Cobra Kai meets mighty Morphin Power Rangers

gorgeous.

based on this post i made recently because i have zero chill.

OR, the one where they meet again years later and maybe hate isn’t what we think it is.

-

Poppy hates her immediately. again.

a loud laugh rips through the ball room, slides seamlessly between mingling guests and gentle music. Poppy's attention snaps away from her parents' friend's cousin's son who's droning on about rowing and his private equity firm and about how it was oh so lovely to summer in Florence this year.

(Gonna use Queen B MC's default name because fucking Bea is a perfect name for her)

I have so much to get off my chest about this rn -> i'm chewing through my bars

!!! So the thing about Queen B is that there's only two LIs right? But Bea gets the option to flirt with and sleep with a whole bunch of other people. And the difference between these two sets of choices are shown by the icon that appears when you have a romantic moment with them.

So for the two LIs any romantic/sexual moment is followed by a -> ❤️

And for casual flirting/hookups it's followed by a -> 👄

And in Book 1, you get multiple opportunities to romance the two LIs but only about a couple opportunities per character to flirt with the other characters

And then, in Book 2, suddenly, this changes! Suddenly, you're getting almost as many chances to flirt with/sleep with Poppy (Bea's arch fucking enemy) as you are to romance the two LIs. But still her icon firmly remains as 👄.

Because she's not a Love Interest. Bea and Poppy hate each other. They're constantly trying to ruin each other's lives in the most Evil ways possible. At most they're enemies-with-benefits having a hatefuck to work out the tension. Bea straight up just Evil Laughs while thinking about killing Poppy using her bare hands on a regular basis

But then,

But Then, it starts becoming obvious that they're having fun together. Whether they're plotting the other's ultimate downfall or just sniping at each other this is fun for them. Bea accuses Poppy of never having met anyone more interesting & fun than her, and Poppy accuses Bea of being obsessed with her. And they're both right.

And then Bea starts joking about Poppy being in love with her, which Poppy never outright denies

And then Poppy compares Bea to a dog follwing her around, and Bea cheerfully reminds Poppy that she likes dogs, and not only does Poppy not deny it, she agrees by saying she's always had a thing for strays

And then Poppy starts saying insanely romantic things while they dance together, like how Bea makes her more herself/ths best version of herself (more cunning, manipulative and straight up evil of course)

And then Bea starts calling Poppy adorably cute nicknames like "Pop" and "Poptart" (while obviously ruining her life of course)

And then at one point when Bea teases Poppy about liking her and gets a scoff in return the achievement that pops up is "De-nial isn't only a river"

But through this all, it's still 👄. Because it's not Romance. They're still gleefully trying to tear each other down to use the other as a stepping stool to their own success. There's no actual Romantic feelings here, right? They're just flirting with their enemy as one more thing they can hold over the other. They're just flying a little too close to the sun.

And then at the end of Book 2 if you choose Bea's final moments after the gala to be spent with Poppy, you skip ahead to the graduation;

Rightfully, this should be It for Poppy & Bea. The last day they see each other. They don't ever have to meet again. Not after all the horrible things they've done to each other. Nothing binds them.

There are reasons why Bea will still be involved with the two Actual LIs because Zoey is her best friend & partner in crime, and Ina/Ian has instant sexual chemisty with her and is fully in love with Bea whether or not you choose any romantic options for them. There's nothing like that binding Poppy to Bea. Because even if they do have fun together they also spend an awful lot of time wishing to never see the other again - and now there's no more excuse left for them.

There's a difference between ❤️ & 👄 characters, and it's made obvious from the beginning that there's nothing more to 👄 options, there no strings attached at all. So that's the end.

Unless, Bea spends her last moments of the gala with Poppy.

Because then, during her graduation speech she starts talking about the most important person to her in Uni, the one who made the biggest impact in her life, the one she can't let go of, and it's Poppy. And it's all said with a sincere yet mocking edge to it, because that's what they's like. And Poppy is fucking furious. And where Bea & the LIs would have exchanged "I love you"s here, Bea & Poppy exhange a "I loathe you"

And then you know what happens, you know what fucking happens!!???

A Fucking ❤️ pops up and the entire series just ends.

Do you see why I'm tearing my hair out!???? The end of the fucking Queen B series is the start of Bea x Poppy's actual romance. It's an open ending for them and the only thing you can do is imagine where they go from here and it's beautiful. They're always gonna be plotting to destroy the other and they're always gonna daydream about the other's death by their hand but now they're going to do it while falling in love.

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

After I disrobe history of its delusions of grandeur, I am left with a handful of nights in which I sat on the brink of love with a stranger. Or I stood on the precipice of a stranger and imagined love. Either way, I am left with a handful of nights under an avalanche of fantasy. And a whole life can be built on the demolition of the real thing. After I disrobe winter of its snow, I am left with the bare bones of the forest. It seems we are all twisted and tormented by the mere memory of spring. Underneath our bloom, we are addicts. We’ll do anything to see flowers. I can turn a couple of nights into a life off the mere hint of petals, of nectar. Everything becomes a honeyed suggestion. When I disrobe my world of its habits and reasons, I am left with very little–save for my brief collisions with sweetness. But, somehow, even that much seems fair.

Midnight Mass studies

Willa Fitzgerald as Madeline Usher in The Fall of the House of Usher (2023)

but you see her on instagram and it was never really said that you guys aren’t friends but one day she stopped answering and you stopped texting and it’s not like the wound is a cavern but it is a diagram of what if in red letters. you want to tell her nice lipstick that’s a good color but the last time you spoke it was stilted and awkward 

how do you say goodbye, you know? it’s not an unfriend and block kind of situation. but you watch the people you once loved go on and have a life and you’re outside of it. and it’s bittersweet because of course it’s okay that you’re both thriving. but she used to be who you’d call if you needed to cry. she used to be who’d you’d be binge watching the new series with. you used to be hers, in a way, even if that way wasn’t permanent. and now she’s someone else and so are you and your friendship is clicking heart shapes next to pictures where she smiles next to people you’ve never met. you know where her birthmark is. she knows where you’ve buried your dead.

the poets and the singers and the authors write about romantic love when it ends. but nobody tells you how to get over a friend.

— Seventy Years of Sleep. nikka ursula (n.t)

There was this one weekend, a million summers ago, when I sat on the shore drinking a frozen limeade, and I realized the only thing I wanted to look at was the way the sun hit the girls swimming in the lake. The problem has always been this: When I look at you, I taste lime, and I see light on water.

-i kissed shara wheeler

“i put the diamond…in the coat…I! PUT! THE! COAT! ON! HER!” in contention for cuntiest line reading of all time

the megabitch of your dreams.

Kate Winslet in TITANIC (1997) dir. James Cameron

I joked a few minutes ago about how in internet discourse anyone over 25 is a “queer elder” but come to think of it most of these young discoursers don’t even believe such a concept exists. Gay men who watched their entire friends groups perish to AIDS are “privileged cis gays,” older trans women who use dated terminology to describe their own experiences are problematic, elders are just a conservative old guard to rebel against, and anyone over thirty who speaks to you at all must be a predator. The first time I heard the phrase “okay groomer” online, it wasn’t coming from self identified conservatives but from tiktok teens reacting against leather at Pride. You guys are ignorant and uncultured and proud of it!

Intergenerational connections used to be the foundation of our safety and community and I’m not sure why those seem to have gone away so much in the last decade or two, but it’s an immense threat to our culture and community. Other generations of queers are not your enemy, they are your life.