she nervously laughed, making more than clear that she didn’t wish to speak anything else about this matter.

He nodded, understanding her signal and moved on. “Are you doing something today? You’re already dressed” he asked, looking at her up and down and sipping on his own coffee.

She was so glad he asked such a thing. This was just the thing she wanted to talk about. “It’s my weekend with Joe” she said, growing one big smile on her face “Wanna come with me and see how far he can throw a baseball this time?” she said in an inviting tone, hoping she would make the situation seem more attractive than it was.

Her parents and her have had a deal ever since her little brother was old enough to count to ten and it was that every weekend, any of those two days, she would get the chance to bring him over to her apartment and have a sleepover, so they could have some time alone and she could have some quality time with her little brother. It was a deal that she couldn’t deny and for three years, this has become her weekly routine that she couldn’t seem to break, she liked it way too much.

However, as much as Luke loved that kid, he scrunched his nose at the sound of that plan; maybe he wasn’t in the mood or just didn’t feel to deal with a kid right now, but it was not looking like he was up to it, even when she seemed excited about it, like she was on any other weekend. “I think I’ll pass” he said, hissing a bit as he nibbled on his pancake “Why is that a big deal again?” he asked, apparently not understanding what was the big deal with baseballing now.

She was never the sportsy kind of girl and the fact that she was going baseballing with her brother was kind of odd to hear because she would usually be the one to pass on anything that would involve physical activities. He supposed Joe was the exception on it. “Because he’s the worst in his baseball team and on that last game he had his coach said he wasn’t bad” She said, raising both hands dramatically “big deal” she signaled to then nod in his direction “What about you? Any plans for today?” she asked, with a quirky smile on her face. He smiled just a bit, showed her a bit of a smile and gazed on her direction “How did you know?” he asked, somehow expecting her to not know he actually had plans. To that she just rolled her eyes “You put out a record two weeks ago, of course you got things to do today” she said, like it was totally obvious even when it wasn’t, it was just the kind of things she has come to figure out through years of watching do the same thing over and over again. “So?” she asked, with some sort of intrigued tone.

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down as he dug deep in his pocket. “Ugh, I don’t even know” he admitted, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and handing it in her direction without saying much. “Alright” she nodded, taking the device and sliding it her way, he didn’t even need to tell her what to do, she already knew.

With certain expertise, she grabbed his phone and typed down the password, getting immediate access to his home screen. She swiped her finger here and there until she found his pre-made agenda and opened it up, it was shining with so many colors and words, that could only mean one thing, he was very busy and there was no getting out of this one, hungover or not.

“Uh, you have an interview at two” she pointed out reading the content of the agenda out loud “Actually three of them, there’s a note that says Ben isn’t picking you up” she mentioned, literally reading the words plastered in there. “What a prick” he said, talking about his manager, that sometimes could be some sort of a prick, but there was no much he could do about it. She didn’t say much, she just kept going “You have a studio session at night and after that... nothing else” she finished, leaving his phone down, after checking for a second time if there was something else, but there wasn’t, that was it.

He groaned at the reminder of his duty for the day, leaned his head back and let out one heavy sigh. “Is it wrong to say I don’t want to go?” he said lazily, closing his eyes in annoyance. “It’s kind of part of your job” she shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with her fist. Hopefully, it would wake him up a little bit. “I know that, but I don’t feel like doing promo” he admitted, showing up his teeth in one dramatic expression and shrugging. “Wow, this is weird” she said sarcastically trying to be funny about it make him light up “a rockstar refusing to go in front of the camera” she gasped, not meaning any part of her words. “It’s not that” he stopped her right away “You know? I love meeting my fans but sometimes I just wanna say” he starts, stopping himself for a second before mouthing “Hi! I really appreciate your support, but please don’t ask for my number, or put your hands on my abs for no reason, don’t get overly handsy, don’t ask about Petunia, and yes, I know my accent it’s weird, it made a natural evolution, please don’t act like it’s gone because it isn’t!” he exclaimed for all sudden, making her jump back a little at that sudden sound.

She guessed this was his way of drowning how much he didn’t want to work on this particular day. “You are really kind of a prick in the mornings” she chuckled, rolling her eyes “You love your fans” she said, almost as a reminder.

There was no way he could fight this one, so he just sighed deeply and mumbled “I do, I really do” he nodded, turning on her direction to then look at her, his big blue eyes opening up and saying with a clear begging tone “Come with me, please”

It was certainly one difficult petition, especially now. “I can’t” she denied immediately, shaking her head. “Please?” he begged, going to grab her hand one more time, but this time, just as a begging method. “I have to be with Joe” she argued, not really giving an excuse but stating a fact.

“Bring him in” he argued back, squeezing her hand and being extra annoying this time. “They don’t let kids on sets” she sighed, now becoming a bit irritated. “They will if I ask” he argued, being too sure about something he didn’t even know “please?” he begged one last time, trying his very best to convince here. “I don’t know about that” she said in a dry voice, pulling her hand away from his and going back to her food “I mean, I can drive you there if you want, I don’t mind doing an extra stop” she shrugged trying to bring the best solution she could but she knew for him that wouldn’t be enough.

He didn't seem to love that one, but he managed to deal with it.

He leaned back on his sit and accepted that she will not be with him through this day, took one big breathe in and said. “You are one difficult girl” he said and that was a fact.

She could only laugh “Sue me” she said, rolling her eyes “I would go if I could, but I can't” she said, speaking all of the truth.

She was not about to give up an afternoon baseballing with her brother to bring him on an interview, only gosh knew how boring those were, she wouldn’t make Joe go through the pain of those. Luke could whine all he wanted but it was simply not going to happen, she was not going to take her little brother to a closed room where all he could possibly do was sit down and stay quiet, he was seven, he wouldn’t know how to do that and that would for sure get them in trouble, she was not about to make him go through that just to please Luke; on a regular situation she would go without a question, because she didn’t mind to go there herself, but with a kid, it was just mission impossible.

Luke was clearly not pleased with her answer, he leaned both of his elbows on the table and rested his face on his hands, giving his mind a short rest and processing pretty much everything, there was a lot happening around him, he probably was having a headache about every single one of those things. So she let him have his moment. She kept eating in silence, letting him go back to his ‘normal’ self and give her one coherent answer or just say something to make her know they were alright, she knew he was a bit upset for not having her company on today's duties, but she had responsibilities too and she was going to make those happen, she had to.

“If I say we could go baseballing after all this, will you go?” He tried just one more time, pecking in between his fingers to look at her.

She hissed and shook her head immediately “I’m sorry Luke” she said and she meant it, there was nothing she could do about that.

He seemed to understand, at least at first, when he started to nod his head at her final words, but she felt bad, she felt like she was being a little mean to him even when she didn’t mean to or acted like so, he wanted her company outside inside of his job and she was denying to go even when he really wanted to, she felt bad for letting him down in this one, but she guessed he understood the reason why.

“I could possibly stop at yours when you’re done if you want” she offered, breaking her last piece pancake and putting in her mouth.

That one offer almost seemed like the last solution she could give and he seemed to agree to it in some way because his eyes lit up just a little and he gave her a small nod in agreement. “Deal” he said, dragging both of his hands along the perimeter of his face with a very annoying groan and letting the slide to the table counter, making its way to her hand back again and grabbing it with both hands before she could get up to wash her now empty plate. “You’re the best, did you know that?” he let her know, kissing the back of her hand. This kind of gestures from him made her feel extra weird and stressed, so she said nothing, she continued munching on her pancaked and gave him a quited “Mmm” sound as she got up and got out of his hold, it was too much for her, she didn’t want to have to deal with it for another time today.

So she got up from her seat without saying much and got to do the dishes, even when there were only three things to wash, this was something that for some reason took her mind of things and she needed a little bit of that right now. They stayed really quiet for a long time. Him, finishing his food and answering to old messages that have remained unanswered until now; Her, washing everything up and trying to bring to herself happy thoughts to get her head out of how he held her and how much it made her freak out, she was trying to get herself out of the possibility of becoming a total psycho, because freaking out over such dumb things was totally a psycho thing.

She took her time washing her plate and whatever remained dirty on her sink and once she finished, the moment she turned around was like crashing into a wall while at the same time getting a heart attack, because there he was, blocking her way and looking down at her, clearly wanting something from her. He was really becoming a specialist on scaring the shit out of her.

“You alright?” he asked innocently, clearly sensing there was something wrong with his friend. It took her a brief second to answer, she needed to stop being so awkard “Yeah” she nodded, trying to act natural “just thinking, I don’t know...” she shrugged, totally running out of words “None sense” she shook her head, waving it all away like it was nothing. He frowned, totally knowing something wasn’t right. “Tell me, I won’t judge you, you can tell me anything” He said, looking down at her and laying both hands on her shoulders.

Why did he keep touching her? God dammit. Didn’t he see it was freaking her out? Didn’t he noticed he drove her head over heels? “I know that” she assured him, quickly nodding “it’s nothing, there’s too much in my head, that’s all, no biggie” she quickly said, trying to really make it seem like she was cool, but she wasn’t.

Something must have given it away, because once she felt herself fidgeting, like she did all of those times where she was just… nervous, was the moment his hold became a bit stronger and now he was not only touching her but caressing her shoulders in one comforting move, he knew her so well, he knew she had something in her head and she would let her tell him whenever she felt ready, there was no rush, for her, he had all the patience in the world.

Again, he had no idea…

“Hey” he said in one comforting tone, catching her attention and making her look up at him “Come here” he commanded, extending his arms to both sides in an inviting move.

She found funny how he didn’t hug her right away, it was clearly a pure invitation. “Why?” she chuckled, trying to bring out her sarcastic self.

He chuckled, keeping his arms up and looked down at her weirdly “Haven’t you heard I’m a hug machine? A hug from mine can fix anything” he assured her with a big of a bragging tone “I have extra hugs for you, anytime” he let her know, raising his hands even more and waiting for her to do something.

She just couldn’t say no to that. It only took her a full second to take a step forward and hug him tight and close. He was right, somehow a hug from him was really making her feel a lot better. The way he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back were comforting and she was really feeling a lot more calm about…everything.

That was the power he had over her. It worked wonders, even in the most stressful moments.

“Don’t you worry bout a thing” he said to her in a mumble “Dates go bad and that’s okay, you’ll find another one, easily” he said in confort, even when that was not the thing that was bugging her head at the moment. “Right” she mumbled, pressing her forehead against his chest. “You’re the best of the best of the best” he continued, leaning down and kissing her head “and I love you” To that, she smiled. He was so sweet to her, that was one of her favorite things about this boy. Maybe she wasn’t his significant one, but sometimes, he would make her feel just as special as one.

“Thanks Luke” she smiled, looking up at him “I love you too” “and you make the best pancakes in the world” he kept going, clearly making this one set of compliments. “They’re not bad” she chuckled, shrugging a bit. “And I am sorry for showing up drunk so late, it won’t happen again and I’m sorry” he finally let out, after a long time in what he’s been awake this morning “and I am sorry for drunk driving” he apologized for a second time “it was irresponsible and you have full permission to slap me if I do it again”

She had to laugh at that, she would never slap him, but she could see he was genuinely sorry about it and that’s what it counts. She was happy to see him recognize his mistakes. “That’s just what I wanted to hear” she nodded, laying her hand on his chest and palming it a couple of times. “Now, What do you do next time?” she said, just checking. “Wait for Crystal to get drunk and ask Michael for a ride” he repeated her previous words in a very monotone tone. “Good boy! you learn fast” she cheered with a small chuckled and palmed his chest one more time, a signal for him to step back, and he did.

As a price for his good understanding of what he should not do on drunk nights, she pushed the plate of remaining pancakes his way, to what he smiled and took without a question. She would usually store those for later, but he earned them, he could do whatever he wanted with those.

“Eat, would you?” she said, stepping away from him and to the exit of the kitchen “I’ll go look for your nice outfits, I think I have them stored around” she announced, already assuming he was not going to drive himself back home so early to get ready for work, he would much rather do that where he already is.

“Thank you” he mumbled, grabbing the plate and walking around her “You are the best person that has ever landed on the planet earth and I would never ever-”

“Yeah yeah” she stopped him in track, stepping out of the kitchen not waiting to hear more, not because she didn’t like it, but because she didn’t need it, it was a bit overwhelming for her to be around him right now. He had too much weight on her, he made her feel too much, he made her want to speak up even when that would ruin everything, she needed a quick break.

She left him on the kitchen eating his food and walked up to her bedroom, looking for at least a bit of privacy. Her mind was just a pure mess and for at least a second she just needed to calm down and figure out how to act cool about all of this, because each time he touched her she lost a bit of her sanity; each time he told her he loved her, she wished he would mean on the way she does and each time he lets her take care of him… are just the times where she wished she could just spit it all out and hope for the best, but she couldn’t, she was too scared of it and the scariest part is that she was about to burst.

It was like a ticking bomb, she could either explode and ruin it or turn it down, it was all on her.

She didn’t want to ruin what they had, that is just why she needs to forget and she prays to god that therapy helps her forget, because it’s been five years of this and she still freaks out each time he gets too handsy or lovable, it’s not like she doesn’t like, it’s just that she feels more than she should and she can’t do nothing about it… but the worst part is, she can’t do anything but she also can’t risk losing him in any way, this is something she needs to handle and forget.

She still has three days left for her first appointment, she can handle herself until then. All of the questions that remained bottled up in her head will soon be answered and solved, but the only one that mattered the most will always be on her to answer and she didn’t even know where to start.

How did she even manage to fall in love with the one person she shouldn't have?

#luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings x reader #michael clifford imagines #calum hood imagines #ashton irwin imagines #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfic #5sos blurbs #5sos preferences #5sos fake text #luke 5sos #luke hemmings au #5sos smut #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer preferences #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 second of summer imagines

157 notes · View notes

thefederalistfreestyle · 6 years ago

Photo

What “Hamilton” in San Juan Means to Puerto Rico (The New Yorker):

Last Friday evening, as spectators streamed into the Centro de Bellas Artes Luis A. Ferré, San Juan’s main performing-arts center, a man in a Colonial waistcoat, breeches, and cravat spoke into a microphone in the plaza. “We want everybody to join this fight for Puerto Rico to become the fifty-first state,” he said. He was joined by about a dozen demonstrators from the pro-statehood group Sociedad Civil Estadista, holding signs that said “We Want to Be in the Room Where It Happens” and “We Are Not Throwing Away Our Shot.” “Alexander Hamilton was a good man,” the speaker continued. “He was one of the Founding Fathers. He was an intellectual author of this nation. So thank you, everyone, and welcome to Puerto Rico.”

Across the plaza—and across the island’s political spectrum—a Ph.D. student named Zorimar Rivera Montes stood beside steel barricades wearing a backpack. “My doctoral dissertation is partly on ‘Hamilton’ and its politics,” she said. She didn’t have a ticket but was hoping that something would turn up. Rivera Montes was raised with an “anti-colonial upbringing,” she said, and supports Puerto Rican independence. The opening-night spectacle, she observed, was “laced with so many ironies. Hamilton was born in the Caribbean. And now we have his ghost coming back to the Caribbean. He was the founder of the American debt system, right?” She went on: “I’m very curious to see how a Puerto Rican audience connects to the story of Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton is big in the U.S., because that’s your forefather.” Her friend Gisela Rosario Ramos added dryly, “There’s a new Founding Father: Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

How did a bastard, orphan son of a whore and a Scotsman get dropped in a bruised-but-not-forgotten spot in the Caribbean, sixteen months after Hurricane Maria devastated the island? It all had to do with Miranda, the show’s Pulitzer Prize-winning author and star, who was returning to the title role on a tide of good will, for the first time since leaving the Broadway production, in 2016. In the wake of the hurricane, which knocked out the island’s power grid and caused some three thousand deaths, Miranda has become a tireless fund-raiser and champion for Puerto Rico, where his father was born and where he spent summers as a child. He released a charity single and helped raise forty-three million dollars in relief funds. He urged people to “keep Puerto Rico in your hearts” from the red carpet of the Academy Awards. And he currently appears in a Web series from the tourism outfit Discover Puerto Rico. Around the island, pretty much everyone referred to him as Lin-Manuel.

[. . .]

Luis Miranda was one of the driving forces behind bringing “Hamilton” to Puerto Rico. The original plan was to stage it at the University of Puerto Rico’s Río Piedras campus, driving money and attention to an institution that needed some love in a neighborhood far from the tourist center of San Juan.

But the well-intentioned plan fell apart just before Christmas, after talk spread of possible demonstrations over staff-budget cuts. A practice of restricting police presence on campus raised security concerns. The producers scrambled to move the show to Bellas Artes, a Lincoln Center-like facility in Santurce, a neighborhood described by one resident as “the hot-shit center of hip San Juan living.”

Luis Miranda told me that the last straw, for him, came when he ran into three students after a production meeting. “One of them says, ‘Oh, yeah, we have dedicated entire classes to discuss if this is good for the University of Puerto Rico or not.’ ” He blanched. “I’m listening to this discussion, and I’m thinking, Is this for real? I remember looking at one of the kids and saying, ‘You know what? We made the right decision to come to Puerto Rico. We made the wrong decision of going to the U.P.R. theatre.’ ”

Although “Hamilton” poured more than a million dollars into renovating the university theatre, there was still disappointment on campus. Sylvia Bofill, who teaches playwriting and dramatic history there, told me, “The impression of students was, they felt somehow it was going to be more approachable, that they were going to be able to see the play.” (A thousand of the ten thousand lottery tickets were set aside for students.) “I think, at the end, it was a loss both for the university and the production. It would have been great for the students to have a forum with Lin-Manuel to ask questions about the controversy.”

The day before the première, outdated “Hamilton” banners still hung around campus. Classes had not started, so there were more stray cats than students in the main quad. Near the theatre, I spotted a young woman with curly hair painting a bench with the word “humanidades.” She had specks of white paint on her cheek, and introduced herself as María Rosa López, a science student.

“It’s complicated,” she said, of the “Hamilton” drama. Her English was spotty, so her friend Christopher Pacheco, who was helping her paint, translated. “They should have consulted at least with the students,” he said. “The government is saying it’s the workers’ union’s fault. They didn’t want a protest here, so they moved the play. But they weren’t going to protest. It was just an excuse. The government wants to close the university down.”

When I asked why, López reverted to English. “They don’t want people to get educated.”

Pacheco added, “Education here is not good. They’re closing a lot of public schools.” Tuition has gone up, they noted, to a hundred and fifteen dollars per credit. “The costs have only gone higher, and the buildings are deteriorating,” Pacheco said.

A clocktower rang, and they returned to painting.

Around Bellas Artes, “Hamilton” fever had taken hold. At Lote 23, a food-truck park near the theatre, venders had seen cast and crew members stop by. The guy at the alcapurria stand knew the exact hours of their lunch breaks, and a woman who worked at the fried-chicken place had taken a selfie with Lin-Manuel two days earlier.

[. . .]

By six o’clock, the plaza was packed: camera crews, ticket-lottery winners, demonstrators, the Hamilton historian Ron Chernow, V.I.P.s in suits and cocktail dresses. Zorimar Rivera Montes, the Ph.D. student, pointed out David Bernier, a former candidate for governor of Puerto Rico. She was skeptical of all the hoopla. Like others I met, she had been irked by Miranda’s initial support for Promesa, the act establishing the financial-oversight board. He has since recanted and endorsed debt forgiveness over debt relief.

But something else was nagging at Rivera Montes. As she e-mailed me a few days later, after scoring a ticket, “The play is as catchy and fun as I remembered the soundtrack to be, but watching a celebration of the American Revolution on Puerto Rican soil felt nothing short of perverse. I find it is colonialist that we have to be thankful to Miranda for whatever crumbs of help he throws our way.”

I spoke to Dan Santiago, the pro-statehood speaker in Colonial garb. (He had bought it at a costume shop in Florida, where he relocated after the hurricane.) Hadn’t Hamilton fought to overthrow imperial rule? “That’s something that people talk about,” he said, “but what’s important in democracy is the will of the people. The independence movement in Puerto Rico doesn’t gain more than three per cent of the votes. I’m pretty sure that, when Hamilton wrote the Federalist Papers, he was trying to convince everybody that this new form of government was going to be the best thing for the colonies. And it was so good that it became the most powerful nation on the face of the earth. That’s the nation that we want to be part of.”

Suddenly, there was a screech from the middle of the plaza. It came from Gustavo Rosa, a seventeen-year-old from Toa Alta. He had been taking a picture with the show’s producer, Jeffrey Seller, when his high-school theatre director surprised him with a ticket. Immediately, camera crews descended on him.

“I’ve been taking musical theatre for seven years now,” he said, shaking. “I’m exhilarated. Oh, my God.”

[. . .]

Alternating between English and Spanish, he fielded questions about the ovation at the top of the show (“I felt my hair move”); about the security concerns at the university (“If there’s the slightest chance something goes wrong, I cannot have that on my conscience”); about his reading from the celebrity astrologer Walter Mercado (“I know the future, but I’m not going to tell you”); about his first visit after the hurricane (“To see an island without leaves—I never thought I’d see winter in Puerto Rico”). He said that “Hamilton” would bring people to Puerto Rico to spend money, “but they’re also going to see blue tarps, and they’re also going to see how much is left to be done.”

A reporter asked, “What spoke to you tonight, as you were standing there for the first time here in Puerto Rico?”

Miranda answered, in Spanish, that “Hurricane” had been particularly emotional—he hadn’t been able to get through it in rehearsal. The line about the silence in the eye of the storm had reminded him of what members of the Puerto Rican diaspora had felt during Maria, not being able to reach family and friends. “That quiet,” he said, slipping back into English. “That terror.” Then he said something everyone could agree on: “That’s the thing about this show: you put it at this angle, and suddenly you see different things come out.”

full article here

#hamilton #lin manuel miranda #puerto rico #ham4pr #and peggy tour #the new yorker

166 notes · View notes

96percentdone · 6 years ago

Note

What's the appeal of Komahina (Yes, I know) since you said you enjoy answering shippy asks?

everything. its all the appeal of komahina. i’m love komahina. its top tier.

Okay real talk but the biggest Advantage™ to komahina is that there’s like so much to work with in canon. we have a whole game’s worth of content. And because of having so much shit to work with, there’s a lot to talk about! under the cut!

So the draw to end all draws is obviously that Komaeda is canonically gay, and specifically, gay for Hinata. That cop out confession is a work of art. It really is. The man literally says “I love--the hope sleeping within you, from the bottom of my heart” as if the last second subject switch is gonna do anything to disguise how gay it was. You used aishiteru Komaeda. We all know.

But you don’t even just need that free time event to confirm Komaeda’s Gay Feelings™, contrary to the belief of fools, Komaeda even alludes to it in chapter four. Sure he’s also busy being a total dick, but even then he can’t stop himself from commenting on how he’s still attached to Hinata, and that it’s making him emotional. The fact that Hinata, the man he loves, is the epitome of all the things he’s decided he’s supposed to hate, is what’s killing him inside, and you can argue its why he’s so vicious to Hinata in particular. it’s not something that Hinata deserves, of course, but its a side-effect of his perceived betrayal.

SPEAKING OF PERCEIVED BETRAYALS, let’s talk about chapter 1! So you’ll notice that I haven’t really talked about Hinata’s feelings towards Komaeda yet, and that’s because chapter 1 is what royally fucks those to high hell. Before the trial, Hinata really likes Komaeda. He enjoys spending time with him, and is happy to investigate with him. He considers Komaeda reliable, and that first free time event has him call Komaeda’s smile soothing, similar to how Naegi talked about Maizono’s. And we all know how Naegi felt about her. He doesn’t really think he knows Komaeda all that well, and Hinata is somewhat distrusting but not to an unhealthy degree, but despite all that, he still likes Komaeda. More than he’s probably aware of (hi Hinata I see you wrote down word for word Komaeda’s confession in your report card you wanna elaborate on that decision or--)

But that’s why trial fucks everything up so badly. Komaeda turned out to not be the person he thought. In that confrontation in trial, he’s incredibly distraught about having to do this despite only having known him for a few days. I think he even uses that sprite where he’s got tears in his eyes he’s that fucked up about it. He’s taken that perceived betrayal very personally.

I wanna make something clear though: Komaeda did betray the group but not to the extent Hinata takes it. Komaeda never really hides his issues or his true nature from people. His self deprecating nature is clearly visible and he does seem weirdly focused on hope a few times. Komaeda absolutely betrayed the group by kickstarting the killing game, however, he did not sell himself as anything other than himself, something Hinata firmly believes he did. It’s not that Komaeda ever behaved like a different person, it’s that they were unable to realize how deep his issues and complexes went until he acted on them. But because Komaeda is always personable and friendly, if not somewhat a nihilist, they didn’t realize what was wrong.

But despite that...Hinata’s still weirdly drawn to him. Despite wanting to hate Komaeda and feeling extraordinarily hurt by his betrayal...he still doesn’t quite let that go. Sure he’s pretty cold to Komaeda sometimes, but he still checks in on his despair fever. he still talks to him and tries to understand what makes him tick, even if he seems very unhappy about it. Hinata’s understanding of Komaeda in chapter 5 comes from this. In that final free time event, he’s even willing to forgive him before Komaeda backpedals hardcore. I think that’s proof enough that Hinata cannot hate Komaeda, and moreover deep down, that he doesn’t want to either.

But all that just kinda reeks of “tragically fucked up huh I doubt that would ever work out” but oh no you silly little potato chip. No it’ll be fine because sdr2 gave us the glorious virtual reality, maybe one day they’ll all wake up. And that’s the key place where things can get better. After canon, where they have all the time in the world to recover.

Chapter 6 tells Hinata a lot of things, but most importantly, he’s not better than Komaeda. They all fucked shit up. They were all fucked up and damaged emotionally; Komaeda just broke catastrophically before they did. They all need to recover and go past their issues; Komaeda is not exempt from that. And I think this key bit of information would help, at least in part, Hinata get past that perceived betrayal. Plus time and actually talking to Komaeda would do that too.

So what would either of them get out of a relationship? To me, that’s the most important thing about a ship to me: how either of them grows and become better, happier people. I think a lot that Hinata gets from it comes from helping Komaeda, and in doing so, he learns to understand more about himself. They both have similar complexes about talent, and feeling worthless in relation to it, and in helping Komaeda come to terms with that, among various other things, I think Hinata would come to terms with it himself, and be more confident.

They have a surprising amount in common with their lack of self-esteem and complexes around that. I also think Komaeda, in general, is encouraging, and if Hinata finds him soothing, it’ll help Hinata’s anxiety mellow out over time. Komaeda’s very good about taking things in stride which is something Hinata definitely needs in his life to help him.

And Komaeda? Boy. Well okay, Komaeda needs like a lot of actual therapy just. Just all the time. Hinata can’t really help much with that just support him. (To be clear Hinata also needs a therapist I just think talking to Komaeda will help him figure out what he needs to say to his therapist). But Komaeda desperately needs two things. The first is Komaeda really only feels like he can connect with someone he feels is the same level as him, which he definitely feels about Hinata. He has a line about them both being “bystanders to the other shsls.”

But moreover, Komaeda needs someone stable. Someone that can prove his life is not ruled over by a luck cycle. Komaeda’s luck is real, but it’s not the cycle he thinks it is. That’s just a coping mechanism he uses to cope with the immense tragedy in his life, because his “good luck” does not balance out his bad luck. Komaeda’s luck just tends to guarantee his success the more likely he is to fail. So he survives the plane crash, even though it should have killed him. So he gets the winning lotto ticket, even though the lottery is a scam designed to take your money. So he gets into hope’s peak, even though every other high school student his age was eligible for that slot. That’s how his luck works.

But his life is so tragic he has to assume its a good and bad cycle. He believes that anything good that happens has to cause something terrible, and vice versa, and its the basis of his worldview, but what he needs, is someone to stick around by him and prove him wrong. For someone to try to understand him, and not disappear on him. He needs a constant, and Hinata, who tries to understand him and is similar to him, is that constant. And I think by having that constant he’ll be able to let go of such a harmful worldview and move on into a happier place in his life.

Anyway tl;dr Komahina is good because it’s complex and mutually beneficial thank you good night!

#hope.txt #komahina #hinakoma #my meta #sdr2 #dangan ronpa #Anonymous

223 notes · View notes

treenahasthaal · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! For the fanfic end of years asks: 3, 19, and 24?

I haven’t written a lot this year so I don’t have a lot of fic to chose from!

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year.

From “Don’t Look, Don’t See.”

There was the thudding of many bootsteps and a clamour of shadows fell across him.

That stopped him.

“Please,” he said, voice whispering through a dry throat, not looking…

…don’t look, don’t see…

… around at the silent gathering of stormtroopers at his back. “Please, let me finish.”

If I could draw, I would draw what I see here.

I think I wrote it very simply, but I saw and heard and smelled so much in this scene, in these lines. I just hoped the words worked.

19. any new fics to start next year

Wow... new fic?

I have plenty of WiPs to get on with. Dark Times has so much to go yet! *cries* (Ending it terrifies me - what if I do TLJ and people hate it! Although I doubt I’ll finish it in a year - unless I win the lottery and can give up work and just write fanfic full time).

However, yes, I have a lot of ideas. Probably just one shots, though. I also have more “one shots” for my Invictus series (Instinct, Insidious....) If I can come up with titles starting with “I” :D

24) favorite fic you read this year

Ouch. My sad admission that with my writers block came a reading block. I have hardly picked up a book this year (unless research for my work) let alone read fanfic. I don’t have an absolute favourite of those that I have read. However, I have dipped into the last few chapters of Eclipse by SpellCleaver. :) I need the angst to inspire me! I need to go to the start and read it from the beginning and comment as it is very well written and clever!

2 notes · View notes

gotboredwrote · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: Misfire

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 2.7K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Angst(?), some sexual tension but nothing explicit, swearing Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I think I’ll just let this chapter speak for itself.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

“You…what?”

“I wrote a song. Like I was supposed to that first week?”

“Is that why you brought me here? Just to tell me that?”

“No, I want to perform it for you.”

You could not believe the words you were hearing. John Deacon, the man who you were told never sings or performs on his own. John Deacon, the man who hardly speaks without spoken to. John Deacon was going to perform for you. Give you a private show. You could have burst with the excitement bubbling through your veins at that moment. You were honestly at a loss for words, so you just made some audible gasps. John took that as his cue to keep talking to you.

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation before I start. First, I have never really written a song. Not for an album, not really at all. I am not what you would call a lyricist like Fred or Brian. I can explain the song, but I want you to hear it first. Second, I am clearly one human being so I can only play one instrument at a time, and I haven’t showed this to the boys yet. So, I don’t really have backing tracks. You’re only really going to hear the bassline. But because I wrote the song, a lot of the stuff for the bassline is close to what Brian will be playing. Third, and what I would say is the most important, is that I am not a singer. Never have been. That’s partially why I chose the bass in the first place all those years ago. People don’t typically pay attention to bass players, and those that do, well… you mean a lot to us.” You could tell he was getting more nervous by the second, there were a couple things giving that away. His voice was starting to get quieter and shakier, and with that last comment his nose and cheeks were starting to turn red. “Nonetheless,” he continued, “I will sing the words for you so you can get a feel for what I am going for in this song. I really can’t sing, so don’t laugh at my voice, okay?”

It seemed like he had finished his explanation, and you were still at a loss for words, quite honestly a little bit hung up on his comment about the people who pay attention to bass players. You wanted to let him know that he can be completely at ease around you, so you were racking your brain trying to figure out the right thing to say. Something that would wrap up all your thoughts into one sentence or so. It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“If that is what you want to do, John, I would feel as though I won the lottery – even though I basically feel that way anytime I am around you since you treat me so kindly. But if you aren’t ready to do this, you don’t have to go out of your way just for me, you can hold off until you show it to the boys and let Freddie sing it.”

“No, I- I want to do this. For you. If for no other reason than that, I want you to hear this exactly how I meant it.”

There was nothing you could say to counter that, so you figured it would be best to sit back and listen to that magic that he wanted to share with you. You really did win the lottery getting to work with this man.

“Give me one minute to get situated and I will start, okay?”

You simply nodded at him, staring intently at every single motion he made. You were mesmerized, and he had not strummed once. He was sitting cross-legged on his bean bag chair, bass placed gently in his lap while he started to tune it. Why was he even doing that, he knew he was always perfectly in tune without fault, because that’s just how good he is. You noticed that the way he plucks the strings for when he is tuning is different than when he is playing, and he does not lick his fingers as much. In fact, his right hand hardly moves. Tiny little plucks just loud enough that he can hear it to make small adjustments with his left hand. He had only been tuning for maybe ninety seconds and he had moved onto fixing his hand-written sheet music on the floor. You noticed the way he threw his hair back to make sure it would not get in the way of his bass or the music, kind of like a girl in a photoshoot who needed her hair to look like it was wind-swept. It made you smile a little bit because it was out of character for him. He slowly looked up at you after he realized that all his last-minute adjustments, which were really just motions to stall this from happening, were complete. If he looked like he was nervous before, he could not imagine what he looked like now.

“Um, okay. I think I’m ready. Remember you can’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, John. Please play.”

“Yes ma’am. This is called “Misfire.”

Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on Don't you know, honey, that love's a game It's always a hit or miss…

Right off the bat, you noticed that this song did something for him. The way he played was more intense, more focused, long fingers meticulously plucking a particular part of each string to ensure that he got the perfect sound out of it. His eyes were also already screwed shut, so the whole bit about getting the sheet music out was just him burning off nervous energy. He knew this song by heart, and that is because it came from his heart. He wrote this about someone. Someone he loved. You knew this because his eyes were closed so tightly and his voice was already a little raspy by the fourth line. He looked like he was imagining the prefect pleasure. Like he was at the climax of… well, you did not let your mind go there, lest there be problems for both of you. The words were one of desperation, words that show he is facing an internal battle of having these feelings about someone and knowing that one small slip could ruin everything. You had been feeling that recently too.

So take your aim Got to hold on tight Shoot me out of sight Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on…

His eyes were still screwed tight with pleasure. If music brought him this much happiness, you could not even begin to imagine what was going on in his head when he wrote these words down. You could not help but think there were a couple pauses in between to take care of some business. As he sang the second line about holding on tight, you both unconsciously changed the way you were sitting. He simply lifted his legs up slightly, like a butterfly starting to flap its wings, while simultaneously pushing his bass down onto his core. He did not even seem to notice he did it, but you sure as hell did. You were sitting with your legs slightly bent, almost side-saddle but a little bit more splayed out onto the floor. You brought your legs closer to your chest, closing the space between them. You were starting to feel a warm sensation take over your entire body. You were not hot, really, there was just an inner warmth spreading from your head to your toes, making you almost the slightest bit dizzy. You had no idea what was going on, but you sure as hell were not going to tell him to stop playing. You had an intense desire for him to carry on…

Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on Your gun is loaded And pointing my way…

He could repeat those first two lines over and over and you would never get bored of hearing them. But those were not the words he wanted you to focus on in that moment. When he reached the third and fourth lines, his eyes wrenched themselves open and you could no longer see his beautiful green-grey eyes, they were almost a complete black. Staring directly at you. Through you. You swallowed and seriously hoped that no noise came from your lips. It was like he knew exactly what feelings you were trying to sort out, because frankly, you had not even thought about romance in any way since you two left your flat before the dinner. Now that was all you were thinking about, and clearly that is what he was thinking about when he wrote this song. You realized something in that moment. Something that you had spent countless hours before falling asleep thinking about. It all fell together in the blink of an eye. Those feelings you were trying to sort out? Yeah, those were love.

There's only one bullet So don't delay Got to time it right Fire me through the night…

You were so frustrated though, because he clearly wrote this song with one idea in mind. One person, with him, in one particular situation. One that you had no idea who that other person was. Because no human being, no matter how deprived, could come up with these lyrics without seriously feeling something for a person. You were just trying to think of a girl that had floated around the office that could be the girl in question. Besides yourself, of course, because why would it be you? That’s never how it works. You watched his eyes flutter shut by the end of the lines, and you swore you saw his legs twitch. You had not realized that you were also crossing your legs in the position they were in to get more friction. Damn this boy.

Come on take a shot Fire me higher…

If that was an invitation, it sure was inviting. You wanted to be that bass. Desperately. It was pathetic. He was still pushing the damn thing onto his core, and you still do not think he even realizes it. Your eyes had literally not moved away from his bass, you do not even think you have blinked for the last twenty seconds. You could feel how flushed your face was, and you were so thankful that his eyes had resumed being screwed shut. Round two of that, huh? God, this boy loved to torture you. Your best friend. You are falling in love with your best friend. And you do not even know how long you get to work with them. This is why you usually only accept jobs with older men – there is nothing there for you to want. But when you got this offer, despite what your gut told you, you took it. This is exactly what you thought was going to happen, and tomorrow you would feel sorry for yourself. Right now, you were a little bit busy.

Don't you miss this time Please don't misfire Misfire.

With each remaining line of the song, his voice got softer. His voice also got raspier, like he was finishing the scene in his head. The first line was a challenge. The second line was a plead. The third line was hardly a word, it was mainly air. At this point your legs had gone slack in front of you, your lips were slightly parted in awe, and other feelings. You had to blink a couple times before you even felt like you could get words to form, you had to bring yourself back down to reality. John had let the bass loosely slip from his grip and lay slack across his lap, legs starting to splay out in the same way yours were. You both just took in each other’s presences for a few moments. You both had that same afterglow radiating from your features as if what was going on in John’s head when he wrote and sang the song had actually happened. It was a delicious and blissful few moments. It was mind-boggling that his all happened in under two minutes. Eventually you both realized that you had not said a word to each other for a minute and one of you would have to say something. Or do something. So, you did. You kneeled up to sit on your knees, immensely lessening the space between the two of you. Not close enough where you could hear his breathing, but close enough where you could see that there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. You could not see underneath his bass, but you could not help but wonder what was really going on under there. Clearly the person in his thoughts did something to him. Something beautiful. You reached over and placed a hand on his knee, which he looked at with glazed over eyes. Slowly and almost nervously, he placed his own hand over yours and lightly squeezed. You could feel that he was trembling. So were you.

“If you don’t call yourself a songwriter after that, you are the biggest liar known to man, John Deacon. You are a phenomenal writer, every word and note you played just now was mesmerizing… just like you.”

He was just gazing up at you, since he was laying back in his seat and you were raised up on your knees. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. Not just the only thing that mattered. The absolute only thing in the world. And to him, in that moment, you were. But he would never tell you that. He was not about to risk anything further with his feelings yet. This song was his way of telling you that he was in love with you, but he still did not want to scare you off. Just like before. He could only muster out two sentences. Breathy sentences.

“Thank you, Y/N, it means… a lot coming from you. It is getting late, though, I should drive you home.”

With that, he gathered up his stuff, and you grabbed your dress and shoes. John could see that you were about to go change, and he lightly grabbed your arm.

“You can wear those home, I don’t mind.” His signature smile taking over his blissful features. He looked amazing like this. You simply smiled in return.

You both made your way to his car, and John made it a point to get to the car first so he could open your door for you. Always the gentleman. You sat in the car, and he shut the door behind you. You let out a breath that you had not realized you were holding in. He did the same thing as he walked to his trunk. He gently laid his stuff down and made his way to the driver’s seat. The drive back to your flat was almost completely silent. The only sounds made were some heavy breaths, both because you were both trying to keep the sensations coursing through your bodies at bay. While it was a comfortable silence, as it always was between John eventually pulled up in front of your flat, and he said that he would walk you to your door. It was almost 11:30pm by the time you got up to your door. When you both were standing in front of your door, you turned around again to say one last thing before he left.

“John… I really meant what I said. Back at the studio. You are a fantastic songwriter, and I just know that the boys are going to love the song. I… I’m really proud of you.”

John simply shot you his bashful smile and grabbed and squeezed your hand as a thank you, the gesture becoming so normal for the two of you now. You unlocked your door, wished him a goodnight, squeezed his hand again, and went in your apartment. You both had turned to put your backs to the apartment door and had yet another one of your shared thought moments. Except this time, it escaped both of your lips.

“Jesus Christ, I’m desperate.”

16 notes · View notes

zamancollective · 5 years ago

Photo

In his intriguing debut book, EPPY Award-winning nonfiction writer Massoud Hayoun tells his family’s compelling story as a means of engaging in a deeper re-evaluation of its place in a larger politicized history. As his grandparents’ lives unfold between Egypt, Tunisia, Palestine, and Los Angeles, the author reshapes existing narratives about Arabness, Jewishness, and the legacies of colonialism.

ZAMAN editors Sophie Levy and Evan Mateen contacted Massoud Hayoun to learn more about When We Were Arabs, which was released on June 25th.

ZAMAN Collective: Tell us a little about your background and who you are.

Massoud Hayoun: I’m from LA, born and raised. I went to UCLA and Columbia [University]. I’m Tunisian, Moroccan, and Egyptian-American. I am Jewish — I was raised in a faithful household and remain faithful, in a way that looks very different from that of my youth. I continue to pray, although mostly alone. I read psalms several times a week. I fast on Yom Kippur. I occasionally study Torah, also alone these days. I try to observe Shabbat and allow the restfulness of it to include watching television and using electronics that I find enhance my repose. I was raised by my grandparents, Oscar and Daida, while my mother worked very hard to support us financially. I am left-handed. I am into Beach House and Abdel Halim Hafez. I love Killing Eve, Pen15, Diary of a Chambermaid, Russian Doll, and Silence of the Lambs.

ZC: When did you first become interested in Mizrahi historical / cultural affairs?

MH: I don’t think there was a particular moment when I became interested in my family’s history and belonging to our homelands. Those things were ever-present. When my grandparents who raised me died, the need to preserve everything that came before became so much more tangible to me, because it was clear that otherwise, entire universes would have ended with them. My grandfather Oscar died when I was a teenager, and that pushed me to interrogate this belonging. And then my grandmother Daida died when I was 30, and I began to interrogate things with even greater ferocity. I am 31.

ZC: For people who don’t know too much about When We Were Arabs- Can you talk a little more about the book’s subject matter?

MH: When We Were Arabs is a decolonial memoir of my Jewish Arab grandparents — that is to say, it is a re-reading of their lives and what came before with a view to regain things that were robbed from us by various colonial projects and their enforcers.

Hayoun family photo (source)

ZC: Why did you choose this title? Why in the past tense?

MH: The fact that you ask the question “why in the past tense” means that the title was successful. You’re meant to ask whether we — the readers and me — can suffer all of the universes in this book be relegated to the past. Or are the readers and I engaged in a discourse about the future? The dedication of the book is ‘To Our Youth’ — it is forward-looking. Paired with the title, the flurry of tenses upfront is meant to raise questions. I had hoped that people would find the title to be fundamentally wrong — to feel ill-at-ease with or suffocated by it. Suffocated enough for those uncomfortable feelings to become actionable. With this title alone, I challenge the reader to drag the universe and the people I describe into the present and future. To move forward with them in mind.

ZC: Why did you decide to write a book in a pivot away from shorter-form journalistic articles? Why now?

MH: In my defense, I did write a lot of long-form articles, it’s just hard to make a living only writing a few big articles a year. I also didn’t pivot, per se. I’m still writing the same short-form journalistic articles, and I’ll keep writing them until I win the lottery, I guess. And maybe even still…

My grandma and I had something we wanted to say. We said it in a book, while my life and career continued on, pretty much as usual. I remain a journalist until now, and it gets tedious and daunting at times, but it’s still more fulfilling than other lines of work, precisely because I’ve worked for some exceptional publications that have allowed me to talk to people who are frequently disregarded. My short-form articles seek to help uplift voices — not just those of analysts and academics, but on many occasions of people who are systematically silenced.

ZC: Why write about Mizrahiut through the lens of a family story?

MH: I wouldn’t say I wrote about Mizrahiut. I say in the book specifically that I do not identify with the term Mizrahi, to be clear. I also never say that others from my background (even from my own family) shouldn’t identify as Mizrahi, but I have clearly explained in When We Were Arabs why that term is not one that I find empowering for myself.

I am also clear that I do not speak for anyone but myself and my family. At moments, I’m also careful not to speak for my own family, where I do not feel the closeness necessary to do so. In this book, I am writing about my own very human situation, in the hopes that people — Mizrahi-identifying and otherwise — will connect with some aspect of it.

ZC: What is the relationship between your Jewishness and Arabness? Are they two separate entities that coexist or are they more intertwined?

MH: Both are important components of who I am. My Jewishness governs matters of the spirit, for me. I do also stand with Jewish Americans in practical matters, particularly at moments when our lives, dignity, and freedom are under siege. But in this life, I am Arab first and last. Many similar people, like Moroccan human rights activist Sion Assidon, whom I interviewed in the book, have described themselves as Arabs of Jewish faith. That’s accurate to my experience, as well.

Hayoun family photo (source)

ZC: How political vs how personal is this book? Is there even a sharp divide between these two qualifiers?

MH: Politics are personal — and the more people benefit from certain oppressive power structures, the less likely they are to notice (or to feel, rather) the degree to which all politics are personal. The book intertwines politics and the personal as a function of simply trying to convey lives, deaths, and their meaning accurately. You could not have understood anything at all about my family — especially not as we were in the 20th century — without understanding a great deal about world politics. I feel that’s universally true; it’s just less evident to some.

ZC: In an NPR review of When We Were Arabs, Martha Anne Toll characterizes you as a “severe critic of Zionism.” How do you feel about having this issue brought to the forefront of your work? How would you describe your relationship to Zionism?

MH: Martha Anne Toll’s characterization was accurate; I am a “severe critic of Zionism.” This issue is an important component of the work, but the project of claiming the Jewish Arab identity and preserving this lost world is paramount and must not be subsumed by this one crucial component. The beauty of Toll’s review was that she realized this was an important but not an all-consuming element of the project I undertook with When We Were Arabs.

ZC: What’s the importance of reclaiming Arabness as a Jew, especially one whose family has relatively recent, politicized history in Israel?

MH: Reclaiming that Arabness has allowed me and my family to come to terms with a lot of inconsistencies in our and our community’s concepts of self. We empowered ourselves to answer a number of long-unanswered, uncomfortable questions: Why does the word Arab incense so many people? How many of the people whom the word incenses have actually spoken with Arabs about what Arabness means, particularly in the contemporary use of the term? If they haven’t undertaken to understand Arabness, how is that term at once so detestable and yet not important enough to try to fully examine its definition by modern Arabs?

ZC: Ultimately, what do you hope that readers will gain from reading your book?

MH: I hope that readers will feel inspired to look at themselves and their understandings of certain belongings and relationships to humanity with a critical lens. Of course, I hope they look at all facets of reality with that critical lens too. There’s nothing about these times that doesn’t deserve to be turned on its head — including but not only [limited to] the Arab-Jewish divide.

When We Were Arabs is available for online order at IndieBound, Barnes&Noble, Target, and Amazon. Click here for a list of independent booksellers that also carry Hayoun’s book.

#massoud hayoun #nonfiction & opinion #when we were arabs

7 notes · View notes

firebirdsdaughter · 5 years ago

Text

Random Writing… Tid… Bit?…

… Okay, I don’t even know what this is. It just… Popped out! DX

… No wait. That’s… A really weird image.

So! Why don’t I subject everyone to this, instead?

Well, this is whacky.

Random scene from a random timeline that will never happen in show.

Literally features a dialogue summary of the last Tidbit I just wrote.

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

There was a long silence.

“Okay…” Aruto said, finally, leaning forward on his knees, clasping his hands together. The woman sitting across from him gave him a suspicious look, but didn’t interrupt, so he continued. “… Can you give them back?”

She blinked at him. “You’re asking if I can give Horobi back his emotions?”

There was an incredulous tone to her voice, but he nodded anyway, even though he saw Isamu rolling his eyes out of the corner of his vision, and Yua shaking her head. “Yes.”

The woman gaped at him for a moment, until she realised he was completely serious, throwing up her hands. “No! They were never a part of his original programming! They’re not some code I can stick back in.”

At that, Isamu snapped out of his usual exasperation with Aruto to shift forward in interest. “What do you mean?”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, grinding her teeth together. Eventually, Yua came closer well, leaning on the back of the sofa. “You’ve got immunity now, remember? And that man doesn’t ever need to know you were here.”

The woman shot her a small glare, but sighed. “Horobi was intentionally designed to hate humans.” She explained, haltingly. “Where other HumaGears are programmed to support and assist…” She trailed into another deep sigh. “He didn’t choose the name Horobi himself. The boss gave it to him, so that he could ‘never forget what he was.’ People who interacted with him were instructed to keep their distance, make sure he kept a negative view of humanity, and to make sure that he never thought of himself as anything more than that.” She rubbed her hands together anxiously. “He wasn’t just a HumaGear. The boss wanted him to be a…”

There was a sharp thud as Isamu’s fist connected with the wall. “… A weapon.” He growled. “They wanted him to be a weapon. So they mistreated him to build resentment.” He punched the wall with his other hand, too, head dropping into his forearms. “Damn ZAIA…!” There was a sour edge in his voice that made Aruto strongly suspect he was thinking about the way Thouser had manipulated him, too.

Looking even more unsure of herself, the woman nodded. “Exactly. Horobi is, essentially, a carefully crafted WMD.” She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “I don’t know what exactly they did to him. I was just programming. But it… It sounded bad.”

Isamu was glaring daggers at her now, and Aruto wasn’t sure if he should be worried Vulcan would take a swing at the the woman, or glad that he was this angry on behalf of a HumaGear’s mistreatment.

Yua on the other hand, like always, was much harder to read. “… I see.” She murmured softly. “Thouser creates Horobi, and therefore MetsubouJinrai.net, in order to create an massive incident that he’s secretly in control of…”

Aruto blinked at her. “Eh?”

She gave an irritated sigh, but propped her hands on her hips and clarified, “Thouser deliberately created the threat so that he could be the one to step in and stop it—effectively disgrace Hiden for not being able to deal with it, and make himself and his company the hero.” Her mouth twisted. “All that damage. And I nearly…”

“We nearly helped him do it.” Isamu grunted from her left, not breaking his glare at the former ZAIA programmer. “Don’t bump me off the guilty list.” She gave him a look that was slightly annoyed—but also partially grateful.

“But something went wrong. His creation reached singularity despite his programming.” Izu brought them all back to the point, her level gaze never having left the woman. The HumaGear secretary tilted her head questioningly. “You stated that ZAIA created Horobi. How was Jin created?”

The woman hesitated for a long time, taking several deep breaths before answering. “… That’s just it. We… We don’t know how it happened. Something… Somehow, despite everything, Horobi… Something changed. One of the theories that came up was that he saw the humans interacting around him, and realised he was…” She choked on the word. “… Realised he was lonely.” Another nervous swallow. “Be we don’t know for sure. It was amazing how he managed to keep it from us—he worked nights, figured out how to hack the cameras and give them a feedback loop. We found a whole damn library of clips he’d been giving them to hide it.” She raised her hands to rub her face briefly. “Then, after he finished, he had Jin hide somewhere in his rooms during the day, when the staff came by.”

“… How did you find him?” Yua asked, very quietly.

The woman pursed her lips in a frown. “… He attacked a researcher. It was on the routine ‘conditioning’ visits, and…”

“He attacked the person hurting his family.” Aruto finished for her sombrely.

The woman didn’t nod, but she didn’t disagree, either. “I was…” She shook her head as she searched for words. “… Amazed. It was the first time a HumaGear creating another HumaGear had ever been heard of. And Jin was so advanced, in a way. He looked like an adult, but acted like a child, more personality than any other…” She trailed off again, her expression darkening. “But the boss was furious. Wanted him destroyed. Horobi went nuts, started shouting not to hurt him, called him his son.” Her hands rubbed together even faster, and she started picking at her nails. “Boss… Said he had an idea. Sent me out with Jin and ordered me to wipe his memory.”

“And you did?” Izu asked, with an edge to her tone that was unidentifiable.

“It’s not like I wanted to!” The woman’s voice broke. She looked frantically at Yua. “You know what he’s like!”

Yua, however, shook her head. “No. I left Thouser when he tried to make me cross the line.”

Tears pricked at the woman’s eyes—and Aruto did feel a little sorry for her, Thouser didn’t give the impression of someone who would be lenient on disobedience, but this had had had massive consequences. “What happened?” He asked firmly, trying to sound like his grandfather and bring the conversation back.

The woman’s jaw clenched, and she huddled into herself, but she continued. “… Daybreak happened.” She murmured. “The ForceRisers hijack a HumaGear’s main programming. Results can vary—they can reset it, alter it, magnify a particular program, or completely override to with something like a single command.” Her fists were clenching so tightly her nails were leaving marks. “He used it to drive Horobi berserk. Almost the whole facility was destroyed.” She sighed again, a slightly thoughtful one. “He came for Jin. I didn’t expect that. Even though his mind was overridden, and he was operating on his original core directive, he still came. I only survived because I had the sense to get out of his way.” She looked around at them. “Emotions were never part of his original design. He somehow… Taught them to himself. Through Jin. When the boss put the ForceRiser on him, it purged everything it deemed ‘unnecessary.’ He literally cannot feel.” She shook her head. “I can’t just put them back in him. He’d have to learn them all over again.”

Yua folded her arms. “And his relationship with Jin has already suffered for it, so that’s probably not…”

“That’s what you think.” Isamu muttered, straightening up. Turning on his heel like a soldier, he started toward the door.

Yua turned after him. “Where are you going?”

He came to a half a few steps from the exit. “It’s just the emotions he lost, right?” He asked the woman with clearly faux cheer, deliberately ignoring Yua’s question. “He still remembers that he made Jin, just not why, or how it felt?” Looking utterly bewildered, the woman nodded. “So.” Isamu clicked his fingers. “We just force him to remember.”

“Remember?” Aruto asked, rising himself, completely not following Vulcan’s logic. “How?”

Isamu sighed thoughtfully, then glanced at Yua. “Yaiba, why did you ditch Thouser?”

She hesitated. “… Because he wanted me to frame you for murder and then kill you.”

He pointed at her like she’d just answered the winning lottery question. “Exactly. Life or death decisions.” He turned and started toward the door again.

“So… What?” Yua demanded, starting after him. “What makes you think you’re going to be able to do this, that you’re the person for the job?”

Isamu stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “… Because,” He told her levelly, without turning around. “… Feels like I owe it to him. One of Thouser’s weapons to another.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave them all a tired, sad smile. “Like we’re the only ones who can almost understand each other, you know?” Then, with a nod, he vanished out the door.

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

As you can see, I do like me the idea of Isamu being deliberately manipulated by Thouser/Yua’s mystery boss in the name of… Well, here, essentially using him as a weapon. Taking his hatred and fear of HumaGears and stoking it to help raise the stakes of the incident or something, or as a method to clear up evidence, or as canon fodder, whatever. And Isamu is pissed to learn of him doing something similar to Horobi.

Of course, none of this is gonna be exactly canon. There is a chance for the ‘Isamu (and maybe Horobi? Please?) being manipulated’ somehow, but it would not be exactly this, not at all.

Also this is way later in the series when both Wolf Dad and Cheetah Mom are on Grasshopper Son’s side. Also the thing that I wrote Yua leaving Thouser’s employ for… Feels possible. Like, for all she and Isamu fight and he drives her crazy, I don’t get the impression she’d be willing to kill him, and might even be disgusted by a plan to frame him for something as bad as murder. So, it seemed plausible.

#Random Writing Tidbit #Kamen Rider Zero-One #I am so very tired #need shower #throat feels like sand paper #draining #freaking head cold #Binary Retro Rider

3 notes · View notes