MANHWA WHY ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO LETTING THE YAOI BOYS HAVE A SEASON TO BE ESTABLISHED AND EXPLORE THEIR RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER. WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO END ONCE THEYRE TOGETHER OR THEY HAVE TO KEEP GOING BACK N FORTH SO THE MANHWA CAN CONTINUE. JUST FUCKING GIVE ME THAT SLICE OF LIFE SHIT YOU HAVE GOOD CHARACTERS YOU CAN WORK WITH THEM WHEN THEYRE ESTABLISHED I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT

A light tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Hecate staring at you with wide eyes one single exposed eye, sketchbook held open, pen poised as though to take notes. If you don’t shoo her away, she’ll take that as permission, clearing her throat softly.

“I’m doing a research,” she tells you. “What do you think happiness is?” ( for any of your muses / just one or multiple !! please feel free to answer however you'd like !! )

It's as if the whole argument stops dead in it's tracks. Well, argument might've been a strong word, at least for all the sinners present - Leon, however, definitely viewed the conversation as something that could turn ugly real fast. It was his shift to supervise the recreation area, so of course he wanted to do his best to make sure all the sinners had the safest amount of fun possible. And everyone was grinning...He could just feel the heat behind their stares. Horo arguing that her battle axe was the best thing ever, while Summer pointed out all of the prowess in her various inventions, and Chelsea showed off her beloved Sitri while stoking the other girls' flames. Somehow he got roped into it, and the amount of expectant gazes and yelling in his face was a bit too much for him. If only the Chief was here...Chief always knew what to say...

Before he can mutter something that could set off a mini war, a light tap on his shoulder feels like an angel's heavenly touch to get him out of here. Turning around to find Hecate, however...Wasn't bad, per say. Her own wide-eyed gaze at him made him gulp, however relaxing the presence of the most loyal sinner was, worried that she would want to join the conversation and boast about her Nightmare or something. But the words that do come out of her mouth take him aback. "Happiness...?" He can't help but stare at her for a minute. While it could just be a question to drag him away from all of this, Hecate did look serious and curious enough...

"If it's research, then I suppose you've been trying to ask everyone, right?" His arms uncross from where they were on his chest, hands going on his waist. At confirmation from her, he turns to make her more shown to the rowdy group, whistling through his teeth for a bit of attention. "Hey girls, I think Hecate has a question of her own." Nodding his head over to the other girl, everyone else looks at her as she repeats her statement and question, producing the first moment of silence this entire afternoon.

Horo's the first to break it though. "Well, it's a feeling, right?" Another beat of silence. Horo can't help but look around, a bit baffled when no one agrees with her, "I-I'm right, aren't I?!"

"I think you need to be a bit more detailed." Leon states through a huffed laugh. "Or, if it's easier, rather than defining happiness, it's more of what's happiness to you. Like an object, a person, an event - "

"Oh, that shit's easy then! Obviously it's being a part of The Legion!" Horo shouts it out like the proud and loyal follower she was, pounding her fist to her chest. Everyone makes a polite sound of awe, as if that wasn't the answer she'd give at all. "Zoya and The Legion are just so amazing and powerful! They want to do everything they can for Syndicate, and Zoya rushes towards that goal no matter the cost. Being a part of that - being a strong part of the team, kicking ass in their honor, and doing everything I can to help - is the most rad thing there is!"

"Oh~?" Summer and Chelsea let out an amused sound at the same time, both of them smirking slightly.

The response makes Horo's cheeks go red, "W-What's that supposed to mean, "Oh~"?! You wanna fight?!"

"No, not at all - I think we established anyways that I could easily - " Summer starts, but then a very loud and obvious cough from Leon, followed by a gesture to Hecate, makes the genius pause. It leaves her a moment to think, leaning back and curling up into her floating gunner chair, looking at the imaginary sky and humming several sounds. Leon debates if she's actually gonna grace Hecate with an answer or not, knowing how bored she can get with trivial matters.

But she does manage to surprise him. "...I kind of have to agree with you, though your thoughts are so narrowminded." A compliment in an insult. Horo would lunge at her had Leon not given her a look as Summer continued. "Happiness is experienced by everyone. Whether they do a good job, feel like a part of the larger whole, get to watch their favorite anime, eat a really good snack, or get one step closer to their goals - The smallest and biggest things can make a person happy." It's an answer that makes everyone go silent once more, yet Summer looks like she just said the most obvious thing.

"That said, though," She starts up again, sitting up in her chair with a twinkle in her eye, "for me specifically, it's all my awesome inventions and the praise everyone around the world has given them! I wanted to explore my world and cure it of all the evil with every research project I did, no matter what the cost was. The only reason all my research has slowed down is because...Well, I'm in jail, the institute claims I'm "too dangerous", and baddies and nutcases stole all my weapon ideas, which doesn't help with getting research money. Only they made inferior replicas of my true masterpieces. Ha~, if only they could see that." She pats her gunner seat proudly on the remark, then gets distracted with polishing out a slight blemish.

And this time it's only Chelsea laughing in amusement, but Summer pays her no mind as she starts talking to herself about maybe upgrading again. "They both certainly have such wide scopes on this topic, don't they hun?" It's a pet name directed out both Hecate and Leon, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. "Though I don't think they're wrong, either. Happiness can mean anything to anyone, as long as it makes them feel that special way." As if on cue with her words, Horo shouts after Zoya upon seeing her from afar, and Summer had already zoomed out of the area to probably pester the staff for more materials. Looking after them as they both run off, she continues, "I think there's a kind of devotion in happiness as well. When you find that thing that makes your heart race, but also makes you feel so calm and at ease, that you commit to doing it more often or wanting to learn more about it. Or it's something that you just can't let go of, no matter what, because it makes you feel so...alive." There's a softness to her southern ring in her voice, now staring at nothing but seemingly everything all at once.

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, it went away with her passionate gaze. A hand immediately lays on Leon's chest before he can protest, "That said, I could make all of you very happy in various ways. Gems and other riches beyond your wildest dreams are my specialty, after all. Of course, I can buy you other gifts or precious things that you desire. And, of course, you'll always have my company - "

"Yeah, no. I passed, and I'll still pass, thanks." Leon writes her off quickly, taking her hand and instead placing it on Sitri's head.

The glittering, sentient feline pushes into the touch, and thankfully it does make Chelsea get distracted with petting her instead. "Oh, of course I never forget to treat you right, Sitri. No I wouldn't; no I wouldn't~" Bending down to kiss the gem creature on the nose, she does start playing with her a bit more, before recalling the gems back into her. "And, of course, Chief is still my other favorite sugar baby." A side glance at Leon, as if he was filled with any jealousy for the Chief in that regard, before Chelsea, too, pounces away.

Leon can't help but sigh in relief, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. "Well, I hope those answers helped you out, Hecate. I don't know if you meant to ask right then or not, though, but I still want to thank you for - " He starts, finally looking down at Hecate again. Only for her wide-eyed gaze to fall back on him, pencil ready on paper despite the amount of writing she had done already. He lets out a sigh, "Ah, I feel like their answers were pretty solid, Hecate. You're not gonna get much better out of me." Even if they all ended up being pretty selfish too. Though, in the grand scheme of things, his prompting made them give out semi-selfish answers, and he'd be lying in saying his own answer wasn't selfish either.

So, upon the sinner's unmoving gaze, he sighs into a smile. "In the way the others were saying it, I guess happiness to me is Sherry and Claire, and this job that helps me support them. Working here was really hard, at first. Adjusting from fighting goons pumped with mania to, um...becoming friends, in a sense, with you guys. Learning things with the Chief, getting my ear bitten off by Nightingale's rants, getting along with my coworkers while going on dangerous missions. It's all been hard, but it's rewarding too. The learning, of course, but also just...Being alive with the people I have left. Making sure they get the care and love they deserve...Them being happy makes me happy, you know?" He pauses then, jaw clenching a little as his smile presses into a thin line. A million thoughts go through his mind on that confession - a woman in red even springs to make his chest tighten - before he shakes his head. "...Happiness is what you make it. It can be selfish, selfless, or a mix of the two. It can be anything that gives you a sense of pride or joy in life, whether it be the tiniest thing or the biggest achievement. I think what matters for happiness is if you're having fun or enjoying doing anything you do; seeing anything around you; touching; tasting; feeling...What you like is in the eyes of the beholder, and it's the same with the concept of "happiness". You just have to find what makes you happy."

He rubs his neck again, cheeks a light blush at rambling for too long, and he lets out a forced chuckle to clear the air. "S-Sorry, maybe that was a bit too preachy or optimistic..." He looks away from Hecate for the moment, down at his boots that shuffle a bit as he straightens himself up. He let's a moment of silence fall between them as he composes himself internally, dusting off his shirt as if it had anything on it in this clean environment, before meeting Hecate's gaze again. "Even though it was probably just a bunch of rambling from all of us, I hope it helped you with your research. If you ever have any other questions, just let me know, and I'll try my best to answer."

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

part 14 / deja vu ☆

masterlist

warning(s): possible typos, mentions of drug n alcohol uhh it really is js abt keishin’s nightclub so 😭😭

“how long have you had your club open for?” yn asked, putting her phone down once she finished texting the volleyball team.

keishin shrugged, “bout’ four-five years. opened it after i found out they were selling the place for a pretty good price, so y’know it’s been a while. you drink?”

yn laughed at the question, waving it away like it was a cloud of smoke, “have you ever drank with tetsu?”

“ahhh. i see,” keishin couldn’t help but laugh alongside yn, thinking back to when the boy’s volleyball team won their tornament last year and decided to party right after. tetsurou being a co-captain, ukai kept pouring him a drink to congratulate his hard work. it wasn’t long until he began to understand that shit, this kid is already drunk? “so you’re a lightweight too huh. what’re you even doing here anyway? it’s like a two hour train ride from home.”

“oh! i ran out of some art supplies so i was just restocking. the art stores here have better quality products so i always come here if i need anything.”

“ahh, i see i see,” thinking to himself, since he was really only in the downtown area for no reason in particular, and his club wasn’t too far down the road, “are you gonna go somehwere after or are you done here?”

“yeah, i only came here for the supplies. how come?”

“do you wanna check out my club? isn’t too far from here, could give you a small tour and you could bring your friends and the team over someday.”

yn grinned at the suggestion, loving to check out new places, especially if they were owned by people she personally knew. “hell yeah. are we walking or?”

“nah, i got a ride,” keishin gathered his things and stood up from the table the two were currently sitting at, yn following in suit, “parked outside. let’s go kuroo, field trip time.”

making sure yn was buckled up and ready to go, keishin drove off to the club which was currently closed. once there, he parked the car, helped yn out and stood proudly in front of his own place, “nice right? it’s prettier at night with all the lights on and all that.”

the nightclub had its own little area, close to the shopping plaza the two were just at but it was far enough to where it wasn’t being crowded by other buildings. especially with the outside decor and the archetecture of the building itself, it was more than just nice. when the two entered the building, the first thing yn noticed was the circular stage right in the middle of the room. “that is a big ass stage.”

“you are very straightforward huh,” keishin laughed at the girl’s comment, walking over to the platform. “i let some bands perform here from time to time. good way for beginning bands to get that exposure y’know. other times- er most times i just use the stage for karaoke or other acts, whatever people want.”

“what the hell, that’s so like considerate of you, coach-”

“yeah i know, i’m a great guy.”

yn nodded, walking around the stage and aweing at everything in the building. “oh hey! you should totally let kozu and his band play sometime, they’re really good!” she skipped over to keishin, pulling up a few videos she had of the band playing for the school or just during the practices she tagged along to on her phone.

humming along to the beat of the music, keishin seemed to really enjoy the band. “if i see them play in person, i’ll definately get goosbumps thats for sure. i never knew kozume was in a band, you should let me know if they’re ever interested in performing here.”

“well maybe you should have cute little bonding moments with the team more often so you can socialize with them,” yn grinned, bouncing on her feet at the invitation to play. “but yeah i’ll let them know.”

“yeah, yeah that’d be sick.” contiuing the tour, keishin took yn around the establishment, watching as she got distracted by the cieling lights or the paintings on the walls which she began to beg for but was declined because, “i don’t want boring walls. i need something on these bad boys.”

“trustt, just let me paint something for you. i got a few pieces at home i can trade you for.”

“how persuasive, i’ll have to see your work.”

after the walk-around and side convos, the two got back in the car. it was then that keishin suddenly remembered an opportunity for the band, “oh yn, about kozume’s band playing here, i got a few friends from high school actually visiting me next month. it’d be cool if the band played a little something for them y’know? also be cool to show off my own place and the kids i coach for. so just let me know what they say alright?”

yn nodded profusely, excitement for her friends rushing all throughout her body. “i definitely will!!”

part 13 blondie #1.5 <- | masterlist | -> part 15 monopoly

note(s): nothing is ever proofread :> meow idk what i just wrote none of the pictures used are mine!!

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.  

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.  

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.  

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.  

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.  

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.  

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.  

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.  

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.  

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”  

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.  

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.  

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.  

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.  

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.  

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.  

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.  

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.  

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”  

“Said I stare at you all the time.”  

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.  

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”  

“Why? You going somewhere?”  

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”  

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.  

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”  

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.  

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”  

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.  

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.  

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.  

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”  

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.  

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.  

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.  

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.  

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.  

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”  

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.  

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.  

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.  

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.  

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.  

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”  

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”  

If one more person says simon snow should lose his wings i’m gonna lose my goddamn mind: a meta

Alright you guys, I’ve had ENOUGH. Simon cannot lose his wings unless you want him to break up with Baz, and this is why.

Let’s start with Baz.

This analysis is obviously Simon-based, and yes i’ll get there, but first we need to look at the biggest key we’ve been given to what Simon’s wings could possibly mean subtextually and metaphorically for the story at large. That key is: Baz’s vampirism. 

Baz being a vampire is constantly compared to/mentioned in tandem with his queerness in Carry On. In his first chapters, what are the three most important traits that we learn about him? 

he’s a drama queen

he’s a vampire

he’s hopelessly in love with simon snow

If you boil his character down until he’s basically just a stick figure, that’s what he is: an over dramatic vampire in love with Simon Snow.

We’ve all read the books, we all know this, and we all know he’s much more than that. What of it?

What’s important is that Baz’s vampirism is treated almost the exact same as his homosexuality. 

Hiding it from everyone, being ashamed of it, knowing what you are but being terrified of it. His dad being “definitely more disappointed in my queerness than my undeadness.” 

I mean, holy shit, let’s look at this bit in Carry on from Chapter 51:

“I think if I got married, to a girl from a good family, my father wouldn’t even care that I’m queer. “

This scene really hits, because how many times have you wondered “What if I was straight? Maybe this thing wouldn’t be as bad?” “What if i was just a straight poc?” “What if I was only gay and not trans?” “What if I was only disabled and not gay on top of it?” What if, what if, what if. Would my life be easier? you wonder. Would I get hurt less? Would people treat me better?

If Carry On is about self-realization, then Wayward Son is about the struggle of self-acceptance. 

Baz going to Las Vegas and meeting Lamb probably seemed familiar for some of you people that are LGBT+. It’s how you feel when you’re from a small town and you go to a big city like New York or Orlando or LA for the first time and you see gay people all around you. Flamboyantly gay! Gay people holding hands! Gay people kissing! Trans people that don’t fit the gender norms! Older trans ladies just walking down the street!

It’s exciting, it’s exhilarating. Your baby-gay brain is so confused because no one’s giving them dirty looks. They don’t look nervous or ashamed. Is this allowed?

The party in the penthouse is glamorous and beautiful and alluring and none of the humans there are scared or look like they’re in real danger. It’s because they aren’t. None of those vampires are there to kill people. 

This is where Baz’s fear of his own nature comes in. Let’s hear it for all you homosexuals in the crowd that are/have been terrified of being predatory. Of turning the gender you’ve been told all of your life you’re not supposed to want into pieces of meat. You feel ashamed for wanting physical intimacy. You feel wrong for wanting emotional intimacy. 

Lamb is the older gay that you meet/learn about/watch on youtube or whatever that makes you learn that no, you’re not inherently evil. Lamb is the queer history, the queer movies, the queer people that you discover that make you learn that “no, i’m not bad. I’m not broken. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful.” 

Baz thinking the sight of Lamb drinking that guy’s blood being alluring and beautiful is crucial to his arc. Baz needs to see that all of him is beautiful. 

So homosexuality = Baz being a vampire? How in the flying fuck does this have anything to do with Simon?

Remember, Baz is our key. His struggles have been happening since book one. Simon just gained his “creature” status at the end of Carry On. He’s new to this. Which means we’re new to the subtext. Which means: let’s dive on into the next big point.

Our Big Bisexual Boy

Whatever label you choose to use for Simon is up to you. As long as we all agree he likes more than one gender then it’s whatevs. I’m going to be using the word bisexual for this meta, though. 

We’re all well aware that Simon is Struggling with his bisexuality in this book. 

“I still haven’t sorted out whether I’m still attracted to women or whether I ever was, or whether I’m some kind of Baz-only-sexual. But the cleavage at this place is abundant, and I’m not mad about it.”

(taken from chapter 21) 

Like....... y’know. We know. It’s... we get it. 

The important part of that quote is that it’s at the Ren Faire. The Ren Faire is the first time Simon’s had his wings out in public since god-knows-when, if ever. This is also the first time he really considers kissing Baz in the book. Kissing Baz in Public.

Any of you that have been to Pride probably got a little bit of the warm fuzzies during this scene. The faire brought back such deep memories of my first pride it was a little bit emotional. I talked to random people, people ran around in rainbow outfits. There was body paint! Stupid hats! Weird dye jobs! The classic pride-flag-as-a-cape look! I talked to so many people and 

“Everyone here is so friendly.”

(also taken from chapter 21)

Everyone was so nice to me.

Baz feels right at home; Simon is all smiles. The only one not having a blast is Penny and she’s (I’m sorry, Penny) the token straight friend in these books. 

I don’t know how Rainbow did it, but she made me relive my first pride through Simon, and I’ll never not be grateful for that. 

“Today I’m someone else entirely. Today I’m just a bloke with fake red wings.”

The Pride/Ren Faire parallels were pretty obvious, but I wanna get a little further into the whole “wings = being bisexual” thing. 

We’ve established with Baz that being a magical creature or whatnot is Gay, but while Baz is fully magical, Simon’s “half-normal.” Kind of. It’s a weird situation there but half-normal works for the argument. 

“’Smells like dragon... but also smells like iron. Another abomination!’” 

(chapter 35)

Now the word “abomination” is really fucking unfortunate in this context, but biphobia exists so idk man. I’m gonna start talking in gay/straight terms and I absolutely know bisexuality isn’t half-gay half-straight but we’re talking in metaphors and i’ll tie it together at the end so just stick with me, okay?

He’s part dragon, part Normal (kind of). Simon’s not like Baz where he’s absolutely, 100% a vampire. He has traits of dragons and humans. This is why it’s so bad that he hates his wings half the time. They are part of him. They may not be “normal” and he may have to hide them, but he can’t just cut off the gay part. Our queerness doesn’t define us, but it’s a defining feature. 

Penny says she wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t a mage. Simon wouldn’t be Simon if he wasn’t bi. 

The mistake Simon and almost everyone else makes during this book is that they think of his wings as these separate entities. There is no gay part and straight part of Simon Snow. All of him is Simon. From the tips of his toes to the tops of his wings, all of him is Simon. He might’ve discovered this part of himself during a tragic point in his life, but that doesn’t mean it has to be something bad. It doesn’t have to be something tainted. 

Sometimes you discover things about yourself during the hardest moments of your life. When you’re already down in the dirt, beaten and bruised, sometimes a mirror is put in front of you and you realize something. You realize you’re trans. You realize you’re gay. And sometimes you resent those realizations because they came to you at the worst possible time. “This is just one more thing on my plate,” you think. 

This series is about reclaiming the things that where taken from you by the ones that hurt you. 

Simon’s going to have to learn to love his wings, because even though they remind him of something that hurts-- hurts more than anything-- they’re part of him. They are him, as much as the rest of his body is. Simon’s going to have to forgive himself, and learn to love himself for all that he is. 

Because all that he is is beautiful. 

We all know it; it’s time for him to understand that.

All right, bitches. Let’s get to the bit we all REALLY care about. this is the one that really fucks me up my dudes. Because it’s Brutal. But anyways here we go.

His wings are the Big Baz Love 

What are the two things that Simon’s  considering cutting off in this book?

“That’s what I’m going to say when I break up with Baz.”

“Dr. Wellbelove said he could remove the wings. And the tail. Whenever I’m ready.”

(Chapter 2, Epilogue)

Yikes!

My guys..... Simon and Baz don’t kiss unless Simon’s wings are out.

I truly do not understand how some of you are out here saying Simon’s gonna lose his wings I really don’t. It’s stressful. I’m stressed. Ms. Rainbow Rowell, you have me stressed. 

His Wings! Are! His Love!

On Love’s Light Wings!

Goatman dances his nasty little fingers all over the bridge that is Baz’s ass? Wings out, uses his tail to help kill the guy. Lamb is hitting on Baz too much? 

“’Spell my wings off.’”

(Chapter 45)

In the airport, when a lady is giving them the “don’t be gay” stink eye he immediately checks to make sure his tail is hidden. 

Baz can’t spell his wings off, guys. 

Baz can’t spell his wings away.

“’Snow needs you to cast your angel spell on him. I hid his wings for breakfast, but they’re still there.’“

(Chapter 19)

In Chapter 41, the biggest kiss scene we get, Simon wraps his wings around Baz to hold him. He’s embracing him in his love guys. Guys. 

Have you people noticed how i’m suddenly less articulate? It’s because i’m in crisis. Set me on fire I wouldn’t notice. I’ve been living with this terrible knowledge.

The first scene we finally see them kiss is after the scene at the Ren Faire when Simon’s wings are finally out and he finally got to fly.

“Simon catches up with me and traps me against the car. He’s kissing me before I see it coming.” 

Simon is so dtf in this scene Penny throws a water bottle at them, and it hits him in the wing. 

“’So hot,’ Simon Says. ‘Got to see you fight without picking a fight with you myself.’

Bunce throws a plastic bottle over my shoulder, and it smacks Simon in the wing.”

(Chapter 22)

She had to smack him right in the love for him to calm down, my dudes, my guys. Do you realize how hard it was for me to annotate this goddamn book with this knowledge? Every. Single. Time. Simon stretches a wing or flaps them around it’s about Baz. It gets to the point where you have to put the book down or you’re gonna explode. 

Simon’s wings are always out around Lamb. He’s jealous as hell and he hates that motherfucker’s guts. The only real injuries Simon sustains in this book are to his wings and they’re almost always when Baz gets hurt too. 

When did Simon get his wings? Only a day after he first kissed Baz.

Simon’s love for Baz is so big and so obnoxious he can’t hide it. His wings and tail have spikes, because that’s all Simon knows. He’s rough around the edges, he’s been hurt, he’s been used.

He’s never been in love before.

His love is spiky; it’s loud. It’s hotrod red and you can’t miss it when it’s out. Baz can’t see it, because Simon’s tucked it away. He hasn’t flown with it. He hasn’t wrapped it around Baz in so long. He doesn’t know how to handle a love this big, where to put it, when to unfurl it. 

Simon gets jealous. He gets scared. He’s insecure. He wants so dearly to finally give to someone instead of feeling like he’s just giving in. Like he’s still just taking from Baz.

What do you do with wings? 

How do you find somewhere safe to fly?

The Resolution.

I said earlier that if Carry On is a story of self-discovery, Wayward Son is a story of self-acceptance.

Simon has to love himself, and learn that his love for Baz is a good thing. As he accepts himself (and his dragon powers evolve go read my dragon simon meta it’s good.) he’s going to start to shine. 

This is a story being told to us with nothing but love. This is a story about a boy that’s his own worst enemy-- as all of us often are. It’s so scary to accept our wings. It’s so scary to accept our fangs. Especially when they’ve come out of such a hideous occurrence. 

We need to accept these dark times and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, we were made more beautiful because of them. Maybe the light we give after we’ve been in darkness is more vibrant, because we know how scary the dark is. The things that happened to us were horrible, and hideous, and terrifying, but we aren’t. We’re different from how we were before, but we’re still beautiful. 

Simon Snow is going to accept himself.

Simon Snow is going to accept his past.

Simon Snow is going to finally, finally tell Baz he loves him.

And for the first time, Simon Snow is going to see that he’s beautiful.

If you’ve liked this meta you should also check out this one where i explain how they’re finally gonna get their relationship together. Also the one about the scarf

Special thank you to @singerofsimplesongs for listening to me howl and screech about this damn thing. 

Tagging some people that might be interested!

@neck-mole @watfordwallflower @carrybits @theflyingpeach @fight-surrender @shitty-posty-times @wisest-girl @slaying-fictional-dragons @gucciglitzy

March 2, 2021: The Last Unicorn (1982) (Part 1)

I, uh...I wanna talk about zoology.

It’s my profession of choice, although if I’m going to be specific, it’s ecology and ornithology, based on my Masters. But while my expertise is in birds, that doesn’t mean I have any particular preference. So, let’s talk mammals. Specifically, I’d like to talk about horses.

Horses are odd-toed ungulates (Order Perissodactyla) belonging to the family Equidae, with only one living genus (Equus), which includes donkeys, zebras, and a FUCK-ton of fossil progenitors. Not gonna go into horse evolution here, since it’s a vast topic on its own, but the group dates to about 54 million years ago, during the Eocene period.

There are specific features that define modern horses as horses, including a single hoofed toe for walking on, a body built for running with high stamina, and a large cecum in the intestines for breaking down fibrous and herbaceous material. It’s a group native to North America, Africa, and Asia, with the modern descended horse descended from a somewhat unknown ancestor in Central Asia.

They’re grazers rather than browsers, which many similar sized herbivores are. And, of course, they have a close relationship to humans throughout prehistory. Their main systems of defense against predators are the afore-mentioned running capabilities, a VICIOUS kick (especially horses like zebras), and a high-range of monocular vision due to the position of their HUGE eyes.

In terms of sexual selection, it’s essentially based on physical competition between the males in a population, which are usually formed into reproductive harems. That’s one male with multiple females that live within an established range. The females have their own dominance schemes, while groups of males exist in bachelor herds before establishing a harem of their own.

And those two paragraphs help explain why horses don’t grow horns.

Animals like this bighorn sheep, as well as antelopes with impala and gerenuk, perform intrasexual selection using their horns, the size of which determine the fitness of an individual male, with the fights settling any potential ties for watching females. And that’s the main reason why herbivorous mammals grow horns, and horses have come up with different social structures to compensate. But OK, couldn’t they just horns anyway? 

Remember the stomach I mentioned earlier? Here’s the thing; hindgut digestion, which is what horses do...not the most nutritionally efficient form of digestion. In order to maintain their running lifestyles, they invest all obtained energy and nutrients into building muscle and other important functions. Fact of the matter is, they just can’t devote enough energy and nutrients to the physiologically expensive act of owning a horn. They do have a close relative that does that, though. However, they’ve sacrificed their speed, intelligence, and even their eyesight for their horns, as well as beefing up their physical defense with thicker skin.

YUP! So why talk about this? I mean...you know why.

OK, so that had basically nothing to do with this movie, but a post like this has been building since I mentioned the gerenuk a little bit ago. Sorry, had to get it out. Anyway, yeah, unicorns are impossible, but they’re still a hallowed mythical creature. National animal of Scotland, one of the most prominent symbols of medieval mythology, a magic-using ethnic class in a mythical kingdom composed of a horse-based majority that also includes normal horses and pegasi...

You know, unicorns. So, I’m definitely interested in what would happen to make a unicorn, well...the last one. My bets are on something man-made, like deforestation or another for of habitat depletion. Could be poaching for the horn. After all, that’s what’s been driving rhinoceros species to near-extinction (or actual extinction in the case of the western black and northern white rhinos. RIP Sudan, you goddamn king).

But let’s find out rather than speculate! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

During medieval times, in a mystical wood called the Unicorn’s Forest, a hunter shows unease to his companion. In the forest, there are no seasons, and the beasts are protected from hunters, as long as there is one unicorn left if the forest. That last unicorn is...the Unicorn (Mia Farrow), who learns from the hunters that she must be the last of her kind.

The opening credits, which are a gorgeous animated medieval tapesty, are backed by the song “The Last Unicorn”, by America (damn, nice pull). Gives the whole thing a Renn Faire feel. Never been to a Renn Faire, but I’d love to go to one, honestly.

Anyway, the Unicorn is in doubt that there are no more of her kind in the world, as they live forever, and she would know if there are none left...right? However, they can also be killed and trapped, so...I mean, they might be dead, Unicorn. As she’s thinking on this, the most Rankin-Bass butterfly ever shows up singing a ballad of love. This is...the Butterfly (Robert Klein), a bard-erfly (see whay I did there) who won’t stop singing, despite the Unicorn’s pleas to tell her of other unicorns.

Butterflies, apparently, repeat to anything they hear around them Which involves like, a lot of non-medieval songs. There’s one about the A-train, apparently, which makes...just NO fucking sense. As the Unicorn also shows frustration at this anachronistic little bugger, he breaks his songs to tell her than the Unicorns have all been chased off by “the Red Bull.”

...I’m going to hold it off as long as I can, but the joke WILL come. It WILL come.

She wonders if she can truly leave the forest, then actually does so in order to find the other unicorns. She happens upon a farmer, who attempts to tame her, as he only sees her as a horse. Apparently, men can no longer see unicorns as they are, and usually only see them as white horses. So, there may be unicorns in the world after all!

Not sure why she doesn’t go back to her forest after realizing this, but...OK. She continues on, backed once again by a song performed by America, called “Man’s Road”. Real talk, I’m digging the music in here, which is my inner folk rock fan talking.

While she finds nothing on her journey, she’s instead found by Mother Fortuna (Angela Langsbury), a witch who runs a carnival that needs a new exhibition. With her comes Ruhk (Brother Theodore) and magician Schmendrick (Alan Arkin), the latter of whom actually can see the Unicorn as a Unicorn.

At the carnival, Schmendrick introduces hiself to the Unicorn, wanting to get her out of there. Meanwhile, an audience is fooled by Mother Fortuna’s illusory magic to see a manticore, satyr, and the Midgard Serpent, when in reality they are an elderly lion, ape with a twisted foot, and really sad snake. However, the Harpy that she has IS real, and a major threat to Fortuna were she to escape.

That night, Fortuna speaks to the Unicorn of the Red Bull, owned by a King Haggard. The Unicorn asks Fortuna to free both her and the Harpy, two signs of the same magical coin. Also...is this a kids’ movie? Kinda thought it was until I noticed that the Harpy has, well...pendulous breasts. Literally the best way I can describe them. Also, three of them, so...there’s that.

After she leaves, Schmendrick arrives to free the Unicorn with his magic...and he’s shit at it. Like, REALLY shit. But thankfully, he’s a decent pickpocket, and stole the cage keys from Ruhk. He lets the Unicorn free, and she in turn releases the other animal prisoners, Harpy included. Which is NOT great for Fortuna, who’s IMMEDIATELY killed.

The two leave together, and head on the Unicorn’s journey to find her own kind. She cannot grant Schmendrick his wish to become a true magician, but he still gives her information about this world, and King Haggard, who seems like bad news.

On the road, the two encounter a gang of thieves of the road, who work for Captain Cully (Keenan Wynn), a short and portly leader of bandits. His mistress is a woman named Molly Grue (Tammy Grimes), who’s endlessly frustrated by Cully’s regular failures. They befriend Schmendrick, who impresses them with illusions of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Although, it’s not his illusions, but those of the Unicorn, trying to help.

Doesn’t help that much, though, as the Robin Hood-hating Captain Cully ties him up to a tree after all of his men and Molly leave. A frustrated Schmendrick mutters a spell by mistake, and brings the tree to life.

And then my girlfriend fuckin’ broke. Here she is, below:

Ravishing. Yeah, she’s watching this too, and when the tree came up, her words were, and I quote:

...a smooth-talking horse, a three-tittied harpy, and a BOOBED TREE!

Boobed tree is an expression I will find a way to use in my life. Also, this is ABSOLUTELY not a kid’s movie, and that is one busty-ass tree. This tree, called...The Tree (Nellie Bellflower) is in love with Schmendrick, and is enraged by the appearance of the Unicorn. However, the Unicorn undoes Schmendrick’s magic, and puts the t-horny tree back to sleep.

The two encounter Molly Grue, who’s astonished to see a Unicorn. She cries, as she was been waiting to see one since she was a young maiden, but now she isn’t one anymore. Interesting implications there, but moving on. Molly wishes to join them, and while Schmendrick isn’t super down for that, she wins the Unicorn’s trust when she points out that they’ve been going in the wrong direction. Whoops.

OK, with that, let’s break for Part 2! See you there!

phf rants

as i’ve made clear im rlly impacted by this book. dont mind my lowkey venting

damn this is long

mista's coldness towards fugo / the stadium scene as a whole

it really really hurt me to see mista treating fugo, his old partner, his old friend like a dangerous enemy. i know he had his valid reasoning, but that very specific kind of angst shatters me. mista had his gun pointed at fugo for the entire stadium scene, not wavering for even a second. the worst part? it seemed like mista was trying to purposefully incite fugo to snap by right out insulting him and his stand, saying he was glad when fugo didn’t get on the boat. it seemed like he was egging fugo on just so he had an excuse to kill him, to get one more thing off his list of concerns. fugo as a person meant nothing at all to mista. when mista said “kill these traitors, or we’ll kill you” i wanted to cry. mista goes on about hoe fugo is a massive threat because purple haze is unhinged and can wipe out the enitre population if he wanted. fugo politely corrects him, as PH only has 6 capsules and can only attack 6 times in a day. did i see myself in that scene and feel fugo’s pain of just wanting to be left alone and not have to think about the past or the future, silent and melancholic during intervention and just feeling like the only way out is to kms right then and there? thats a secret ill never tell.  phf makes me smad.

there were some little details in purple haze feedback that got me thinking as well. in the 6 months between fugo’s leave and his cold reuniting with mista, fugo was playing piano at a bar. Most of the people who bring this up refer to it as just some cool trick he could get because he’s a rich kid. he is not. in flashbacks, it’s shown that bruno only knows how to cope with distress by isolating himself and bottling everything up. god, did i feel that. sheila e’s life goal was to kill illuso (to avenge her sister) and swore her life to giorno after finding out he killed him, it’s ironic though because in reality fugo had killed him, and in the first part of the book, they weren’t exactly friends. 

another part that really just made me wanna sob and bash my head into a wall was seeing fugo’s pure self hatred. since he was a child, he had it drilled into his head that if he couldnt produce results, he was worthless. after being disowned and thrown into jail with no future, he was completely hopeless. even after bruno came and took him in, he was never free of his liabilities. no matter what he did, he couldnt help seeing himself as some monster, failure, and burden. (kinnie moment) it worsened when he had to abandon bruno’s gang, his only saving grace was bruno, his light, hope, and acceptance. now he was stripped of that, gripped in fear knowing too well that betraying passione would end horribly. deep in his heart he wanted so badly to join them, to join his found family, but the logic he had drilled into his own head of knowing that betrayal was foolish and futile wouldnt let him have his way. hes back on the streets, just like how he was (or wouldve been after getting out of jail) after being disowned. he got a piano gig at a bar, and let himself wallow in grief and depression for 6 months. throughout the events pf PHF, we still see him clinging to memories and trauma. they say “what you let consume you will define you”, and i couldnt begin to describe it any better. putting all of the guilt and blame on his own shoulders, feeling he deserved it all and more. 

either i wasnt paying enough attention (this bitch got some rereading to do) or the purple haze distortion scene was kinda underwhelming. his character arc felt kinda rushed, like most of the book was establishing his bad state and constant flashbacks, and then all of a sudden he has confidence in his abilities and believes in himself. of course, im overjoyed he did get growth, and had a happy ending (depends on how you interpret it). stan fugio

vittorio’s fascination with pain really got me feelin. hgghhhhhhhh hh hnnhhhhh. he describes it well, wanting to feel his life force/energy in the form of pain so that he didnt ‘go extinct’, and the writing of it just saying straight up ‘cutting himself’ ‘hurting himself’ ‘self harming’ made my skin crawl. as someone who suffers with shit like that its both painful and relieving to know a character who has similar habits, whether it’s for the purpose of activating his stand or just to cope. 

2 times in phf, fugo does some kind of suicide attack. of course, he survives both. it’s never made clear whether or not he intended to die/didnt mind dying as it was a way of accomplishing his mission, but either way it got me heavy breathing. the last one especially, when he bites a virus capsule to kill volpe. did he know he’d grown and purple haze would miraculously save him with his own genius plan, or was he going out with a bang? luckily for me it wasnt really gone over like ‘hey you couldve died from that are you doing ok mentally’ or else i mightve felt nauseous reading it. im all for angst, but idk how much more i can take when its day 87 of quarantine and im numb as fuck just waiting to break down. 

angelica’s stand night bird flying (is probably not that complicated im just fuckin dumb) made fugo and everyone else hallucinate/dream. in fugo’s dream, it was pretty much an ideal au.  he was permitted to see his grandma when she was near death (preventing the professor scene), met bruno (fisher boy with fisher dad) on a boat and they became friends, nara went back to school and was doing good overall, abba remained a cop but didnt do any bad things, the whole group was all just good friends having a fun time. god i would licherally sell my body and soul for them all to be happy like that and all live. 

the concept of abandonment also messed me up, just the feeling that everyone say fugo as someone who abandoned the group in their hour of need out of selfishness made me wanna cry angry sad depression tears. hes a good man! let him be ok and happy i will fight all fugo haters no cap

every time i think back to the fugio restaurant scene i just. idk man it hurts me. the pessimistic bitch in me says that it would be unrequited and fugo would only be more sad because even through his efforts, he’s just another pawn working for giorno. on the other hand, it makes me soft n giddy because?? omyfucking god giorno asks fugo to call him giogio when NOBODY ELSE IN THE BOOK had referred to him as that. the fuckin “if grief anchors your feet, let me share it” part makes me wanna jusyt. complete my kin transformation into fugo and be a sobbin g  shaking mess in his arms as he tells me its all gonna be ok. was that a vent? absolutely. anyways, its pretty damn special for the don of the mafia to invite you to breakfast at a fancy restaurant before the place opens and its just the two of you. giorno fixes fugo’s injuries and tells him that he’s proud of his growth, and that he knew fugo could do it. dude?????? if i didnt already know i was a lonely affection/affirmation/attention starved bitch that wouldve done it for me.

holy fuck that was longer than i expected it to be. i do feel better tho

Geten (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Specifically, focusing Geten in Chapter 271/during this current ‘War’ arc:

Look at his face! Bloodshot eyes and a vein about to pop. Geten’s ferociously  livid and about to slaughter some Heroes. (also I wanna point out that they’re actually addressing him as ‘Geten-sama’ still.)

In the Paranormal Liberation Front, Geten serves as one of the nine Lieutenants, and with Dabi, they lead the the ‘Violet’ Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment.

It’s a mouthful! Dictionary.com defines ‘guerilla warfare’ as: “the use of hit-and-run tactics by small, mobile groups of irregular forces operating in territory controlled by a hostile, regular force.” 

We’re aren’t told exactly what the Violet Regiment does, but I’m guessing they’re sort of first attacking force of the army - on the offensive; aiming at weak spots and key areas of Hero society; being quick, brutal, and unexpected to cause as much damage (to infrastructure, morale, personnel, etc) as possible to the Heroes. 

Which makes sense! Dabi’s fire can destroy a good part of a city, as can Geten’s ice. 

Making the two of them leaders, though. Well, it’s as one of the MLA member Sanctum said to Twice, they’re kinda figureheads handed their position (it’s true of the whole League save Shigaraki, really) - true for Dabi, definitely; and it seems true for Geten too, although he at least had some history of being a superior in the army. Still. 

Geten as a commander 

Despite being “central to the Liberation Army’s success” and being greatly respected, Geten never was given any leadership position that we knew of during My Villain Academia. 

It’s probably because he’s shit at caring about his fellow warriors. Mr. Compress notes this in Chapter 230. 

His massive ice attacks are indiscriminate, destroying whole streets and anyone unlucky enough to be there, friends and foe alike. It doesn’t seem to be calculated sacrifice for a larger goal - Geten is simply callous and reckless.

He’s still the same about three months later, despite having a regiment under his responsibility and in the middle of a battle where the army probably should keep as many of their numbers as possible. 

Here’s him essentially destroying what’s left of the mansion, tossing everyone - allies and heroes - into the air; and interrupting Dabi’s attack that would have at least taken out the Number 2 Hero. 

The irresponsibility extends off the battlefield - here’s Geten missing from a PLF meeting:

(Even Gigantomachia is there! idk, maybe he forced his way in and no one can make him leave, and I’m not quite sure the significance of this, but it says something that Machia is attending and Geten is just not.) 

So it’s safe to say he isn’t very leadership material; he doesn’t know or ignores what leadership entails, and if he keeps up his preferred method of destructive attacks, he’s not going to have anything to lead either. 

He does know how to “command” at least somewhat, however - or that’s what I think is implied in Chapter 271.

Breakout 

(Same image as above, except Viz translation + another panel)

Who could forget this awesome scene? Geten doing a signature ice explosion, wrecking everything - and there he is, on the battlefield, attention all on him, calling the Heroes “dogs of the state” and telling them they will not die peaceful deaths. Damn. He has correctly assessed the situation! He’s giving orders! Got a strategy! 

A sound strategy - and an actual one discussed in real military tactics: concentrate combat power on one location and rupture the enemy line. 

(info I found through googling here, here, and here.)

An encircled force attacks by using the rupture force to penetrate the enemy defensive positions in at least one location. The commander must produce overwhelming combat power at each breakout point... 

...The mission [is] to penetrate the enemy's encircling position, widen the gap, and hold the shoulders of the gap until all other encircled forces can move through.

It’s simplified here, and it’s kinda obvious, but it’s still exactly what one should do when they’re in a siege-like situation, i.e. surrounded, all routes, communication and reinforcement blocked and cut off. 

I’ve half-joked about him being dumb and maybe illiterate because he bragged about not going to school, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t taught things and given an education. (Like Shigaraki!) He’s obviously learned some military tactics and commanding along with his quirk training.

So yeah, Geten is doing everything right. 

The prospect of such a grouping of forces, placed in a confusing and desperate situation, makes unity of command and unity of effort absolutely essential. The most senior combat arms officer must establish his authority immediately. 

Especially in rallying the troops. It could be coincidental, he’s just angry and shouting at his soldiers to do finally something right; yet he’s still done it. 

And Geten does it alongside another action: he removes his hood. 

In a meta sense, it’s likely to establish Geten as a character - he’s not a faceless mook, he’s not creepy ‘two glowing eyes in darkness’ enemy; he’s a character with a name and a (very pretty) face, that we can relate to and maybe even like. (That he mentions Re-Destro, the only person we know he cares about, and shows protectiveness/concern, adds to that.) He’s portrayed here in a way to make him badass, in a defining moment where the PLF gains some control of the situation, for us to cheer on. 

In-story though, the reason is more unclear? to me, anyways. During his battle with Dabi, he never removed his hood then. Here, is it to literally face the Heroes, to show that he doesn’t care if his face is known, to go head to head with them? Is it to show his men that he’s here, let the sight of his pretty face re-energize them, he’s at the frontlines fighting too? His quirk makes it obvious who he is, he needn’t show his face. 

Despite his disregard for other soldiers of the army, I’ve got a feeling that this is some sort of symbolic gesture to motivate them. Get their attention, establish his authority, finally be a bit of a leader. Cuz, man, the situation really calls for it. 

The Ice

When the attack began, we see Geten running towards the frontlines (chapter 263):

(tiny note: Dabi is heading the opposite direction from everyone - going to help out Twice - but Geten, his co-leader, doesn’t pay attention to him at all. No ‘where the fuck are you goin’, nothing. Feel like they would’ve noticed each other, but no interaction here.) 

From what we can see, Geten doesn’t show up until Chapter 271, a length of time enough to have Hawks confront Twice, Dabi intervene, Hawks kills Twice, Dabi fanboys Stain, Tokoyami to the rescue, and a little more. Let’s say... 15, 20 minutes? 

So he’s missing from the frontlines at the start of the battle - I say he was probably trying to generate an absurd amount of ice during that time. This villa probably has a kitchen with some ice, but not enough. I’m guessing Geten went to find a water source (multiple of water sources?), froze it all, in preparation for the ice explosion. In preparation for him to create a battlefield to his advantage.

So it looks the ice has engulfed the mansion, going up several stories, as well as spreading out to the mansion’s surroundings. A bunch of people are surrounded by ice - like Gang Orca there, right next to a wall of it. 

We know Geten has fine enough skill to shape ice to whatever he wants, and his range of control (and sense?) is massive. Whoever is standing on or is close to the ice - they’re in Geten’s territory, he controls the very ground they’re standing on. 

Go get ‘em, Geten. 

*

Part 3 is next! Will be focusing on Geten’s relationship with ReDestro, and other miscellaneous details. Feel free to suggest anything too.  

*

I could very much be over-estimating Geten’s intelligence! So don’t my word here too much. I’m sure there are a couple reaches here to. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! 

Note: a friend pointed out a reach in Part 1, which will be edited:

I think the fact that [Geten] targeted Dabi as his opponent, despite the obvious weakness his ice has to Dabi’s high-temperature flames, means he was looking for a challenge. Trying to show off, trying to prove that he can go up against his greatest enemy (as in, heat and fire) and come out on top.

It’s more likely that ReDestro had assigned Geten on the Dabi-hunt, given the panel from Chapter 238 where ReDestro is telling Geten to be wary of Dabi’s long-range flames. If there was any strategy to having Geten target Dabi, it could’ve been the general plan, rather than Geten’s own thing. 

thanks for reading! 

Dirty Sheets

Langst -> Klance :)

So empty. Quiet. The air was stiff.

Whenever Lance wasn’t working or training he sat in the vast silence that filled him and a nobody ruler from an unspoken of planet.

Nights were loveless touch starved and once and a while filled with lustless moans forgotten in the seemingly never-ending halls of the castle.

Lance finally decided to call someone, anyone.

“Coran, can I come over for a little bit, maybe a week or less?”

He heard conversing in the background grow quiet, “Why of course is something wrong?”

Lance turned around to see his husband still asleep before he quickly left the room.

“No- just... I need to get away for a bit.”

“Of course you can come over!”

Lance smiled looking overwhelmed with joy, something he should’ve found in his husband, recently married.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Just as quick as the conversation came it was over the silent static once again filled the void in Lance’s ears.

...

“Absolutely not!”

“I’m going whether or not you want me to!”

“Well then! I’ll just go with you!”

“Oh really? I’m shocked you’d give up time away from me-“

-power 100%-

Lance grabbed his bags and walked in the silent footsteps behind him followed as the door hissed shut.

Lance shook his head butting his lip.

“Why would I want to be away from you? Huh!”

“Oh like hell you don’t know!”

“Stop pretending like you aren’t obvious about what you do when I’m busy!”

“What exactly are you implying?”

-You’ve arrived at your destination-

Silent Lance walked out and up to Coran who tightly hugged Lance in his arms picking up on his radiating sadness.

“I missed this.”

Coran couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “What is it that you miss my boy?”

“A hug.”

The simple phrase was enough to strike a nerve in Coran’s heart as he let go to gaze at the husband.

“Hello, my names Coran.”

“Ethan, Prince Ethan, honor to meet you, Coran.”

“Come on in everyone’s here”

Lance smiled softly coming in and he tried to shine bright and let his usual ego take control but he had nothing left.

Pidge froze before leaping at Lance, “Lance! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much! How come you never call?”

Lance glanced for his husband, “Oh! Sorry for not being active I’ve been very... busy!”

Pidge shrugged, “Understandable everyone always has a problem to deal with.”

Hunk walked over and just hugged Lance tightly as Pidge introduced herself to Ethan.

“You okay Lance?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? You don’t seem your usual chipper self.”

Forcing a shit-eating grin and a laugh, “Time will change even the most beautiful of roses.”

Pulling back Hunk softly smiled, “You’re right about that buddy, but it’s nice to see you, your features have really matured.”

Chuckling I turned to Shiro, “Hi! How have you been?”

“Good, how about you? Your charm finally paid off I see.”

I shifted my weight between my two feet uncomfortably, “Yeah... it really did, didn’t it?”

Finally, I turned to Keith, oh perfect Keith. How I’d give anything to change our course and our passings for one bright future. He hadn’t changed too much seeming relatively the same.

I grew taller my muscles for defined along with my eyes and from Allura Altean features started to change my DNA slowly.

“We just had dinner a couple before you arrived so if you like I can show you your room and then heat you something up.”

Ethan interjected, “We’ll be fine thank you very much.”

Lance sighed as Ethan grabbed Lance’s wrist whispering in his ear. Lance nodded seemingly irritated, Coran smiled guiding the way as Lance ripped his hand from Ethan's grapes putting space between the two.

Once shown their room Ethan smiled, “Thank you, we will join you in a bit we have matters to discuss at the moment with work.”

Lance looked at Coran, “Sorry he felt like he needed to lie to you, we will need to establish some things personal between the two of us and then we will be out with you all.”

“Okay, my boy...”

Pidge had other plans. Getting Hunk and Keith to go with her to snoop she rushed to their room where voices could be heard. It was almost screaming.

“What exactly do you know Lance?”

“Oh my god... Why are you ignoring the fact that I know you’ve been unfaithful!”

“You know I’ve had my rough spots but I’m not cheating on you!”

“Oh? So everyone on our planet is lying, they haven’t seen you out with a girl, by the name of Ruthan?”

“Lance, that’s enough!”

“You know what? I’m done with your bullshit! Day and night I’m slaving away doing work for a civilization you couldn’t give a tinnier shit about! I come back just for you to need sex, a loveless marriage you make me regret every day!”

“I give you money! I give you fame! Everything you possibly would want! You selfish whore!”

A loud smack was heard and everything went silent.

“How. Dare. You! You fucking asshole!”

“Lance I’m so sorry!”

Shattering was heard.

“Your ring!”

“I hate you....”

“Baby...You don’t mean that-“

“I fucking hate you!”

“I love you, Lance! I love you and I may make mistakes but I have never not loved you.”

“What? You love me ridding you’re dick cause your too lazy to be a man? What you’re telling me that when I try and take a shower you come in and slam me to the wall and make me scream until nothing else matters?”

“Well guess what? I wish I never loved you.”

“Wait... is that why you're here? Are you not over him?”

“As if any of this was influenced by that! You even know you're trying to fuck with my head again!” There was a long pause, “You’re trying to manipulate me! Sabotage me, make me wanna crawl right back into square one where this cycle will never end.”

“I swear Ruthan was a once time thing Lance. I love you. I really do.”

“God just shut up already and get over here.”

Laughing was heard as jumping was heard.

“Get off you fucking idiot!”

Well, they had heard everything they needed to.

It took two hours for them to be found. It was silent there was a sense of compassionate intimacy between the two. Yet it was built on lies. Lance didn’t budge as Ethan whispered toxic nothings into his ear. With each one, the sweet cooling burn of alcohol brought Lance peace.

“You can head to bed I’ll be there eventually.”

“Okay, Lance I’ll be knocked out in two seconds.”

“Mhmm.”

It was silent as Lance let his head hit the table his body trembles as sobs erupted from his throat knowing at this point he was officially lost.

The growing sounds of footsteps neared as Lance felt a hand on his leg, “Lance?”

Immediately wiping his tears he did his best to smile and make perfect eye contact, “Yes...”

Keith. Shit.

“Come here.”

Lance threw himself onto Keith knocking him to the ground, Keith fully flushed he hugged Lance back. Lance pulled back wiping at his beautiful skin to remove the tears.

Keith cupped Lance’s face, “Wanna stay in my room tonight?”

Lance hesitated, “Ethan will get mad at me.”

“Then let him. Judging by the fact your ring is now gone that’s enough for you to be your own person again.”

Keith held Lance’s hand tightly, not in a rough controlling manner but rather guiding and secure.

The door slid open to reveal a neat room other than a desk overflowing his papers.

Lance sat on the desk, “Nice room, Mullet.”

Keith smirked, “This is longer and more grown out than any mullet I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a nickname dummy.”

The playful banter was back without even the tiniest bit of effort. Yet it grew quiet.

“I overheard you earlier, the fighting. Why do you stay?”

“I have nowhere else to go and... what about the people they’d be under a foolish ruler?”

Keith looked at Lance with the most serious expression, “It’s not your job to be his sex slave and be a ruler for him. Your his husband, not his accountant.”

“So?”

“So leave him.”

“Runaway how could I possibly do that?”

“You still train right?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Come with me to the BOM, be my right hand again. I missed having stability.”

Lance slowly took Keith's hand, it was a comfortable silence.

“I’d like that.”

The tone, the small smile, the taunt in his eyes, the fall of his perfect curls, it sent Keith into overdrive.

Keith took Lance’s hands intertwining their fingers and pushing him back further on the desk knocking papers off Lance not in the slightest bit phased just started breathlessly at Keith.

“Tell me no.”

“Yes.”

Lance leaned into Keith's lips melting together like butter. Perfection. And yet they only wanted more. Lance pulled Keith down onto him. It was hot, very hot. Sincereness was something Lance had long forgotten yet now it’s driving him wild. Keith pushed himself onto Lance who opens his mouth letting out a groan. Slipping his tongue inside Keith's mouth Lance wanted to draw out that noise, that beautiful noise he’s always dreamed of bitting and leaving a beautiful mark on Keith's collar bone was enough to retrieve that sound.

“Lance-“

Keith slid his hand to Lance’s throat kissing him so rough Lance felt like he was flying, the pressure on his neck stimulated him and all he could do was moan into Keith's mouth.

Keith let himself teasingly play eoth Lance’s tongue before pulling away and kissing him softly on the lips. Leaving a trail of kisses to the crook of his jawline Keith declared this was his promise to Lance. Every kiss will be from love, from burning desire to cherish each and every inch of the beautiful blue boy. Lance smirked cupping Keith's face kissing him compassionately and quickly running his fingers between the strands of Keith's beautiful long locks before tugging at them and as Keith let out a moan Lance roughly made sure that Keith wasn’t letting out that moan. All while grinding on one another both visibly hard. Keith softly kissed Lance all over the face and mainly on the cheek he could tell Ethan had slapped.

Keith smiled, “Am I the one Ethan was scared about?”

“He has nothing to be scared about. He already knew he lost.”

Keith kisses Lance one last time respecting his boundaries leading him to bed. Lance begins to take off his jewelry and clothes which he had a lot to make sure he maintained his physique.

“You wearing Earth clothing tomorrow by the way.”

Lance smiled softly, “May I lock the door by the way?”

“Way ahead of you I locked it when we came in.”

Lance laughed, it felt good after so long.

It was quiet Lance looked up to Keith, “Don’t let me go back.”

Keith softly kissed Lance even their lips were a perfect match together, “The only place your going back to is my base where you’ll work far away from that asshole.”

Lance smiled comfy under the sheets as Keith curled up onto him, an arm wrapped around Keith the other under his head. Slowly he fell asleep. Oh boy, what a night.

all ship questions for the otp you're currently vibing with most! xo

Oof thank you <3

Gotta go with Sirius and Moira then (also in LOVE with Nora and George, but they aren’t as planned out as Nora’s parents sooo^^)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

They met on their first night at Hogwarts after both being sorted into Gryffindor.

2 What was their first impression of each other?

Sirius probably didn’t even notice her, because he was so excited to have been sorted in the same house as James AND in Gryffindor no less. Moira wasn’t impressed with his boisterous ways at all. By the time he notices Moira he’s probably just wodering what her problem with him is, because she loathes him^^

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Seeing that Sirius’s family don’t care if he lives or dies, they probably didn’t care about his relationship status. Moira’s parents kept out of that part of their daughter’s life, as they found that this wasn’t their business so long as she didn’t turn up with a Death Eater or sth. All of their friends minus Peter really want them together though - especially Lily dreams of double dates in Hogmaede, but no such luck xD

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Romantic is probably overstating things and for the longest time Moira would probably have hexed anyone who as much as suggested it, but she definitely had a crush on Sirius first. He made the first ever step though then took two steps back.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Hah! Ain’t that the whole plot to this story? First Moira would rather drop dead than admit she could be feeling anything but righteous loathing for Sirius. Then her and Sirius kiss, but he learns that Peter likes her and steps back for fear of destroying the Marauders by acting on his feelings and thus hurting a friend. And then when he finally gets his act together when they are both in the Order of the Phoenix, she has just started going out with Gideon Prewett and feels obligated to see where this relationship goes and not drop him at the first sign of affection from a guy who’s broken her heart before.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

During their Hogwarts days they would have either laughed in your face or hexed you into the next millenium for even suggesting this. Once they’re together, maybe even before that, there is no doubt.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Well, the first kiss just kinda... happens, I guess? Then Moira kinda... dares Sirius to make a move, but he doesn’t? And then down the road he practically begs her to dump Gideon to be with him, but she shoots him down, just to appear on his doorstep on the very same night, because she did dump Gideon to be with him and... I guess it kinda depends on how you define “initiate” xD

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

They didn’t have a first date. By the time they are both on the same page, they pretty much just jump straight to the “established relationship” part and due to circumstances they mostly divide their time between missions for the Order, time spent with their loved ones and hiding out at home for some much needed alone time. 

3. What was their first kiss like?

Unexpected? xD But enough to leave both of them like “oh.” (you know. Oh.)

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Sirius was Moira’s first kiss. Due to mutual dumbassery this is the only shared first in a long line of firsts. One could also argue that she is his first and only real relationship.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Moira’s birthday is March 21st 1960, which makes her just a little bit younger than Sirius. They are in the same year at Hogwarts. Their height difference is a bit more significant than that, with Sirius being around 6′1 (taken from yours truly Ben Barnes’s stats^^) and Moira coming in at 5′6. It’s not drastic, but enough that she has to stand on tippy toes to kiss him and for her to fit perfectly under his arm <3 

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Moira - understandably - doesn’t have a relationship with Sirius’s family. Her parents like Sirius, but that probably takes a nose dive once he gets framed for the betrayal of James and Lily Potter.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Probably Sirius, mostly due to the fact that they largely have the same friends and the Marauders... let’s say they know how to fill a room.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Definitely Sirius. He pretty much throws a fit when Peter invites Moira to Hogsmaede and she accepts. And when she starts going out with Gideon Prewett after school, he takes it hard. Very hard.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Moira, on the night she comes to his door after breaking things off with Gideon.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Before they’re together, it’s mostly covert glances when the other isn’t looking. And shouting, probably. When they’re together, it’s small things like smiles and casual touches. They also hold hands pretty much wherever they are and James teases Sirius mercilessly about it.

3. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

See the answer above ^^’ They’re not Percy/Penelope level disgusting about it, but no one who sees them is ever gonna doubt those idiots are in love.

4. What are their favorite things to do together?

Pretty boring, but with the war, the missions for the Order and all they mostly enjoy spending quiet time alone together. They love to sit in front of a fireplace together and either read (on occasion to each other) or just talk and... cuddle until the fire goes out.

5. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Moira has a very soft and caring side, which is probably one of the qualities that attract Sirius to her.

6. Who’s more protective?

Sirius. That man is an actual guard dog, so... It’s also the reason people are so quick to believe that he betrayed the Potters, because it made sense to them that there truly was nothing he wouldn’t have done to protect his wife and daughter. 

7. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

They actually have a terrible track record when it comes to talking things out. They are much, much better where they allow their bodies to do the talking - that doesn’t just mean sex though. They can say so much to each other with just a look or a soft squeeze of a hand.

8. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

It’s “Space” by Biffy Clyro. That’s it. That’s their song and I cannot listen to it without thinking about them <3

9. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

They don’t really do nicknames, but until they got married they were big on the whole “calling each other exclusively by their last names, only using their first names when shit’s getting realTM”. That being said, Sirius had a habit of calling her “Freckles” just to piss her off (she almost broke his nose with a bludger during Quidditch try outs after he hollered “Nice one, Freckles!” from the stands). He might occasionally revisits this nickname to tease her.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Sirius proposes. I already know how he proposes, but I love it so, so much that I don’t just wanna give it away in a post like this T_T

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

It’s small. Really small. Like “the two and the one who officiates’ small.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

They have a daughter named Evanora, short “Nora”. She is the spitting image of her father, but has her maternal grandfather’s dark eyes (much to her chagrin, because both her parents have light eyes that she thinks are so much prettier). Nora is kind and fun and - considering her upbringing - surprisingly open. She is the world’s worst liar, a little bit clumsy and at times awkward. The dark cloud that was her father’s absence and supposed crimes cast a shadow over most of her childhood, no matter how hard her mother tried to shield her from it. This is probably the reason she is so fascinated by the light hearted Weasley twins.

4. Do they have any pets?

They have a Red Tabby named Posy after Nora’s favourite character from “Ballet Shoes”, who is actually descended from Moira’s cat Dot.

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Moira, simply because she has been a single mother for most of Nora’s life =‘(

6. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Moira and Nora have a strict “No killing bugs” rule and Sirius would never dare and go against it. Bugs get evicted from the Black household via levitation xD

7. How do they celebrate holidays?

So far there were only two times that they celebrated Christmas together and there’s about thirteen years between the two, so it’s a little early to speak of traditions they made for themselves. But before Sirius comes back, Moira and Nora usually go to church with the muggle side of Moira’s family (who are for the most part blissfully unaware that Moira and Nora basically live in voluntary exile from the wizarding world) on Christmas Eve. They have a big dinner with Moira’s parents and exchange of gifts on Christmas Day. Moira and Nora then usually spend Boxing Day at home, wearing pyjamas all day, eating leftovers, baking tons of Christmas biscuits and eating them in front of the fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate. Sirius will probably try to find a way to fit into the traditions his girls made for themselves in his absence, while they try to adjust to his needs (like the need to be with his godson over the holidays) and in time there will probably be new traditions they make together,

8. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? 

Sirius could spend all day cuddled up in bed. And he doesn’t play fair to get his way.

9. Who’s the better cook?

Moira and not only because she has over a decade on Sirius in that regard, she’s always been the better cook. But they love to be in the kitchen together.

hi! could I ask for some stozier fluff, like, stan and richie go grocery shopping ( not established relationship but they both like each other a whole lot ) 💞 thanks!

heyy

thank you very much for your ask, i fucking loved working on this, hope you don’t mind my loose interpretation of your prompt..

_

Stanley doesn’t like grocery shopping. He hates it, actually: it’s stressful, it’s always about letting people bother you somehow, and it’s totally not worth it when there’s food delivery.

But newsflash sweetie, it’s New Year’s Eve and all the closest shops are bombarded with orders. He can’t even imagine a worse case of spending the last few hours of 2019th, maybe with an exception of having to be with his parents, but whatever. It’s still bad.

So there he is, with bananas, blueberries and two bottles of white dessert wine in his cart he’s sure gonna suck in all alone in his sitting room later this evening, deciding on whether he needs another head of brie cheese, when he notices a familiar mop of black curly hair by the cereal stand.

There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize Richard Tozier from the communication and design department. He’s one of the loudest, brightest and most charmingly gorgeous people in their company, and if Stan ever tells you he hasn’t been having a huge, fat crush on him for the last few months, he’d be the ugliest, most pathetic liar.

He’s a good liar, though. He’s excellent at ignoring his fluttering heart every time Richie walks in their department to share a word with Eddie Kaspbrak, the most pleasant coworker of Stan’s in his personal opinion, or casting his best cold-eye when at parties they accidentally end up sharing a table and the guy, because he’s actually nice to everyone, tries to start an odd conversation about broken vending machines on the first floor or the fucking weather.

Why? Because Stan’s a pussy. He’s already really, really attracted to this black-haired mess of a person, with his ridiculously dark eyes with stupidly long lashes on a damn weird face one wouldn’t call pretty, because of that big nose, covered in bright specks of freckles that burn on cool paleness of his skin, or large, red and plump-lipped mouth; but would totally still define as beautiful, because those eyes are not just dark — they’re the colour of reddish pine bark after it’s been raining for hours; because that skin is not just pale — it’s like absolutely white marble with rare blue veins in all the rightest places of the man’s slender body; because his features, although weird and uncommon, somehow create a loud and charismatic pattern that attracts an eye, that makes you want to look, to inspect, to...admire.

And that’s what Stan’s been doing. Admiring from afar, because he’s a coward, too sensitive to let someone this loveable, loud and easy-going in. He’s too protective over his heart, he doesn’t take risks, he’s too fragile for his own good, and one more thing — even though Stanley secretly thinks he’s better than everyone, there is no way someone like Richie would want to do anything with him. He’s the most adorable with everyone, that’s in his nature, and thank god Stan smart enough to know that and to be aware that he’s not special — that Richie flirts with anyone, holds the door for every goddamn person in the office, checks up on every other stranger in an elevator, and although this still makes Stan’s dick ridiculously hard, he also almost dies on the spot when Richie turns his head a little bit and after a moment of surprise breaks into a grin. Stan, like a good goddamn liar he is, shoots him a quick nod of recognition, throws the bloody cheese into his cart with a bored expression and decides to get the fuck out of this place before his heart decides to break his ribcage into pieces. As calm and collected Stanley Uris is on the outside, he’s just as chaotic and messy on the inside.

He walks towards the end of an aisle as casual but fast as possible, as if his feet are on fire but he’s used to it (which is true, metaphorically speaking), and just when he’s ready to hide from Richie behind another row, something much, much more terrible than bumping into your big fat crush slash occasional wet dream happens to him.

“Stan!”

His heart drops down to his feet, when he recognizes the voice. He keeps walking forward, hoping for an earthquake, a sudden alien invasion, The Judgment Day — anything to save him from this most unwanted encounter, but of course nothing happens. A big tenacious hand still grabs his forearm, making him stop and turn, and this face Stan’s been successfully avoiding for the past couple years still appears in front of him, unchanged and familiar as ever.

Patrick.

See, he maybe wouldn’t be afraid of talking to Richie and making friends with him and maybe even going for more, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been in a relationship with one extremely toxic and emotionally abusive man, and although Stan knows all these things, he knows he only terrorized him because he’s an awful person, not Stan, he still—can’t not be affected.

Who in the hell’s gonna love a needy Jewish nerd with a fucked-up brain and a shit ton of insecurities, earned throughout his not-so-bright pathetic faggot life?

Only Patrick, with his huge, kind heart and a perverted kink for losers, lucky for Stan: shaming people for what they are first, than pressing further, and finishing up with messing them up completely.

“Oh, hi, Patrick” Stan says casually, shoulders relaxed, body weight kept on one leg, yet one hand clinging the cart’s holder so tight his fingers turn purple, the other one in a fist, nails professionally breaking the delicate skin of Stan’s palm. “Long time no see.”

Leaving your ass all those years ago is still one of my biggest accomplishments, asshole.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle wickedly and his lips break into a wolfish smirk. Stanley finally notices he’s not alone: to the right there stands a blond man, not tall, seemingly muscular, small blue piggish eyes squinting at him with an alarming amount of hatred. Just what the fuck.

“How rude of me, this is Dean, by the way,” he says, showing up their intertwined fingers. Stan doesn’t feel jealous or envious, to his own pleasure, but he does feel this wholesome wave of bitterness. Assholes shouldn’t get away with all the nasty things they do and then proceed to live their nasty lives like nothing happened, while people they leave crippled and broken still suffer with their demons.

Stan won’t give him the satisfaction. He breaths in and smiles politely.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, totally aware that although he’s the lonely one here, he’s still prettier and, dare he say, smarter than that Dean guy. His mug...his mug is for sure a God’s creation, but boy, did he decide to go off with this one? Yes. And absolutely nothing says mind in those little dirty-blue pools of anger he has for eyes. He looks like someone who would tattoo their first lover’s name on their bicep. And make tik-toks in their truck.

“Nice set,” Patrick, the fucker, senses Stanley’s dominating vibe and makes another elegant attempt to ruin everything he’s been building up. “Here alone?”

Okay, alright, it’s gonna be tough at the beginning, but at least he’s not holding some Dean’s sweaty stupid hand—

“Love, I only found buckwheat pasta, it all must be taken already,” and now it’s time for the third thing to make Stanley discover a lot of new white hairs tomorrow in front of the mirror. Thank God he’s not dark-haired.

Like Richie fucking Tozier, who appears literally out of nowhere, with a pack of fucking buckwheat pasta in his hand, the kindest, warmest look in his eyes behind huge coke-bottle glasses he (of course) rocks the shit out, and a smile Stan’s sure gonna jerk off to for days.

“We could drive to Tesco if you wanna—“ he starts in another attempt to silently offer Stanley a helping hand, but cuts himself off. “Oh, I’m sorry, do I know you?” he turns to face Patrick and Dean with a ridiculous replica of Stanley’s own polite smile, and if Stan wouldn’t be this honest-to-god shocked, he’d definitely laugh at the sight of it.

Patrick looks...scandalized in the most precious way.

“It’s Patrick,” Stan says, thankfully without a tremble in his voice. “We used to date a long time ago. And this is...um, Dean, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nods, seemingly taken aback. “My current boyfriend.”

“Oh, my pleasure!” Richie exclaims, grinning widely. “Honoured to meet my man’s old friends,” Stan almost chokes at this, but suddenly there’s someone’s strong hand sliding on his waist, and a solid body, pressing against his side. “I’m Richie by the way, Stanley’s current boyfriend.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs then between the four of them, until Patrick licks his lips in a predatory way, and nods again.

“Alright, we better keep going. It was nice to see you, Stan, have fun,” he almost spits out the last words, and him and Dean quickly leave, just like a mirage Stanley would rather forget forever.

But not the hand, still holding him tight.

“You okay?” Richie murmurs then quietly into Stan’s ear, sending warm shivers down his body. Stan hopes his coat is thick enough for Richie to not hear how embarrassingly rapid his heartbeat currently is.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. As much as he hates to do this, he takes a step back, which allows him to look at Richie closely for the first time in his life.

And God he’s handsome.

“I’m—“ Stanley asks, but Richie cuts him off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and although his eyes are still pleasantly concerned, his lips curve into a small guilty smile. “I didn’t want to spy on you, I just overheard that asshole—shit, sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, he is an asshole,” Stanley shrugs, still lying to Richie and himself. Lying that his body’s not still on fire, his brains are not melting into disgustingly sweet puddles of adoration, his palms are not sweaty and his throat is not drier than Sahara. “And thank you for...helping me out, I guess? You really didn’t have to do that.”

Richie looks at him with something Stanley can’t really understand in his eyes, and his smile widens, revealing two big front teeth one would call funny, but Stan honest to god finds them adorable. Like the rest of Richie, really. There’s no point in denying this, he’s gone.

“I know,” he says, and his voice is low, with a slight edge. “I just, I thought there’s no better time than the present, you know, and instead of making another New Year resolution I’m going to ignore, I could give myself a chance right here and right now,” the apples of his cheeks turn an impossibly lovely shade of pink, and Stanley wants to slap himself for being such a slut for this man. He collects himself without a flinch and finally pays attention to Richie’s words and frowns.

“I beg your pardon?”

Richie keeps blushing deeper and deeper in shade.

“Well, you see, there’s that adorable Hebrew in my friend Eddie’s department that I’ve been trying to court for months, but he’s either too dense to notice it, or it’s me who’s dense and is just too preoccupied to take “no” as an answer, you know? So I’ve decided to go off in 2020 and...basically crack my ass to make that boy be more clear, yeah? Because I’m crushing like crazy stupid, you have no idea,” by the end of his ramble, his face is fully red, and fortunately for him, he’s not the only one looking like a basic white tourist after seven hours under Egyptian sun without a hat.

“Did you,” Stan mewls, voice finally breaking like a bitch, but nevertheless, his chin is up and he’s professionally acting like he doesn’t look as pathetic as Richie. “Did you just call me dense while hitting on me?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathes out, and his smile is so sunny, and warm, and relieved that Stan can’t help but smile back, rolling his eyes nevertheless, because he’s what? Still a good liar. “Did it work?”

***

It definitely did, Stanley thinks two hours later, sitting in Richie’s barstool with a glass of wine in one hand, watching the other man cook that bloody buckwheat pasta and listening to his absolutely endearing unstoppable ramble about his secret passion for cooking and not-so-secret passion for Stanley. He really, really doesn’t give a shit about embarrassing himself, Stan realizes somewhere after the words “I got shitfaced and ugly-cried for hours at that party when you left the table exactly thirty seconds after I tried to initiate a conversation with you.”

It definitely did, Richie thinks in the next morning, waking up with Stanley’s curls in his mouth, his back pressed against Richie’s chest and their bodies wrapped around each other under lazy January sun.

_

i have to say i’m not a huge fan of fake/pretend relationship trope but this specific um turn of events when character a is in an embarrassingly lonely situation against their ex and character b abruptly decides to save the day and then they end up together for real...is the shit

Close Up-Part 2 (Johnny Joestar x Reader)

Summary:  You are an upcoming, young actress, starring in your first major film. For publicity, the studio suggests you begin a relationship with your co-star, British thespian Diego Brando. Reluctantly, you agree, and soon find yourself at odds with Johnny Joestar, former Hollywood star. After losing his career and the use of his legs, Johnny offers to help you achieve fame but cautions the price. Is it really the fame you want? Or something else?

Warnings: Explicit Language

Word Count: 3,360

Part 1

Dating Diego Brando had its perks.

It had been little more than a month since you and he started dating, long enough for you to acquire a taste for the finer things wealth and status could provide. Expensive restaurants, glamorous parties, exclusive events, it seemed like nothing was too good for Diego. At first, it was overwhelming. Before every important event, he lavished you with elegant dresses and designer shoes. You tried to protest but Diego insisted, claiming you were now a part of his carefully cultivated public image. “All they know is what we choose to show them, darling.” He said. “They’ll never know the real you.”

If you were honest, sometimes it felt like you barely knew the real Diego. You were supposed to be his girlfriend, but you knew nothing about his personal life, his hobbies outside of acting, or even his family. In front of the cameras, he played the role of doting boyfriend so well that you almost forgot this was all part of some publicity scheme. His charisma as an actor was undeniable but as a person, he was cold and distant, sometimes even awkward.

At first, it seemed your fear of being defined by this relationship was coming to fruition. Just a day after the fundraiser, pictures of you and Diego together appeared all over social media with articles like “Brando’s Mystery Girl” and “Who is she?” Your Instagram followers practically doubled over night and when you walked onto set that day, a pair of studio executives greeted you enthusiastically. Apparently, the studio heads were very pleased with your relationship and commented on how smart you looked together. You had smiled politely and thanked them before heading to your dressing room to get into costume.

This was supposedly for your benefit, but it felt like you were reduced to glorified arm candy. On the red carpet, you’d smile at the cameras and feign interest in what Diego was saying to the reporters as you clung to his arm. Occasionally, they’d ask what designer you were wearing or how filming was going, but mostly you were ignored in favor of your British boyfriend. So you were ecstatic when the studio managed to book you a solo interview with talk show host, Panacotta Fugo. This was your chance to really show off your own charming personality and cement yourself as a rising star.

The ultimate “fuck you” to Johnny Joestar.

You hadn’t forgotten his hurtful words and arrogant demeanor. At least Diego dressed up his arrogance with politeness and snark. Johnny clearly didn’t care who he insulted. His words echoed in your mind every time you practiced your lines or smiled into a camera and it made you hunger for fame more than the vintage wine and stately mansions ever could. Diego had whetted your appetite, Johnny stoked it into full blown hunger.

You really hoped you didn’t run into him tonight. It was Steven Steel’s 54th birthday party and Diego received an invite, courtesy of Steven’s young wife, Lucy. Even if Johnny was there, the mansion and its crowd were so large you could probably hide in plain sight and never cross paths. That was one thing you hated about these Hollywood parties. It felt like you weren’t nearly famous enough to mingle with most of the people there. Small talk was painfully awkward, and most of the time you were happy to let Diego dominate the conversation.

Currently, you were standing in the living room of the Steel mansion, clutching a cold drink and listening to Diego passionately explain the differences between a utahraptor and a velociraptor to a very confused Lucy Steel. Frankly, you weren’t sure how the subject of dinosaurs came up or where Diego learned so much about them. You zoned out partway through the conversation. It was hot and loud, and your feet hurt from standing all night. At least you weren’t in heels. For a leading man, Diego was shorter than average and very self-conscious about his height. All the shoes he bought you were either flats or had a two-inch heel. Not that you minded. Especially when you went to events like these.

Lucy, bless her, seemed to notice your red face and tired eyes. “Oh, are you alright?” She asked, touching your arm. “You look faint, do you need to sit down?”

You nodded weakly. “Yes, please. It’s very hot in here.”

Diego wrapped an arm around your waist. “Do you need to go home, love?”

“No, I’ll be fine if I can sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” You croaked out.

Lucy tugged you out of his embrace and led you through the crowds and down a maze of hallways. How could someone live in a place so large? Did she ever get lost? It was just her and her husband, why did they need so much space? What if you couldn’t find your way back to the party? She turned, suddenly, and pulled you into a small sitting room with two couches, a glass coffee table, and some paintings on the light-colored walls.

“Please, sit down. I’ll let in some air.” Lucy said, scurrying over to one of the windows to the right. She was so sweet.

You sat down on one of the couches and pressed your glass against your forehead. Why did people stop carrying fans with them? “You don’t mind if I take off my shoes, do you?” You asked her.

“No, not at all. I took mine off ages ago.” Had she? You weren’t paying attention. Most of your mental energy was diverted to acting like you were enjoying yourself. You set your glass down on the table and slid out of your shoes. Much better.

“Stay here as long as you need to. I have to get back to the party.” Lucy said, apologetically. "It was nice meeting you."

“Oh, I’m sure Diego’s dying to finish his paleontology lecture.” You told her.

She failed to suppress her giggles. “He’s so devoted to you. You two make such a good couple.”

You resisted the urge to scoff and forced out a smile. Sometimes you forgot how your relationship appeared to others. Wholesome and loving, far from the pragmatic business deal it really was. You’d take it as a compliment. “Thank you, we’re very happy together.”

Lucy disappeared around the corner and you were left alone. You sighed and tucked your legs up underneath you. No one told you fame was lonely. It was isolating, being on the brink of stardom, knowing this role could make or break your career depending on how you marketed yourself. Were you really ready to tackle this interview all on your own? You’d been telling yourself this was what you wanted but would you know what to do? You desperately needed guidance, someone who understood what it was like.

“Oh, hey.”

You looked up and locked eyes with the last person you wanted to see tonight.

Johnny Joestar.

Shit.

Who invited him? Your heart pounded in your chest and suddenly the room felt like it was 100 degrees. Out of all the rooms in this place, he had to pick this one? And how had he managed to sneak up on you like that? A scowl crept onto your face and you moved to pick up your discarded shoes. Time to leave.

“Wait,” He said. “I’ve been lookin’ for you all night. But it’s hard to maneuver crowds in this thing.”

You crossed your arms. “What do you want? To humiliate me again?” You asked. He wouldn’t catch you off guard this time. If he started throwing insults, you’d retaliate with your own. At least, that’s how it went when you thought about it in the shower.

Johnny looked down at his lap and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “About that. I wanted to apologize for what I said at the fundraiser. It was completely out of line and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

Your expression softened a bit. He was…apologizing? You didn’t think someone like Johnny ever apologized. This definitely wasn’t in your shower script.

“I know this doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I’d been drinkin’ beforehand, and Diego brings out the worst in me. Seeing you with him made me mad ‘cuz I think you could do so much better.” He continued.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you basically said I didn’t have ’star material.’”

“You don’t.” He said bluntly. “But you have potential, which is why I wanna help you.”

“I don’t want your help." You stated. "I forgive you for what you said at the fundraiser so don’t insult me further by saying I can’t do this on my own.”

“I’m not insulting you. I’m speaking from experience. Right now, you’re in a dangerous spot. What happens if Diego breaks up with you tomorrow? You haven’t established yourself yet so say good-bye to the fancy parties and red-carpet events. You’d lapse back into obscurity.” Johnny said.

“I’m more than just arm candy, you know. Next week I have an interview and Diego won’t be there.” You told him.

“Who’s it with?” Johnny asked.

“Uh, some guy named Panacotta Fugo.” You replied. “I mean, he’s not exactly Mariah Bastet but he has a decent following.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “Ain’t he on that really intellectual show where they talk about ‘the deeper meaning’ of films? I heard the guy’s a real Jekyll and Hyde. Super nice one minute and the next he’s rippin’ out your throat for using the word ‘less’ instead of ‘fewer.’”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. I can be very charming and intellectual.”

“See, this is what I mean.” Johnny said. “Doesn’t matter how charming you are. Interviews aren’t like acting, you don’t get a script. If you freeze under pressure or can’t think of a good answer, you’ll flounder around up there and make a fool of yourself.”

“How hard can it be? It’s a tv interview, not a master’s dissertation. All I have to do is answer a few questions about the movie, tell a few little stories, and look nice.” You knew what you were doing. You'd seen plenty of interviews before.

Johnny sighed and reached inside his dark blue suit jacket. He pulled out a pen and a paper napkin and started writing.

“What’re you doing? I don’t want your autograph.” You said.

Johnny shook his head and muttered something under his breath. He returned the pen to his pocket and wheeled over to you. “Here.” He held out the napkin. “It’s my phone number. If you change your mind, call me. No judgement.”

You searched his face. It was still set in a hard scowl but nothing in his expression suggested any sort of malice towards you. His eyes practically pleaded for you to take it. Was this his way of making up for his behavior at the fundraiser? A part of you wanted to accept. Johnny had been in the business a long time; he knew what he was doing. But your pride wouldn’t let you accept. You wouldn't be satisfied with success unless you were the sole reason for it.

“I said I don’t need your help. Keep it.” You said, hardening your expression.

“Christ, woman, take the damn napkin.” He replied. “I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna make things right between us.”

“Fine.” You snatched the napkin from his grasp and grabbed your shoes off the floor. You couldn’t be in the same room as this man anymore. “The interview is at 8 o’clock Saturday night, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll be watching. Good luck.”

You stood up and brushed past Johnny. His eyes followed you out of the room, shoes in one hand, napkin clenched in the other. You weren’t sure whether to burn it or trash it. Burning it would be more dramatic, but Johnny himself belonged in the trash. You weren’t a charity case and didn’t Johnny himself say no one in the industry really cared about you. He’d eat his words. Or you’d eat yours.

-

You were surprised to learn the green room wasn’t actually green.

Instead, the walls were an off white, beige color and the floor tiles were made of linoleum. You were seated on one of the two black leather couches, anxiously fiddling with the plain gold bracelet around your wrist and bouncing your leg. There were a variety of drinks available, both hot and cold, and although you were thirsty, you didn’t want to miss your cue to go on-stage because you were in the bathroom.

Your eyes were glued to the tv screen in the corner of the room. It was tuned into commercials now which meant you were due to go on at any minute. Despite reassurances from both your agent and Fugo himself, your stomach was tying itself in knots. You weren’t intimidated by Fugo, who was very proper and polite despite his eccentric fashion sense and scholarly demeanor, nor were you worried about the crowd. You were worried about yourself. This was all you. You couldn’t just look pretty on Diego’s arm and let him lead the conversation. If you came off as aloof or empty headed, nothing would save you.

“We’re ready for you, miss.” One of the stagehands poked his head in and beckoned for you to follow.

With a shaky sigh, you stood up, glanced in the mirror on the opposite wall, and smoothed the creases of your dark skirt. Just breathe, you told yourself. This was no different from being on set with Diego and the director. There were just a few more cameras and a whole lot of extras.

You waited just off stage as the studio lights turned on and Fugo faced the cameras. “Welcome back, everyone.” He said coolly, adjusting his collar and straightening his tie. “Our next guest is a Hollywood newcomer. Starring alongside Diego Brando in one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year, please welcome…” Fugo announced your name to the crowd and the stagehand nudged you out onto stage.

You were greeted by a round of applause as you made your way across the stage to the empty armchair beside Fugo. He greeted you with a small smile and a strong handshake. “It’s so nice to have you here.” He said.

“Thank you for having me today.” You replied, settling into the chair.

“So, this is your first major movie role, correct?” You nodded. “How are you dealing with all the new attention? What’s it been like for you?”

You bit your lip as you tried to formulate an answer. “Oh, it’s been difficult to adjust but I’m lucky to be surrounded by supportive people.”

“That’s important. You need people like that to keep you grounded.” Fugo shuffled the papers on his desk and you visibly relaxed. If all the questions were this easy, you could totally handle this. “Phantom Blood is one of my favorite novels. Robert E. O. Speedwagon weaves such a compelling narrative and Norisuke Higashikata is such a revolutionary director, I’m very excited to see how he’s going to adapt the pervasive themes of social inequality and classism. Can you tell us about that?”

What.

You thought this was a typical Victorian love story with supernatural elements. Classism? Social inequality? Sure, Elena’s love interest, Dorian, is a poor tailor who leaves her to seek fortune in India and his rival, Jonah, is a wealthy merchant who deals in exotic goods, but you certainly weren't aware of any major societal commentary. There were vampires, for Christ's sake.

Your silence prompted Fugo to clear his throat and ask another question. “Are you a fan of the book too?”

You laughed, nervously. “Well, I was supposed to read the book in high school, but it was super long, so I just used SparkNotes to pass the quizzes.”

Dead silence. Your heart sank and the laughter died in your throat. Why wasn’t anyone laughing? Usually anecdotes like that got a huge laugh out of the crowd and showed how endearing and relatable you were. This had the complete opposite effect. Now you looked like a vapid, lazy, slacker who didn’t care about the source material at all.

Fugo looked genuinely offended. “You’ve never read the book?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Well, I, uh.” You tried to stutter out an explanation. “Th-the, um, writing was hard to follow, and the author kept going off on these weird tangents that didn’t have anything to do with the plot.”

“Those ‘tangents’ are part of the stream of consciousness narrative that Speedwagon as an author is so known for.” Fugo stated. “How are you supposed to faithfully portray Elena as a character if you haven’t read the source material?”

Your heart was pounding in you ears and you felt sick to your stomach. Fugo was making you feel like a complete idiot and you were proving him right. What were you even supposed to say? You couldn’t bullshit or make something up, he’d know. You took a deep breath and swallowed. Calm down. Stuttering and blurting out incomplete sentences would only make things worse. “As an actress,” you started. “I feel like an adaptation of any work should be able to stand on its own without having to access the source material. It should be judged by its own merit as a film, not by how well it adapts the book.”

You wrung your hands together in your lap as you watched the gears in Fugo’s head turn. “Of course, changes will have to be made.” He said. “But at what point does it cease to be an adaptation and instead take on a different identity? If the characters have the same names but wildly different personalities, can they really be considered the same characters?”

“I-I don’t know.” You were practically shamed into silence.

Fugo was still talking. “Say, if you wanted to adapt a Shakespeare play, let’s say Macbeth, and instead of being strong-willed and clever, Lady Macbeth was a passive character who wasn’t invested in her husband’s plot to take over Scotland or he was a content courtier with no ambitions.” Suffice to say, you hadn’t read that book either. “Isn’t your co-star, Diego Brando, a Shakespearean trained actor? What would he think?”

He was probably enjoying this. You could practically see him propped up in his bed, wearing a smoking jacket and a smug look on his face. He was probably drinking some expensive red wine that cost more than your rent and the next time he saw you; he’d chastise you for going off script like this. Diego claimed you weren’t ready for something like this when you’d told him but said he wouldn’t stop you from doing it if you were determined. Maybe you should've listened...

Tears welled up in your eyes. No, you wouldn’t cry. Not on camera. But the lump in your throat was right there and if you answered, you knew you’d lose your composure. Hadn’t you been humiliated enough? You just wanted to go home and die.

Your saving grace came in the form of one of the producers. He turned Fugo’s attention away from you and pointed at his watch.

His mood changed so fast it gave you whiplash. “Time for a commercial break everyone. Our next guest will be on…”

As soon as the lights dimmed, you rushed off stage and back to the green room to grab your things. That was a train wreck. A complete mess. You sneaked out the back door and hailed a cab. The tears were falling freely now, and the cab driver gave you a sympathetic look as you choked out your address. At that moment, you were questioning your whole career.

You reached into your purse and fished out a tissue. You went to wipe at the tears before you noticed how thick it was. It was a napkin and there was writing on it. Oh. You completely forgot about that. In blue ink was a number and a name.

202-555-0797

Johnny Joestar

You swallowed your pride and dialed the number.

-

Tumblr doesn’t seem to like me. Maybe it’s because I’m new but my posts never seem to show up under the tags. Oh well. I update this story on Ao3 every Friday night if you wanna check me out over there. Thanks for reading!

⚔️ Characterization Hour : Vaas ⚔️

// It’s been a hot minute since I posted anything and I’m sorry for that. My motivation inexplicably tanked this week. I’m feeling a little better now so I’ll get around to my inbox and replies soon. In the meantime, I’ve been playing a lot of Far Cry 3 and analyzing the characters (both to pick up one or two more and specifically to study things for ship ideas and characterization of Vaas specifically).

// Mind the tags for trigger warnings. Far Cry 3 is dark as shit.

// I noted this the first time I watched the cutscenes, but playing through the game and actually getting the full context firsthand really hit different; Citra openly says that Vaas was not always the way he is now. He wasn’t always so crazy. (Granted, both of them are crazy but I’m chalking that up to some idea about genetic things that I’ll talk about later.) She says he wasn’t always a fucking maniac- the drugs turned him into that. The drugs and the unforgiving harshness and cruelty Hoyt and his work demanded of him. She blames Hoyt for turning Vaas into what he is, and she’s right. She mentions that Vaas used to live with her and the Rakyat, and that he had some kind of birthright he ran away from (meaning Vaas is likely supposed to be the one leading the Rakyat and that’s another thing I’ll touch on in a bit.) After Hoyt discovered the islands and began trading drugs to the settlers in exchange for bodies, Vaas was one of the unlucky ones who ended up getting hooked. Hoyt took a liking to him, and put him in a downward spiral.

// There’s more to this though. It’s never explicitly stated how long Hoyt has been in the Rook Islands but we can draw a rough timeline. Not much is known about Hoyt’s upbringing, but it is known that he likely started young, killing his father and joining a criminal consortium before eventually taking it over for himself. No exact age is given, but I’d clock him at 20 then. Our biggest hint to that is a line that we get from him during his fight with Jason. He states “he’s been doing this since before [Jason] was born”. This is likely in reference to attempts made on his life by mutinous Privateers or Pirates. Jason is 25, so his business has lived for about 25 years, which makes sense given Hoyt himself is 45. He must have discovered the Rook Islands later on (thanks to his Pirate lackeys knowing the oceans so well) given that he states he has connections all over the world. I’d say he’s been on Rook for about 10 years, considering he has a whole foothold on the place and a giant satellite dish (which would take years to build by hand, especially when his men are incredibly varied and probably not all experienced in design and building, much less any of the locals). He’s definitely been sitting on the property for a long ass time.

// This makes sense considering Vaas and Citra lived and survived on the island as orphans for a long time- theyre part of the native population. Going by this timeline, Hoyt arrived when Vaas was 17. Perfect timing for him to get hooked onto drugs, abandon his birthright before he was set to receive it, and putting him at an ideal age to be easily manipulated by Hoyt into something evil and sadistic. He was following Hoyt’s example, the drugs just amplified the effect of his cruelty.

// Again this is all speculation and largely headcanon considering Far Cry 3 didn’t give us any solid hints at an actual timeline.

// Branching away from the why, I wanna talk about some headcanons I have about Vaas himself. It is very plain to see throughout the game that Vaas is not entirely bad. I mean, he is irredeemably awful, but there are some points that I want to draw attention to. He obviously cares very deeply for Citra. He mentions it often how he loved his sister and would do anything for her at some point, even kill, and in a conversation with Hoyt he sounds legitimately heartbroken that she is tattooing Jason and giving away his birthright like that. He seems to have this sober moment of clarity where he feels like his sister is replacing him based on how far gone he is. So obviously, part of his emotional instability is chalked up to Hoyt’s conditioning and drugs. But not all of it is.

// Part of Vaas’ mental instability comes fro mugs parents, and Citra is proof of that. There is literally nothing known about their parents, they were abdanoned as children. But both Vaas and Citra carry something from them: mental illness. It’s hard pinpoint exactly what kind, but addiction might very well be in the genetics. Why would Vaas, who was basically a prince capable of having anything he wanted brought to him at the snap of his fingers, turn to drugs? Unless one of his parents was an addict themselves which, again, very possible considering the island’s were likely discovered by the Pirates— meaning prior to Hoyt’s arrival, drugs were still being trafficked. That would account for why Vaas got hooked so quickly, while Citra showed a measure of restraint. However, Citra betrays other things that only genetics could account for. Because the environments they’re in are so vastly different. Both Citra and Vaas demonstrate developign strange obsessions and compulsions. Citra develops an irrational obsession with Jason after he finds an artifact (one that is important to her people granted, but how quickly and deeply she develops it is what makes it so concerning). Vaas just develops obsessions with fools who end up on the island in general— Chris, Jason, etc. In Vaas’ case, it’s hazardously exacerbated by the drugs but hey- Citra wasn’t exactly tame about how she handled it either. It’s impossible to tell what the defined cause of them being so unhinged with their obsessions is given how little else they show, but there’s definitely some common illness they likely inherited.

// And before I go any further, I just want to put a disclaimer that mental illness does not inherently make people evil or more likely to commit crimes or atrocities. That’s not the case at all and that is not what Citra and Vaas are meant to portray in canon or in my own writings. Mental illness is not the reason why both Citra and Vaas are fucked up as characters. Special conditioning to torture, abuse, and kill people, treating them like disposable toys, and violent drug addictions in Vaas’ case, or as a threat against them until proven otherwise/ indoctrinated into their sacred culture in Citra’s case, are. The fact that they may have inherited some type of mental illness from their parents developed as a result of Hoyt before he even showed and it’s gone completely unacknowledged or treated is just a catalyst.

// Anyways, what is the point of all this? Why did I do this characterization assessment? Well, this is basically a long-winded way of describing a new facet to my portrayal of Vaas. One that I’ve been looking for for a while now. With all of my characters, I try not to let them fall flat and be defined by one particular characteristic. In Vaas’ case, this is very difficult. He’s so all over the place and unpredictable that writing him is easy, but actually capturing the essence of him is hard because he is often only portrayed as being one thing: insane. But after playing the game for hours and carefully studying him, I found it really interesting how Vaas has all these “breaks in his insanity”. They mostly happen when he’s talking about family. His quiets up, he softens, and his act vanishes only to pop back up when something seemingly random sets him off again. But the fact he has these breaks at all, and the way he acts during them, implies that part of Vaas— the man that he was supposed to be, is still there. His entire persona is driven by a work and drug motivated impulse to be as destructive and chaotic as possible. And he is. He is cruel, evil, nasty, and wicked. But he’s also still capable of being gentle and loving like he was when he was with Citra. He shows he still loves his family. He even still carries some of their traditions, like calling everyone “brother” or “sister”. There are moments, rare as they are, where he is free from the demands of his work and his addictions aren’t gnawing at him. There are small moments of calm in the storm that he has become. It doesn’t erase or justify the destruction that he inevitably brings. But it does exist. Because Vaas is still a man after all. And he knows there is something really wrong with him. He’s not only guilty, he is tormented by it. He literally gets on his knees and begs Jason to kill him. He knows he’s fucked up. He’s just not strong enough to change.

// TL;DR: Hoyt’s been fucking shit up since before Vaas was born. This is all Hoyt’s fault. He’s the reason Vaas is an orphan, he’s the reason Vaas was mentally unstable even before he gave him drugs and forced him to abandon his birthright and work for him, he’s the reason Vaas is such a wicked little brute that destroy everything he touches. But there are brief moments where his facade cracks and reveals he’s still capable of being the gentle loving brother he once was. He still loves his sister very much and he feels very guilty for abandoning her. He knows there are things wrong with him and he knows he can’t correct them or finish himself off by his own hand, hence why he begs for death in the end. Thanks, Hoyt.

// Looking at it, this will definitely impact my portrayal of Vaas. Probably not by default, but definitely in terms of pre-established relationships and ships going forward. I’ll mention ahead of time that nobody except Hoyt, Citra, and Vaas really know the extent of what has happened to him. Buck does to a certain degree but he doesn’t have the full story. I’ll also say this does not change the fact that most of Vaas’ relationships that aren’t business related are going to be unhealthy or downright abusive, if not for a large portion of it than for all of it. Vaas has proven that he is not above threatening, manipulating, emotionally toying with, and physically hurting people. Especially those he develops obsessions with. He might be infatuated with someone, but his infatuations are far from pure and wholesome. And stemming from that, he is not one of those “fixable” villain types. Lots of love and understanding are not going to cure him. He is not going to go change overnight because someone was nice to him. In general, I dont see Vaas changing for anyone. He’s just too... stubborn and set in his way to do so. But if he does, it’ll require some hardcore chemistry and a metric fuckton of plotting (and probably a dead Hoyt but that’s neither here nor there).

// Anyway if you read this far, you’re awesome and I love you, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. ❤️

So how would you rewrite it? I think you said something about doing that?

That would be the subject of Hyperchlorate Part III. (Part II again being detailing everything that went wrong, and Part I being going over what made the story unique.)

In essence there are the four major changes I would make to Bleach:

Radically expand upon (and show, don’t tell) character relations in the story. We are repeatedly told that so and so are friends, or family, or colleagues, or whatever, and we essentially never see it (outside of Tatsuki and Orihime at the very beginning). It’s critical to caring about and interlinking the characters and seeing them grow and develop. For example, someone made a point that the Xcution arc demonstrates Ichigo’s bonds with Soul Society are stronger than with his own friends. That’s true, and you can see it in the Japanese cultural context of him using their first names (even for Toushirou!) whereas he keeps calling Uryuu and Orihime by Ishida and Inoue. There’s a definite social distance there. But it’s a subtle thing. And it really needs to not be subtle. There needs to be a lot more interactions between characters; plenty of characters literally never interact at all, and plenty of characters look fucking terrible for their apparent gross negligence that serves zero point other than to maintain the Mystery Boxes (here’s looking at you, Isshin, Ryuuken, and Kisuke).

Recontextualize everything after the Soul Society arc. I am not opposed to certain places, people, or concepts (e.g., Hueco Mundo, the Espada, Fullbring, the Soul King, etc.) but the way they were introduced and handled was, frankly, garbage. Arrancar, at least, were set up rather early on. The rest… was a bunch of ex nihilo shit. It came out of nowhere with no setup. I also don’t really enjoy the thematic inversion of Hueco Mundo seemingly purely for the sake of subverting expectations. So, I would restructure everything that happens after that point in gross detail.

Refit, standardize, and clearly and consistently implement and allude to the grand plot. If there was going to be some grand purpose to the Bleach universe, it needed to be made clear textually, not just thematically, throughout the story. It needs to be set up to the reader, if not to the characters, very early on so they “get” what everything is building toward. That absolutely was not done.

Having a real ending that actually involves our protagonists making a substantive change. I’ve definitely been over this before.

That’s all well and good, right? So what sort of things would I actually look to change?

As an example of the high-level stuff… In terms of narrative, internal consistency, and plot, the whole Substitute Shinigami thing makes no fucking sense. It makes literally zero sense that Ginjou was the first one in several thousand years, and Ichigo was only the second. It makes zero sense that a technique to transfer powers to humans exists and is taught at the academy, can be known to have a “low chance of success,” and then made a crime when it’s happened a grand total of two times, unless it was all a long con just to catch Ginjou, and in that case it’s dumb because he doesn’t matter. (We’re supposed to believe Soul Society allows Hollows to run roughshod everywhere but they’re really obsessed about catching this one dude but not enough to actually task anyone powerful to go do it? No, none of that makes sense.)

It also doesn’t make any sense that there are only a grand total of 6,000 to 7,000 Shinigami to patrol its nebulously defined area of responsibility. (Is it the whole world? Is it just Japan? If the latter, are there other Soul Societies? If the former, where are the foreigners? Sure seem to be a lot of people who look foreign, but they all have Japanese names and speak Japanese in a manga that clearly at least recognizes Mexico. Why would foreigners accept a feudal Japanese afterlife? This is another small example of what I mean by the grand plot being fucked.)

It also doesn’t make a lot of sense that the only Shinigami worth a damn are Captains, Lieutenants, and the occasional Seated Officer. (This is canonical, by the way.) Almost all of them are total trash who would lose to the most basic bitch Hollow, let alone an Arrancar. Meanwhile, your average Quincy can mop the floor with all three.

You know what would make a lot more sense, and work better with what’s on paper? Here are some ramblings from my notes on this subject:

i think it’s sorta like… you wanna mirror the structure of the Hollows; Shinigami as a whole are like Menos, although they are almost all Arrancar (there could be some very low-ranked/new Shinigami who do not have shikai, these would be the “rookies”), whereas substitute Shinigami are like masked Hollows, with some overlap into Gillians/Menos Grande

- Captains (General Officers) are at the level of the Espada (with obvious differences among them correlating to Espada generated from Vasto Lordes and Adjuchas)- Lieutenants (Staff Officers) are at the level of the Privaron Espada and some of the stronger fracciones- Seated Officers (Officers) are at  the level of most fracciones and wild Adjuchas [sometimes from the 4th Seat up are more on the level of the above, e.g., Ikkaku and Yumichika]- Unseated Officers (NCOs) are at the level of weak fracciones, or on the order of holding off a Gillian- Substitute Shinigami (Enlisted) are at the level of individual Hollows

Substitute Shinigami are basically what Soul Society sets up to deal with the Living World rather than directly intervening, because “they have better shit to do;” they’re probably set up like a secret society of beat cops, and yeah, if the Shinigami proper notice spiritually sensitive people while setting up new districts or maintaining their assigned ones, they shank'em and induct'em (usually these people attract Hollows anyway so it’s a “become one of our grunts or die” type deal; maybe if they refuse, the Shinigami kill them instead for shirking their duties?)Hollows aren’t the only spooky thing running around in the night either; they’re probably relatively rare, and other weird shit like revenants and ghosts are more common

i also have some notes here about how it’d be cool if Substitute Shinigami were like, an established thingand were expendable gruntswith actual Shinigami being rather more elite, even if they’re not seatedlike it’s XCOM with supernatural shithaving shikai should be a big fucking deal; even knowing kidou should be like, impressiveyour average Hollow should be equivalent to a Substitute Shinigamian unseated Shinigami should be like a Menos Grandea Shinigami good at kidou and a weak zanpakutou should be like a weak Arrancara seated Shinigami should be like a medium Arrancar and know shikai for surelieutenants should be like Privaron Espadaand captains should be like the Espada (or higher)

I could go on, but I think you get the idea. My first big change to Bleach would be dispensing with the concept of substitutes as being rare. They should be the main interface for the human world (and expendable, and have a high turnover rate). Rukia being there should be A Big Deal. (Have her sent there specifically to monitor things, like a Commissar? To look for Grand Fisher? Whatever.)

Ginjou, were he to exist, would then need a different backstory, but that would be real easy to build out.

As an example of additional character interaction, I’ve already detailed my idea that Kisuke and Yoruichi should be Rukia’s surrogate parents. (And solving the problem of when Rukia got the Hogyouku.)

As another example, it has never made sense to me that Rukia is the one that stays to fight Shrieker while she tells Ichigo to take Karin home. Rukia knows her powers are iffy at best, and should know better. She damn near almost dies (along with Chad) for no reason other than… ??? For dramatic tension and to reveal Chad can attack Hollows, I guess. Even Ichigo calls her out on it. It should’ve been flipped, with Karin revealing things to Rukia and learning about her, and that should be built into Karin repeatedly noticing the two of them (which was never, ever paid off in any fashion whatsoever). This is just one example of more moments of character interaction outside of fights.

As an example of reworking things, I like the ideas of turning the hunt for Aizen into something more like Apocalypse Now, that Aizen kidnaps Karin and Yuzu instead of Orihime, and that his hideout is deep in Rukongai instead of Hueco Mundo:

in one of these posts, @icchiruki was like, Aizen shouldn’t have run off to Hueco Mundohe should’ve run into Rukongaiand that’s geniusbecause it makes him more sympathetic because they have a legit reason to be aggrieved with Soul Societyand also lets us see the other side of the coinwhich, conveniently, leads toward my idea of the HM arc as being more like Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now, with Aizen as the equivalent of Kurtz out among the Montagnardsand also lets there be some spooky eldritch shit like whatever was going on with Ukitake and folk belief in TYBW, but less out-of-nowherebecause it’s pretty clear that whatever’s going on with the divine in Bleach is fuckin’ weird and Lovecraftianwhich can tie into that other bit of work i was doing with “where does all this come from anyway”so you stitch it all together and pull the seams snug and you get an actual expansive worldthen you keep the focus squarely on Ichigo, Rukia, and co., as they navigate through itthe further out into Rukongai you go, the weirder it should get; Shinigami should also routinely get sent to Hueco Mundo (both of these being the more important shit they gotta deal with) and recon and do stuff there; Hueco Mundo itself should be less empty wasteland, more kind of weird dark mirror of Soul Societylike a Kill Six Billion Demons type deal

These are just examples. I could go on.

tl;dr Make Bleach much longer and more personable and personally relatable, show your hand on some of the mysteries and backstories much earlier, and make it simultaneously more fuckin’ weird and more human.

Current-Reads (20/04/2020 - 26/04/2020) 🍓🐢

(Disclosure: I don’t know anybody I’ve been currently reading this week. 😊)

Adding the preface again here: every Sunday without fail I throw up the freshest literature and photography I’ve read over the week, sometimes it’s a book, sometimes it’s a piece I saw in a magazine or an online zine, sometimes it’s something I saw on social media, etc. Sometimes I add ‘RECOMMEND’ next to a few of the titles, but that’s not to say I don’t recommend all of them, I just love some pieces more than others. Not everything will be everybody’s cup of tea, yanno, c’est la vie. And any titles that you see in bold are hyperlinked so if you click or tap them they’ll direct you straight to the source… or shopping basket. 

This week I’m gonna throw in a red herring and tell you about something I’ve been watching as well as what I’ve been reading, because I think it’s really cool and definitely appropriate for the age we’re living in at the moment. 

So I’ve been reading: Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) which was edited by her son, David. I also read an interview on Granta from March between Rachel Long and Morgan Parker. I’ve also tucked into a couple pieces on Fence, Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’ and Anthony Michael Morena’s ‘The Whale’. I also saw Cecelia Knapp’s poem in Bath Magg Issue Three (but the whole issue is an absolute smacker, it’s great). Last but not least, I’m up to episode 5 of a brand new thing called The Midnight Gospel. It is crazy good. And it’s on Netflix right now. 

***

Cecilia Knapp, ‘I Used To Eat KFC Zingers Without Hating Myself’, Bath Magg Issue #3: I really loved the whole of Issue Three, I guess I was quite struck by this particular poem for its “staccato-ness”. This poem is buttered with present-day references. But they’re not necessarily about creating a familiar environment. Rather the object of familiarity is found within the assemblage of places, snacks and thoughts, all of which compound the grief ‘I’ is experiencing. The ‘I’ ruminates on life’s banality and their personal insecurities in living banality: ‘I need a thigh gap. I use emojis / to avoid conflict. Worry I’m a gentrifier. Watch docs about murdered women’. The vapidity is funny. The pain is not. The insecurities deepen. Your body, your life, continues the ache of day-to-day routine, and finds no resolution in the things which may or may not stand to comfort oneself when ravaged by loss. The poem feels quite loose, and disinterested. It’s a sore poem, but its array of references make it colourful. It sort of reminded me of Édouard Levé’s work a little bit? But if Édouard Levé had been a pop culture fanatic chewing HubbaBubba bubblegum on the London Overground.  Bath Magg is a pretty exciting new magazine, (been around just under a year I think?) and they’ve published a lot of great writers, many of whom are emerging and I’ve spotted some quite established peple in there too. Kudos to their rubber ducky logo. It’s run by Mariah Whelan and Joe Carrick-Varty. 

In Conversation with Morgan Parker and Rachel Long, Granta Magazine: I deeply love Morgan Parker’s work, she’s, in my opinion, the master of titles. I can’t think of anybody who titles their work as well as Morgan Parker does. And I love the depth of honesty and charisma in this interview. Like yeah, it appears to be a generic Q/A but, it genuinely feels like a conversation, and it’s welcoming and unpretentious. Rachel Long asks some penetrating questions, and Morgan’s answers are so detailed and self-aware. Most of the discussion revolves around the action of writing poetry in general and where does that impulse arise from, but they do discuss Morgan’s latest collection Magical Negro which came out February last year. It’s a narrative on black womanhood, on micro-aggressions and reoccuring violence, it’s about breaking down white perceptions of blackness, and dissolving those projections. What I love about Morgan Parker is she’s tackling this fucking idiot thing where (mostly) white people think she’s attempting to represent all black women in her writing, which is, by Morgan’s own admission, impossible. Her work is a duty to herself, to the background she’s lived and lives, and to unpack that discourse in her own way. And if it resonates, then great! I felt all this was inherent in the interview and only adds to my respect for her, and to Rachel for being such an attentive interviewer. BTW Rachel Long has a debut collection coming out this July, My Darling from the Lions.

Anthony Michael Morena, ‘The Whale’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): I can’t tell you how much I adored this beautiful mass of whale and word. It’s an essay which references the American Natural History Museum’s Blue Whale model. The writing is thick with feeling and fat with concern. It blends monologue, memoir. It’s non-fiction and documentary. It’s elusive, enigmatic, fragmented. It’s like broken biscuits and blubber. To me it felt like a note on the offences of climate change, the emotional response and grief as we bystand erosion and corrosion, the loss of life, and the urge to merge something back together as it dissolves and fragments before our eyes. It’s as personal as it is public. A gorgeous and complex piece.

Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) (RECOMMEND): I felt so afflicted reading Susan Sontag’s diaries, because y’know, it’s the equivalent of invading an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. Like, leave people alone. At the same like, this woman. These diaries are still shaping me, and each section leaves you with the weirdest aftertaste. Her personality permeates through every detail, every line-break, every reference and articulation of feeling. You learn so much, you gain so much from her perceptions and observations. How do I contain Susan Sontag? How do I describe these diaries? Not at all. Just buy it. 

Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): My eyes locked onto this piece and just didn’t really stop reading. Lexi’s voice is enamouring and hypnotic. It’s so violent too. You’re lunged into friction burns and sports injuries, time and progression, the tensions between collectivity and individuality, family and sexuality, or as Fence put it, ‘lesbian eros’. This piece felt acidic. At times you can’t tell if the ‘I’ is indifferent or hurting to the point of numbness. It straddles so many different thematics, and breaks down a lot of conventions pertaining to the “ideal experience” of family relationships and team work. The resolution seems to be that in spite of people, our collectivity is defined by our collective solitude. This essay kicked me around a football field. It takes a good few repeated reads to appreciate its kaleidoscopic shifting, but it’s definitely one of my favourites.

The Midnight Gospel, from Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell, Netflix: (RECOMMEND) So the other day my friend Ben linked this to me and I had seen the trailer ages back and thought “Oh yeah I really wanna watch that”, but just forgot. After his reminder, I started watching it and ever since I’ve been saying to loads of other friends “Have you watched ‘The Midnight Gospel’ on Netflix?” because I’m d y i n g  to talk about it with everybody. 

I literally can’t categorise this “TV show” to you. It’s like if animation had a baby with a philosophy podcast and then put that baby onto an IV drip of psychedelics. It’s this swarm of different stimuli which you kind have to zone in on and absorb individually and yet somehow collectively. 

So like, “Clancy” is a spacecaster who sets up “spacecasts” (podcasts) with creatures from other simulated worlds and he interviews them. But when Clancy transports himself into these worlds, it’s not like they’re sat down on some cream sofa with two glasses of water like it’s animated Oprah. No, his interviewees are like in the middle of fighting off a zombie apocalypse or meditating on a mountain or trying to find and save their lost lover. And Clancy just joins them on the journey and interviews them about their “specialism”. These are real people that are being interviewed like, the first episode is with Dr. Drew Pinker. And when you’re watching it, you think that the animation is totally separate to the conversation exchange the characters are having, but that’s not true. They have intersections, they have meaning. It only becomes obvious that it has meaning right at the end of each episode, but if you lock on you’ll see it’s all relevant throughout. 

One of my friends was like “Oh I might stick that on tonight and have a joint” and I was like, don’t fucking get high when you’re watching this because it’s already intense enough as it is, like you know that Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell have felt some real shit to create this absolute rare jewel. In my opinion, you don’t need cannabis to appreciate these discussions. But if you wanna do it, then hey it’s a “free country”. And it’s not as though there’s a serious, central core plot like there is with Rick & Morty, I mean there is a kind of overarching plot but it’s not always integral. Like ultimately we’re invested in Clancy’s story but also all the stories of all the other people that come his way. There’s multiple plots, there’s multiple dimensions and ways of seeing. It’s a programme which delivers on multiplicity, which manifests itself in everything and everyone we see and know and touch and hear, etc, etc. 

This production articulates some of the revelations that psychedelics can give you. Psychedelics don’t make you see the world literally like these animations do, but the sensations of the animation are reminiscent of an acid trip’s oscillating moods and sensitivities. It’s really cool, and it’s very poignant, and it’s my new favourite show to watch. And what’s so great about it is that, it requires multiple watches in order to really absorb everything in its entirety, so it’s a series you can just keep going back to even after you’ve seen them all. It’s re-watchable. Just fundamental goodness all round. Best way to indulge in it is with ice cream. 🍨

***

So that’s it for this week, next Friday’s review is Annie Ernaux’s A Girl’s Story translated by Alison L. Strayer, published with Fitzcarraldo Editions. 

Stay safe and well as always, my little caramels. 💁🏽

Fallout OC Interview

So @lookbluesoup​ tagged me to do this, and I… well I did it my own way, as ever. It’s long, so I hope you wanna stick with it. If you wanna do it, I’ll list the questions as a comment. I dunno, I don’t tag people really, do it if you want to. Particularly @bagheera-is-back​ and @wasteland-mama​, and @saltsealed, but really, I’m enjoying reading them, so do it if you haven’t already. Nate ducked through the doorway, shaking the dirt from his shoes before stepping inside. Piper grinned and gestured to the chair opposite her, and untucked a small, stubby pencil from behind her ear. “Thanks for doing this, Blue. I’m sure they’ll get sick of hearing about you soon enough, but for now, we gotta give the people what they want.”  Nate nodded, settling quietly into the chair, the leather of his jacket creaking as he lowered himself down. He hitched up his trousers at the knee, sniffed, cleared his throat. Piper smiled at him, and nodded to the table next to him. “There’s a beer, if you want it. Help you relax a little.” Nate raised an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me drunk, Wright? Liquor me up and hope I spill something good? Not very ethical.” He smiled, a little curl at the corner of his mouth, and Piper looked alarmed. “Oh, no! No, nothing like, that, I mean, there’s… there’s some water too, just, y'know, thought…” She cleared her throat nervously. “Shall we get started?”

She regained her composure, pulling up a chair in front of Nate, backward, and leaning her notepad on the back of it, legs straddling the seat. “So, first up, tell us some basics; what’s your full name?” “Uhm, Nathan Christopher Stahl.” “Mmhmm, and how old are you?” Nate shrugged, that little smile playing at his mouth. “Old enough to know better? I dunno, I was thirty-seven when the bombs dropped. So, give or take 200 years…” Piper flashed him a small smile. “Okay, give the readers some idea of what you look like; defining features, as you see them, what do people notice about you first?” Nate shuffled, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Uhhh, I dunno, I’m…tall, sorta gangly? Black hair, sideburns. My… my nose is kinda…” He pressed his finger to the tip, pushing it up and exaggerating his nostrils. They both laughed, and he looked away to the ceiling. “What is this, anyway, a personal ad? You tell ‘em what I look like.” “Oh don’t worry, I intend to.” She laughed. He winked at her, and she dropped her eyes to the notepad, blushing slightly. Dammit he made her nervous. “Okay, so tell us a bit about where you’re from? You a Boston native, or…” He nodded. “I was. Been here my whole life, except for, y'know, deployment. I grew up pretty near where Goodneighbor is, right by the Common. Moved over to Newton when I was about eight, nine. It was a nice place.” Piper nodded enthusiastically. “I bet it was! Things must be so different now… What was it like, growing up before the war? Can you tell us a little bit about you as a kid, what kind of things you’d get up to?” Nate sat back on the sofa, slinging his arm across the back.  “Well, my dad wasn’t around so much, he was a SEAL, so he - a SEAL was like a really, uh, highly trained soldier, best of the best – so he wasn’t around all that much, me and my mom used to spend most of our weekends with my Grandpa, over in Roslindale. He was a good guy, let me pretty much do what I wanted to do, helped me build campfires and we used to go fishing sometimes. I never had the patience for fishing, so it always turned into a sorta… life lessons in a boat. Let me have a beer, smoke a cigarette, talked to me about girls, y'know, the stuff your parents wouldn’t like. My mom found out once, when I came home with beer spilled all across my pants, and boy she was mad. He was, uh, sneakier, after that. I got a lot of good memories with him.”  “My mom, well, she had a temper, but she always did her best. I think all the time alone must have really gotten to her, especially with me, being a mischievous little bastard so much of the time. I didn’t exactly make it easy for her, but I think she was dealing with more than I really understood, at the time. My dad…” He paused, cleared his throat. “My dad and I never saw eye to eye.”  Piper let him sit a moment, just in case he’d pick up the thread, but he stayed silent, looking off into the corner of the room, over his shoulder. He turned back to face her. “What’s next?” Piper nodded, licked her thumb and flicked the pages of her notepad. “Uhm… lemme see. Why don’t you tell us a little more about your association with the Minutemen? Rumour has it you’ve been promoted.” Nate laughed.  “Nice to hear the Boston rumour mill is still in tip top condition. Yeah, I’ve been… requested to take on a more directorial role. The Minutmen are certainly growing again, there’s more and more settlements being established as a network across the commonwealth, more and more people signing up to watch each others’ backs and have more folks to rely on in a crisis. Lieutenant Garvey has been hard at work, rebuilding the Castle and the ranks are looking stronger than ever, even got a team modding power armour.” He smiled, leaning forward. “For any raiders out there reading this, that’s a real gentle way of saying don’t fuck with us.” Piper grinned. “Might have to censor that one, Blue. Don’t want to offend the delicate sensibilities of the commonwealth’s finest, y'understand. What about the Institute? There’s some, uh, talk that you’ve been inside, some questions about who you’re working with?” Nate sucked his teeth, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “I’m not in a position to address that.” He leaned forward. “Between you and me, my Geiger counter is in the shop, and this is a bigger shit show than anyone thought. You can say I avoided the question, say I said no, whatever. I can’t talk about it.” She wriggled in her seat, flipping a fresh page, her eyes flashing inquisitively. “Okay, gotcha. So… back to Lieutenant Garvey, he’s one of the people you’re often seen travelling with, and you two seem to have a pretty good chemistry. Is he a squeeze, or is it purely professional?” Nate rolled his eyes. “Wright, this is gossip mag territory. I thought you were better than that.” She shrugged, her cheeks colouring a little. “Hey, not my fault, the people wanna know.” Nate sighed. “No, he’s not a “squeeze”. We’re close, for sure, he’s someone I trust, and we’ve saved each other’s assses plenty of times. But the same goes for Nick, and for Bobby MacCr- sorry, RJ MacCready. Honestly, Valentine is… I don’t think I’d have made it without him. He really kept me in line when I was trying to go off the rails. I owe him a lot.” Piper smiled sincerely. “Yeah, Nicky’s a real good guy. Lotta heart, for a synthetic man, huh?” He nodded. Piper took a deep breath. “So, to press the question a little, is there anyone you’re involved with, currently? Romantically involved with?” Nate chuckled under his breath. “Not exactly. There’s… I’ve got, shall we say, interests.” “C'mon Blue, spill it.” She prodded. “Give us lonely commonwealth folks some hope.” He laughed. “Well, there’s… a little guy, from out of town, he knows who he is. And, well, Diamond city certainly has it’s fair share of pretty girls. Pretty girls with plenty of attitude, girls that make the authorities a little uncomfortable. I’m a sucker for a girl who knows how to get what she wants.” He met her eyes, and Piper’s stomach leapt. He’s kidding, he’s just a goddamn flirt. “Okay, so to move on… Enemies. You gotta have a fair few of them, being in your position?” Nate nodded, drawing his lips tight. “Yeah, unfortunately. The gunners, predictably, are not exactly looking to pat me on the back. The Brotherhood, we don’t see eye to eye either, I blew them off a while back and they’re not exactly pleased that we’re establishing a force of our own with the Minutemen. I spent enough time taking orders before the bombs, I’m really not looking to join up again. I’ve seen enough combat on other people’s terms.” “Do you enjoy the fighting? What’s the wildest combat story you’ve got for us? Spin us a yarn.” Nate considered, tugging a cigarette from his pocket. “Well, there’s… Do you mind?” He gestured at the cigarette, Piper shook her head. He lit up. “There’s a few, to be honest, taking out a deathclaw inside a museum, that was a traumatising experience. That’s where, y'see the scar here?” He tapped beneath his right eye. “Those things are lethal, even when you’re out of arms reach. Threw a big fucking chunk of ceiling tile at me, busted my nose pretty good, but made it out alive.” Piper whistled. “Lucky.” Nate shook his head. “Nah, I don’t believe in luck. I’m just grateful MacCready managed to do more than just shit his pants. Can’t blame him.” He inhaled and blew the smoke away quickly. “Don’t print that, he’ll kill me. There was the Castle, too. Big bastard Mirelurk, Garvey said it was a Queen, that was a close call. If I live my whole life and never have to smell another…” He shuddered, Piper laughed. “Not a fan of the aquatic life then?” “Not particularly. Bloodbugs though, they’re the… fuck those things. Can’t stand them. Bloatflies too, disgusting.” “Any critters you don’t hate?” She smiled. “Plenty. From a distance, Yao Guai are some majestic looking things, aren’t they? And mole rats, when they’re just going about their business…” He held his hands up like paws and stuck his teeth out, imitating the rats’ snuffling sound, and Piper laughed out loud. He grinned, and took another drag. “I don’t know about you, I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for them. And, maybe this is pre-war hagover, but protectrons, y'know, I kinda love the big stupid things. I used to work for RobCo, before I was in the Navy, and I always liked 'em the best.” Piper sat forward. “Used to work for RobCo? So you’re a bit of a whizz with electronics huh?” Nate shook his head, sucking the cigarette. “Not really. I was sales, I can do a bit of maintenance, and shut things down in a pinch, but I never had the flair for that stuff. My speciality was convincing people to buy stuff.” “Ahh, more of a sweet talker, huh?” “Takes one to know one, sugar.” He winked. “Yeah, I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter, and my mouth has gotten me into, and out of, plenty of trouble. Good with my hands, too, for what it’s worth.” He flicked his eyebrows in a quick arc, a half smile curling the corner of his mouth. Piper blushed again, laughing. “I can see why. You’re a rouge, aren’t you? What other tricks have you got up your sleeve?” “Well, I’m not a bad swimmer, my aim’s pretty good, I’m pretty light on my feet, make a good steak.” he laughed. “And I might not be a brute-force kinda guy, but I can hold my own.” Piper nodded. “And how was it, adjusting to the world out here? The radiation? You must’ve been pretty shocked at the mutants, and ghouls…” Nate nodded. “For sure, it was a shock. Coming out of the vault was… I was already in a bad place, freezing and alone and… y'know, everything. When I got up to the surface, I just… my knees just went out, and honestly, I sat and cried, I don’t know how long.” He stubbed out his cigarette.  “The next… I dunno, month or two, it was hard. Even just getting up, just walking around, it felt like all my bones were made of lead, my head full of water, y'know? I made it to Goodneighbor, but I was so sick, all the food I’d been scavving was poisoning me, and I didn’t know what the hell was happening. John – Mayor Hancock – got Amari to fix me up, but we, uh… he and I had some pretty serious misunderstandings back then, so I didn’t stick around to rest like I was supposed to. Nick really looked out for me around then, but… in the midst of it all he ended up being out of action, and Mayor Hancock ended up trekking into the glowing sea with me.” Piper’s face dropped. “I know. Crazy. Trust me, it was more crazy than it sounds. But he kept me alive, and we held up pretty well considering. I’ve never seen one man soak up so many chems before, but then, I wasn’t far behind.” Piper tilted her head quizically. “Are you a fan of… recreational substances, then?” Nate looked at the ceiling and chewed his lip. “Uhhh, I dunno, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship there. I’ve… been known to enjoy myself at a party, in the past, y'know, before the bombs. Sometimes a little too much. But things are different out here, and some can really change the tide of a fight. I’m not saying you should, I’m saying it’s an option, in a pinch.” Piper nodded. “D'you ever think about life before the war?” “All the time. All the time. So many places here have bits of my life attached, sometimes it’s like a little niggle in my stomach - “gee, I could really go for an ice cream right now!” - other times it’s like the floor falling out under you.” She sidestepped the obvious sore point, instead asking; “What’s ice cream?” Nate furrowed his brow. “It was… so it’s milk, like a thick cream, and they froze it, but not like a block of ice, it was… it was more like snow, I guess, like thick, sugary snow. All different flavours, you put it on a… a kinda waffle cone, and it just melted in your mouth, or you could put it in a soda and…” He paused, laughing. “It’s a lot harder to explain than I thought. But you’d have liked it. Sometimes couples went out for ice cream, like on a date, before a movie or something. I bet you’d have liked that too. I might even have offered to take you.” She laughed, smiling wistfully, eyes bright. “Sounds… tasty. You a soda kind of guy? I can’t get enough of the stuff.” “Well, I wasn’t,” he gestured, “before the war. But the fact that Nuka Cola is practically the same as it was then… it blows my mind, and it’s a nice little slice of memory. I heard some people are trying to find the formula, want to get the bottling plant up and running again. How’s that for an achievement?” He laughed, and Piper wanted to reach out and touch him, smooth her fingers across the little lines at the corners of his eyes, put her hand on his chest and feel his voice under her palm… She smiled at him. “Speaking of achievements, what would you say is the biggest one for you?” “Uhh, not being dead yet? I dunno, helping Preston re-establish the Minutemen is… it’s a huge thing, and I wouldn’t take credit for it all, but joining them, really making things better for people and really… instigating change. That’s something I’ve always wanted. I’m glad to be a part of it.” Piper nodded, scribbling frantically. “Any regrets?” Nate swept his hand through his hair, looking away again. “I dunno, that’s a big question. Yeah. I have some. I can’t really say more. Sorry.” “That’s okay. Would… would you say you have goals?” She leaned forward. “Things you’ve learned from those regrets? What do you want, what’re you working towards for the future?” He rubbed the corners of his mouth and thought for a moment. “I… guess I want to make a home again. Not just for myself, but for… for everyone out here. Just to make people feel safe, to bring a little bit of the lightness that life used to have. To give people back that… hope.” He looked at Piper, his eyes flicking from deep thought to a mischievous gleam. “Short term, I’d like that beer, and maybe to get laid. I dunno if you want to publish that though.” She laughed, blushing, closing her notebook and hopping to her feet. “I think that’s the perfect ending; giving the people hope, just like you said.” She stepped close to him, extending her hand, and he shook it warmly. “Thanks for being such a good sport, Blue. And… if you ever want to hit the road with someone, you just remember where to find me, 'kay? I’m always on the prowl for a new story, and you seem to just… scoop 'em up, by accident. I think it’d be a lot of fun, travelling with you, and I’m not too terrible with a pistol either. You gimme a shout, y'hear?” He stood, tugging his jacket down over his stomach, and nodded, smiling. “I’ll be sure to do that.”