In which Derek is the grumpy neighborhood firefighter, and Stiles is a bit of a lovestruck idiot.
Stiles winces as he turns the corner, unbearably nervous like he always is whenever he drives Lydia’s car, and pulls into the fire station. He offered this morning to help her with any errands she needed, and she asked him to take her car to the fire station and have them install the car seat. Stiles had no idea this was even a thing—seriously, how hard is it to put in a car seat?—but unsurprisingly, Lydia is as fastidious about her unborn child’s safety as she is about everything else.
He parks just outside the front door, careful not to block the big bays with the two fire trucks, and wanders inside. “Hello?” he calls out. There’s a noise coming from the other side of the fire truck, so Stiles keeps walking in that direction, then nearly trips over his own two feet.
There’s a guy, crouched down as he washes the wheel well of the fire truck, and Stiles is 101 percent sure that he’s the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He’s frowning, as if he’s pissed at the task in front of him, but it only serves to show off the sharp cut of his jaw under a very nicely-shaped short beard. He’s wearing a tight short-sleeved SFFD t-shirt, which is wet in patches and very clearly showing off the muscled physique underneath.
The guy’s head jerks up at that, his eyes wide, and his gaze locks with Stiles’ for a long second before slowly drifting down the rest of his body. Stiles damn near forgets how to breathe because yep, this impossibly hot dude is most definitely checking him out.
Stiles has never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but as of this moment he most certainly does believe in…familiarity at first sight? Cosmic connection? Just plain lust? He has no fucking clue.
But he yelps a little in surprise, then actually manages to trip over nothing, only catching himself by clutching the pillar next to him, which oh fuck, is actually the fire pole. He finally rights himself, grimacing with both arms spread for balance, and then slaps a hand over his eyes with a plaintive groan.
“Oh my god. Hi, hello, my name is Stiles. Uh, any chance we can start over and pretend that this excruciatingly embarrassing encounter didn’t happen?”
I’ve seen many Ryden lists floating around in the abyss of Tumblr, but now I’m creating an ultimate list with not only Panic! songs but Young Veins and solo work as well. This includes all popular fan theory, intrepretaions, & some of my theories as well. This will be mostly in order of release (or tracks on an album). Here we go! ☟
This Green Gentleman (Things Have Changed)(written by Ryan)
see under Northern Downpour for Seattle Theory
later Brendon sings “I never said I’d leave this city, I never said I’d leave Seattle”
I Have Friends in Holy Spaces(written by Brendon)
“You remind me of a former love that I once knew… We were holding hands walking through the middle of the street It’s fine with me, I’m just taking in the scenery“
“You remind me of a few of my famous friends Well, that all depends what you qualify as friends“ more than friends?
“I’m just saying that I like it a lot More than you think, if the sun would come out and sing with me” sun/moon theory
Northern Downpour(written by Ryan)
ahh yes … the most popular Holy Grail of Ryden lore (unless you fancy Myrtle Beach more)
the birth of the Seattle Theory ☟
Ryan was in New York at his 21st birthday party. Brendon was in Seattle. Ryan supposedly (aka definitely) took the red-eye flight from NY to Seattle to be with Brendon. A fan took a picture with them in Seattle. Ryan was still wearing the same clothes! The fan stated that the pair went out together.
Northern Downpour was written about this ☝ experience according to Ryden fans.
“I missed your skin when you were east.”
Ryan has also said that he always wanted to settle down in Seattle.
also see This Green Gentleman for rest of Seattle Theory
Ryan once told Brendon to “pay special attention to the line”: “I know the World’s a broken bone, but melt you headaches call it home.” Later after the band split Brendon breaks down singing this line.
Beebo cries during this song so much tbh.
Brendon no longer performs it.
“Hey moon, please forget to fall down” This line is believed to be sun/moon theory, but I personally think they mean they never want the night to end.
When The Day Met The Night(written by Ryan)
2nd verse male pronouns?
Mad as Rabbits(written by Ryan)
considered the Panic! LGBTQ+ anthem (along with G/G/B)
“Reinvent Love” - originally a line from Arthur Rimbaud who was openly gay. He wrote, “I don’t like women. I like men. We must reinvent love.” Some believe this idea of love became the concept of Pretty Odd.
In the final seconds of the final album with Panic! At The Disco as complete band together, Brendon and Ryan together harmonize on this defining line: Reinvent Love.
Ryan often wore the reinvent love slogan. Except there is a photograph of him wearing Brendon ♥ on a headband.
Take A Vacation!(written by Ryan - The Young Veins)
sad because Ryan originally wrote this song among others to be on the next Panic! album after Pretty Odd
Cape Town(written by Ryan - The Young Veins)
The band performed its last show together here.
This is where Ryden fans say Ryden broke up.
When asked what happened in Cape Town, Zack responded: almost exactly the lyrics.
“I loved you, I left you in Cape Town”
“Woke me in the morning, asked me if I meant it, I didn’t” This is Ryan’s POV. In The Calendar by Brendon (a song that Brendon confirmed was about the breakup), he says “And I meant everything I said that night. I will come back to life but only for you.”
Ryan said the split was like breaking up with a girlfriend.
The Other Girl (written by Ryan - The Young Veins)
“Don’t have much to say right now, Cause I’m trying to figure out, Why he’s with the other girl”
Lie To The Truth(written by Ryan - The Young Veins)
“When I started out writing you this song I was heels over head in love” Ryan started writing TAV while Panic! was still together.
“But you had your doubts cause it took to long to finally see what I what I’d been doin wrong”
“I tried to love you but You still loved him so I’ll ignore my heart and lie to the truth I’ll lie to the truth”
“A love of mine once said ‘The best part about you was me’“ Brendon would say that.
Here it is ladies & gentlemen & non identifying beautiful peoples: “I know I broke your heart. Mine is broken, too. Now if we’re even, then why are we both blue?” This completely sums up their breakup. And the icing on the cake? Here’s Brendon’s direct response from “Hallelujah”: “Being blue is better than being over it.” Cue explosions… and tears.
Last lines of the song: “We tried to be true, but you still loved him, so I’ll keep my distance, And lie to the truth, I lie to the truth, I lie to the truth, Cause you lied to it too”
The truth that they were in love? Did they lie to it?
And here we arrive to the V & V pit, where we can see how hard it is for Beebo to be subtle. P.S. It’s impossible.
Memories (written by Brendon)
“He was the congregation’s vagrant” Perhaps Brendon referring to himself since he used to be Mormon. “With an unrequited love” ahh there it is
Hurricane(written by Brendon)
“Cause they know, I know that they don’t look like me. Oh, they know, I know that they don’t sound like me.” Young Veins & Panic!’s difference in style
“But he didn’t come and speak to me, Or put my heart at ease.”
Always(written by Brendon)
“It was always you falling for me.”
The Calendar (written by Brendon)
This is previously mentioned.
Confirmed to be about the band breaking up.
“And I meant everything I said that night I will come back to life, But only for you” (see under Cape Town)
“Put another ex on the calendar, Summer’s on its deathbed” sun/moon theory
“at night your body’s a symphony, and I’m conducting” I got nothin.
Nearly Witches(originally written by Ryan but changed & used by Brendon)
Ryan made original demo. Brendon made it a very pop-like song.
Brendon changed Ryan’s “as a boy” to “as a girl”.
Brendon sings Ryan’s “Here I am composing a burlesque” very mockingly.
Bittersweet(written by Brendon)
“I’ve been to Tokyo and to South Africa” a response to Ryan’s Cape Town lyric
“You could tell me secrets that I’ll probably repeat I’m not trying to hurt you, I just love to speak”Ryan = shy, Brendon = big mouthed
Nicotine(written by Brendon)
Someone said Brendon has denied it, but in the intro it sounds like he is saying “I love you Ryan Ross but not right now.”
Lonely Moonlight (written by Ryan - solo)
“I wandered through the sunshine, remembering when you were mine”
“Someone I love, loves someone else” Oh. My.
Where I Belong (written by Ryan - solo)
aka rip my heart out and tear it to shreds… then throw it under a bus
“If you wanna see the Sun…” sun/moon theory
“I know I should have never left, I’d gotten tired of being buried” Ryan still wants to be a part of the band even though he didn’t get to sing his own words. He was supposed to be the frontman, and he was the lyricist but kinda got buried behind Brendon, who’s the lead singer.
“I hope that I’ve still got your help” return?
Hallelujah(written by Brendon)
see under Lie To The Truth by Ryan
Golden Days(written by Brendon)
Old Panic! was the Golden Days
Could “pile of polaroids” be A Picture With Books?
This is so throam.
House of Memories(written by Brendon)
umm who is Brendon’s greatest memory - Ryan
“I think of you from time to time, More than I thought I would, You were just too kind, And I was too young to know”
“Those thoughts of past lovers, They’ll always haunt me, I wish I could believe, You’d never wronged me”
and the final crescendo of Ryden songs…
Impossible Year(written by Brendon)
Brendon wrote this song right after the band broke up. (This is confirmed.) Meaning “this impossible year” is his year without Ryan!
“There’s no sunshine, this impossible year” sun/moon theory
“There’s no sunshine This impossible year Only black days and sky grey And clouds full of fear *feeling of fear and sadness And storms full of sorrow That won’t disappear Just typhoons and monsoons This impossible year”
“There’s no good times This impossible year Just a beachfront of bad blood And a coast that’s unclear *unclear future without Ryan All the guests at the party They’re so insincere They just intrude and exclude This impossible year“
“There’s no you and me *!!! This impossible year Only heartache and heartbreak And gin made of tears The bitter pill I swallow The scars souvenir That tattoo, your last bruise This impossible year“
“There’s never air to breathe There’s never in-betweens These nightmares always hang on past the dream“
“There’s no sunshine There’s no you and me There’s no good times This impossible year”
a post of canon-verse deaf mic headcanons because i have Many and must share them
-some quirks don’t affect the user, but mic’s does. after all, it would be really odd for his ears to somehow not be affected by his voice but still be affected by everyone else’s. mic was not born deaf, but he went deaf very quickly. baby hizashi got stuck in a very unfortunate feedback loop for the first few weeks of his life. he screamed, caused himself pain, which meant more screaming and crying because babies tend to cry when they’re in extreme pain. eventually, he lost all his hearing because of it. mic ended up completely deaf before he was two months old.
-his parents were obviously very affected by his quirk. voice quirks ran in the family, but mic was a powerful anomaly whose voice did irreversible damage. they had no idea how to deal with him and there were a lot of tears and frustration. it go to be too much, and baby hizashi was turned over to child services. quickly, though hizashi was placed with a deaf couple, which truned out to be the perfect solution for everyone’s problems. his adoptive parents are very loving and taught mic sign language
-mic decided to start wearing hearing aides early on. he wore them outside the home primarily, and when he’s home, he’ll sign with his parents. hizashi also has a bunch of tiny little foster/adoptive brothers and sisters. the yamadas are very good with children and are very good foster parents. hizashi’s adoptive parents have, like, an actual clan of children, adult, tiny, and teenaged. not all of them are deaf or hearing impaired and some wearing hearing aides. his parents’ family also have lots of children. family gatherings are fucking huge and very social. all in all, hizashi feels very involved and very much a part of his family, despite being adopted.
-still, though, hizashi feels guilty over what he did to his birth parents. it takes a lot of therapy to eventually forgive himself, and hizashi spends a good portion of his childhood feeling guilty for putting his birth parents through so much hell that they just gave up. he does come to terms with it in high school
AN: The episode tonight destroyed me, and I need to get some things out…yup. By the way, this one shot was hell to write because my computer kept freezing and refreshing the page while I was still working. I lost hours of work several times. As a result I spent probably just under 12, 11 hours writing this and stayed up all night. You’re welcome for being a stubborn little author.
Summary: The Reader reacts differently–rather motherly or sibling like, in fact–to everything going on with Jack when she gets the chance.
Characters: Reader, Jack Kline, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel (Mentioned), Lucifer (Mentioned)
Pairing: Dean x Reader (Relationship clearly strained at this point in time, not really seen in this chapter but hinted at)
Warnings: ANGST (But also fluff), A Little Language, Hurt/Comfort, self harm (What was in the episode), Pro Jack
Headcannon or drabble on the chocobros seeing a girl that they are like "love at first sight" for, but she speaks a different language and hardly knows any English or whatever language they know? Thanks ❤❤❤
I’m gonna be honest with you anon, that is the CUTEST effin thing I have ever heard! My heart is just WOW. I legit had to hold my heart and stop from crying. o(≧∇≦o)
I’m gonna make you proud! (I hope :P) This went a little longer than I thought it would…that’s why it took so long. ❤❤❤
“An escort mission, seems simple enough.” Ignis stated, holding a piece of paper.
“Iggy’s right Noct, with that money we won’t have to worry about anything from here to Tranbene.” Prompto added, looking into the backseat. “Please it’s on the way, so we can technically kill two birds with one stone.”
“It would add a little excitement to this 2 week bachelor party you wanted to go on.” Gladiolus chuckled.
“If I recall correctly, I didn’t want a party at all.” Noctis groaned.
Now here they all sat in the Regalia, a young woman squeezed between Future King and Shield, a long veil over your face. You never responded to any of the banter, making the car ride rather uncomfortable.
The mission was simple, drive 2 days east, and drop you off to your future husband. About an hour out of your old city, you shocked the entire car as you uttered your first words.
This month, my kid turned four. Today, he went to his first full day of childcare/preschool, and had a wonderful time - he’s still working on learning to share, but he was excited when we dropped him off and excited when we picked him up, and apparently made such good friends with another boy that the teacher assumed they already knew each other, so I’m calling it a win. Tonight at dinner, while I talked him through eating his fish, he gave me a thumbs up to show he understood, and when I returned it, he grinned and held up his hand for a high five. I gave him one, and he exclaimed, “Yay teamwork!”
“That’s a new one,” my husband said. “I wonder where he got that from?”
“No idea,” I said. “But it’s pretty cute.”
Years ago now, I was at a fairly dreadful academic dinner where I ended up being seated across from a woman I’d never met before, whose son had just started primary school. In the course of our conversation, I made what felt to me a fairly benign - not to say obvious - remark about how starting school means getting a life outside your parents; how, for the first time, they’re put in the position of having to ask you how your day was, instead of having been there for all of it or able to ask another adult for a summary, and how it’s the point where you really start to develop your own independence and private inner life. The woman went ramrod-straight and said, affronted and defensive, “My son tells me everything. I know everything about him.”
At the time, it was one small uncomfortable moment in what went on to be a grossly uncomfortable evening for a variety of reasons (but that’s a different story). But it came back to me today when I realised that, even though my kid has technically just reached that point, in a way, he’s already been making progress towards it - not physically, in terms of being out of my sight for hours at a time, but narratively, in terms of the stories he consumes. For a while now, he’s had a hand-me-down iPad with Netflix on it (set to the kids section, obviously), which means he’s been able to choose the shows he watches without reference to our immediate judgement. And he has always, since he first figured out how to operate a touchscreen, demonstrated the ability to learn from what he watches without our direct guidance.
When he first started identifying numbers and shapes, my husband and I were startled, because we’d started by teaching him letters - then we saw he’d fallen in love with an educational kids’ show called Team Umizoomi, which focused exclusively on shapes and numbers. I watched a few episodes with him so I could talk to him about the characters, and quickly realised he was incorporating their names into his play and trying to narrate their adventures to me when he told me about his day. Since then, I’ve always tried to pay attention to what he watches and to discuss it with him: it helps that I have a good memory for character names and theme songs, so that even if I only catch a few minutes here or there, I can usually tell what he’s talking about or figure out how to ask for clarification.
One of his favourite shows is Daniel Tiger’s Neighbourhood, a cartoon continuation of the legacy of Mr Rogers. The first time I saw it, my adult cynicism had me rolling my eyes, but I cut that right the fuck out the first time my kid started singing the songs he’d learned from it and applying them in (roughly) the right emotional context. There’s a song on the show which has a verse that says “I like you / I like you / just the way you are,” but in my son’s rendition, it becomes, “Love you / for everything you do.” He sings it now as a call and answer: he sings it to me or his dad when he’s happy, and we sing it back to him. Recently he learned a new one about “when something goes bad / turn it around / and find something good,” and sings it whenever he thinks one of us is getting sad or upset - and it works, not least because it’s really goddamn adorable.
So when he did the “Yay teamwork!” high five at dinner tonight, I realised I didn’t know if it was something he’d picked up from school or from a new TV show, and realised also that it didn’t really matter. It’s strange to think of him spending multiple full days a week with other people, but it’s also really exciting: not just to see how his independence develops (and to hope he gets better at sharing - the consequence of being an only child with few small friends is that he’s never really had to play cooperatively if he doesn’t want to), but because it means now that we get to hear about what he’s been doing in his own words. It means we can ask him questions about his day to which we don’t already know the answer, and invariably there’s going to come a point where he keeps more back than he tells us, because part of growing up is developing your own sense of emotional privacy, but as a writer, the significance of the fact that his first steps into independence were facilitated through narrative isn’t lost on me. Which is why stories matter; why they’ve always mattered. And why being parent - for all that it’s hella confusing and stressful a lot of the time - can also be really weirdly satisfying.
BTS reaction to you being known as the sexy one but in reality you are cute
This fluffy marshmallow saw you as someone who was purely sexy and admired your aura on your solo stages. He was your silent fan and was always captivated by your sex appeal. One day he overheard you talking about how tired you were and saw how your face automatically lit up after you talked about food and he found it so adorable. He tried to keep his inner fan boy inside as he now refused to believe you were the same person as on stage.
“How could someone so sexy turn out so cute?”
You were a solo artist that was going to be an mc with V. You both had to meet up at an unpopular restaurant to work out things like what gestures to do. Taehyung found it absolutely cute how you enthusiastically talked about your ideas and loved your playful expressions and thought of you as a girl full of purely aegyo. On the day you both were lively mc’ing and he had not known you were also promoting at the time. He was in the dressing room preparing to watch you and had expected a cute and bubbly performance but was left gobsmacked as he saw those sexy moves and the way you flipped your hair. He was completely taken back and could not hold back the blush. He found you absolutely intriguing.
“Y/N ahh you are an idol full of many surprises and I love it”
Namjoon had to help you write a rap verse as you were the only female solo artist in the company. You were known for your sexy image and your curvy body and thats what he expected ‘a girl with a lot of sex appeal’. He showed you some verses that he had wrote to fit your sexy image and had expected you to be familiar with erotic writing but instead you covered your face and blushed. He was not expecting such a cute reaction. The more you spent time he forgot about your sexy image.
“you are too pure for your sexy image”
His lazy ass refused to get out of the car to go take a break from all the driving and was left alone. He was about to fall back to sleep, instead something caught his eye. You. You were famous for being the sexiest solo artist but at that moment he refused to believe it as he saw you walking down the street, eating a hamburger with so much glee in your eyes. He payed attention to the way you smiled to the manager as you got into your own van and his heart started thumping. The sexy smile he thought was your natural smile turned out to be fake and for once he saw your adorable gleaming smile.
“how could a smile make my heart beat so much”
He admired how you could sway anyone whether female or male with your sexy dance moves and alluring voice. He decided to gather up the courage to talk to you and soon after a while you had both gotten to the basic conversation stage. He later on cracked a joke and had expected a sexy captivating laugh but instead was greeted with a child like, soft laughter. You covered your mouth and you turned red trying to keep the laughter in. He was amazed about how cute you turned out to be and at some point thought about how you were someone whom he would always want to make laugh.
“Seeing you happy makes me happier”
You and Jungkook were the same age and saw you as an inspiration on how you could have such a sexy and mature image at such a young age. He had only saw you performing on stage and never interacted with you in real life. At a mama concert he was performing after you and had gotten time to interact with you. He saw your bright cute smile as you walked backstage after the song had ended. You came closer to the group and bowed down with such a bright playful vibe that had left a lot of impact on him.
“She is like me after all”
After a performance he had seen you in the midst of putting on makeup. He saw you pout as a makeup artist put some lipgloss on you. He never knew you could make such a expression and was so captivated that you noticed. Upon noticing you accidentally turned your head too far and the makeup artist had spread the lipgloss across your cheek. Jin was expecting a diva or sexy like reaction but instead came across you laughing at the mistake. He blushed at your reaction and bowed down in apology causing you to laugh more at his cute reaction.
“How could a sexy person have such a innocent laugh?”
That’s Emma’s tale, and she’s sticking to it. She still
isn’t entirely sure how writing a song turned into, well, this. She was going
to just watch it on the TV. She wanted to stay in the background. But here she
is, sitting backstage with Ruby and the rest of the Norway team, blinking in
the flashing lights and trying not to look overwhelmed by the ridiculousness
all around her.
Because Eurovision is ridiculous. There’s a guy on stage
right now singing a high-pitched song about bread or something, while five
other men dressed as rain drops dance around him. Or maybe they’re tear drops;
Emma isn’t sure.
The point is, all Emma ever wanted to do was write a song,
and yet here she is at the weirdest music event she’s ever attended and wondering
about Europe’s collective sanity.
Elsa’s performance goes amazingly well, though, so there’s
that. The ice theme was the right choice, as Ruby remarks with satisfaction,
complementing the song while being weird enough to leave an impression. Emma was unsure about the robotic snow man whizzing around the stage, before, but she
understands the reasoning now. It’s probably the next meme already.
The crowd loves it, anyway.
Emma suffers through another ballad, this one sung by a
German lady who could really do with a bucket or something to help her carry
the tune. She’s only half-paying attention, most of her mind on Elsa and Ruby
and trying to look calm and relaxed for the cameras, in case any show up.
“Next up is the UK—let’s meet their candidate!” one of the
hosts (Emma keeps mixing them up) calls.
There are screens everywhere, showing the little clip that
plays before each country takes the stage. Emma pays no attention, because Anna
has started talking again, her nerves running away with her.
“… because really everyone says neighbours vote for each
other, but we don’t have that many neighbours and I’m not sure Sweden would
vote for us anyway, but I think that a lot of people also vote for the song
they like best and really Elsa has been the best so far, hasn’t she? And—”
“Anna,” Emma says, reaching over to put a calming hand on
the girl’s shoulder before she can drive them all to the brink of nervous
collapse again. “Anna. Relax. Elsa did her best, and now we just have to
wait and see.”
“I know, but—oh, he’s handsome, isn’t he?” Anna’s
eyes have snagged on the stage, where the UK’s candidate is about to begin his
Emma follows her gaze, thankful to the UK for distracting
Anna—and does a startled double-take.
Hey guys! So I got the idea to do a monthly fic rec where I list any Tony ship fics that I read and liked that month (because I read a ridiculous amount of fanfiction, it’s crazy), and a lot of people were interested! So I’m going to post each month’s list on the last day of every month, but I’m posting two this month since I missed January (there’ll be more in next month’s, I promise). (If you’re not a Tony fan this list probably won’t interest you lmao)
“But as a guy who’s never been good at anything but killing- lemme tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.”
“But nothing’s ever worth starting one. Nothing at all.”
As the dust of Civil War starts to settle- Steve begins to see a couple of things.
Your Name on Every Wall by Sineala - 616 Fix it of so many things, general knowledge of Civil War and Original Sin recommended - 18K
The Time Gem throws Steve into the past rather than the future, and in doing so, it gives him the opportunity to undo his past mistakes. But when it turns out that all of his mistakes involve Tony Stark, Steve begins to wonder if he’s ever going to be able to mend things between them.
Tony is no stranger to paternity claims from his female conquests, there’s a system in place for them. But when one of the tests actually comes back positive, he makes a rash decision to not tell anyone about it, not even Pepper Potts. All Mary Parker wants is for Tony to spend a little time with their son. Tony has a lot to think about in his life now, how he wants to run his company, how his life is going to change with the arc reactor, and what he’s going to do about his son, Peter. Then, the Avengers Initiative pops up, and in waltzes his childhood hero, and enemy, Captain America.
Follows the lives of the Starks, Parkers, and Rogers’, as they grow up, and grow in life.
I'm re reading IT right now (slowly, as adult life is getting in the way) and was wondering what other bad storytelling choices you thought king made besides the. Uh. Sewer scene? Its been years since ive read it and nothing else really stood out to me as poor storytelling that i can remember. I'll read it for myself eventually but was curious of your thoughts. Love your blog!
Thanks! Stephen King often veers into caricature with his supporting characters, and It is no exception. The way he describes Eddie’s mom and wife physically goes well beyond the narratively useful purpose of establishing how their weight disorders have intertwined with Eddie’s hypochondria and into “ugh fat people are gross” territory. I don’t think King has conscious malignance in this area, because he finds a proper balance with Ben: the latter describes in realistic detail how he lost weight over time, his mom is upset that he’s eating less but is presented humanely (as someone who associates her son eating a lot with her doing well as a single mother), and King manages to avoid shaming Ben for his weight while also acknowledging that Ben personally feels a lot better about himself after having shed it–or rather, because of the confidence he gained in himself by taking charge of the situation. The idea here is not “Ben needs to lose weight because gross” but rather “Ben needs to be in control of his body.”
The good doesn’t wipe out the bad, nor vice versa; gotta consider them both in context. Main characters are naturally going to get more nuance than supporting characters, but necessary shorthand can easily turn into harmful caricature. And of course, a storytelling choice that seems solid in isolation can become a problem within the work as a whole. Beverly is sexualized throughout It in a way that’s often very unpleasant to read, associated throughout with violence and misogyny. Sometimes this works, as a way of peeling back the layers of petty ego driving a man’s man like her husband Tom; he explodes at her in their introductory scene because her paying attention to Mike’s call instead of him makes him feel like he’s literally not there. Other times it doesn’t, like when King lingers on the “smell” that Bev and her father “make together” now that she’s reaching puberty. We don’t need that to get the point that Bev’s father has inappropriate feelings for her–we got that from Bev’s mom asking if he ever touches her. When you put both sides of the coin together with the infamous sex scene in the sewers and the amount of time spent on whether Bev will choose Ben or Bill, it starts to look less like King was taking a stand against objectification by showing its omnipresence than that he simply didn’t know what to do with Bev as a character without constantly making reference to sex, rape, assault, and molestation. While she does get some right to response on these matters, I don’t think it’s nearly enough. It pushes back against a mindset that casually treats women like objects, but fails to establish a counter-narrative rooted in the female characters as individuals, fleshed out beyond their relationships to the men around them. It’s less a question of Does Stephen King Hate Women than one of imagination and empathy.
Of course, some flaws are lessened by context, rather than enhanced by it. Take, for example, our protagonist William Denbrough, a blatant author insert. Bill is a popular horror author (check) whose books are increasingly being adapted for TV and film (check) and who has a rather tense relationship with critics and academics (double check). The latter is spelled out in an extended flashback to Bill’s college days, in which he takes a stand that ought to be very familiar to anyone steeped in modern media discourse:
Here is a poor boy from the state of Maine who goes to the University on a scholarship. All his life he has wanted to be a writer, but when he enrolls in the writing courses he finds himself lost without a compass in a strange and frightening land. There’s one guy who wants to be Updike. There’s another one who wants to be a New England version of Faulkner-only he wants to write novels about the grim lives of the poor in blank verse. There’s a girl who admires Joyce Carol Gates but feels that because Oates was nurtured in a sexist society she is “radioactive in a literary sense.” Oates is unable to be clean, this girl says. She will be cleaner. There’s the short fat grad student who can’t or won’t speak above a mutter. This guy has written a play in which there are nine characters. Each of them says only a single word. Little by little the playgoers realize that when you put the single words together you come out with “War is the tool of the sexist death merchants.” This fellow’s play receives an A from the man who teaches Eh-141 (Creative Writing Honors Seminar). This instructor has published four books of poetry and his master’s thesis, all with the University Press. He smokes pot and wears a peace medallion. The fat mutterer’s play is produced by a guerrilla theater group during the strike to end the war which shuts down the campus in May of 1970. The instructor plays one of the characters.
Bill Denbrough, meanwhile, has written one locked-room mystery tale, three science-fiction stories, and several horror tales which owe a great deal to Edgar Allan Poe, H. P. Lovecraft, and Richard Matheson-in later years he will say those stories resembled a mid-1800s funeral hack equipped with a supercharger and painted Day-Glo red.
One of the sf tales earns him a B.
“This is better,” the instructor writes on the title page. “In the alien counterstrike we see the vicious circle in which violence begets violence; I particularly liked the “needle-nosed” spacecraft as a symbol of socio-sexual incursion. While this remains a slightly confused undertone throughout, it is interesting.”
All the others do no better than a C.
Finally he stands up in class one day, after the discussion of a sallow young woman’s vignette about a cow’s examination of a discarded engine block in a deserted field (this may or may not be after a nuclear war) has gone on for seventy minutes or so. The sallow girl, who smokes one Winston after another and picks occasionally at the pimples which nestle in the hollows of her temples, insists that the vignette is a socio-political statement in the manner of the early Orwell. Most of the class-and the instructor-agree, but still the discussion drones on.
When Bill stands up, the class looks at him. He is tail, and has a certain presence.
Speaking carefully, not stuttering (he has not stuttered in better than five years), he says: “I don’t understand this at all. I don’t understand any of this. Why does a story have to be socio-anything? Politics… culture… history… aren’t those natural ingredients in any story, if it’s told well? I mean… ” He looks around, sees hostile eyes, and realizes dimly that they see this as some sort of attack. Maybe it even is. They are thinking, he realizes, that maybe there is a sexist death merchant in their midst. “I mean… can’t you guys just let a story be a story?”
No one replies. Silence spins out. He stands there looking from one cool set of eyes to the next. The sallow girl chuffs out smoke and snubs her cigarette in an ashtray she has brought along in her backpack.
Finally the instructor says softly, as if to a child having an inexplicable tantrum, “do you believe William Faulkner was ‘just telling stories’? Do you believe Shakespeare was just interested in making a buck? Come now, Bill. Tell us what you think.”
“I think that’s pretty close to the truth,” Bill says after a long moment in which he honestly considers the question, and in their eyes he reads a kind of damnation.
“I suggest,” the instructor says, toying with his pen and smiling at Bill with half-lidded eyes, “that you have a great deal to learn.”
The applause starts somewhere in the back of the room.
Bill leaves… but returns the next week, determined to stick with it. In the time between he has written a story called “The Dark,” a tale about a small boy who discovers a monster in the cellar of his house. The little boy faces it, battles it, finally kills it. He feels a land of holy exaltation as he goes about the business of writing this story; he even feels that he is not so much telling the story as he is allowing the story to flow through him. At one point he puts his pen down and takes his hot and aching hand out into ten-degree December cold where it nearly smokes from the temperature change. He walks around, green cut-off boots squeaking in the snow like tiny shutter-hinges which need oil, and his head seems to bulge with the story; it is a little scary, the way it needs to get out. He feels that if it cannot escape by way of his racing hand that it will pop his eyes out in its urgency to escape and be concrete. “Going to knock the shit out of it,” he confides to the blowing winter dark, and laughs a little-a shaky laugh. He is aware that he has finally discovered how to do just that-after ten years of trying he has suddenly found the starter button on the vast dead bulldozer taking up so much space inside his head. It has started up. It is revving, revving. It is nothing pretty, this big machine. It was not made for taking pretty girls to proms. It is not a status symbol. It means business. It can knock things down. If he isn’t careful, it will knock him down.
He rushes inside and finishes “The Dark” at white heat, writing until four o'clock in the morning and finally falling asleep over his ring-binder. If someone had suggested to him that he was really writing about his brother, George, he would have been surprised. He has not thought about George in years-or so he honestly believes.
The story comes back from the instructor with an F slashed into the tide page. Two words are scrawled beneath, in capital letters. PULP, screams one. CRAP, screams the other.
Bill takes the fifteen-page sheaf of manuscript over to the wood-stove and opens the door. He is within a bare inch of tossing it in when the absurdity of what he is doing strikes him. He sits down in his rocking chair, looks at a Grateful Dead poster, and starts to laugh. Pulp? Fine! Let it be pulp! The woods were full of it!
“Let them fucking trees fall!” Bill exclaims, and laughs until tears spurt from his eyes and roll down his face.
He retypes the title page, the one with the instructor’s judgment on it, and sends it off to a men’s magazine named White Tie (although from what Bill can see, it really should be titled Naked Girls Who Look Like Drug Users). Yet his battered Writer’s Market says they buy horror stories, and the two issues he has bought down at the local mom-and-pop store have indeed contained four horror stories sandwiched between the naked girls and the ads for dirty movies and potency pills. One of them, by a man named Dennis Etchison, is actually quite good.
He sends “The Dark” off with no real hopes-he has submitted a good many stories to magazines before with nothing to show for it but rejection slips-and is flabbergasted and delighted when the fiction editor of White Tie buys it for two hundred dollars, payment on publication. The assistant editor adds a short note which calls it “the best damned horror story since Ray Bradbury’s “The Jar.” He adds, “Too bad only about seventy people coast to coast will read it,” but Bill Denbrough does not care. Two hundred dollars!
He goes to his advisor with a drop card for Eh-141. His advisor initials it. Bill Denbrough staples the drop card to the assistant fiction editor’s congratulatory note and tacks both to the bulletin board on the creative-writing instructor’s door. In the corner of the bulletin board he sees an anti-war cartoon. And suddenly, as if moving of its own accord, his fingers pluck his pen from his breast pocket and across the cartoon he writes this: If fiction and politics ever really do become interchangeable, I’m going to kill myself, because I won’t know what else to do. You see, politics always change. Stories never do. He pauses, and then, feeling a bit small (but unable to help himself), he adds: I suggest you have a lot to learn.
You can easily imagine this argument–a timeless appeal is being ruined by lefty college kids and their postmodern analyses–being made today by an alt-right YouTuber out to cleanse the game industry of SJWs. Throughout It, King keeps cutting back to an image of a librarian reading “The Billy Goats Gruff” to a group of kids, the latter enthralled (King tells us) by the primal purity of the kind of monster stories upon which both King and Denbrough have built their careers. “Will the monster be bested…or will It feed?” That’s King declaring that Bill’s his professors were wrong to wave aside his short horror stories. See? See?! I made it, and you pretentious eggheads were wrong to ever doubt me! This aspect of It is frankly embarrassing, especially as time marches on and we see how this mindset has taken root in the next generation.
But! While King very clearly believes this stuff, he’s also self-aware enough to include auto-critiques in his writing. Stan’s wife Patty picks up one of Bill’s novels and dismisses it as practically pornographic in its horror imagery. King goes too far in casting Patty’s dislike of Bill’s work as reflecting a lack of imagination on her part, but he then goes on to sympathetically explore how the grounded relatable struggles Patty has faced (anti-Semitism, her father mocking and dismissing Stan, their inability to have children) have led her to consider “horrorbooks” as shallow escapism. The real world, It admits, has horrors beyond anything the Kings and Denbroughs can come up with. “Werewolves, shit. What did a man like that know about werewolves?”
Later on, when Ben is telling his triumphant story about calling out a high school coach who taunted him for his weight, Bill gently notes that as an author, he has trouble believing any kid really talked like that. That’s King using his self-insert to wryly poke fun at his own oft-overheated dialogue. Self-awareness and self-deprecation are absolutely vital to making a book as thematically and structurally ambitious as this onework.
And while some of It’s politics make me cringe, other aspects make me perk up and take notice. King wrote It over the course of four years in which HIV and AIDS became a national crisis that was being largely ignored by said nation’s government. There was a growing conventional wisdom that the afflicted deserved their punishment and should be more or less left to rot. This was all part and parcel with the ascension of the religious right in American politics, especially within the Reagan White House. A huge part of the Reagan narrative (as we see in the “Morning in America” ad, also released while King was writing It) was a portrait of lily-white small-town America as a social ideal being beset by all sorts of ills that the left was either letting happen or actively supporting, and The Gays were most certainly among them.
It opens with a scene that seems to dovetail with that narrative: an idealized ‘50s small town in which an adorable innocent white boy from a good Christian family is horribly murdered by (what seems to be) a nightmarish external force that takes advantage of that innocence. Already, you can see a potential Reaganite spin–It as the Other, the “bear in the woods” threatening the ideal of Derry.
But that’s not what It is about. The second chapter jumps forward a generation, into the mid-1980s in which King was writing, and onto a scene of violence that cannot be wrapped into the meta-narrative of the religious right. Three men attack a gay man on a bridge, their delicate sensibilities offended by his flamboyance. They beat him within an inch of his life and toss him over the side…where he finds It waiting for him with a gleaming sharp-toothed smile. Both the victim’s boyfriend and one of the assailants tell the cops and lawyers involved about the demon clown who finished the victim off, but the powers that be cover it up for the sake of a successful prosecution.
The idea being that they’re dealing with the symptoms, not the disease–the violence, but not the hand-me-down hate driving it. The bereft boyfriend tells the cops that he tried to warn his new-to-town lover that despite its cheery appearance, Derry is a “bad place,” one positively crawling with “AIDS is God’s punishment” homophobia. Moreover, he whispers through his tears, he realized while staring into Its silver eyes as It ate his true love that “It was Derry…It was this town.”
So while the first chapter seemingly wrapped the era’s conservative politics in a cozy semiotic blanket, it was only baiting the hook so that the second can rip that blanket off like a Band-Aid. As Reagan strolled to re-election with 49 states at his back, as the Democrats’ convictions wavered and they began to drift rightward, as thousands of Americans wasted away while their government and so many of their fellow citizens watched pitilessly, here comes Stevie King to stick his middle finger in the Moral Majority’s face and say: gays aren’t the monsters, you are the monsters, you are the ones eating your children. He built a thousand-page Lovecraftian epic around that idea, and made it a bestseller. How fucking awesome is that?
Again, it’s all always going to be complicated. The good not only coexists with the bad–they’re often inextricable. The author who slipped a rant against leftist academics ruinin’ his storybooks into It is also the guy who now declares his support for BLM and his disgust for Trump, and It is both a deeply flawed work and one of my very favorite novels.
It starts of when Marinette kisses Adrien on a dare and runs off but it really spirals out of control when Chat Noir takes revenge with his own kiss and dash. Do all people kiss the same way? Adrienette/Marichat/Ladynoir/Ladrien.
Cat Noir is on a late night run about town when he catches sight of a lone ice skater. To his great amazement it’s his classmate, Marinette.
Lucky Us by Princess Kitty1 *This is one of my personal favorites
-AU- Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life isn’t going as planned: twenty-six, recently dumped, and running her parents’ bakery. The highlights of her day are the emails sent by her mysterious pen pal, Chat Noir. That is, until handsome model Adrien Agreste starts swinging by the bakery after hours. But how is he to know the Ladybug he loves is standing right in front of him?
Princess Day by RicardianScholar Clark-Weasley *I don’t usually go for Marichat fics but this one was cute
When the Mayor of Paris announces a new holiday called Princess Day, which everyone knows is just an excuse to spoil Chloe some more, there is no one Chat Noir would rather spend it with than his very own princess.
After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about “falling for him,” Marinette learns that he’s no match for cheesy pick-up lines–whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he’s Chat Noir. At which point the phrase “just desserts” becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.
A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for–even if he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.
How unfair it is that Christmas gets a love song like that while Valentine’s Day, the holiday for giving your true love gifts, have no songs at all. I’m thinking of Fourteen Days of Valentine.“ Chat Noir begins to woo Ladybug, promising a gift every day leading up to Valentine’s Day…but they don’t see each other every day, right?
He was so sure that Ladybug would already push him off a rooftop if she knew his civilian identity worked at a café called "Paws Fur Coffee” of all names, but his flub on the chalkboard menu just topped it all off. His neat handwriting read back to him: “Chai Noir”. (In which Adrien has some cool drink ideas and gets to know a regular customer) [Cafe College AU]
Nothing is as satisfying as a good romantic reveal
The last person Marinette wants to discover her secret, is of course, the first one who does. But what price will Marinette have to pay to buy Chloe’s silence? And what toll will it take on her and those around her? Namely, one very worried kitty cat… LadyNoir/Marichat, etc. Angst, fluff and all kinds of fun
Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.
Marinette and Adrien are getting married! Unfortunately, Adrien is bothered by the fact that he didn’t invite Ladybug, while Marinette gets cold feet every time Chat Noir flits through her head. A story of mixed up love, rash mistakes, and two oblivious superheroes who should have figured things out a long time ago
When a freak accident sends Marinette into critical condition, the only thing she can think about is Chat Noir. She wasn’t going to make it and someone had to tell him. Otherwise, he’d never know what had happened to her–why his lady had never returned. And, as it just so happens, Adrien is there with her near the end, so she decides that he can take the message to Chat just as well as anyone.
“I’ll be fine, Alya. It’s only a couple blocks.“ "But it’s ten at night, it’s not safe. Especially with that Chat Noir prowling around.” AU
Trouble in White by imthepunchlord *I don’t really like akumatizedchat! but this one was good
Finding your soulmate is supposed to be uplifting, and amazing, and just… miraculous. But for Marinette, it wasn’t any of that. Her soulmate, he… he was… What does one do when your soulmate is an akuma?
When Adrien agreed to this line of work, he thought all his focus would be on the job of catching the elusive Lady Luck. It never crossed his mind that someone else would catch his attention. Marichat, Enemy AU
I love Emma Stone…my reaction to anything remotely sad^
When Alya announces there will be kissing games at her party, Marinette freaks out. After all she’s never really kissed someone before. But then when she’s reminded that practice makes perfect…who else is better to practice with other than her partner Chat Noir?
Ladybug decided to try and condition Chat Noir out of pun habit with kisses! Chat Noir, however, turns the table on her and now Ladybug can’t resist kissing him whenever he puns. Whether or not he’s wearing the mask.
There’s a conspiracy afoot in Alya and Nino’s class. Akuma seem to be attracted to them. So far everyone has been possessed. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette, that is. After Alix and Kim start an argument, the class start placing bets on when they will get turned. Alya is not happy about it. She has another theory in mind. And she is going to win that bet, one way or another.
One night while on patrol, Adrien notices flour in Ladybug’s hair. When Marinette complains about the flour from her dad’s bakery the next day at school, he starts to get suspicious. (aka “The Flour Reveal Fic”)
A year after leaving school, Marinette is living her dream. Never could she have imagined working alongside Adrien and his father, let alone living with them. But with closeness comes clashing, which results in explosive tension and confused emotions. And now with her in front of the camera with Adrien… Oh god. She was doomed.
Me: Okay brain, what new fic ideas do you have for me today? I’m thinking angst.
Brain: Oh, I’ve got a great one! How about Marinette finds out that Adrien is Chat Noir and finally works up the courage to confess her feelings to him. Of course, he doesn’t know she’s Ladybug so he rejects her as kindly as possible. Marinette, in a moment of panic, admits that she’s Ladybug to him but he doesn’t believe her. The next day, Chloe (having overheard the last part of their conversation) starts berating her in front of the whole class for claiming that she’s Ladybug just to win Adrien’s affections.
He really, really loves her smile. Marinette leaves little notes for Adrien all the time, and she signs them with a smiley face. He loves that smiley face… only… why is it drawn on a letter from his Lady?
Fermeture by KarmaHope *Must read, my favorite one shot
The hardest part of being a superhero is no longer being a superhero. It’s been five years since Marinette last saw Tikki; since she last saw Chat Noir; and she can’t take it anymore. A reunion/reveal fic.
Sequel to A Present From Marinette. Marinette’s birthday is coming up and Adrien is freaking out on what to get her. Meanwhile the rest of the class, barring Chloe, are working on the whole serving Adrien up on a silver platter
When Ladybug asks Chat Noir to help her deliver her Christmas presents, he is surprised to learn that all of Ladybug’s friends are HIS friends too. There is only one conclusion to make from this especially when they don’t deliver a present to a certain Princess that lives in a bakery…
Ladybug and Chat Noir end up in the same alleyway as they de-transform which would be totally fine…if it wasn’t for the fact that both Marinette and Adrien had been in the shower mere moments before the Akuma attack.
Alya gives Marinette a set of adult love dice that are guaranteed to give who plays them a fun time. Later that night, Chat Noir suggests to Marinette that they play a game with them to see if they work.
been meaning to write this into an actual fit for months but have had neither the time nor the motivation to do it. so here you go
- The Agrestes hold a charity ball in Mama Agreste’s name for underprivileged children in Paris - Adrien invites his friends, including Marinette - Since Nino and Alya are going together, they suggest he bring Marinette - Since she’s never gone to a ball before, she asks Chat to teach her how to dance, have lessons during every patrol for three months - She picks up habits Chat tends to make when they dance (and how he reacts when she keeps stepping on his toes) - Adrien asks Marinette if she can dance, she lies and says she’s been learning from YouTube tutorials - He extends a hand for a practice run of her dancing - She’s been improving from her patrol lessons, but notices how eerily similar his habits are with Chat’s - She’s totally in denial throughout their practice - Adrien does something that’s so distinctly Chat = it hits her like a truck - Marinette finds out Adrien is Chat, keeps to herself (and screaming when she finds out) - She notices him humming to Haley Reinhart’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ as both Adrien and Chat (when he thinks no one else is around), doesn’t say anything about it - She asks him once during patrol, he covers up by saying it was a perfect love song to dance to (and it’s been stuck in his head for a while) - Knows he doesn’t take praises to heart - Remembers that he thinks he’s lame and not good enough - Takes note of him spreading his kindness ie consoling akuma victims, helping those in need - She brings up to Adrien on who’s better, LB or Chat; he says LB - Pays particular attention after she asks what’s wrong with Chat, heartbroken after every word - During patrol Chat seems down in the dumps - Ladybug questions him, he starts questioning himself - She shakes some sense into him, tells him not to waste a second of his time thinking he’s not enough - Heated argument ensues about his value - “Why should I bother? It’s not like I matter to anyone anymore!” “BECAUSE YOU MATTER TO PARIS, TO THEIR SAFETY, TO ME! I care about you, mon minou. Isn’t that enough?” - “Chat, you have no idea how much you’re changing lives. It’s incredibly ridiculous that you can’t see that.” - “Let me tell you a story. A true story.” Brings up Umbrella Scene, the pitter-patter of rain echoing in her ears as she recalls one of her fondest memories of him - “Once, there was a girl. She stood by the school’s two front doors, feeling droplets land on a single palm. It… it was raining that evening. Not particularly heavy, but it was enough for her to hesitate walking home, a mere distance away. She heard a friendly 'Hey!’ from over her shoulder, but she turned away, unforgiving. The poor boy beside her hadn’t been able to speak up for himself before, but he was determined to change that. - "So he did. He cleared the foggy air of misunderstanding, careful to not expose the true offender. The assailant was all he had for all his life, after all. He cared enough not to tarnish that friendship. Many wouldn’t really condone this, but who could blame him? He was still so new to the world outside his home. - "It wasn’t this that caught her off guard. He hadn’t exactly apologised for anything, and he wasn’t asking too much from her. He wasn’t sure if she believed what he said, but he took the risk anyway. In the pouring rain over their heads, he offered her his single black umbrella. So what if he left soaking wet? He would’ve come home absolutely drenched if it meant he won her friendship. - "And she was so… ah, she was at a loss for words. Even as the very umbrella closed shut over her head, to hear his bubbly child-like laughter for the first time melted away any resentment she held for him. And as she watched him walk away, that was when she knew - things would never be the same with him. It might’ve been a simple act of kindness to him, but to this day that silly kitty still doesn’t know that that act… it meant the world to me.” - “… M-Marinette?” “I still have that umbrella, you know. It’s been two years, but it’s been under the chaise in my room. Really needs to be dust-” he pulls her into a bone-crushing hug - “You’re not gonna ask how I found out, chaton?” “I don’t care. I’m just so, so glad it’s you.” “Me too, Adrien. I’m glad it’s you too.” - Nothing romantic progresses just yet - Night of the charity ball approaches, they’re still pretty awkward around each other when dancing around the topic of where they stand - Marinette quickly makes a request to play a special song for the slow dance - Adrien hears the very familiar C Major chords before realising which song was playing, Marinette smirks - He admits he kept humming that song because he remembers his parents dancing along to it for every wedding anniversary, and the ball was in his mother’s name - As they dance, Marinette sings along to the final verse, low enough for only Adrien to hear - They both suddenly feel as though everyone else has vanished, and it’s just the two of them against the world - Adrien understands that’s her way to confess her feelings for him, follows through by leaning down as she tiptoes - Their kiss ends as the song does too
this was waaaaaaaaaaaay back when I had that haley reinsert song on loop. planned to type it out during semester break but. meh.
Turning your head towards the source of the voice, you
steadily shifted your body away from the man, intending to let him pass if you
were blocking his path. You tried not to take offense, since the speaker
probably didn’t know the situation at hand, but before you could scoot away
even more, your friend’s arm linked in yours held you firmly in place,
preventing you from moving. Confused, it crossed your mind that perhaps the
man’s request wasn’t directed towards you two, but you didn’t have the chance
to ask her what was going on.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re heading to room
302?” the deep voice resonated again, and it was like you could feel the
quality of his tone slice through the rest of the sounds in the bustling
university hallway. “I actually have the same class right now, and I was
wondering if maybe you’d like to walk together?”
This is a long-ass shit, and I’m not forcing you to read. Also, please be reminded that this is just MY opinion. We all have different opinions, and I’m here to simply share my thoughts, and not to convince you to change yours. So please don’t go to my ask pushing your opinion. I already heard yours. I woke up to a bunch of “asks” and I already know that some don’t like it, while some do.
My initial reaction:
• why is this so auto-tuned? Okay, Dinah’s voice sounds like smooth warm caramel on top of a sundae. Why is this so basic? Lauren’s adlibs tho! Why are the lyrics so generic? Oooh WFH melody… It’s gonna be a bop! Wait why is the chorus so blandly repetitive? But it’s not that bad. Why do they sound so alike?
• and picture me with my earphones on listening to the first verse, pre-hook, chorus and shit with a pensive look on my face, and disappointment running through my head like damn I wanted more…
But then Gucci Mane came in, (and I know I’m the minority in this one), but for me, the first authentic reaction the song elicited from me was his part.
Why? Because his part was so off and out of nowhere that it took me out of the rut I was in. Like imagine a flat line where the song was just monotonous, like a car cruising on a smooth freeway (not bad, but also kind of boring) but then you run into a pothole and you get jerked off your stupor…
That’s what gucci’s part was for me. A tiny spike on that flat line. A deviation that held my attention. I’m not saying it’s amazing. I’m saying that the grating sound of the bass and the randomness of it was what made me smile while listening to it. I’m not even exaggerating when I say that I was smiling the whole time I was listening to that weird bass with a tiny bit of goosebumps on my skin because I knew then that I COULD like Down without lying to myself. It was the only thing that caught my attention, aside from Lauren’s adlibs (which, girl, I wish she did more. I live for Lauren going offffff)
Don’t get me wrong though, I’m so done with these collabs with rappers, like I wanted to hear them alone, like they did with Boss (idc if you say that one is trash lmao, Boss is a bop for me. I fucking love that shit 😂), but if they really have to collab with rappers, I wish it wasn’t Gucci. Maybe Chance, or Migos damn…
But if it were up to me, I wish they would have collabed with female rappers. I still am salty that NTKG wasn’t utilized much. A missed opportunity with Missy Elliott like bitch you had to release TMG over NTKG? NTKG was at least more authentic with the sound it’s trying to project. It was old school and it owned it. Like Voicemail was reminiscent of 90’s bops and not lacing it with today’s trendy dancehall or tropical vibe. It has its own sound, and not a mix of everything generic we hear today where we hear a song and we automatically hear the edm producers more than the artist.
But OMG I digress, sorry.
So yeah, DOWN…
So after my initial reaction, I gave it a couple more listen, and then I watched the live performance, then I slept, then I woke up the next day and I listened to the audio a couple more times, watched the live several more, and here’s my conclusion:
• Down is that kind of a summer bop which grows on you. It’s not a bad song. It’s simplistic but also season-friendly. It’s probably what the label insisted on as their first release.
The reason why it probably feels lacking for me, aside from its repetitiveness, is that maybe it lacks another verse. It’s shorter than WI and WFH so it feels incomplete. There must be a reason for it. It could really be just a teaser.
• at this point in my 5h-stanning life, I’m not even expecting anything mind-blowing. All I want is for 5H to slay the charts, because this should be their era. They seem genuinely happy now and my god after everything they’ve been through (label shit and all), ALL FIVE OF THEM deserve our unwavering support.
• Sure, Down isn’t what I expected. Yes, I wanted more. I wanted more lyrics. I wanted a kickass sound. But, idk man, after several repeats, I think it’s a good enough bop.
• with regards to the vocals, I still hate the auto-tuned shit. I get that maybe they’re finally utilizing Lauren’s range, but I prefer that they don’t auto tune much because I could barely hear her rasp (which was still obvious in her live performance, despite the higher tone she’s using).
Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, making them sound the same as a symbol of their new sound’s “cohesiveness”, but I prefer old 5h where their voices are uniquely different.
• and I’m not even complaining that it sounds like WFH. I don’t have a problem with an artist using a tried and tested formula for ONE of their album’s single. It’s meant to hook the audience. It gives them that familiar sound which could make a NON-FAN recognize their older hits and draw them to the new one. Just because they said “NEW ERA” doesn’t mean that they should change their ENTIRE sound. There’s always that one or two singles that are meant to hook the general public. It’s a constant compromise a mainstream artist makes with their label.
(I mean, The Chainsmokers basically generate the same sound over and over and they’re charting as if they created music. And no, I’m not a big fan of the chainsmokers.
Point is, re-using WFH is not something unheard of. It’s a business move.)
You really can’t please everybody. Because when Lady Gaga released an album that felt authentic for her, some people criticized it and kept saying they wanted the old “Bad Romance” Gaga. When Lorde released her new single, Green Light, her hipster fanbase called her a sell-out and didn’t like that she’s deviated from her “sound” to be more mainstream and I was like bitch can’t an artist explore a different side of her artistry?
And on the flip side, can’t an artist use their old sound? My point is, Down was produced by the same people who made WFH for a reason. They are playing safe. They wanted a single that would generate enough attention like their previous ones did. Then maybe, just maybe, their next singles which probably showcase their authentic sound and lyrics will have as much impact since now people are paying attention.
Because no matter how much we want them to be authentic, they’re still a girl group under a greedy ass label who needs them to maintain what their idea of a girl group music and image should be..
And while Down is not something I’m particularly excited about, it’s starting to get stuck in my head, and I don’t hate it. It’s a light summery chill song that’s good to play with your friends while sipping on your drinks by the pool.
It is what it was supposed to be.
I get it, I was disappointed too. Down is a downer. But I’m not gonna judge the whole album with one single yet. I’m gonna wait.
This is why I wrote this one before Down was released:
Because I knew that I wasn’t expecting much from their music. I sure hope for more, definitely, BUT stanning 5H isn’t always about their music.
And just because I don’t like a few of their songs, doesn’t mean they don’t deserve my support.
I’m supporting 5h because they represent girls who are not a standard definition of what society thinks a girl should look like or how they should act like. They symbolize us. They showed us that one can achieve their dreams through hard work, and while they have been mistreated before (by their label and by fans alike) they still kept their heads up high, with grace and maturity, and kept on spreading love and inspiration, and they kept on smiling even if their hearts were breaking. They kept striving to be the best they could be, and it’s inspiring. And to see genuine warmth from these pop stars, their love and appreciation for their fans, is something that makes me wanna stan them forever. That’s why even if i really don’t like their music, I’d still keep on stanning them, because what they shared to us, the representation they gave us, the beauty and poise they all showed us, man, even if they fucking screeched for an entire album, I’ll be fuucking putting that on loop and still support their asses.
And I know it’s blind support, but I knew what I was getting into when I started supporting 5h. I wasn’t a pop person before this, I knew I won’t love their music so much. I stan them because I like them, plain and simple.
And I know it’s different for everybody. It’s all just a matter of preferences. Some could unstan just coz they don’t like the song, and that’s totally okay. We’re free to stan or unstan whoever we want. But like I said, it’s just one song. Let’s wait for the other singles and the album.
Ideally, I would love for them to show us everything they have as artists. This is their chance to go big. They have so much potential and I would have liked to see it shine while they’re still in the group. I want the brand Fifth Harmony to leave a lasting mark in this industry. I want them to be on the same spot as TLC or SG or DC. I want them to legit deserve their title.
And Down is not it. But guess what? Down is just one single. I’m gonna wait patiently for the rest of their stuff. I ONLY NEED THAT ONE CLASSIC HIT I’VE BEEN CRAVING FOR SINCE I STARTED LISTENING TO THEM. ONE CLASSIC SONG THAT WOULD STILL BE PLAYED GENERATIONS LATER BECAUSE IT’S JUST SO DAMN RELATABLE AND HEARTFELT.
That’s all I want. And I hope I’ll find that in 5H3.
Yes, Down is empty.
But I won’t unstan just because of one song. We can be disappointed (as I sure was), but I think that 5H is worth more than a few musical disappointments.
This will probably not be a complete list. Every day that I attend school, I will probably think of a new reason to dislike it. However, I’m still going to write this list with what comes to mind now.
Also, please note that when I say I hate school, I do not mean the idea/concept of school in general. I’m referring to the school system, specifically in America but generally of today’s world.
One of my biggest issues with the school system is that our work is graded. This might be the part where you start to roll your eyes, but that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care if any of the reasons I list don’t mean anything to you, or you attribute them to me being a “lazy, selfish” kid. I’m not the only one who feels these things, and if all of the people who the school system was supposedly created for disagree with a certain thing, it should be of some importance.
I want to go to school to learn, not to impress. Every time I learn something in school, I’m given a test. Now, the tests themselves are not a problem - it’s an effective way for teachers to determine where we are as far as the lesson is concerned and to determine if we need some extra help (and this need for extra help is usually ignored or met with useless tutoring sessions that take place in a similar crowded environment to regular classrooms). I’m sure no one in school would have a problem with tests or experience severe anxiety from tests if they were not graded. It’s that number, the digits, that drive everyone crazy. Teachers can pay attention to our progress from tests without grading them. Or, they can use numerical grades for tests but not show those grades to us. Instead, they can be helpful specifically according to our weak spots on tests. For example, if I get questions wrong on the test about a specific topic, the teacher ‘grades’ me by giving me a note to study more on this topic, or telling me when to see him/her for tutoring on this topic. Grading us says: ‘I want to validate you, not teach you.’ Grades reduce knowledge to a number. Grades cultivate unhealthy competition between students (you might say that the competition is healthy, but some students truly believe that the ones who score higher than them are just ‘better’, and I’ve experienced it firsthand). Grades cause students to hate themselves, to cry themselves to sleep at night. Grades cause parents to wrongly judge their children.
Grades need to be abolished.
States have their different standardized tests, but in New York they’re Regents Exams. These Regents test us on our progress at the end of the year to see if we’re ready to move on to the next level of a given subject. A lot of the time, taking a Regents is a reality check for me, because I’m reminded of what my weak points are and what I failed to study about the subject during the year. However, students’ reactions to their grades on Regents is sometimes terrifying. The effect that these numbers have on us is deeper than even we realize. Our knowledge is defined by a number. Imagine how less harmful it would be if after a Regents, the results we got back were a note as to whether we are well-versed in the subject enough to move on to higher levels, and a note on tips for what we each need to work on in the subject as individuals. To me, this is much more helpful than a numerical value, and it gives the knowledge itself more weight than a grade.
taetaebears said: Hello~! Just wanted to say that I really like your writhing^-^ And a request, could you do like a fic where Suga is in school, he really likes the reader and the boys do everything to bring him to confess to her but they struggle really hard to do it? Thank you<3
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: The most fluffy thing I have ever written
Warnings:Too much fluff None
Word Count: 1.6k
A/n: Okay so, I have finally finished it! I hope this is what you were thinking of! If it’s not I’m sorry :( Also the verse used in this scenario is from Miss Right by Bts, Yoongi’s part!
“Okay, see you later!” She said getting up from the chair next to mine, starting to gather all her stuff.
“See you!” I smiled and closed my notebook. Watch her leave the classroom made me sigh.
“YOONGI!” An annoying and unfortunately familiar voice called.
“What, Tae?” I answered, not bothering to look at him.
He took a seat in her chair and grabbed my shoulders making me look at him.
“Please just kiss already, and love each other, and marry, and have kids, and die together.”
Jungkook came behind him and hit Tae’s head.
“Shut your mouth!” He whispered. “what if she heard?”
I sighed and finished closing my bag.
“See you around guys.” I told them getting up and in some seconds I was outside the class.
I finally got to my locker. I saw her some meters away taking her headphones and books from inside her locker. Suddenly, all the books fell from her hands and I noticed a girl behind her, who just pushed her, making her head hit the lockers as her hands eventually let go of the books.
Quickly I closed my locker door and run up to the beautiful girl bleeding from the head on the floor.
“Are you stupid?” I asked the girl, who was standing next to her friends. I didn’t know what they had expected me to say, but they all looked surprised. “Are you ok?” I asked, changing my attention to y/n. “No, you’re not. Here, let me take you to the infirmary.” I helped her up, one arm on her waist and the other taking her hand.
“I can walk Yoongi, don’t worry.” She let go of my hand.
I took her bag and still with my arm around her I stood in front of 5 girls. Any boy would love to be with them, but I didn’t. I never understood why a boy could hook up with someone so… egocentric and bitchy.
“Touch her again and you’re done. And I honestly wouldn’t give a shit of the fact that you’re a girl.”
A/N: Hey! This is my first fanfic that I’ve ever posted, really, so I hope you guys like it! If you do, and you think of a prompt, please send it! Me and Katy need prompts! Anyways, so this fanfic is inspired by Disney’s The Little Mermaid “Kiss the Girl”, which I do not own, or have any other rights to other than I thought of this idea. Hope you like it!
AND FOR ALL MY DISNEY FANS PULL UP KISS THE GIRL ON YOUTUBE AND START IT WHEN THE ASTERISK APPEARS IN THE FIC.
Just another normal day at the Avenger’s compound. Discounting, of course, that the Avengers were anything but normal to normal people. But, it was normal for you. You sat on the couch inside the living room, next to the kitchen, reading a book. It was trashy romance, but you hadn’t been able to find your Harry Potter books earlier, so you just went with this one. Nevertheless, it was the optimal place to read. You were right next to the kitchen, stocked full of your favorite snacks, courtesy of Steve, who was very fond of you. Also, if you got bored, there was a TV with an excellent wifi connection, and Netflix. But your favorite part of this particular seat is that you had a perfect view into your lab. Well, it had been yours, but then Bruce had been teaching you about gamma waves, you decided it would be a good idea to steal some of the beta ray emitters from his lab, and let’s just say, it got into the food, and you were grounded from your lab for a month. At the end of your unbearable punishment, Tony added a new lab for you, with all new gadgets and clean boxes. The clean boxes were Nat’s idea. She had a habit of pouncing on you while you were concentrated on something else. She called it a training technique. You called it lots and lots of acid burns. Yours had been a great lab, but it was Peter’s now. Your best friend, your crush of forever, never had had the feelings returned, must I continue? Right now, he was working on a stronger web formula. That morning, you had been helping him, but you’re not the most graceful person. Needless to say, the whole team had to help unplaster Peter from the wall multiple times until Bucky told you to take a break from testing the web shooters. You smiled at the memory unembarrassed. You can be a very good fighter; the adrenaline has a very good effect on your clumsiness. Outside the battlefield, however, you are known as possibly the droppiest, trippiest, unstablest person ever.
“Underoos, pay attention.” Tony laughed at Peter staring at you through the glass of the lab.
“Oh, uh s-sorry Mr.Stark. I was just a…” Peter stammered. You had twisted onto your stomach to read your book more comfortably, and was now biting your lips and running your fingers through your hair. Basically, you looked very nerdy, and to Peter, it was very cute.
“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?” Tony loved teasing him, but he had also caught a matchmaker obsession from Nat. He twirled from the microscope to face Peter, who was bright red, and stammering. Finally, he made out a sentence squirming under Tony’s impish grin.
“Well, she’s never… really liked me like that… and she’s my best friend… I’m also just prone to wrecking everything.”
“Actually, she wouldn’t shut up about how perfect you were around everyone until about last year, when you almost caught one of her little speeches about the perfect shade of your chocolate brown eyes.” Tony said, imitating a much younger and more naive you. “Plus, last time I checked, the only one who is constantly prone to breaking things around here is Y/N.” Peter was silent, his mouth hanging open. He had always thought his feelings about you were unreturned. Turns out, you’re both oblivious.
Tony had diverted his attention to his phone, and was sending out a special Avengers Assemble alert labeled ‘Operation Little Mermaid”. Mysteriously, you and Peter were absent from the alert’s recipients. Downstairs, Steve and Bucky stopped fighting. Bruce looked up from his laptop, and took his reading glasses off. Nat smiled and slowly got off her bed, swinging her hips as she walked out the door. Clint hurriedly said goodbye to his kids on Skype and promised he would call back in an hour. Wanda closed one of your Harry Potter books that she had been reading, and used her powers to move it back into it’s hiding spot. Sam turned off Netflix, and smiled that smile you know too well. Back upstairs, Peter still had no idea what was coming for him.
“Want some advice, kid?” Tony said, only half-managing to keep his tone and expression serious. Remotely, he changed the glass to one-sided. If you hadn’t been too deeply in your book, you would have noticed the glass had gone foggy, hiding your view of Peter and the rest of the lab. He, however, still had a stunningly clear view of you. The team filed in silently from the other lab door. Peter jumped when he saw them all there, and started getting very nervous.
*DISNEY NERDS OR ANYONE WHO WANTS TO HEAR THE MELODY, START YOUR MUSIC
“Move over. Move your big feathers. I can’t see anything!” Natasha poked Sam in the back. He still had his Falcon pack engaged, on purpose. Peter was too confused to say anything.
“Nothing’s happening!” Sam said all sing-songy.
“5 years of being best friends-” Clint started.
“And that boy ain’t puckered up once.” Bucky finished.
“Alright,” said Steve grinning wickedly. “This calls for some vocal, romantic stimulation. Stand back.” he started singing, croaking, really. Very off tune. Tony pushed him lightly back from the center of the lab.
“Oh, I’m surrounded by amateurs. You want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself.” He activated F.R.I.D.A.Y., who said very curtly, “Yes, Mr. Stark?”
“First, F.R.I.D.A.Y. , we’ve got to create… the mood. Percussion, strings, and winds please.” A very familiar Disney tune started playing on the lab stereo. Now, you loved Disney, and therefore, Peter had seen every princess movie at least 3 times. Notably, Ariel was your favorite, and Peter suddenly knew where this was heading.
“Mr. Stark, I really…” he started.
“Uh, no. Not accepting comments right now. And now, words.” Tony started singing, the other team members practically ripping at the seams trying to contain their giggles.
There, you see her
Sitting there across the way
She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her
And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try
You wanna… Kiss the Girl
Tony motioned to you outside, still sucked into your book. Steve and Bucky joined in for the next part, creating a beautiful 3-part harmony.
Yes, you want her
Look at her you know you do
Possibly, definitely she want you too
There is one way to ask her
And don’t say a word,
Not a single word about this to her
Or you’ll lose some pearls
They all pointed to their teeth, and mimed punching each other’s lights out. Tony turned to the rest of the group and said, “Sing with me now.”
Overall, it was very orchestrated, and looking back, Peter would often have laughing fits so hard he would start crying. Actually crying. The final verse came, and Peter felt courage blossoming an awful, embarrassing idea in his heart.
Now’s your moment
She’s floating in a book and won’t mind
Don’t worry, it’s a romance. We took all of her Harry Potter
She hasn’t said a word about liking you, and she won’t until you
Kiss the Girl
Shalalalalala don’t be scared we’re only filming it
At 5 different angles
Shalalalalala don’t stop now
You feel scared? Too bad,
You better kiss the girl
Shalalala and if you hurt her
We’ll make that pain for you a mole times worse
Shalala you better do it now,
And remember please don’t mention this to her
She’ll blow the circuit board
They all started making very obnoxious kissy faces at Peter, and he knew he didn’t have a choice. What’s the worst that could happen?
He walked very confidently over to you, and waited until you looked at him. You sat up and faced him, the perfect position for a kiss.
“Hey, Peter! How’s that formul-” Peter grabbed your chin, and pulled it gently towards his face. Your heart was pumping, and you suddenly felt like fainting. “Peter, what’s going-” you tried, but his lips stopped any more words from slipping past yours. That trashy romance novel (that was on your bookshelf instead Harry Potters) fell forgotten on the floor, because, simply, this was so much better. He pulled away first, but you looked at him and smiled.
“Where did that come from?” you asked, breathless.
“I just got reminded that if I want a fairy tale, I have to Kiss the Girl.” he smiled dorkily. You love-birds started kissing again, but if Peter’s lab hadn’t been soundproof, you would’ve heard a sound resembling New York when the ball drops exactly at midnight.
I found a continuity error in Supergirl (surprise, surprise) that I’m basically just going to fit into some headcanon so it doesn’t bother me anymore. This post also features other Winn!Content with a heavy dash of Meta and Trauma, so be warned:
Okay, so. In the episode “Childish Things”, in Winn’s first confrontation with his father, he says “I watched my dad get dragged off to prison when I was eleven for murder.” <<<pay close attention to the wording of that, as we’re going to revisit it twice.
Howeverrrrr, in the s2 episode “City of Lost Children” he says, in typical Winn fashion, “if somebody had given me action figures when they interrogated me about my dad, when I was ten? I would have sung like a canary.” Ten, folks, not eleven.
Is this merely a continuity error?
Well, it’s highly probable. I’ll save my rant against CW/DC writing for the sake of this post, but let’s just leave it at the fact that continuity errors in even the fairly important (and simple) details are definitely not out of the question.
It could also be, in the Supergirlverse, that the events leading up to Winslow Sr.’s incarceration did not occur in as timely a manner as we immediately assume. We’re quite accustomed to dramas showing us crimes being committed and the perpetrator getting arrested, convicted, and sentenced in the span of 40 minutes. But that’s not how it often works irl, and not the way it necessarily has to go in fiction.
Consider the Toyman. He’s a clever guy, and obviously he was smart enough to spend time planning the attack on his boss, even if it was still ill-conceived and ultimately did not work. But if he played his cards right, it’s entirely possible that the investigating law enforcement did not have enough evidence to convict him right away.
Because yeah, the angry employee who got slighted is the first person
the feds would seek to convict, but that doesn’t mean they had evidence
to do so.
On the surface level this would in the least explain the age difference: a young Winn may very well have been interrogated by police when he was 10 and his father was not ultimately arrested until up to a year later when he was 11.
Now, if this is true, what it means potentially for the character is that there was a period of 1 month to 12 months where an angry and unhinged father who has crossed the line and snapped and actually killed a minimum of 6 people (during that first supervillainy event, although a 7th is later confirmed by Agent Chase and I’m gonna talk about that too), is still living at home, with his wife and kid.
Hence the Schott family having to live through that legal and emotional nightmare on top of the crime itself and no wonder his mom just took off.
The idea that Mr. Schott’s arrest and conviction was not immediate would also help explain the fact that the cops had to interrogate a 10 year-old-boy:
Winn doesn’t say "question” or anything that implies this was a chill “we’re here to protect you from your dad and we just need to hear it from you so we’ve crossed all our T’s” kind of conversation. He uses the word “interrogated” very deliberately, and in fact makes this reference to his childhood during a time when his coworkers are being pretty (albeit mostly unintentionally) cold in questioning a young boy, stating as a kid he might have been more inclined to be cooperative if someone had just been kind to him.
On the OTHER hand, it is slightly possible that Winn Schott is like most of us and doesn’t remember childhood events all that well when it comes to the passage of time. (I had years growing up I wasn’t even sure exactly how old I was until I counted but I’m a nincompoop so) However, being as old as he was and the events being as big and traumatic and memorable as they were, this is doubtful.
Okay, now ONE MORE THING:
Going back to that first line (”I watched my dad get dragged off to prison”), because I only realized this when I went back to the episode to check and see if I was right about the inconsistency-
During the raid at the docks, Agent Chase tells Kara they’re not taking any chances (which they’re actually taking like a lot of chances with this terrible plan of action they have, like, wow, they are the worst agents ever, somebody fire them). Why is she so uptight about all this? Because Winslow Sr. “killed an agent the last time we apprehended him.”
Go back and read the lines again.
Winn was there.
Winn was heckin there when his heckin dad was hecking getting arrested and being dragged off to prison immediately following an event in which he heck hecking killed an agent, if not literally in front of, in the very near vicinity of, his small son. (!!!)
I am. very calm. writing this now. I was not. calm at all. when I first realized it earlier.
Don’t you talk to me about any of the other characters’ traumas or excuse their behavior because of their childhood or family history - ever again. Appreciate Winn Schott Jr. folks. The purest sunshine child, who constantly overcomes so much, always forgives, automatically seeks the good of others first, is seldom thanked and always called upon to show up, and has so much empathy and caring he’s about as opposite from his dad as he can be. He deserves nothing but to be valued, cared for, and loved.