#most well publicised out of all of these
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How long will the japanese wikipedia article for goncharov last?
And how big is the internet, really?
I was in a wikipedia hole recently and I happened to notice that the Japanese article for Goncharov is the only language variant that is completely in-character.
Every other language specifies it as “Goncharov (meme)”. Japanese lists it as “Goncharov (1973 film)”, and formats the introduction as if it were a real movie:
Goncharov is a 1973 mafia film set in Naples, Italy. Produced by Martin Scorsese, the main cast includes Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, John Cazale, Gene Hackman, Cybill Shepherd, and Harvey Keitel.
— Wikipedia (my translation)
The rest of the article does go on to acknowledge Tumblr’s influence in Goncharov’s popularity, but every mention of this influence frames it as reviving the popularity of the supposedly real film. On two occasions the word 再燃 is used (the first kanji means “again” and the second kanji means “burn” - it means “rekindle” and can be similarly used in the metaphorical and literal sense, just like the english word “rekindle”).
Goncharov became particularly popularity on social media as a result of a reblog of a Tumblr post in August 2020. The post depicted shows the title of the film (Goncharov) in place of a brand logo on a shoe, which were described as “knockoff boots”. The image post and the comment attached to the reblog, mocking the fact that the original poster had not seen the film, became an internet meme. In November 2022, a poster made by a fan of Goncharov was uploaded to the internet, and the film’s popularity resurged. Various fan-made content about the story and production began to spread on Tumblr and other platforms. Goncharov has been widely covered in the media as an example of how fandom is born on the internet, with many prominent figures, including Scorsese himself, leaving comments.
— Wikipedia (my translation)
It’s clear the article is trying to adapt the real history of the meme and incorporate it as much as possible into the fictional history of the film. The rest follows quite similarly, and includes more analysis of how Tumblr culture created the “reignited” popularity, how Elon’s acquisition of Twitter resulted in an exodus of users to Tumblr which may have contributed to the increased awareness of the “movie”, etc. Though most of it is directly translated from the english, enough of it is original (such as the attempts to reconcile both real and fictional histories) that I suspect the article’s current state is intentional.
To get back to my initial question, how long will this article last like this?
Remember the whole Scots Wikipedia debacle? An american teenager had basically used simple word replacement to translate over 23,000 articles into Scots. Some people noticed this, but not many, and not loudly enough. It was only after a well researched reddit post pointed out the scale of the damage that people really took notice and action was taken. The wikipedia editor had apparently been doing this for 7 years before the reddit post was made.
If 20,000 articles could go largely unnoticed for 7 years, I imagine a single article could easily evade similar detection. Realistically, how many Japanese speakers are going to even hear about Goncharov and make it to the wikipedia article? Then, how many of them are going to do more googling and find out it’s all a hoax (or know already)? THEN, how many of them are going to tell a wikipedia admin that the article is a lie, or publicise it somehow in a way that forces the editors to update the article?
I think the reality is that although the internet may appear to be a massive open town square (or several), it also has side streets, and side streets of side streets. I feel like the number of active members in each online hobby or interest group are really quite small, and then they get divided between platforms, and even further divided into subgroups. I think if one decided it was something one wanted to do, it would be quite easy to become one of the most prevalent members of any online community you chose just by devoting the time and energy to it.
It’s also kind of shocking how much internet content is inaccessible on account of it being in a different language. English reigns supreme in terms of sheer volume, but there is original research and journalism and entertainment and art in every language, that hasn’t and might never be translated into english. For example, I found it very difficult to find any english sources or research for my post about the evolving conjugation of 違う, but I easily found several japanese papers and websites. In fact, if you google “違くない adjective or verb”, the first english result that doesn’t just handwave it as “informal” or “slang” is a tumblr blog with my post on it!
It’s a small internet indeed where my little hobby language blog is, according to google, the prevailing english source on what is quite a remarkable change in Japanese grammar that’s been happening since the 80s.
I think the Japanese unreality version of the Goncharov wikipedia article will stand for many years to come.
(below link shows the article at time of writing)
#langblr#japanese#japanese language#language#goncharov#the internet#long post#essay#日本語#jimmy blogthong
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i became a phannie in 2018 (right in the middle of ii) and i'm a bit scared to ask lol but... what was the vday video? :0
*cracks knuckles* oh boy
the date is september 17th, 2011. a video gets uploaded to the lessamazingphil youtube channel, it stays up for about three hours. the video, simply titled with an emoticon, is.. deeply embarrassing, if i’m being honest! it’s essentially a valentine’s card from phil to dan, painfully earnest and very very sweet, but obviously not meant to be seen by anyone else. at this point in time the phandom was quite small and nobody really lost their minds fully, though there are still reactions from the day up online. most of the reactions were people just going ‘lol called it’.
the original upload date of the video was february 13th 2010, and it had been private on lessamazingphil for a year and a half until a YOUTUBE GLITCH publicised it. quite frankly if i was dnp i would be burning down youtube headquarters because that is some fucking bullshit. the video gets taken down as soon as phil notices. he reaches out to people who saw it and explain to them that it was an april fools prank that they decided not to go through with.
now because not THAT many people saw it, and there weren’t many diehard shippers at the time, everything kinda died down. that is, until dnp properly blew up and got genuinely famous and oh no of course someone saved the vday vid and of course someone leaked it. halloween 2012! that’s when it all broke loose. at this point not only was the phandom big but there were a metric fuckton of shippers out there. and so when someone posted THAT.. well, you can imagine.
dan was in the middle of his no homo howell era and went the FUCK off at people on tumblr about it, phil was answering questions about it like hahaa nooo it was a prank lol. basically they were sticking to the april fools story, which is a hilariously bad excuse for many reasons, and truly did not add up even a little bit. there’s not really a reason anymore for us to pick it apart, because after BIG and dan confirming they were romantically involved at the time it’s more clear than ever that they were full of shit when they said it’s a prank, but people were writing essays about that shit. you had to be there, i fear. but also be glad you weren’t cause it was carnage out there
for YEARS after this phil would take down any copy of the video online, like i’m talking everywhere from youtube to pornhub to obscure foreign websites. the phandom rule was kind of to just not mention it at all, but definitely never post it.
i think we’re best off keeping the ‘don’t post it’ rule, because although the ‘outing them’ part of it all isn’t relevant anymore, it’s still a very private video and i just cannot stress enough how deeply embarrassing it is. i say that lovingly.
that being said, mostly everyone has seen it anyway. i am so sorry dan and phil. kind of, it’s kinda funny also. but sorry again. for what it’s worth, phil seems to have stopped taking it down, so while i won’t post it i will say that if you want to find it you can
... i am going to share their comments on it though because good lord
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red carpets without you
PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader
SUMMARY: you and drew have been dating for quite some time now, but have not brought your relationship for the public to see yet. Drew has the outer banks season 3 premiere to attend, so he goes without you. He misses you a lot at the premiere, but is completely satisfied with everything when he comes back home and gets to sleep in your arms.
WARNINGS: small mentions of cyber bullying and anxiety
EDITH SPEAKS: one of the biggest things I want to bring light on is how fans at times make their faves relationships uncomfortable. Please don't interfere with their personal lives, it's no matter to you. It's their life and they choose how to live it, and if they wish to be public about it or not. Please don't make their partners feel unloved and unwanted, the world is already a very harsh place, and that doesn't make it any better. Don't make assumptions on their relationships without any proper proof. Spread love and only love 💌🌷
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It is the evening of the Outer Banks season 3 premiere, and your boyfriend Drew is definitely going to be one of the main attractions of the event. He has been gone since early afternoon to prepare for the premiere and get ready, and you have been with him long enough to know that premieres can take a lot of time and he will be coming extremely late at night.
You and Drew have been reluctant to publicise your relationship. The thought of being recognised scares you, and even though Drew does have many supportive fans who will love you, the haters are always present around. You're afraid they will get to your head and make you believe made up stories about your relationship, ruining everything you have with Drew.
Today was one of the moments where you actually wished you could've gone with him. You absolutely adore the entire Outer Banks cast, and it would be nothing short of a spectacular night with them. Sometimes you do like to fantasize about you and Drew being public, you're in the most beautiful outfit and both of you are walking down the red carpet together, your hands intertwined. But you are quick to come back to reality when your mind shows you a scenario of you finding horrifying comments regarding you on a picture of you both, saying how you aren't the one for him and he's better off with someone else.
You remind yourself that the best place you can be at the moment is actually where you are right now: your couch, with a massive bowl of popcorn with you as you start watching the live stream of the premiere. You see all of the cast members walk in, looking beautiful as ever. You watch their interviews with utter love. They really are some of the best people.
Suddenly the cameras are directed towards Drew. He's wearing a dark blue suit, and you can't help but gape at how gorgeous he looks in that color. The fit of the suit is just perfect and he's getting his pictures clicked, his grace coming so effortlessly.
As Drew walks ahead on the carpet he's stopped by an interviewer. "Hello Drew, how are you feeling today?" The interviewer asks him.
"I'm good, super excited for everyone to see season 3," he says in the mic, smiling.
"What is Rafe like in the season? What will we get to see of him?"
"My lips are sealed for any information," he chuckles, "but he has done some... things." The interviewer laughs at his reply.
"Well Drew, is there anything you would like to say to your loved ones and your fans?"
"Thank you for all your constant support," he says, a big smile now on his face. "It makes me so happy to think how much everyone has been loving the show. Nothing is more fulfilling than watching your own hard work reaping you the big results."
At that moment, the interviewer ends his small talk with Drew and he walks on ahead on the carpet. The Twinkie is on the red carpet and watching Drew pose with it makes you giggle, as he goes inside it and looks out the window and gives a cheeky smile. The livestream goes on to show the interactions of the rest of the cast members with the interviewers and among themselves.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
You suddenly wake up from your nap on your couch which you hadn't realised you had started taking. It takes a few seconds for you to realise what's happening; the popcorn bowl is now empty and is lying on your carpet upturned, and the live stream has ended. You check the time on your phone to see it's nearing 1.30 am at night. You had initially thought of staying up until Drew comes home, but your sleepy mind has different plans for you. Giving in, you decide to head in to your bedroom to go to sleep.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
The gentle sounds of shoes being placed on the ground and the rustle of clothes wakes you up from your sleep. You open your eyes groggily and turn around in bed to see Drew's back towards you, as he is getting into comfortable clothes for the night.
"Hey bubs, you're home?" You ask gently. Drew turns around and you can visibly see the tiredness in his eyes.
"Oh, love, yeah I just came home," He walks up to you and bends down at your level. "I didn't expect you to wake up. Go back to sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"No it's okay, how was it?" You ask, your eyes not fully open from the heavy sleep lying on them.
"It was really amazing. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow okay?" He gets up from the floor and disappears in the washroom. After a few minutes he comes back out, and lies in the bed next to you.
You wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull his head onto your chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you start to play with his hair with sleepy motions of your hands, as you both drift off to sleep.
Drew had missed you a lot on the premiere - a lot more than he thought he would. There were so many moments where he wished he was answering the interviewer's question with you on his side. Your presence calms his nerves down whenever he feels a bit anxious, and such massive premieres, especially for a show as famous as Outer Banks, tend to make him slightly nervous.
But he knows you both aren't ready to come out to the whole world. Not yet. The world can be harsh, and even the strongest soldiers fall on their faces from its adversities. What you have is something made for just the two of you, and even though at times it feels like it shouldn't be this way, you know that this is actually the best you can have. And you are completely satisfied with it.
Why wouldn't you be? Drew is yours, and you are his. And that's all that matters.
#obx#drew starkey fluff#fluff#drew starkey oneshot#drew starkey imagine#rafe cameron#outer banks#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fic#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey#drew starkey one shot#john b#jj maybank#rudy pankow#chase stokes#madelyn cline#sarah cameron#jonathan davis#pope heyward#kiara carrera#madison bailey#written by edith! 🪄
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Chris McLean As Your Ex
✎: My second Chrissy blog 🙈 it ain’t my fault he’s so bbg. (ex!Chris x f!reader) (Celebrity Reader)
♡Summary: Chris still has feelings for you after you broke up. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to win you back.
WARNINGS: Language, (toxic?) relationship, mild anxiety, arguing, angst, fluff, (catcalling?😭) smut next chapter and not really proofread. :(
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
The day you met your ex-boyfriend Chris McLean was the day your picture-perfect life turned to shambles, or maybe it was the minute you agreed to host with him on his sadistic show… You were too busy to remember.
After filming another successful episode of your talk show: ‘Icons Unveiled', infamously known for it’s ‘unique’ contestants, (which is why people loved it so much) - the drama, fights and scandals discussed on your popular talk show are the main factors why people religiously tuned in. From a fourteen-year-old fanboy that became known online for hardcore obsessing over you, to an iconic personality with everyday petty drama that’s publicised way too often: GlamZoe.
And today’s episode featured a well-known kid influencer, Big Mia, and her ‘best friend’ Isabella, who blasted her secrets online for clout. Their feud only escalated, despite their ironic intention of 'peacefully hashing it out'.
“You’re calling me stupid? Bitch you were dumb enough to tell me all about yo’ shit in the first place. How ‘bout that?” Isabella disdainfully yelled, swiftly flipping her hair behind her shoulder.
“You only have clout because of me, know your place.” Big Mia retorted.
The audience erupted in applause, laughter, and audible gasps as a result of their vulgar responses.
“And? everyone likes me more than you anyways, so…”
“Guys - let’s relax, you came on here to bless this beef, not open a butcher shop.” You quipped, taking a sip of coffee from your signature ‘Icons Unveiled’ mug. The steam emitting from the mug fogged your Versace sunglasses, making you place them on your head.
“I’m gonna fight this hoe outside, how about that?” Big Mia asserted, rising from her seat as she tied her hair in a few sharp motions. Instinctively, security had to restrain her and ensure she remained seated. You noticed most fights were embellished by the participants for two reasons: you, a known and highly admired celebrity were witnessing it all unfold, and the instigating noisy audience: bloodthirsty for any scandal. People would do anything to Y/N L/N’s attention, anything.
You couldn’t refrain from seeing yourself and Chris in their thoughtless arguing, there was this one specific argument that was the final blow to your unhealthy relationship:
“Chris, we can’t keep hiding from talking about it. The fans are concerned, we need to address this situation openly.”
“We can’t risk making things worse by giving it more attention, they don’t need to know every detail.”
“But that’s the problem! they’re not stupid, they’ll eventually find out and they’ll lose trust in-“
“Trust me, I’ve been handling this for a long time. It’s better to let things settle on their own.”
“So have I! You’re not the only one, Chris. I’ll politely remind you I’m famous as well.”
“I know that… I know. I just can’t when you-“
“When I what? Am I just a distraction?”
That back-and-forth conversation went on and on… until it transitioned into an argument before even realising it.
“Changing our approach could backfire, Y/N! It will affect the ratings!”
“Ratings ratings ratings, that’s all you seem to care about!”
“I have to! Why don’t you don’t get it.”
“Tell me something, Chris. Who would you pick, me… or the ratings? The amazing fantastic ratings you can’t stop thinking about.”
“Y/N, just… fucking listen to me. You’re choosing to ignore me,"
In hindsight, your power couple relationship was really toxic. Instead of talking it out or apologising to one another, you just had sex. Which is exactly what you did after that argument, (yes, the same argument that made you breakup). You shouldn’t have to fuck or kiss someone to prove that you ‘love’ them, that’s a commonly known fact. Yet it seemed like your relationship didn’t get the message.
But your viewers were going to be thoroughly entertained by tonight’s episode, that’s for sure. As the bathtub’s floral, sweet-scented warm water soothed you, you enjoyed every second of the chaotic scene unfolding on your iPhone, making you feel amused and mildly exhausted. People never mention how drama is better tenfold when you’re actually witnessing it, front-row seats and all. Their animated gestures and exaggerated words only further enhanced their bickering. Soon enough, the speculations on social media were flooding in - so were your pay cheques.
You couldn’t resist but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Midway through the episode - just as they were about to reach the boiling point on your screen - your phone rang causing your heart to skip a beat. Nobody ever called you, the only exception was if it was undeniably crucial. Everyone understood how busy you were and the demands of your time. So when your phone chimed, that signalled something demanded immediate attention - the last thing you generously handed out.
The caller ID displayed ‘Liam Harrison’, your agent. You knew this wasn’t going to be just another casual conversation - he’d usually try to mask it as one before delivering bad news to you.
“Y/N?” he spoke, in that familiar gravelly voice you were unfortunately used to.
“Yes, this is she.” You laid back in your back tub and scarcely crossed your legs, mentally preparing for what was about to hit you.
“Tonight’s episode … crazy, right?” He said, a sense of relief lacing his words. Essentially because it was you who picked up the phone - not your voice note that he was unfortunately used to. You immediately picked up on the tone of his words and the slight relief present in them, It would be rare for anyone else to have picked up on this, but you were discreetly intuitive.
“Mmm,” you hummed in response.
“Right, erm, so I’m sure you’re aware of the high demand and the public being visibly upset about your absence on Total Drama.”
“Fuck me…” you muttered as you massaged your temples. Your anxiety gnawed at your thoughts, making you toy with your hair as you listened. As Liam presented his case, the high demand, phenomenal ratings, substantial income - the best part of it all: the increased fame.
You were focusing on the coffee mug that sat on the edge of your bathtub as you inattentively listened, it would always be comfortably cupped in your hands for every single episode as you watched scandals unfold, the viewers always called it ‘iconic’. Its pink interior contrasted the pristine white exterior, ‘Icons Unveiled’ etched onto the surface in a delicate font, this globally adored mug had soon gained a life of its own. It became so popular that it would be more rare to see someone who didn’t have your mug than to see someone who did.
Your business-savvy mindset embodied your influence, the minute you put them on sale it was even titled ‘The long-awaited merchandise masterpiece’, and it sold out in under half a minute. ‘Skyrocketing’ would be an understatement to describe how the sales performed - and it wasn’t just that, you sold coffee blends crafted to your taste, cute matching sets with your infamous catchphrase: ‘Getting up, close and personal with the icons!” and so on. Amidst your racing thoughts and tremors of anxiety, you realised something. Your smart business decisions pushed you so far ahead in the entertainment industry, something even Chris, (with all his charisma), hadn’t managed to accomplish yet.
“Y/N, what do you say?”
The abrupt noise enticed you to faintly jump, being so lost in your never-ending thoughts made you completely forget the disheartening situation you were in. You knew the moment you said ‘Yes.’ was the moment you sold your soul to the devil, to your demise to you have no other choice.
“I can’t wait,” you stated, not sounding as confident as you intended to.
“Great. We will be handling the contracts, drafting, legal approvals… all that stuff. As well as the promotional campaign to build anticipation for your appearance.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Goodnight, Ms. (L/N).”
“Night, Liam.” You hung up and your iPhone automatically resumed Icons Unveiled, you absentmindedly watched as your mind was in a completely different place.
The recruitment made sense so you couldn’t be too upset about it, when two wealthy and famous personalities collide, the mesmerising sparks are inevitable. You’ve built countless businesses just by having people on your show, you were consistent and dedicated to your craft, and some may say that you had it easy - that you were rich the moment you were born and got everything you wanted, luxuries and riches were an everyday thing. You played your cards right, became rich and famous, and were worshipped worldwide. Your alluring and humble personality made you hard to ignore giving your universal appeal, evoking envy and admiration from others in the entertainment industry.
Maybe this was what led to your breakup - your wits and marketing techniques may have triggered Chris to be slightly envious. But you weren’t innocent either; as his fame grew over time so did your jealousy. You weren’t exactly the jealous type, though. But the constant comparisons, busy schedules and fans feeding his already indestructible ego ignited something in you that you never knew was there.
On the other hand, he started feeling uneasy about your immense success. Chris was mainly looked down upon, but viewers kept tuning in as they were in a trance by the cruel ideas he came up with. You positively influenced your fans (or so they thought), but deep down you were just like him. You hated admitting it but you were both equally insane, you were made for each other. The spotlight that shone on you made him question whether he could measure up to your achievements, and he hated that.
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After a long yacht journey, you arrived at Camp Wawanakwa; your new dreadful and thankfully temporary home. An isolated island with an untamed forest, towering trees and tepid cabins. The air’s musk had an earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves, the nostalgic smell that without warning brought you back to when you previously hosted.
As you stepped out of the lavish yacht, nervousness and excitement churred in your stomach. Chef, Chris’s loyal assistant, greeted you with a warm smile.
“You look just as young as I last saw you,” he chuckled in that familiar thick and passionate voice. Chef afforded you a reassuring pat on the back as he helped you with your luggage.
Although the campers were confined to their cabins until filming began, you could sense the excitement from the peeks you caught through the cabin windows. Whispers, screeches and a few wolf whistles followed you as Chef guided you to ‘The Chris Crib’.
You couldn’t resist but to wave at the girl's cabin, and blow a platonic kiss to the boys.
“Oh my God! Y/N L/N waved at me!”
“No, she waved at me! We all saw it!”
“Shut up - she waved at all of us.”
“Boys… she clearly digs us.”
“Yeah, did you see the way she blew that kiss?”
“She’s so fucking hot, I need her in my bed.”
When you entered the ‘Chris Crib’, (which looked way better than the worn-out cabins, very typical of Chris) the first thing you did was walk into your room to unpack your bags, not even bothering to greet …him. Your room was left untouched and Chris's faint scent lingered; a subtle sweet-smelling cologne. You caught sight of some lingering items you left behind.
You changed into your pyjamas, a silky white spaghetti top paired with satin shorts. After a brief moment, you picked up on the faint sound of his voice, your nosiness forcing you to overhear. He spoke in a hushed tone about how he couldn’t get you out of his head - how he still loved you and wanted to see you. Yeah, right. With the way he treated you? Sure he did. He can keep lying to himself if that’s what helps him sleep at night after tormenting innocent teenagers.
But the weight of your emotions and the relentless grip of anxiety had been tightening around you for weeks, pulling you into a tornado of racing thoughts. Today was no different, you found yourself lost in thought, sitting in your bathtub - the one inside the bathroom which was connected to your bedroom, you were still fully clothed in your PJs. You didn't even bother to lock any doors, so anyone could walk in at any given moment. A rumour on socials spread like wildfire about Icons Unveiled being staged, making your viewers worried and doubting you and your show.
Maybe you actually were just like Chris? You cared too much about what the fans thought. More than you think you should - but it was reasonable - they were your source of income. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s okay, your team would handle it, right? It’s all going to be okay. But this subtly affected your episode’s performances, some days you were better at hiding your inner emotions than others but the speculations made it ten times more difficult. This coupled with the continuous pressure to serve content was a lethal combo. You were grappling with the mounting burnout that had begun to take a toll on your physical and mental health.
The announcement of co-hosting TDI was a cruel twist of fate, a decision driven more by the demands than your own desires. As you wrestled with your thoughts, your racing heart gave way to a full-blown panic attack. Your audible heartbeat and heavy breathing and an overwhelming urge to just escape… You felt as if these were your last moments, as if these were your last breaths, last heartbeats.
This situation couldn’t get any worse until Chris walked in, you didn’t even want to look at him. Your wet hair draped over your shoulders and shielded your face, yet you could still sense a worried and concerned expression on his face. He’s seen this happen before - you had odd ways of coping, the one he was most used to was drowning yourself in your thoughts in any accessible bathtub. He saw your vulnerability and offered a steadying hand like he was reminding you that you weren’t alone.
“Hey, hey - take deep breaths,” His voice was gentle yet reassuring. He knelt beside you, and even though your pyjamas had turned completely see-through, he placed one hand comfortably around your back.
“I’ve got you, alright? You’re safe here.”
You reluctantly nodded, trying to focus on his words as your heart’s abnormally fast rate gradually decreased. But you couldn’t prevent the tears streaming down your face, tracing a scorching path along your cheek. The once bubbly and vibrant colour of your eyes was killed by the bloodshot hue, your breath hitched in your throat, catching on the sobs that wrecked your body. Each gasp for air was a painful reminder of the tightness gripping your chest.
“Panic attacks are tough, you’ve faced harder challenges. Remember that time you nailed that live episode? You’ve got this, listen to my voice.” he continued, his tone steady.
You always liked listening to his voice, so that would be simple enough task. It was husky and satisfying to the ears; it effortlessly put you to sleep on multiple occasions. You mentally recalled the day you had a panic attack before filming a segment for Icons Unveiled, three of your team members spent what felt felt like fifteen painstakingly slow minutes trying to calm you down. When it was Chris, him being there for only a minute or a few seconds would have you feeling much more serene.
You closed your eyes, trying to heed his words. You haven’t met his gaze once this whole time, avoiding revisiting the memories you shared just by simply looking at him. His presence was like an anchor, bringing you to reality amid the chaos in your mind. As your breathing slowed, his hand never left your side. “This will pass, you’ve got the power to overcome it.”
Finally, your words escaped your lips, and the grip you had on his other hand tightened as if your life depended on it, which heavily contradicted your next statement:
“I hate you.” The words were tremulous and engulfed with tension, yet your gaze told a different story. He knew you better than you realised - the emotional whirlwind that was happening inside you, and the conflicting feelings.
He hated (when I say hated I mean hated) seeing you in this state, struggling to fight an extremely challenging battle was so hard for him to see. He knew deep down it was because of him, which made him feel way worse. In that look you gave him, he sensed your frustration and appreciation. The Y/N way of acknowledging his presence when words weren’t enough.
No, he doesn't genuinely care... he's crazy. Crazy would be an understatement to factually describe him, you've seen the shit he pulls on his show. Chris is an emotionless man - in your scenario, it was all different. You give him emotions he's never felt before.
He gently tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering momentarily. His voice was a soft barely audible whisper,
“I know.”
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Part Two
Also, holy shit. I would've never thought I’d make it this far- THANK YOU SO MUCH BBS!!!💕 Sending virtual hugs rn.
Masterlist
#chris mclean#Chris#tdi#total drama island#total drama#cod#call of cuty#ghost#smut#angst#x yn#x reader#yn#self insert#simon riley#Lindsay#heather#cod x reader#boyfriend#ghost cod#fluff#König#headcanon#john price#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#konig call of duty#call of duty#cod mw3#gaz
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What are some of the other countries in the alt-history your Inver stories are set in? Is Armorica roughly where modern day Brittany would be? :0
Because our concept of countries is very modern & constructed it's not quite that Armorica or Hibernia were Countries as we might understand them. They were mostly made up of smaller fractured kingdoms and cultures which were always fighting one another. Armorica was a region which was roughly here (map and history ramble under the cut SORRY i basically didn't answer your question i got carried away)
(this map is from the 1860s! not Finbarr's time.. I still need to make a map of that)
but it was never a country, just a region alternatively ascribed to Inver or Aquitan. It fell on the northern side of the Inver border with Aquitan whenever it was established but the border was put there rather arbitrarily and cut across the region without consideration for the people who lived there.
So there IS in fact a whole other history which doesn't even concern Inver at all. There is a small city-state on the southern coast of Aquitan called Suzette, which was founded by the pseudo-Catholics of this world and used as their main base of operations. It's basically just the Vatican, but an early actually-Catholic historical figure called (Saint) Alexandre led a schism with the church and was successful. The schism dealt with the legality of using magic to advance the church's position, Alexandre argued that it was a moral imperative to preserve the ability to use magic within the ranks of their holy knights. Alexandre became a very polarising figure but his most famous follower was military leader called Renzo who, in the renaissance period, basically upturned and reshaped the entirety of the Mediterranean region.
At the time, Aquitan was a kingdom with an absolute monarchy and the same werewolf-based religion as the nobility of Inver (the winners of Finbarr's war were the Aquitanian werewolves and it became the dominant religion in Inver as well). Renzo led a religious crusade against the monarchy of Aquitan, to wipe out all that pagan werewolf stuff. He blindsided the queen of Aquitan, who had been running her own campaign of expansion against the king of Notte [placeholder name], on the far-western coastline of Iberia. When Renzo began winning substantial victories in the southern countryside of Aquitan, the queen immediately turned around and ""allied"" with the king of Notte, by mounting an invasion against the city of Notte and forcing him to surrender and play nice. She sent him off on an enforced holiday under house arrest, aware that her play relied on not martyring this king while she ruled his country in all but name. With the combined might of these two kingdoms she was certain she could crush Renzo, and this began a decades-long war.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, the king of Notte was killed by bandits who didn't even know who he was, before he ever reached his holiday home. The nondescript carriage was ambushed and there were no survivors. The queen, in a panic, chose not to publicise his death.
Well guess what Renzo was doing with his holy knights' blood magic. With each victory his army grew, because he raised the dead to serve him. Resurrection and immortality were key themes of Saint Alexandre's teachings and although Renzo's war crimes would result in his own religion banning the practice of this type of magic, it was kind of a-ok back then (the Church of Suzette would later go on to be pioneers of medical innovations such as antibiotics, germ theory, and safe anaesthesia). And you'll never guess whose dead body Renzo's knights found one day, dumped on the side of the road. Renzo alone recognised what had just come into his possession, and he formulated a counter-play against the queen by using the dead king as his own pawn. Using the king, he got the entire Iberian peninsula to turn on the Aquitanian monarchy, so instead of it being 2-on-1 against Renzo, it was suddenly the queen who was dangerously outnumbered and deeply unpopular.
The monarchy of Aquitan was finally defeated by its own people sixty years after the war began, and a theocracy based on the teachings of Saint Alexandre was founded there, along with the city-state of Suzette. The final execution of the monarchists had severe ripple-effects that reached Inver, which had been pretty insulated from the war by virtue of being a kinda pointless place to invade and housing a population of faeries outnumbering humans 10 to 1. The monarchy of Inver took pride in its links to the Aquitanian nobility and now that was gone. The result was a death spiral for the Kingdom of Inver, as the werewolf monarchists, fearing their imminent extinction, began to fight one another to grab as much power and wealth as possible before the Suzettes reached them, too. They banned the church at the border, only allowing the harmless priests of Suzette's poor Austerity sect to build their hospitals, though they were forbidden from holding religious services and actively converting the public, you have to willingly join.
The final Hibernian families who bought into the monarchy of Inver included the descendants of Finbarr, who had largely betrayed everything he would have stood for by assimilating into their enemies' ranks. And, as anyone might have predicted, their assimilation did not protect them when the nobles of Inver chose to prune their own ranks to concentrate power. One of these families was the noble and now extinct Mercier family, the family of one of our protagonists of Said the Black Horse (bowman lol). The other two protagonists are a second-gen immigrant Hibernian and a war orphan originally from Notte.
#setting: inver#oh god. hey. do you want to learn some fantasy history#it's not even spoilers. it's just bg info#there's more... so much more....
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golden trunks theory but i've forgotten how to do literary analysis:
so i think much like a lot of tbhc golden trunks is about a juxtaposition between intimacy/desire and the facade u have to put up as a public figure
like the opening verse/chorus are so starkly plain in the mental image they describe. it's just a simple portrait of an intimate night falling asleep together, and theres a very secretive tone created by the words "whispered" "admit". so from the get go we know immediately that it's about "true love" → romantic connotations, and this true love is associated w the night ie secrecy
this is a stark contrast to the second verse and bridge but esp the bridge where he plainly says "in the daytime". usually the day and light are associated w truth and revealing things but here he uses the daytime to talk about "a fresh new pack of lies", in contrast to the nighttime's "true love". the fact that the bridge is about being a celebrity and contending with lying for the sake of public relations is made very clear w how he says "bendable figures" → public figures who just bend/conform to the narrative crafted by pr managers, and most obviously w the use of the word "publicise". in an interview w la times hes asked if he enjoys being a pop star (w all the pressure and attention that entails) and he says "i have very little basis for comparison. the band has been going on for a larger fraction of my lifetime than it hasn’t." so as a very private person even leaving conspiracy theories about sexuality aside hes obv familiar w trying to keep the details of his relationships out of the spotlight. + this idea of the nighttime being the time for truth has been used before in diwk so it's a consistent theme
lots of people say the song about politics bc of the second verse cuz they say it's about (eugh) donald trump but i feel like thats a very surface reading. it's very out of place to me for him to have this randomass political commentary in a love song that he never brings up ever again which is why i dont think it's actually political commentary (or well, not Just, the pitchfork interview shows that is Is aware of politics obv it's just not the Point) it's just another angle to illustrate the idea of a public facing facade. he states in an interview that he thought of the wwf, which has given us the very interesting concept of kayfabe: the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic. the public persona, like a wrestler w a dramatic theme song, is larger than life, rehearsed, beloved and famous, and also very much fake.
this next part i said entirely as a joke making shit up while talking to my mutuals but then i was like wait maybe i was cooking. we're getting into more speculative rpf territory here but essentially i thought it was very interesting how he specifies that this is "the closest thing to a love song on this record", and also that the character it's centred around is one that he "made". many of his past love songs everyone knows are about his real actual love interests (eg shes thunderstorms was about alexa. alexa was a tv presenter) and now here's this song that is about simple, straightforward admittance of desire towards someone that doesnt exist. summed up in my og message to my mutuals, "hes singing to the amalgamation of his lovers an imaginary ideal to whom he can be simple and honest with in a way he can't quite bring himself to be in real life". i honestly feel like this gels well with the ultracheese's last two lines; a vague admission of guilt, of complicated feelings, vs capitulating to honesty and tiring of lying for the sake of pr ("i'm sure you've heard about enough"). + i find it interesting that golden trunks is that only tbhc song that has never been performed live
++ this idea of duplicity and lying has come up a lot in his discography but in tbhc specifically the bside anyways has the line "what a place for both the opposite sides / of my double life to finally collide"
and finally. the absolute funniest part of golden trunks.
Let me set the scene: sometime between Axl Rose getting braids (2002) and People Just Do Nothing jumping the shark (right now), those brothers in melodic yarns Turner and Kane, plus “another human being” – let’s call her “The Girl”, shall we, to save her poor mother’s heart condition? – are intertwined among the postcoital flotsam of an upmarket hotel room.
“Hey, I’m glad you came,” Turner is alleged to have said, forever on the right side of etiquette and politeness in such matters. While Kane, in his sludgy Scouser lilt acknowledged, “Ah, thanks, man.” At which point Turner sat bolt upright in his sparkly gold briefs (unconfirmed) to stress who, in fact, his grateful aside was aimed at: “Not you, you wally. Her!”
sauces:
- quotes curated by genius
- la times
- gq magazine / tumblr post
#my content#arctic monkeys#alex turner#arctic monkeys analysis#literally copy pasted this from my ramble to my irl i feel like i keep repeating myself but also not elaborating enough sorry 🥰🙏#m just bored
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salespeople
“Hiya, how can I help?” Sirius asked into the speakerphone. An incoming customer call had been directed to him, and it was his duty to answer their queries knowledgeably, clear up any confusion, reassure them that sales were soaring; that investing wouldn’t result in a loss. He took his job as a salesperson for his adoptive family’s hair company with the utmost responsibility.
Usually, he never bothered with anything, always lazily half-hearted and thoughtlessly careless, but he’d always lived to please his family, and really, the hair product was incredible. Without it, he doubted he would have the long, smooth, silky dark hair he was currently brushing behind his ear.
“More like how can I help you?” An exaggeratedly cheerful voice responded, and Sirius sucked his teeth in, recoiling at the fake, saccharine voice, clearly doused in excessive gallons of honey, dripping with insincerity. He’s heard these sorts of people before, mainly a certain Gilderoy Lockhart, who literally poured buckets of honey down his speakerphone, ranting in disgustingly jovial tones about his own brilliance.
Well, at least this person wasn’t Gilderoy — by now, they’d have been at least ten thousand words into how blindingly gorgeous Gilderoy’s new nose job was. (A lie, by the way.) Gilderoy was the worst salesperson by far, not even advertising the product he was paid to publicise. Also, this person was a customer, not a salesperson, and they sounded extremely deranged, which meant Sirius had to help them all the more.
Before Sirius could speak, though, the voice awkwardly rushed in to fill the silence, “Because I have the perfect thing that will help you, not that you need helping, actually, I’m sure you’re, uh, pretty? But, well, I’m bad at this, look, just buy the damn product.”
Sirius blinked. Maybe this person was a salesperson? “Are you okay?”
“No. I’m drunk. I suck at my job. I don’t even care about hair! Oops, that rhymed. Anyway, I try to, but I sound so fake. Even alcohol doesn’t help. Like, in what world does alcohol not help?”
“Uh — none?”
“Exactly! Really, I just need the money. And not in a ‘all I care about is money kinda way’, but ‘cause I’m genuinely broke.”
“Uh.”
“Sorry. I’m trying to get you to buy out of pity. I heard honesty really sells it.”
“Right. Well, maybe start by telling me what your product is?”
The faint sound of a head hitting a table. “I’m an idiot, sorry. It’s ‘Potter’s Sleekeazy Hair Products’.”
Sirius slowly smiled, realisation dawning on him. With a smirk, Sirius Potter said, “I get those for free.”
“…What?”
“Name’s Sirius Potter.”
“Oh God.”
Sirius laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. What’s your name?”
“Are you going to fire me?” The voice asked bluntly.
“Nah, I’m not in charge of that.”
“But you’re related to the people who are?”
“Something like that.”
“So you have the power to get me fired.”
“And with the power I wield over you, I’d like you to tell me your name.”
“Remus,” the person sighed. “Remus Lupin.”
“Don’t sound so miserable, Remus,” Sirius said. “I told you, don’t worry.” With that, Sirius hung up, and decided to take his break, disconnecting from the centre so that no calls would be directed to him. He made a note to report the error of connecting two salespeople as well. He’d been informed that Remus was an incoming call, and Remus had probably been tasked with making an outgoing call. Actually, what if Remus, in his drunken daze, accidentally sent the wrong request? Maybe Sirius wouldn’t report it after all. Because in reality, despite Remus’s doubts, he didn’t want him fired. He actually wanted to befriend him. Which was strange, but Sirius didn’t question it.
He went on a Remus Lupin hunt, merely because Remus was interesting, crazy, weird, direct, stupid, awkward, funny; quite frankly, the most intriguing person Sirius had ever heard. And that was from his voice alone. Who knew what Remus would be like in person? He knew Remus would be at one of the desks in the Potter’s call centre, and blindly walked down the rows and columns of white desks until he saw the man’s name tag.
Remus was dolefully staring down at the headphones he’d taken off and placed on his desk, and he’d probably been doing that for a long time. His hair was awful: knotted, matted, scraggly, overgrown… and yet, the russet curls fell prettily into his eyes, and Sirius couldn’t make out the colour because of Remus’s insanely long eyelashes, hiding them from sight.
Sirius smiled amusedly at the sight, before pushing the headphones to the side of the desk and pulling himself up to sit there instead. Remus blinked up at him in confusion. Golden. The colour of his eyes. Molten, hot liquid, pure and radiant, swirling in his irises; a deep, rich shade of brown that was too shiny to be brown.
“Hiya,” Sirius grinned. “Got any more alcohol on you?”
Remus’s eyes widened in recognition, and he obediently opened a desk drawer and pulled out a huge bottle of vodka — which, concerningly, was already half-drunk. Sirius laughed. “Don’t be so stiff, mate, I’m not gonna attack you.”
“You’re the boss, though.”
“Nah, just one of his sons. I work the same as you, y’know. Salesperson.”
“Oh.”
“Cheers,” Sirius nodded, taking a swig of the bottle, letting out a sigh as his throat burned.
Remus’s lips twitched upward. “Usually, I don’t drink so visibly.”
Sirius gave him a levelled look. “I’m a Potter.”
“And that gives you superiority?”
“Yes,” Sirius stated, purposefully taking another sip. He grinned when Remus chuckled slightly, and then even more when Remus froze like a deer in headlights when he was caught.
“Loosen up, I thought you were drunk,” Sirius passed the bottle back.
Remus pursed his lips, before shrugging and taking a massive swig.
“Wow,” Sirius noted. “Really hate this job, huh?”
“Well.”
“Y’know, if you’re broke, how’d you afford the bottle?” Sirius gestured.
Remus grimaced at the impression it gave. A poor alcoholic who spent all his money on his poison. “I actually won it in a lottery. But my best mate was in charge, and I’m one hundred percent certain she rigged it in my favour.”
Sirius cackled. “You deserve it.”
“Clearly,” Remus responded dryly.
“You’re different now than on the phone,” Sirius observed. “You know Lockhart?” All Sirius needed was Remus’s answering grimace to say, “At first, you reminded me of him.”
“What?!” Remus coughed. “I hate everything. I knew it was bad, but not that bad.”
Sirius consolingly patted the top of Remus’s curls as he pathetically buried his face into his elbows, splayed all knobbly and gangly over the desk. “Aw, it’s okay,” Sirius jokingly cooed. “Honestly, you redeemed yourself greatly. So adorable, you were. And I think you called me pretty, at one point in that ramble. And you hadn’t even seen me! I’m touched.”
“You’re still pretty,” Remus mumbled into his sleeve, and Sirius raised his eyebrows.
“So are you,” he whispered.
Remus finally raised his head in comical confusion, but before those lovely lips could form the words asking him to elaborate, Sirius continued in a louder voice, “Well, I won’t fire you, but we’re gonna find you a job you care about. Because, although your hair is beautiful, you clearly don’t give a shit about looking after it.”
_____________________
Three years later, Sirius was the boss of Potter’s Sleekeazy Hair Products, his parents having made the decision to retire early and enjoy their remaining years as much as possible. And, it was clear that Sirius was made for the job.
After closing up the office, he skipped down the sidewalk, and rounded the corner of the cobbled street to face the monstrous, arched building, looming over him intimidatingly with its intricate traceries and age-old, weathered bricks. But it didn’t intimidate him, because it was the second home of his partner, who spent his hours poring over dusty pages of ancient volumes, or writing new pages to fill spaces in bookstores for people of all ages.
They’d found the job together, exploring dreams and hopes and ambitions, and dreaming and hoping and striving even more to make it work. And it worked. Because now Remus Lupin was a bestselling author and university lecturer, and he only drank alcohol when he wasn’t working. Oh, and his hair was even more breathtaking, because every week, his partner conditioned it with a new, specially-designed Potter’s Sleekeazy Conditioning Serum.
Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse
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Reminder: What Peaches allegedly went through is horrible, if true, but that does not excuse him from what he did to Rosa. As an autistic person, his and Lio’s actions remind me of downright horrible bullies I’ve dealt with (I am not a victim of bullying, at least in the traditional sense, but it’s a long story.) and it’s deplorable the way they treated her.
Peaches has called people the r slur, and another derogatory term for an autistic person based on the word aspergers (I have my own issues with the term itself anyway) and clearly enjoyed what he did to Rosa. In some of the audio recordings he released, he did show remorse for what he did to Rosa, however, he went into those conversations with Lio with the intent of recording and publicising it to throw Lio under the bus. I was only vaguely aware of the Rosa call before, and Lio had given me weird vibes, but I always excuses his behaviour with “oh, well, they’re predators, who cares if he’s mean to predators?” But nope, turns out he just treats everyone like shit. And that’s the thing with these moral grandstanding people. They channel their anger into self-proclaimed righteousness to avoid being seen as the unhinged mf they are. Nah. Fuck ableists. Fuck this shit.
Deplorable behaviour. To think it took 3 hours for anyone to say anything. Everyone who was in that call should be ashamed of themselves, even if they were silent. You’re an enabler.
I hate these internet vigilantes. I actually give a shit about these topics, so here are some resources about topics I care deeply about.
Fuck ableists. Bye.
Here’s the video of these grown adults bullying a mentally handicapped woman for not having a job and needing a carer for three hours. Oh, and she’s not the predator in this case, she just didn’t ban the predator, and likely didn’t even KNOW there was one in the server, might’ve not even had permissions to kick them! I run a server, and unless someone is a very obvious troll, I don’t just let my mods ban who they want, most servers don’t. Seriously. This video is repulsive. Check tags.
Video #1 - Lio tries to act scary
Video #2 - Cowards in a VC harass a neurodivergent woman for 4 hours
Video #3 - A video of a cute dog unrelated to this ableist nonsense
Edit: btw the rosa call isn’t the only fucked up call these two participated in, but that wasn’t what my post was about so I didn’t mention it. u can google shit bou it. Might wanna look int2 the Jibz situation. There’s also niche situations like some ND dude called Robert who got bullied by senate for… not liking harassment, lol. Senate sure be a lovely bunch of people, ay? Oh, yeah, recently found out ‘ay’ is pronounced ‘I’ and not ae. Unrelated. Also talking about shit like this just pisses me off. Really fucking much.
Edit 2: I said I was “vaguely aware” of the rosa call before. Turns out I was pissed about it 8 months ago and completely forgot, cuz I liked two comments from back then on the original call (not the 4 hours one) criticising it. Btw, the comment section there is full of ableists. Have fun reading that.
Edit 3: LioConvoy released his video. While I haven’t finished it, I have mixed thoughts on it (like I’m skeptical of some things but generally the screenshots don’t make Peaches look good regardless) I just got to one part, and can I just say how fucking funny it is for Peaches to have a genuine fit over not getting imposter in among us? That’s all I wanted to say.
Edit 4: Not Lio trying to argue with a lawyer 😭 it’s so funny that he tried arguing with a lawyer. You know what getting pissy when someone doesn’t cower to you is? You know what kind of behaviour that is? Bullying behaviour. I’m not doing an argument by authority I’m just saying it’s very audacious to assume you’d know more than a lawyer. And why does this mf like saying “oh, but THIS person is also bad!” Yeah, a lot of people talking about this situation are pretty fucked up themselves. And??? How does that make you look good?? “Soapbox house of cards and glass so don't go tossin' your stones around.” E
Edit 5: I ain’t gonna ride anyone in this situation the only things I advocate are is A) animal rights B) myself. With that said, why is “this video covering the Rosa call is CATTY and MEAN” a criticism now lol? Like okay… and? They were being catty and mean in the call. You don’t have to take the assholes in the call seriously to take the situation seriously? What a strange criticism. I can’t see the likes/dislikes on the video, so idk the consensus, but yeah.
Addendum: Lioconvoy be like: The Rosa call was abhorrent (the language we used not the fact we were screaming at a mentally disabled woman) and it’s fair game (it was over a year ago though why are people bring it up) and it was not okay in the slightest (rosa is a deceitful, bad person) and I won’t make any excuses for my actions (rosa was still in the wrong) and I want to apologise for the ableist language I used (no I won’t show proof I apologised to rosa)
Like yeah rosa might’ve done something wrong (depending on which factors are true, which are false) but if you’re gonna apologise to someone, just apologise. “Sorry, but…” is not an apology. If you’re gonna double down, be blunt about it at least and don’t pretend you’re actually sorry. But pandering, am I right?
You know I remember criticising Mamamax and Lioconvoy once in my server, and someone said “well at least Lio gets people arrested.” No hate to that person, but knowing what I know now, couldn’t be further from the truth. 💀 I wouldn’t say it’s ironic, but there’s a word there somewhere for that.
No, I’m not saying you can’t be criticised if you have a disability. I’m saying the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. She was literally blackmailed into remaining in the call. That call was verbal beratement, blackmail and power-abuse; I’m not sugarcoating it.
#tw ableism#cw ableism#lemons random rants#lio convoy#hopeless peaches#tw grooming (referenced in linked video)#tw misogyny (in the video)#tw victim blaming (can be seen that way in the call.)#tw shaming#tw ableist language#tw r slur
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omg,, can i like, request park seojoon x male reader?? maybe something like some smut after a swimming session 😩 (because seojoon shirtless does unimaginable things to me, and it being forbidden would be so hot hhdhsgs)
love your writing!! keep up the good work omg
OMG! Thank you so much @flwrboi for requesting this. It took too much time, but I hope what I write will be worth it. Also, since you have not specified the reader's disposition, I am taking some liberty. This is obviously, a work of fiction, just presented in a different form.
Park Seojoon x Male Reader
I do not own the pic.
This letter was found in Seojoon's private room at the swimming club, it was not meant to be read by you but due to the request of many and the freedom of knowledge, here it is revealed, through some edits to conceal the names of the most immediate persons, you may form your opinions but remember that offense is allusive and envy is the real poison.
Hyung,
I never thought that I would be related, even if distantly, to you, and in the moments of our first random encounters as relatives, we both know how we tried to not let the past interfere with our present.
The first night in that hotel, when you took me to your room, a mere 19-year-old virgin, with an upcoming star, I felt the golds and whites rush through your skin into my body and all other marks and reliques you left on me; I preserved them till I was able to so without losing my sanity.
For months I felt the ghost of touches and bites on my whole body, you were there, on the screen, shinning brighter than ever and I lived on with the hauntings; nobody after you came close to make me live through those sensations again, they bit, spanked, kissed and put it in the same spots but all were just a parody.
Then, slowly, I recovered from the past and tried to focus on my current life; I had to finish my university degree, and watching you reach new heights assured me that the chance encounter was some cosmic justice done to me to balance out all the past misfortunes.
Yet, after two years of that, there you were again, with a blonde undercut, smiling, the perfect boyfriend of the perfect child of the family. Did you choose my cousin to come back to me? I know, I dream a lot.
I saw the disbalance in your eyes as I was introduced to you, but we had roles to play; we did well, for the most part of it. Two, three, four family gatherings, and the thread was thin, wafered ice, one hot breath away from the abysmal collapse.
And when you were asked to drop me off at my flat, you had to deny, you had to say no and I had to say that I am fine, and should've taken a cab.
I will mark that as the turn, the makeout in the car, the blowjob, the whole night at my flat; you kissed every time with such a fierce will to not let go that the whole next week my tongue felt rough, were you scared that it won't ever happen again? Is that why you wanted to fill me 'to the brim, everywhere'?
Then came the suggestion of swimming lessons, and the naive little cousin of mine, she thought you were a caring hyung to offer help to me.
Your manager arranged everything, and I could not be more thankful to anyone, booking the swimming club for the whole days we were there, covering up for us; for a moment I thought you were sleeping with him too to make him do this much for us, but some people genuinely want to see us happy.
There, in the pool, as you taught me how to swim, I always looked over at your body, glistening with water, and felt as if I were to touch you, you would flow away, like a mirage, but you always assured by quite smoothly going in me that you will be there, holding me, using me and keeping me with you.
You broke up with my cousin after your relationship was publicised and my whole family went against you. So I had no choice but to cut them out of my life to be with you, still, holding on to your promise of living together; I have waited for more than a year now.
Yesterday after we had our swimming session, and we had to drain out the pool as you insisted on doing it in the pool, I put this in your room before leaving, as a confession, though we have confessed many times before, and as a reminder to fulfill your promise too.
I will be meeting you next week now as you have to go abroad, so I hope you come back to me first before going to your place; I will wait while wearing your favourite apron.
love you,
M/L.
P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.
#fanfiction#kpop x male reader#male reader#gay#bottom reader#korean actor#korean actor x male reader#gay men#gay couple#park seo joon#park seojoon x male reader#seojoon x male reader#experimental#requested
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OKAY so kind of part right. Naomi doesn't drive anymore, but she does work as an engineer with Williams. Her father drove rally cars in the 90s, before he lost his hand in a horrific accident. Despite this Naomi was raised around cars (her mother was a mechanic), and fell in love with driving and karting, though her dad always warned her against that life since it, by his own admission, made him absolutely miserable before permanently disabling him. She showed great promise, though, and her parents wanted to support her through it all, so long as she always aimed for better than her best.
She and Suki drove in f2 together, usually ending up vying for first place against each other. Naomi kept his advances of friendship at arms length for a long time, worried it would distract her from her father-given mission. She was a reserve driver for Alpine for a time, driving her first and last f1 race in Monaco in 2022. Eventually, she and Suki got closer, since Suki is Not one to give up trying to be friends with people, and she really did feel quite lonely. Their friendship was pretty well publicised, and for a long time, people speculated they were dating. It was racing against her that Suki had his big accident, and she witnessed the whole thing, ending up striking his car and having her own accident which, although overshadowed by the more dramatic injury served to her friend, put her out of commission for the foreseeable future.
Suki did assume she wouldn't want to be friends with him after, but she turned mostly to him for comfort. She decided herself after watching what had happened to her friend, what had happened to her, and what happened to her dad, that she just wasnt willing to risk it, especially since she, at that time, believed her chances of ever getting into f1 were extremely low, deciding instead to go to university to study engineering and help out around races for some experience. Her parents were extremely disappointed, and her father particularly blamed Suki for a while, refusing to speak to him and being generally bitter. It took some talking to from Naomi to get him to come around.
In the wake of the accident, Naomi and Suki spent a LOT of time together, and as Suki recovered and went back to driving, he was offered a place driving for Aston Martin, and their supposed relationship ended up even more publicised. With Suki not particularly wanting to stunt his growth by coming out, he just went with the lie and the two of them fake dated for basically the entirety of his rookie season. Which is funny because tho the media ate it up, literally any queer person who had ever seen Suki in person would say That Boy Does Not Like Women.
Anyways here are some pictures I've invented of her
Also she's from London. Do with that info what you will
OOOOOOH RALLY DAD (GROUP B?) THATS SO COOL. OH CHOOSING TO LEAVE RACING AND STUDY MUST HAVE BEEN A TOUGHT DECISION TO MAKE WOW. GOD THE F2 ACCIDENT MUST HAVE SHAKEN HER BADLY. THE FAKE DATING BIT IM CRYING OOOF.
Oooh I think what September was to Suki, Naomi might be to Mina (minus the whole toxic yaoi hehehe). But the most important thing
ANOTHER LONDONER (Mina is buzzing). Where in London???
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lister bird solo album
IT IS VERY REAL TO ME LETS TALK ABOUT THIS !!! pls be aware im not the best with my music terms, im what you may call a poser or whatever.
during their hiatus when lister is struggling with everything thats happened to him, both in his childhood and with the band. he's given the typical advice from his therapist to write stuff down. at first he thinks it's dumb, but he gets himself a nice leather journal and starts writing anything that comes to mind. long winded rants about things he feels are unfair, talks of shows he's watched, comics he's read, games he's played, and also the odd few pages of lyrics he's written. he starts to really enjoy song writing, and with time he starts to hyper-fixate on his writing and begins composing different melodies along with it.
both rowan and jimmy here him working on it late at night sometimes. rowan is the one who starts telling him he has the skill to turn his work into an album, even if it's just for him and no one else.
drums are still his favourite, always will be, but he sharpens his guitar skills too. its good distraction for him when he needs something to do, as it's something new and not automatic for him. he really has to focus on what he's doing, which takes him away from his own thoughts for a while.
singing is the opposite, he sings when he needs to let himself feel everything in the moment; process it, let himself cry a bit. unlike the arks music, the words are harder to sing along to because it's all written from his own experience. with the lyrics he's written for the band, as much as he's in love with jimmy's voice, hearing the words that are supposed to represent himself from someone else's voice feels wrong, so everything he's written there has been more of a concept. these words are actually his own. it's probably the most accurate representation of his thought process. as he signs, the tone of his voice fluctuates a lot. he goes from softly spoken whispers to harsh words spilling through a clenched jaw.
he produces the entire thing himself. lyrics, voice, guitar, percussion. it's all his own work and he's rightfully proud of himself. and he should be because it sounds beautiful, even with the little imperfections throughout it. he still struggles with everything he's written about, it's not as if it magically fixed him. but it helped him lots, he really feels like he's doing good for himself. in a musical sense, i feel like it would sound like a mix of fires fading into black (holden laurence) and your city gave me asthma (wilbur soot). laurence makes me think of how he'd play, it's quite soft, makes me feel warm. but wilbur makes be think of how his voice might sound, you can really hear the raw emotion in each line. (like that one loosing face demo.) thematically, it would have an overall theme of the loneliness he has felt for years, emotionally isolated from everyone around him. the songs explore different parts of what he's struggled with. unrequited love, uncomfortable conversations, his addiction, pressure put onto him by everyone, his childhood, his assault, the river.
he doesn't publicise it for a long while, not sure if he wants so people to know about this part of him. when he does, he doesn't announce it anywhere, but the fans find it soon enough. a new youtube channel under his name with just one, 27 minuet long video, with a sweet note in the video description, little words of motivation for who ever cared enough to read it. people freak the fuck out, but he just lets them, for a while, it's funny to watch. first the freak out because 'omfg content theres content guys' the 'omg is he leaving the ark what the hell !!!!' but the feedback is overwhelmingly positive. what he doesn't expect though, it people wishing him well and hoping he's okay, as well as people going through similar things saying how comforting it is for someone they look up too let them know their not alone. its the first time he feels a slight connection to the strangers that form his fanbase, in a way, it makes him feel less alone too.
jimmy listens to it himself for the first time, he'd never asked much about it as he knew it was personal. it's the first time he cries over music in a long time. lister sings of things he'd never spoken of to either himself or rowan, while he had a vague idea of some of them, he never knew how much these things really do effect him. after staring at his ceiling for a while to recover, jimmy finds himself in listers room, hugging him tightly. he tells him that hes proud of him, not just for the album, but just for facing everything and still being with them.
#jimmy sleeps in listers room that night#maybe they kiss#youll never know#iwbft#lister bird#jimmy kaga ricci#rowan omondi#i was born for this#osemanverse#alice oseman
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A brief analysis of the magic tricks in cat
quick disclaimer I have not done magic in years and never did anything that advanced so my knowledge on the subject is limited this is not a how to the tricks this an analysis of the tricks.
First trick! Making a ring disappear this is i’m 90% sure impossible! :)
making rings disappear is pretty common and before rings magicians used fumbles but with that you usually have a cloth to assist or you put the ring on one hand pretend to move it to another but really its still in the first!
the only way I can think of is that he slipped the ring up his sleeve here
and then the dove idk anyway to make that work the ring is feasible but the dove?
I think the ring pretty clearly represents marriage were as the dove represents love so through lies turning marriage into love / making marriage disappear and turning it into / replacing it with love
I think this trick represents kazui telling hinako about not loving her / him lying about loving her the ring/marriage fall from his mouth like how we use our mouths to speak and he uses his magic/deception to make the marriage/ring disappear
Moving out of order briefly lets look at this shot there is lots of magic equipment in the ground
Cards! Cards are used for a variety of tricks you’ve probably heard of pick a card any card but don’t show me , take a card from the top shuffle the deck and I’ll find it , making cards disappear reappear , change suits and or numbers , you might have seen the episode of X factor were one of the judges drew a card from a shuffled and magian had the card printed on his shirt. Cards are used in all levels of magic and are pretty much always slight of hand/misdirection/prediction card tricks are some of the most beginner friendly though I can’t think of any tricks that only use one card like are depicted here usually you need a deck or a few other cards to make a hand.
wand! Wands are very traditionally magic well all of these are , wands can be used for again the verity of things though they are associated with hat tricks , making things appear from in side the hat (the way I did this personally was using a slit and compartment in the back of the hat and sometimes a hand puppet but there are many ways to do hat tricks)
as fun as puppet symbolism is I doubt this method was on the mind of the mv team or they would have included a puppet or hat
wands can be used for misdirection and moving your audiences attention to somewear.
another trick you might if heard if is what often referred to as the pencil trick were you pinch the end of a pencil and shake it so it appears to be wobbly you can also do this trick with a wand the reason I mention it is these tricks (apart from the maybe spoons) are all beginner friendly and wobbly pencil or wand in this case is about as beginner friendly as you can get.
Going on more about common tricks flowers in a wand a trick well publicised by tv producing a bouquet from a wand , bouquets are associated with lovers.
coins are again used in loads of tricks lots of one’s involving hands and misdirection theres a trick that swaps a ring and coin between your left and right hands , coins have to sides two them (two sides to a relationship? To faced), theres a trick where you make a coin disappear through a table. you place a coin on the table slam you hand down on the table on top (like your forcing the coins through the table) then you sweep the coin of the table but make it look your just pulling your hand off the table
spoons! Spoon bending is a super popular trick and though bending spoons with your mind isn’t beginner friendly (kinda breaking the pattern) there is a beginner alternative
Where you use you hands to make people think you have bent the spoon
string! The only trick I can think of is the disappearing knot
as for the hoops prisoner-000 had a great post about them
all of these are hand tricks (typically) , deception and redirection tricks and like mentioned prior they are all popular and beginner friendly
As for the card its a ace of spades , ace before being used for playing cards was for the one side of a dice and hence has associations with bad luck. The spade is very similar to the heart which is the holy grail and the card being a one could be a reference to a one sided relationship
ace can be either one of the highest or lowest card’s depending on what you play.
This is a trick wear you use you fingers to manoeuvre the ring to the fold of your hand so it looks like its disappeared
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it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 1
one. the scorpion: better a fruit fly than a clementine.
Chapter Summary: The Scorpion (Clementine) and The Prince board a train that will change their lives forever, and The Scorpion, at least, is non the wiser. The Prince makes sure her well trained but disheartened bodyguard knows her place, and Clementine really hates this goddamn family.
{ Masterlist }
A/N: 2744 words. Lets GO baybee. I've been reading the novel and tried to stylise my writing more to match that because I find the Isaka's writing style really engaging to read. :) also this is kind of a slow burner, as much as a fic that follows the film can be i suppose. also i think The Prince's characterisation might lean a bit more towards her book counterpart, but there's also a reason she doesn't mask her intentions around clementine as often as others. this is mildly edited at best.
Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. Chapter specific warnings will be added when necessary so please heed them. There will be smut in the future chapters.
Taglist: @venusthepirate [ always open, just message or comment! ]
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When Clementine boards the Shinkansen behind The Prince, she does so with a reverential, bowed head, always shadowing her charge only two steps behind.
"You're thinking awfully hard there, fruit fly," the Prince's tone is almost sing-song, marching through the aisle of the seventh cart to their seat. Of course she was able to pick up on Clementine's masked distraction. Clementine herself grimaces, at the tone, at the name, at her focus breaking.
"Going through dossiers in my head," she says frankly, sitting when directed to, smoothing the pleats of her skirt out against her thighs, eyes still trained down, impractical attire for her line of work, but appearances had always mattered more to The Prince, and hopefully there wouldn't be any acrobatics required today.
The Prince's own outfit is similar to Clementine's, skirt, blouse, though she had a sweater vest where Clementine wore a full sweater. The Prince was in pink, looking all kinds of girlish and innocent, while Clementine was in rich browns and oranges, as if she were able to blend into the wooden detailing and gold lighting of the first class cabin, or into the background of any scene she was party too, far more deliberate than one might assume. Both outfits were far more unassuming that either individual wearing them, for that exact reason. The only truly unique and practical item in Clementine's outfit was her expensive leather gloves, which served to house the two highly advanced prosthetics she required on each hand as she was missing both ring and pinkie fingers.
"Your job is simple, fruit fly, father hired you to keep an eye on me, and that's all you need to do," the Prince crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in her chair before she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Clementine's brow furrowed once more at the nickname, but kept her mouth shut. It had been a long while since she's been properly active in the field, and she'd forgotten how grating it was to be under The Prince's thumb.
The Shinkansen doesn't rumble to life like most other trains, it's take off is glass smooth, and Clementine barely feels a jolt as they finally head out from Tokyo.
"Why are you going through dossiers anyways?"
"Didn't bring a book, ma'am," Clementine tells her, peering out from her seat to scan the aisle, cautious where the Prince's similar movement had been strangely anticipatory.
"I could lend you one," the Prince somehow even managed to sound condescending with a simple offer. Clementine politely declined, and for a few moments they share a calm silence. The kid reads too much True Crime, and Clementine had enough stories of her own to not bother with the sensationalized, publicised stuff. Her mind instead drifts once more, to Cape Town, to Barcelona, to Santiago, to the past year and a half that she'd spent intelligence gathering all over the world. Others like her, hitmen, assassins, trained killers from all walks of life, she had hunted them, practically stalked them at her client's request, spending months gathering every scrap of information she could about them while living in the periphery of their lives. She never had to pull the trigger, no her employer had grander things in mind, things that Clementine need not be privy to to do her job. So she did, never afraid of what lengths she would have to go to in getting everything she needed. In New York -
"I should call you Clementine too," The Prince mused blithely. Clementine's nose scrunched almost involuntarily, "not a fan?" The Prince has always liked watching her reactions; Clementine is a fun toy for the bored teen, if only you knew how to push her buttons, "its even on your necklace; it'd be rude not to." There's the beginnings of a cruel smile at the edge of The Prince's lips, but Clementine composed herself. The dainty necklace around her neck, complete with a tiny, glass clementine, however, feels distinctly heavy.
"Whatever would suit you, ma'am."
"You're so passive," The Prince practically sulks, arms crossed, expression sour as she looks pointedly at the head rest in front of her. The seats around them are far emptier than Clementine had expected, but she's grateful to have relative privacy for this conversation.
"I'd prefer fruit fly," Clementine says carefully, "or cockroach -"
"But Clementine's so pretty," The Prince is clearly teasing. Clementine sits a little straighter but doesn't look up from her hands in her lap, "and you're not even a cockroach anymore."
"I was never a fruit fly, and yet," Clementine finally casts a less than amused look at the Prince, mouth set in a thin line. The Prince seems to be taking this all as one big joke, if the mirth alight in her eyes is any indication.
"Clementine," the Prince tried to school her expression into something more serious, tried to hide her smile when their eyes met, but it's not particularly effective.
"Yes, ma'am?" Clementine tried to remain as neutral as she was able, though The Prince still seemed to see the resignation in her, and was thrilled by it. For all the time Clementine had known her, she'd always known The Prince took great pleasure in inflicting cruelty on others as some sort of bizarre experiment about the nature of humanity.
"You really are tragically formal."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And tragically dull."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can you not call me that? You make me sound like my mother," and despite The Prince's casual tone, Clementine still frowns reflexively. They both know she said it to cause a reaction; the Prince prides herself on any power she can claim over others, even something as small as that.
Clementine hesitates for a long moment before she dips her head, if only to hide her eye roll.
"Your highness," she doesnt even fight her own rueful tone, but The Prince at least doesn't seem to mind.
"I know you're teasing, but I actually would prefer that," she offers. Clementine gives a non-committal hum, but does not see fit to respond further. At that, The Prince makes a face, propping her chin up on her hand and tapping her cheek with her index finger, as if analysing Clementine thoroughly. Clementine finally looks away from her charge and the malevolent gleam in her eyes, comfortable simply being observed in this moment.
"I can't believe he obsessed over you like he did," there's something cold in the Prince's voice. A muscle in Clementine's jaw twitched. "Was it something sexual?" The question startles the demure mercenary, though years of training mean the only outward display of this is the derisive way her lip curls.
"I don't think this is appropriate, ma'am," Clementine struggles to keep her tone passive. The Prince gives her no reprieve.
"Oh hardly," she laughs, "but I'm still asking. Don't be a prude, Clem," it almost sounds like they're friends, a stranger may mistake them as such. Glancing at The Prince shows the girl's body language to be open and easy, hands and shoulders relaxed, a trap to Clementine's expertly trained eye, who knew the teen far better than to trust her, "come on, I know how easy it is to manipulate someone when you know what they want, and sex is such a base desire," then, carefully, the Prince leans back in her seat, looking again to the empty headrest in front of her, "I've read your reports, I know how you operate." The Prince glances back over her shoulder, down the aisle, before settling further into her seat.
"I don't know why he was obsessed with me," Clementine answers slowly, "though, if I did have an idea about why, I still wouldn't share it with you, ma'am."
The Prince actually groans with frustration, head pushed back against her headrest as she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. Arms crossed over her chest, she looks markedly less relaxed than she had done moments ago. It's the little things in life that Clementine had had to find joy in, and now, the arrogant Prince's frustration is one she'd gladly enjoy. Clementine relaxes her own shoulders, lets the tension drop from her jaw as she smiles; it's a give and take of tension between them, and has been for as long as Clementine's known The Prince and her family, neither made happy from the others joy as much as their anguish.
"Dull," The Prince huffs petulantly, "can you go be dull elsewhere?"
"Is that an order?" Clementine was genuinely confused, which only seemed to irritate The Prince further. The young woman's face scrunches with some kind of put-upon frustration at the question. The Prince often lamented the predictability of the world around her, the way everyone always behaved as expected, but admitted that Clementine often caught her off guard in the most 'deeply uninspiring' way. Again, it was one of the small joys of the mercenary's life. Instead of beratting her bodyguard, however, The Prince sits up a little, but remains looking forward as she speaks.
"In a sense, yes; there's money on this train and I need you to find it for me," the teen says, voice dropping low so there was no chance of any of the few more remote passengers would hear her. Clementine outright scowled at this.
"Absolutely not," without hesitation, Clementine declined. This mission was humiliating and demeaning enough, posing as the tutor for 'The Prince', acting more like the girl's handmaiden, she was not going to encourage the girl's sense of entitlement any more than she could help.
"So quick to judge," The Prince admonished, shaking her head, "it's not like I'm going to keep it, I just want to make sure it's all there."
"Why don't I believe you?" Clementine narrowed her eyes at her charge.
"Because you're deeply paranoid, fruit fly, which is healthy in your line of work, I'll grant you that, but I promise for once I'm being genuine; that money will see its rightful owner," the Prince, for once, sounded mostly genuine, and Clementine sighed, "I think you should start looking in the third car." Considering how little Clementine wanted to remain in The Prince's presence, and The Prince's unfortunately well established, almost supernatural good luck, Clementine gracefully rises from her seat. The Prince smiled toothily at her, "at least you're predictably obedient, good for something I suppose."
"If I come back to any shenanigans -" Clementine hissed.
"Shenanigans? How old are you?" The Prince cut her off with disbelieving glee, which Clementine ignored.
"I'll knock your ass out myself so I can make sure you behave for the rest of the trip," the tick in Clementine's jaw is back at the sight of The Prince's smug little smile in the face of the threat.
"When you come back with the money you can make that judgement call," is all she said. Then holding up her own, little phone, The Prince's smile became wider, almost as if she were trying to convince Clementine of her innocence; it may have worked on someone less familiar with her, "I'll text if I need anything, I promise."
Clementine carefully smoothed her expression to something more neutral, and nodded, about to reply when her own phone starts ringing. The Prince cocks her head to the side, intrigued by the coincidence, and Clementine fishes the phone from her bag. It's The Prince's father, and she tells the teen as much.
"Tell him I'm having a wonderful time," she settles into her seat with a languid ease as Clementine rolls her eyes and takes off up the aisle while answering.
"Your daughter wanted me to pass on that she's having a wonderful time," Clementine tells him almost robotically, in lieu of a proper greeting.
"So you've both settled comfortably on the train?"
Away from The Prince, Clementine allowed herself to relax, tension in her shoulders easing, walking with a well earned confidence.
"It's well lit but not overbearing, everyone's suffocatingly helpful, the leather chairs are immaculate," Clementine rattles off with a detached kind of boredom now, "running an errand for The Prince now but we're in constant contact, not that there should be any problem."
"An errand?"
"A fetch quest for her royal highness; don't worry, she won't leave first class, that's why you've got me here," Clementine assures with a practiced warmth, gliding with ease down the aisles of the train, making sure to look over and catalogue as much detail as she could.
"Scorpion," he uses her code name with such malice, even as he'd bestowed it on her several years before. It's never gotten easier to hear from him, "if a single hair on her head so much as splits, you will no longer have your own, do I make myself clear."
Clementine bites her tongue as the irritation bubbles up venomously inside her.
"As crystal, sir," she mutters through her teeth, stopping at the baggage hold between the third and fourth cars. Peering through the window on the door, the economy seating is just as blue as the she'd just passed, and just as sparsely filled. It's a straight shot to the end of the car, to the baggage hold between cars two and three, and she'd rather start back there and work her way up. She thinks she sees someone catch a glimpse of her peering through the window, analysing the composition of the car, but she's trying desperately to not draw attention to herself, and so ducks back the little vanity area to finish her conversation.
"Nothing will happen," Clementine assures, drawing the curtain across and leaning against the wall, making sure not to catch sight of herself in the mirror. The blonde is new, it's been drawing attention all around Tokyo and it feels too ostentatious, but her boss insisted, and she really doesn't like to refuse him.
"Still, one must always plan for contingencies; unlucky that she insisted on such a public form of transport, lucky that you were available."
"Your wish is my command, sir," Clementine fiddled with her gloves, making sure they were secure, and the prosthetics they concealed were all at full capabilities.
"You have demonstrated your respect and loyalty these past few years, especially after rejecting my family's kind offer, and the incident that followed," as he speaks, Clementine stops fiddling; he often brings up the past in order to hold it over her head, this time felt distinctly different, "once you have safely escorted my daughter to her destination, your debt to me will be cleared," Clementine feels like her heart has stopped in her chest, "you will be free to take on freelance contracts wherever you wish, though you are more than welcome to work with myself and my family at your previous rate."
"You'll rescind the burn notice?" Oh, Clementine hopes he doesn't judge her for the hope in her voice. A pause follows, and a strangely amused chuckle.
"I'll rescind the burn notice," he agrees, "I will re-endorse you to my colleagues and contacts, and -" he pauses for effect, "while your direct payment will still be at your reduced rate, you will be able to secure the remaining amount that will meet your previous rate upon that very train."
In that instance, Clementine feels an almost sickening sense of joy and even fondness for The Prince several cars down. Foolish to think she wouldn't be in on this in some way; she's far too perceptive, even if her father hadn't clued her in she'd still have found out one way or another.
"There's money on this train?" Clementine murmurs, carefully peering out behind the curtain to make absolutely sure she was alone.
"Yes, in a briefcase, I believe my contact who has stored it on the train put a sticker on the handle of a train itself."
"Thank you, sir! I'll find it."
"Scorpion, do not forget the terms of this; this is your only chance." And he hangs up without even saying goodbye.
Clementine's barely containing her glee, she's overwhelming giddy in this moment of solitude, bouncing on her toes. It's the best conversation she's ever had with him, a far cry from the man who took four fingers from her as punishment years ago.
Perhaps she could have been kinder to The Prince, after all, without her help Clementine wouldn't have the first clue where to look for the cash. Finally, with the promise of freedom, she can go back to loving her work, to choosing it for herself, to reminding those in the circles she used to run in that she was still top of her game. There was a confidence now, one she hadn't felt in years.
Until she opens the third car's door.
#tangerine x oc#tangerine x reader#tangerine imagine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine#bullet train#bullet train imagine#bullet train oc#tangerine bullet train x oc#the prince#the prince bullet train#bullet train 2022#bullet train x reader#bullet train movie#bullet train fanfic
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On July 30th 2003 Multi race winning Motorcyclist, Robert Steven ‘Hizzy’ Hislop died.
Hizzy, as he was affectionately known once said “If I’d never thrown my leg over a bike, I’d never have lived.”
Robert Steven Hislop grew up in the village of Chesters, near Hawick in the borders. His father started the interest of both he and his brother Garry in motorcycle racing. This was short lived at the time as he lost his father and a few years later his brother was killed at Silloth circuit. He ended up with a serious alcohol problem which led into depression.
Hizzy thankfully recovered and began his Isle of Man road racing career in 1983 by finishing second in the newcomers’ race at the Manx Grand Prix.
On short circuits, his first championship success came when he won the 250cc British Championship in 1990. Superbike victory followed with the British Superbike Championship in 1995. Some attributed his success to James Whitham leaving the series mid-season to deal with cancer.
Although he did not take a BSB victory in 1996 or 1997, Hislop was hired by Rob McElnea’s dominant Cadbury’s Boost Yamaha team for 1998. The nature of the fight for the championship between Hislop & team mate, fellow Scot. Niall Mackenzie, was illustrated by a near-collision on the last lap at Snetterton which cost the team a 1-2 finish. Hislop generally matched his countryman before a serious crash took him out of title contention.
His last championship success came in 2002 when he won the British Superbike Championship riding a Ducati. A notable feature of his season resulted from Hislop lapping Donington Park circuit more quickly on a superbike than the fastest Moto GP machine: Hislop’s modified production Ducati was heavier and less powerful than the bespoke Grand Prix bikes.
The 1992 Senior TT was described as an absolute classic. It is often described as one of the best races in TT history.
After their successful 1991 TT on all conquering Honda RVF machines, Hislop and Carl Fogarty had not planned to return in 1992. However, they both lined up on the Glencrutchery Road that year on unfancied machinery: Hislop was ona Norton with Fogarty on a Yamaha. The Norton Hizzy rode had been developed on a shoe string budget when compared with the Japanese competition. John Player had no intention of backing Steve’s TT campaign but after scratching around for some support and with minimal testing time, the team headed for the Isle of Man.
Hislop’s Norton took to the circuit in the unconventional white livery of Steve’s long term sponsor Abus. Hislop and the team defied the bike’s detractors by taking a fine 2nd place in the opening TT F1 race. The bike proved it could complete 6 laps of the gruelling Snaefell Mountain Course in hot weather so the team looked forward to Friday’s Senior TT.
Hislop’s main rival was Foggarty, who started at number 4. Steve started at 19. Not only did this give Hizzy more traffic to contend with but it also gave the crowd an anxious wait as the officials calculated the time difference between them. As the race progressed, the two riders smashed records they set the previous year with Hislop taking a narrow advantage into the final lap. In a last-ditch attempt to catch Hislop, Fogarty recorded a record lap time of more than 123 mph on his Yamaha. It was all in vain however as Hislop guided the fly splattered Norton home to an historic win. This was one of Hislop’s greatest achievements and one of the most popular TT wins. Carl Fogarty’s lap record stood for 7 years.
Hislop and Fogarty went on to become two of Britain’s most successful motorcycle racers, winning many races and championships. It was the 1992 Senior TT that saw them battle together for the last time.
Described by some as a flawed sporting genius, success in the world championships never materialised for Hislop. This was possibly because of a self-destructive aspect to his character. The flaw may have led to a number of well-publicised clashes with other riders and teams in the British championships which hindered progress into international series.
Having lost his brother and many friends in motorcycle accidents, he made a point of never going to the funerals of fellow racers, saying:
“Some people might find that a bit callous. I only ever attend family ones and people find it a bit strange that I won’t go to a friend’s funeral, but it’s just my little way of shutting off.”
Steve Hislop died in a helicopter accident in July 2003, near Teviothead, Roxburghshire and was interred in the village of Chesters near his birthplace of Hawick, Scotland. He had two children.
There is a bronze statue in memory of Hizzy in the grounds of Hawick Museum. at Wilton park and another at Onchan Head, Isle of Man, as seen in order in the pics. The last pic is a cairn near Teviothead, the scene of the helicopter crash, it reads……
‘Hizzy’
This cairn was built by a
few friends of Steve Hislop,
British Superbike Champion,
who was tragically killed in a
helicopter accident near this site,
on July 30th 2003.
Kind permission was granted
by His Grace
The Duke of Buccleuch.
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if you have a spare few hours floating around, look up "plagiarism and you(tube)" on youtube - hbomberguy made a video about youtube plagiarists and dedicated half of it to queer youtuber james somerton because the amount of queer people he unabashedly stole from for thousands of dollars of income is truly obscene.
[tw suicide for the rest of this message]
following that video, james wiped his channel before attempting a couple of comebacks, including one where he """vaguely alluded""" to being so distressed at being called out for being a thief and a plagiarist and a liar that he attempted suicide (while also saying he only did the plagiarism bc he hit his head as a child - not kidding). after people didn't immediately welcome him back with open arms, he escalated to posting what was clearly meant to be read as a suicide note before going completely dark on all his main channels, only people have discovered/publicised recently that at the same time that hbomberguy and his producer were scrambling to organise a wellness check on him and people were frantically trying to find out if he had actually killed himself, he was using old alt accounts on twitter etc to hornypost and post defenses of himself while pretending he was someone else. most recently (afaik) he used one of those alt usernames to start posting the same kinda content on tiktok, first without a picture, then with an ai generated emoji type thing of his face, then with a heavily filtered version of his face, and is now acting surprsed that people are still mad at him.
I managed to watch most of it today and like I miss the last half hour because atm I really can't concentrate on anything but a) thanks for the link b) holy fucking shit what the hell is wrong with this guy c) if people put 5% of this effort into like doing actual work instead of scamming others sure af the world would be a vastly better place but what do we even know I'm just speechless
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qala and the style over substance argument
so, i watched qala (dir. by anvita dutt) immediately when it came out - a story that exposed the music industry and the position of women in it, especially focusing on the toxic nature of indian classical music? it was like they made the film for me (someone who's spent a good chunk of their life trained in hindustani classical music). however, i was sorely disappointed.
in essence, qala, along with other films that did commercially well that came out in bollywood last year, solidified my understanding that the audience of today's generation of movie-watchers genuinely puts style over substance and in fact, uses it as a way to defend their favourite movies from criticism. the recent resurgence of praise for om shanti om of all films, only strengthened this opinion.
my criticisms for qala are in plenty, yet i will choose to expand on the ones that strike out the most to me, all of which range from the lightest to the harshest criticism:
the choice of music
the acting
the direction + writing
the handling of the serious issues that are the main theme of the film
before you read ahead, please know that there are spoilers.
in indian classical music, there are two distinct forms: hindustani (or, north indian) and carnatic (or south indian) music. each have their differences and similarities and even someone who hasn't trained can tell them apart upon listening. within hindustani music - which is the genre of music that qala learns from her mother - you have many different styles of singing, ranging from shastriya sangeet (classical form of singing) to laghu sangeet (semi-classical and sometimes, light music). of course, this categorization also has its roots in religion and caste. shastriya sangeet has forms of singing like dhrupad (the oldest form and a strictly devotional medium), khyal (the most common one, telling tales or speaking of human emotions), bhajan (also a devotional medium), etc.
laghu sangeet has forms of classical music like the thumri, a form of singing popularized and invented by courtesans. the lyrics were sensual, romantic and more explicit. of course, owing to these, they were looked down upon. even the british had a huge role in diminishing the status of indian women performers. the "other woman" concept was specifically one that they propagated and the rise of the "perfect housewife" phenomena began since the seventeenth century. the extreme effect of that? the courtesans lost out on their patrons and were forced into prostitution.
hence, that was the primary history behind qala's mother, urmila, shaming her into never being a performer, i.e, in a more derogatory term, a "singing girl". a courtesan, essentially. which is accurate, considering the film is set in the 1940s. if a girl was too "out there in the world", i.e, her achievements being publicised in newspapers or her getting recognition for her academics, her future marital prospects were ruined. and the "shame" that befell the family if she was learning music or dance was worse. a significant number of the prominent female musicians that emerged from this era of pre-independence to post-independence were unmarried. or they had many patrons and salacious rumours regarding their love life were in plenty. the film pakeezah (1972) explores such themes quite well. and the many renditions and retellings of devdas also serve as a good example of the stature of performing women.
however, it's the music itself where it goes wrong for me. the choice of songs as well as qala's singing (of course, all of qala's songs are sung by the amazing sireesha bhagavatula), is in a style all too similar to laghu singing. the years of egregious training, no matter how much her mother dismissed her, would've developed a voice which would've sounded a lot more like what a lot of classical singers would sound like, unless they were singing a lighter form of singing. and it isn't a matter of pitch or using falsetto. qala's mom is referred to as a master of qawallis, which is a sufi form of devotional singing (and comes well under hindustani music too). even the lyrics of qala's songs, while full of very obvious foreshadowing, do not match the overall orthodox classical upbringing that the film portrays.
while bhagavatula has an amazing voice well versed in classical music (especially since she sings bhajans so often), considering the time that qala was set in, you would've expected a sound similar to something along the lines of noor jehan or even roshan ara begum. instead, it sounds a lot like a mix of semi-classical instrumental with a more pop-based voice. which is easier for our generation to digest and consume, however, it comes at the cost of a sound which is very typical of the 50s-70s era of bollywood.
one that qala does right are the costumes. they do their job well. not the sets as much, which i will get into later. at some points, they are well in line with the rest of the era of the film, other times it just sticks out like a sore thumb. here's where the "symbolism" comes in.
one of the most jarring examples is the song qala sings at the first performance, a very light classical song just by the sound of the vocals. even the song jagan sings is very contemporary at its core. despite the characters having an allegedly strict, traditional schooling of music (jagan's voice is devoid of the typical heavy accent or dialects that those who are from underprivileged backgrounds tends to have), the songs at hand present a very modern take on qawallis, despite bollywood being a flourishing ground for many iconic qawallis. therefore, the compositions sometimes falter at some points specifically because of the vocal choices. choosing to do away with alaaps, especially in qala's part, less aakar and more bariki, are all signficant details that feel jarring to someone who's lived in the world of classical music as long as qala. otherwise, there are some signature sounds retained from the era that the film is set in.
and while still on the topic of singing, a very important issue that i find least addressed is the acting of it. despite there being little vocal variations in the compositions, the actors don't show that they are singing. and in the film specifically revolving around music, that's an extremely important detail that i find amiss. hardly opening the mouth, the movement of the lips, the posture as well as the hand gestures (yes, a very important detail!), are all obvious flaws. a recent film that does that does those details well is the disciple (2020). the first scene of urmila teaching qala singing displays urmila wearing an elaborate piece of nose jewellery that covers half of her mouth, and that's when they're doing rehyaas (practice), not a performance. it's huge details like these that don't sell the film to me.
the acting is quite underwhelming and here is where disagreements with my opinions might enter. i find trupti dimri's rendition of qala extremely, for lack of politer words, exasperating. she tends to show the same expressions for all of her problems, i.e., there is no great difference between her feeling anger or feeling despair or feeling depressed or feeling cheated or just plain exhaustion. qala's character is a complex one and difficult to act, which is a concession i will give, however, the hype around her is a little unnerving when the audience is given such an unremarkable delivery of dialogues and emotion. it comes off as school-play acting at times. swastika mukherjee, who plays urmila, is quite two-note with her acting, which sometimes suits her character and sometimes just feels very low-effort. babil khan has his moments, yet there is such less versatility. you'd think the babil of qala's hallucinations and the one who existed in real life would have some distinct characteristics (which they do), but they never come off as that. it feels so half-hearted at times.
the whole point of symbolism is that it's subtle at heart and not on the face. qala has on-the-face symbolism, which is an irony in itself. the black swan scene, the frosty room in the beginning, the ghostly jagan, etc. almost made me bump my nose into a wall. it comes off as pretentious at best, as if the viewer is stupid. it is also very off-putting in some scenes. for example, the black swan scene - there is very little buildup and it feels very predictable in the sense that "it all goes downhill from here". however, there is one scene which i like, which is the gargoyle one (a very traumatic scene, for those who recall, it is the one right before ghodey pe sawaar gets recorded for the final time). i think that is the most effective filmmaking in the entire film. the best thing about symbolism is always the subtlety. it makes the viewer keep coming back to pick up on something they might have missed in the first watch, it helps them pick up the pieces along the way instead of being able to tell the twists thirty minutes before they are revealed.
and one of the most egregious crimes of the entire film is the direction. here is where we get a little more technical (but just briefly, do not worry). the way it cuts from one scene to the next is like watching a poorly edited reel put out by the team of an out-of-touch marketing firm. the editing could have been better at many places. the writing falls flat specifically when it comes to the characters. i'm pretty sure on paper, the script must've been a delight to read. the story has so much potential - considering that it's based on two books, where there might've been even more depth given to the characters - it isn't new in any way but it offers a different, feminist perspective of the indian music industry. yet, the characters are paper thin on screen - in their ambitions, psychology and sociology. hence, urmila suddenly turning a new leaf in the last ten minutes of the film is something that feels wrong, because all along, she has been portrayed as a heartless mother. qala's actions make sense because her character has nearly always been rooted in self pity and rage. jagan is nothing without music. there is very little dimension to them apart from me summarizing their characters in one sentence with less than thirty words each.
that is why, the film feels even more half-hearted when it speaks of the issues that it centers around. all of these elements add up and make for a tiring watch. i gave qala a second chance, to be fair and omitted some of my pettier criticisms, yet the more serious ones remain. to a certain extent, it does aestheticize depression, which i have a huge issue with. however, baby steps as always with bollywood. it's no dear zindagi considering it is set in a different period with a different ending. however, the writing of the characters could've been so much better. a little more exploration of urmila's intentions would've given her so much depth. a few more interactions between qala and jagan might've given qala the chance to befriend him and not just see him a rival, thus intensifying the decision she took. the characters do not feel human, they are strictly white or black and qala being the anti-hero feels very off since it requires better writing and a stronger plot. and of course, much better acting.
however, qala re-opened up discussion of a nearly-always forgotten discourse - that of the position of women in music. and for achieving that bare minimum, i give it full credit. however, when there have been films with much better writing, characterization and cinematography in bollywood itself, with a similar theme, qala needs to be seen for what it contains than what it displays. just because it glitters, doesn't mean it's gold.
#qala#qala film#qala bollywood#bollywood films#bollywood ott#ott films#tripti dimri#anvita dutt#bimal khan#swastika mukherjee#qala film review#harsh critique#style over substance#i apologize in advance if i went overboard#i really#really tried to be as objective as possible#do i want more female directors? yes i do. but will i say i dont like a female directed movie if i dont like it? yes i will.#i really like dutt's bulbul and dimri was better in that#but qala is definitely a weaker direction#i hope both of them improve bc i like the films dutt has written#dimri has potential too#maits.txt
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