#Finally designed Timeless in a way that I like but the gods will not let me share the magical process of designing him smh-

[spotaus]

I am begging on my knees that Tumblr posts this. It has no audio but I cannot send it from my computer to phone and I want it archived lmao-

[goldenagenonsense]

Action Comics No. 1 [June 1938]

The OG. The first true-blood superhero. The big man himself, Superman. From what I’ve heard, any physical copy of this issue in good enough condition can be worth a couple million dollars. Can you imagine, something that once cost a dime worth more than most people’s annual income?? Bonkers.

Anywho, let’s get into it.

Have to admit, the thing that catches my eye here is that logo on his costume. The rest of it is the same timeless classic design everyone knows, but that logo... not gonna lie, it looks weird. Kind of a little flick-and-swish instead of the blocky print of more modern superman logos.

I suppose the other big question is, who the fuck are these dudes. Why is Superman smashing their car. Why are they in the middle of the desert in Arizona. All mysteries that will probably never be solved.

Moving on, we’re given Superman’s origin story: A distant planet was destroyed by old age, so a scientist placed his infant son within a hastily-designed spaceship and shot him off to Earth! When it landed, a passing motorist discovered the sleeping child and turned him over to... an orphanage? Huh. Huh.

Like, I do get that this is well before any comic books cared about things like ‘backstory’ and ‘civilian lives’ and whatnot, but I admit I’m so used to the whole ‘taken in by Martha and Jonathon Kent’ thing that him initially being an orphanage kid is downright bizarre. Like, could you even IMAGINE trying to pull that in a modern day comic? Impossible. But at the same time, so compelling... hmm...

The backstory continues with baby Clark’s impressive feats of strength - as a baby, he could lift a reclining chair with one arm. By maturity, he could easily: 

leap an eighth of a mile

hurdle over a twenty-story building

raise tremendous weights (pictured holding an I-bar over his head with one arm)

run faster than an express train

and “nothing less than an exploding shell could penetrate his skin”

I checked the stats for the train thing, and in 1938, the best in the line steam trains (in the US) had an average operating speed of 100 mph [160 km/h] and a top speed of 125 mph [200 km/h]. So I imagine that those are OG Clark’s ‘run’ and ‘sprint’ speeds as well.

We conclude the backstory page with a note that early on, Clark decided to turn his titanic strength into channels that would benefit mankind. Thus: Superman! Champion of the oppressed, the physical marvel who has sworn to devote his existence to helping those in need!

Also, oh my god, it has a blurb about the ‘scientific explanation’ for Clark Kent’s amazing strength.

Like, is this still nonsense? Yes, but I mean. Technically, it’s nonsense with some science to it. I kind of like it - it’s impressive, but not fantastical.

We finally move on to the action: Superman, racing through the night, a blond woman bound and gagged under his arm. When he reaches the governor’s house, he leaves her sitting under a tree, telling her to make herself comfortable, since he doesn’t have the time to.

Superman knocks on a door, and someone (an aide? a butler? IDK man) answers. The doorman demands to know why Superman is knocking at such a late hour. Superman states that he has to see the governor - it’s a matter of life and death! The doorman closes the door and says to come back in the morning. Superman refuses, smashing his way in and saying he’ll see him now.

The doorman is shaken, stating (fairly) that this is illegal entry, and he’ll have Supes arrested. Supes again demands to be taken to the governor. When the doorman refuses, Superman just picks the guy up and holds him overhead while marching up the stairs, ignoring the man’s cries for help.

A new obstacle appears - for some reason, the governor’s sleeping room is locked AND made of steel. The doorman is smug as he tells Superman that he won’t get away with this outrage, and that there’s absolutely no way this door can be knocked down-

Ah, cinematic poetry. Gotta love it.

The governor, woken by the chaos, turns on his bedside lamp while demanding to know what’s happening. Superman, holding a rolled up paper, tells the governor that Evelyn Curry is to be electrocuted in fifteen minutes for murder. However, he has a written confession that’s proof of her innocence!

The butler (aha! Finally, confirmation!) pulls out a gun, convinced Superman is a madman threatening the governor. He tells Supes to reach for the ceiling; Supes tells him to put ‘that toy’ away. The butler warns Superman he’ll shoot, and then proceeds to do so - to no effect, as the bullet ricochets off of Superman. Superman steps forward to take away the gun, stating it’s no time for horseplay, then returns his focus to the governor.

As the timer counts down to nine minutes left, Superman tells the governor that only he is capable of saving the innocent woman. The governor asks for the papers, and then makes a call to the penitentiary. The next panel briefly hops over to the execution room, where Miss Curry takes massive relief in the news that the governor has pardoned her. She had told them she was innocent!

(I wonder - if the governor had refused, would Clark have rushed to break the woman out himself? I would think he would, but it would probably be breaking the law a bit more than he already has with the whole ‘breaking and entering’ thing happening here.)

When we return to the governor’s house, Superman has already disappeared. However, he did leave behind a note stating that the real murderess would be found bound and gagged on the lawn of his estate.

We have a brief time skip to the next morning, when Clark Kent is leaving for his job as a reporter for the local newspaper. His neighbor is reading the morning paper, telling Clark all about how the Curry girl was found innocent. When Clark asks to read it himself, he’s inwardly relieved to find he’s not mentioned anywhere.

However, things aren’t that simple. At the same time, over in the governor’s private chamber, he’s meeting with several other important people, telling them all about how the man who had broken in was definitely not human! The only relief to be found was that said man seemed to be on the side of law and order.

When Clark enters the Daily Star - wait, what? Alright, I know it’s literally inconsequential, but that’s still an interesting difference between then and now. I wonder when that was changed and why?

Anyway! Clark is called into his boss’ office; the boss asks him to sit, then wants to know if Clark has ever heard of ‘Superman.’ When Clark expresses his shock/confusion, the boss clarifies - reports have been streaming in about a fellow with gigantic strength called Superman, and he’s making it Clark’s ongoing assignment to cover these reports.

Clark, with a totally not shit-eating grin, states confidently that if he can’t find out anything about Superman, then no one can!

Like look. Listen. That is the face of a man who has just been gifted the perfect alibi/cover for all his nonsense, and is barely keeping himself from cackling in delight. You know he’s internally rubbing his hands together in glee.

As Clark leaves the boss’ office, one of his co-workers lets him know that a tip was phoned in - a wife-beating on 211 Court Ave! Leaving aside the fact that said tipster should have probably been calling the police, Clark accepts the tip and hurries off.

[Insert from friends:

[Tyler] I mean historically domestic violence was treated differently to today, maybe it made sense to call the newspaper back then?

Wikipedia seems to be suggesting that while the cops would stop a wife beater by that time, there was a low chance of arrest, so maybe a newspaper article makes sense as a longer term punishment if the cops won’t help?

[Solem] I'd assume that the police were called first, and that it's someone from the police calling the paper -- dunno if they still do this, but it used to be that newspapers got bulletins like that so they could add the crimes to the public record and write up the police blotter. Hence why it was the perfect incognito place for Clark to work and keep his ear to the ground for trouble.]

When he arrives at the scene, he’s already changed into his costume and demands the man to stop. The man is holding a belt and standing over his wife, who is lying on the ground, covering her face, but stops to turn and demand to know what Superman wants, and to not get tough. Superman grabs him by the throat and lifts him up, saying that tough is a mild way to put the treatment the man is about to get. He then throws the man at the nearby wall, stating that he’s not fighting a woman now!

It seems that Supes is holding back, because the wall is undamaged, and the man is still conscious, choosing to attack Supes with a knife. However, the man has even less luck than the butler on that front - the knife breaks on Superman’s skin, leaving the man no recourse but to recoil in fear, and then faint.

Superman hears police sirens and quickly changes back into his civilian clothes, thinking of how bad it’d be if they searched him. By the time the officer steps in through the busted door, Clark Kent is kneeling over the unconscious man. The officer demands to know what Clark is doing there; Clark replies that he arrived to find the place like this, and that it seems that Superman had dropped in for a visit. [Also, gotta love that ‘tho’ is used in this panel.]

Another time skip, and we’re back in the office. This time, however, we see Clark awkwardly asking Lois out on a date, and her deigning to give him a break for once. Good to know that Lois hasn’t changed one bit in the past 80-something years.

That night, Lois and Clark are dancing together at some kind of... I guess restaurant? A party or event? There are tables for dining, but there’s also couples dancing, so like. It’s probably some kind of event, but I couldn’t tell you more than that. Clark asks why Lois always avoids him at the office. Lois tells him she’s been writing sob stories all day, and doesn’t want to dish out another.

[Insert from friends:

[Delci] You watch a lot of old black and white movies and this is shown all the time, dancing was a very big thing back then, like the only time to really socialize lol. Basically a club, eat, dance and listen to live entertainment.]

Over at one of the tables, three guys are chatting about her. Green suit thinks she’s nice looking and decides to cut in. Blue suit is cautious, worried that her escort [Clark] won’t like it. Green suit says it doesn’t matter, he’ll just punch Clark’s face in. Yellow suit is just excited to be here.

Green suit marches over and demands Clark leave. Clark notes that this isn’t a robber’s dance, and green suit gets annoyed, asking if he’s trying to be ‘flip’ (which i guess is shorthand for ‘flippant’) and again tells him to get moving, quick. Lois demands to know if Clark is going to stand for this. Clark reluctantly plays into his weakling persona, asking her to give the guy one dance so they can leave quickly. 

She is having none of it, hands on her hips as she tells Clark that HE can dance with green suit, but she’s leaving now. Green suit is annoyed at her flippancy, and tells her he’ll dance with him and she’ll like it. Lois, done with this man’s shit, slaps him in the face. Clark gives a quiet cheer for her, then more loudly frets for her to stop.

Green suit probably caught the mutter, because he shoves a hand in Clark’s face and demands he fight (calling him a ‘weak livered pole-cat’ in the process, a fantastic insult); Clark demures and deflects.

Lois, already in her evening coat, is already heading out the door. Clark follows after her, asking her to wait. She doesn’t stop even after she gets into a taxi, telling him the reason she avoids him: because he’s a spineless, unbearable coward! (Yeowch.)

Back inside, green suit is pissed, rallying his friends to go after her and show her that she can’t make a fool of Butch Matson. Dude, I hate to tell you this, but she already did. Sucks to suck, man. :/

A few minutes later, Superman is on the scene, watching a familiar green car leave the roadhouse with three hoodlums inside. The car quickly catches up to the taxi, ramming into it and forcing it into a ditch. The suits pull her out of the taxi and force her into their car, while she demands they let her go. As they drive away, Butch complains that he let her boyfriend off easy. Blue suit states that they might meet again, and Butch replies that he hopes it’ll be soon.

As the car speeds forward, Superman stops in the road in front of it, hands on his hips. Blue suit(?) warns him of the guy ahead, while Butch just laughs and says that he’ll scare the guy a bit. Blue suit is worried about hitting him, though, especially as they approach and Superman doesn’t move. 

At the last moment, Superman leaps over the top of the car without touching it, then starts dashing in pursuit, freaking out blue suit. Blue suit tells Butch to step on the gas; Butch compares Supes to the Devil himself. Despite their speed, Superman catches up easily, and holds the car over his head. He dumps all the occupants out - Lois included, double whoops! - and then smashes the car into bits against a rock. Which is the cover scene! Just with different clothes for the ‘civilians’.

After the car is dealt with, Superman chases down Butch and leaps up with him to the top of a power pole, hanging the man by his suit jacket to one of the parallel planks. When Butch demands to be let down, Superman offers to cut him loose, which has Butch backtrack immediately.

Superman then approaches a shocked Lois, gently telling her that she doesn’t need to be afraid, that he won’t harm her. (Definitely thinking this is a whole angel/Bible reference with the whole ‘be not afraid’ bit.) He then picks her up in a bridal carry and rushes her back to the city outskirts, advising her not to print anything about what happened.

The next morning, Lois is raving about it to the editor, trying to convince him that she saw Superman. The editor is skeptical, asking a bit mockingly whether it wasn’t pink elephants she saw. This honestly just had me realize that when said editor put Clark on the whole ‘Superman’ thing, he probably was skeptical, and considering that it’s only been a day since said assignment, said editor probably is still skeptical of Superman’s existance.

Anyway, that little segment ends with Clark trying to apologize for the previous night, but Lois is having none of it, outright icing him out.

Clark soon enough recieves a new assignment - the front page is getting dull, to the point of headlining card games. Apparently, there’s a war going on in a small South American republic, ‘San Monte,’ and he’s sending Clark there as correspondant. He tells Clark to take along a camera and to try to send some good shots with his articles.

Instead of going to San Monte, Clark goes over to Washington DC. Which I can’t blame him for, since that’s definitely a scandal in the making far closer to home. Clark attends a session of Congress, watching from the gallery. After recieving confirmation on the identity of Senator Barrows, Clark discretely follows up post-session by snapping a picture of Barrows speaking to a shady character about meeting up that night at at his home. He then goes to the local paper to learn more about the shady man, and finds out his name is Alex Greer, the slickest lobbiest in Washington... and no one knows who backs him.

By the time 8:30 PM rolls around, Superman is clinging to the side of a skyscraper, multiple stories up, eavesdropping on their conversation. Which is hilarious for many, many reasons. Mostly because it’s now no fucking wonder he and Bruce are friends when they pull the exact same snooping nonsense.

Barrows reminds Greer that he’s supposed to be avoiding him in public. What would people think if they knew they knew each other? Greer tells him to stop sputtering, he had to see him. He has to know if the senator will succeed in pushing the bill through. Barrows confirms it will, well before its full implications are realized. Before anyone knows it, the country will be embroiled with Europe!

...wait. Wait wait, this is a bill about joining the war in Europe? No, this was before World War Two started! So what, is this trying to kick off a war? Or just getting economically bogged down with Europe in general? I admit I’m not sure, but in that context, yeah, this is definitely something to be concerned about.

Greer is pleased, stating that Barrows will be financially compensated for this. Barrows rhetorically asks whether Greer is getting taken care of as well. Supermna, listening in, thinks that he definitely will - though probably not in the way either of the two are thinking.

On leaving the building, Greer is confronted by Superman, who wants to know who’s backing him. Greer tries to deny the accusations, but Supes is having none of it, grabbing him by the hand and saying they’ll see whether he’ll talk. When Greer demands he let go of his hand, Supes just grabs him by the foot instead and takes off in a huge leap.

Master of malicious complaince, Clark is.

Greer panics about electrocution as they come in for a landing on some telephone wires. Superman assures him they won’t - birds sit on wires all the time, and they aren’t fried - at least, not unless they touch a pole and are grounded! Superman then leaps over a pole with an ‘oops!’ that’s all about fucking with this man.

Again, I am very quickly realizing how this man and Bruce ‘I dangle criminals over the edge of buildings’ Wayne are besties. It’s all about the subtle death threats with those two.

Superman points out the capitol, suggesting they pay it a visit. Greer is still demanding to be put down, but Clark just wants to admire the view from the top of the White House. He then wonders out loud whether they can make the jump all the way across to the building, ignoring Greer’s increasing panic in order to do so - and apparently misses.

...and this concludes issue 1, or at least the part about Superman. The end of that last panel gives a little ‘to be continued’ note, followed up by a panel reminding readers to not miss an issue so as to keep on reading about Superman. Man, what an adventure.

Have to admit, I was genuinely surprised by some of this. Like, I knew Superman didn’t start out with the thousand and five powers he has in modern comics, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so... grounded? Kind of wild. I could easily see a lot more ways this version of him could be challenged meaningfully beyond just ‘the enemy has Kryptonite and/or magic to weaking him’ and/or ‘it’s a situation where he can’t bruce force it without things going horribly wrong.’

Likewise, orphan Supes has some kind of compelling art to it. While I definitely favor Ma and Pa Kent as a reason he grew up kind, and I also get how there’s no way the whole ‘random motorist runs into a baby in a spaceship and just takes them to an orphanage’ thing would work nowadays, it’s still interesting to consider how such a backstory would have to be adjusted to at least be plausible.

Also, I know I made a joke earlier about ‘get me photos of Superman’ but like. Oh my god, Peter Parker isn’t the neighborhood menace, fucking Superman is. Breaking and entering, eavesdropping, destruction of property; this man just cannot be stopped. Truly, an auspicious start to one of the most iconic superheroes of all time.

Can’t wait for the next issue!

[google-searchhistory-official]

"Why me?"

Lykra: You lost everything of your own accord, grew up with torment around, destroyed and gutted every town, city, and relationship you would hold as a mortal. You broke fate, scared that it would still give you reward rather than punishment which it would have if you did not deviate so arrogantly against the plan you knew was set for you. You were violent, apathetic, and paradoxical. You are full of love, never worthy of it. Despair nipped and clawed every facet of your being, yet never could it dwindle hope. You were technologically brilliant, but could not comprehend the immensity of your designs. Magically gifted, but only let such talent fester on its own. You were a god in your own right before your first death, and you refused to see it. You had power over the elements and could create life, it did not compare to the god you thought you knew. I watched and looked back upon your life in that dead universe, ages and ages of repeating all I saw of you. And it was because you had broken the universe by going against fate, breaking it by refusing to let loose the gift of Pandora. You were a god worthy of the domain of nothing, you know it's breadth entirely. For having lost everything intentionally and passively. For spending countless time in a universe of void and not once lifting a finger, only falling into the rhythym of life, suffocation, death, repeat. For staying sane despite every oppurtunity to go mad. You are the God of Nothing, more than I could ever have been.

"...I still would like to know the purpose I should have"

Lykra: I will die. I am already dead. My murderer waits at the end of time. He is not your purpose but I would like for you to be my messenger. Only if you accept may I enlighten you.

"You will die, you are already dead. So you must know my answer, if it has always intended to be this way."

Lykra: And yet you still must say it. Not for a paradox of time, but for it to come out of our shared domain. To be a pact bound deeper than blood, for not only does it keep the promise.

"It gives me full access as you shall yield your portion wholly to me. And so I will truly become timeless. I am already outside of time in this meeting with you. Linear does not work unless I make it so. And so I must. I shall be the courier to the god that has killed you. And you will grant me access to the entirety of void and emptiness."

Lykra: I have and had. And it is done. No more yet or will shall keep you from the god you are. As for purpose, well now you can see the end and know it is not so. For entropy and chaos need an exit, an end to begin. Truly eternal and outside the fundamental. Everything is your domain. May Arkael the creator of my doomed world know he is not alone in gods like him. And please, let him rest in your expanse, no afterlife he could conjure can be better than the peace and immortality you can make.

"It is and was, you knew already. But I don't think I will change who I am now that I know. I think I'll just have less worry and stay confined to time until I must leave it. But if ever we need talk again, I know you are truly not dead even though you are. I've died enough times after all, to know it's meaningless to the both of us."

Lykra: I shall wait however long or short that may be. And I'm glad you do not intend to change. Another proof you were the right one for becoming god of nothing. You caught quick to my speech, something others will refuse to do. All the more doomed will he realize it long after I'm gone.

"Death isn't so bad. I get brief moments of rest and peace. Yours is violent, but all the better will the sleep be. And I'll let you into the void fully, so that it won't end. For now, enjoy boundless time away from the beginning of your doom. Perhaps a plan with Providence can help the broken world."

Lykra: And what of you. When will you be and what shall become. I cannot peek past the present that you had left as my time nears its finale. Now that you draw fully on the power I gift.

"I shall be back where I left, perhaps bound to before I am what you made and save the daughter I neglected. But I must make ammends with the current sons I have and all that remember the destroyed universe. The freedom to be outside of time tempts me yet I prefer experiencing it in the linear way it has always marched."

Lykra: I bow to thee and am have been and will be honored always by thou, God of Nothing. Monster Human Grimm

"The pleasure was mine, God of Everything's Beginning Demise. Giratina Lykra."

I know how to fix pepsi. The answer lies with the god who gave him his divinity. She can make him happy. Not through love or companionship, just through understanding. Lykra, you have more to you then I thought! Death shan't take you so gruesomely as I intended, all the better for Providence and the other concept gods!

[pilotheather]

OH FUCKING YESSS THANK GOD. WE GET TO USE THE TIMELORD CYBERMEN SO COOL IM GLAD THEY JUST DIDNT DITCH THAT CONCEPT

also love these designs for real

actually take that back this cunts just come into focus

i justsaw the spiky arm bits those looked class to me

BRO IS DAN DHYING CAN U HELP HIM

i'll be real i think one thing i will say is like.. i dont completely RATE the visuals of the chibnall era-and ive said why, with a lot of them ultimately bein very shallow despite being pretty, yada yada, BUT... i like how theyre not DARK-dark. u kno what i mean. they are always very colours and gorgeous even if a lot of the time its just sort of silly.

okay funny bit why does no one appreciate dans funny bit

CAN I SAY

DAN

LIKE THE FACT HES STILL HERE IS SO FUNNY TO ME. SORRY. LIKE I DO LIKE THE LNINES HE GETS BUT FUCK ME MAN . HALF THE TIME HES SO-

okay sorry liveblogging so theres a kid. cool. wtf was that. timeless child stuff? maybe .

alright break time

SO AS I WAS SAYING THE FACT DAN IS STILL HERE IS SO FUCKINH FUNNY BC LIKE... I GENUINELY KINDA FORGOT HE EXISTED. LIKE he has fine moments but also its like god why IS he here man...... I DONT KNOW! HE DOESNT REALLY CONNECT TO ANYTHING!

hang on now we're getting a fucking dan moment. nevermind. fi-

AHIDUVNSPIEIPFISEJPIPDJIP

"YOU SDONT HAVE TO COMEBACK FOR ME"

THATS SO FUNNY I WAS ABOUT TO SAY LIKE. WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A DAN MOMENT WOW FINALLY BEFORE HE LEAVES BUT NOPE. JUST LET HIM GO. CLASS. BYE DAN. HE FUCKING STEPPED ONTO THE SHOW BREATHED AND BYEEEEE LOL

YAZ PLEASE

SO HES JUST LEAVING? NOW? OKAY BUT THAT IS SO FUCKINH HILARIOUS. BRILLIANT.

oh classic are we going to get more funny whittaker era flimsy morals. sorry thats mean. but also come on man. you know what i mean. arghgh dont fucking genocide the daleks [willlater genocide the daleks]

is this the master....

yes;.

YEP.

DID THEY GIVE HIM BLUE EYES.THATS SO SCARY. STOP THA ODNT DO THAT THATS SOSCARY SASCHA BABYGIRL WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOUUUUUUUUU

DONT

DONTFOCUS ON THEM.

SCARY. SCARY. SCARY INTJ SCARE. STARE. AHHHH. EEEEEEEEEK.

the joker ⤵️

OKAY SORRY BUT THE CAPE..

KIND OF EATING... I HAVE TO BE HONEST. the headpiece is still really .. dodgy . it looks like someones got a doily, stiffened it and wacked it onto the back of its head with a pritt stick.

okay this was my concern just jumping about like a mad man okay holy shit theres one thing like its ONE thing to like ... purposefully try to, like, be a bit insane and disjointed but god the way theyrejust ....

yaz: 😬

HANG ON

hang on

HANG ON

OKAY HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD WITH THE HAIR AND THAT GLASSES ... CANT EVEN BE MAD ABOUT THAT. HAIR AND SUIT- HE LOOKS TOO GOOD, FRANKLY.

wow! im sure that staticky thing will have no relevance later! really fucking subtle, writers!

alright master. sure.

GOD. I HATE CHIBNALL HUMOUR.

"pinky promisey" i like that

GIVE HER A GUN?

SORRY? GIVE HER A GUN? RIGHT.. EHRM. SURE.

ANYWAY. MESSY ASS CHIBNALL ERA MORALS. GOD LOVE THEM.

god the pacing on this gthing is bloody boring

we've had 30 minutes of fucking setup. epic. and we're setting MORE up. i told you fucking hell too much SHITE packed in....

"you were HALF CAT." "mans allowed to experiemnt 😼" okay that made me grin. miaow.

okay but for real how is there so much fluff here and yet its just random jumping about and yaz is so right just going from point a to b with no explanation also like if this is what ur trying to evoke FROM the episode ur just not pulling it off man its like so dry thus far i dont even CARE sorry . SORRY

i dont get why they bring old companions back sometimes, man. it just feels so... pointless-0

BP9FJA

FJ9PAJDPGPJDGSOIGJDGJSDDOIJPAJODGJJOGDJOAS THAt eff e ctIMG OGIGNG TOT THROWURPR

DDODIDIDIIDJKDBELELEHEBENELEKEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

EHBBWKWKQLQLSOSIASO

HEPHLP HELPHLEPH ELPHELHP ELP THAT WAS THE FUNNIES TUFKCING THING IVE EVER SEEN

GOD WHO CARES

DOES THIS FUCKING EPISODE HAVE ANY EMOTIONAL HEART TO IT

ITS BEEN 40 MINUTES

THATS AN EPISODE OF FARSCAPE YOU KNOW IVE BEEN WATCHING FARSCAPE AND IM THINKING OF ALL THE THINGS THEY CAN DO IN AN EPISODE OF FARSCAPE AND GOD.

i think the traitor storyline could have been actually interesting sorry who gives a damn about the rest of this crap. i dont know. i suppose actually having an idea and investing it and exploring it to any deeper level than having shit randomly fucking fly across the screen would be too much to fucking ask

ALSO THE FUCKING

YAZ BIT. CAN WE GO BACK TO THAT. I LIKED THE YAZ DEVELOPMENT. WHY ARE.

UGH.

SORRY IM just. i dont care . im so sorry i dont even want to pretend to careany more its going to be over in 50 minutes

i forgot ...that guy was there...

also the rasputin bit its slaying a bit actually i will give them that but nothing about the delivery of it its like the lights and dancing this could

it would be so funny if literally whittaker never came back after this bit

SORRY I FEEL LIKE

IVE BEEN ZONING OUT

THE PACING ON THIS THING FUCKING SUCKS

LIKE IT OBJECTIVELY FUCKING SUCKS

I KNOW IM SUPPOSED TO CARERIGHT NOW I FUCKING DONT

anwyay as i wanted to say earlier. i dont GET why they bring back old companions, just.... because. do you know what i fucking mean? like- when sarah jane first came back, that was the story. it had the space to explore that properly... it had intention. now we justfucking drag em in . do the obligatory "woah, you LEFT us. lets make the other companion feel like shit also." and thats it and they never... and ITS LIKE SORRY BUT WHAT IS THEIR STORY ACTUALLY CONTRIBUTING TO THIS EPISODE? OTHER THAN TAKING UP TIME?

LIKE WHY IS VINDER HERE, ALSO? WHO CARES EITHER? CAN WE JUST STREAMLINE THIS THING AND ACTUALLYFOCUS ON SOEMTHING.

BC LIKE... RIGHT NOW ITS JUST SO W EIRD.

even graham coming back. what is he going to BRING to it. like- i dont know man. we had the end of s5, where they all came together, but it was so much better paced over those two episodes where they all had a solid purpose in the thing and their own proper story instead of just standing there and saying hohhh im HERE. [makes a reference] . and their stories all connected properly whereas like

now its just a load of fucking

okay im going to be honest

i stopped talking in here now bc i started rambling on discord but literally

i dont. czare i dont even care

sorry

goodnight

[hualianff]

Distant Faces

The Lonely (Instrumental) – Christina Perri

After much deliberation, HC finally decides what to give XL on his birthday: a painted portrait of XL and his parents during Xianle’s most prosperous days. Even though HC tries his best not to remember his life during those times, he knows XL loved his parents despite how everything turned out. 

It’s been over 800 years, after all. 

XL had offhandedly mentioned he can’t even remember the details of his parents’ faces anymore. The way his mother’s eyes shone chocolate brown in the sunlight; the way his father scowled in disapproval but never in a malicious manner. The way his mother held him when he felt sad, let him cry on her shoulder. The way his father looked proudly upon XL as his son.

Admittedly, XL had a complex relationship with his father. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye, especially towards Xianle’s inevitable deterioration. XL can cry because he misses his mother, but with his father, it’s more than that.

It’s regret.

It’s shame.

It’s anguish for the tension that kept his father at a distance that now seems insignificant.

But being the kind of person XL is, he’d rather remember the positive aspects of his relationship with his parents than the hardships.

Especially because he feels like he failed them in the end.

HC cannot relate to XL’s experience of having loving parents who genuinely cared for him, much less the loss of such parents. An abandoned child like himself had to bear the burden of living from a young age. HC did not grow up nurtured or fawned over; HC endured his cruel existence by looking after himself. 

After meeting XL again after his third ascension, HC now knows what it’s like to be loved–fiercely and unconditionally. To imagine losing XL gives HC a palpable semblance of what XL felt when he woke up completely alone on the day his parents passed. Over the decades, XL has briefly talked about that day, though never in full detail. Partially because XL’s mind has blocked out the trauma, but it is also simply too painful to remember.

Originally, HC heavily debated whether gifting his husband the portrait was even a good idea. The last thing he would want to do is upset or offend XL. HC wasn’t even sure he could properly replicate the king and queen’s faces.

Ultimately, HC decided to go through with his plan. He hopes that if anything, this painting can help XL recall his parents’ faces and the fond memories he had with them. Perhaps it could serve as an outlet for healing from the years XL suffered on his own. Everything HC does is for the happiness of his husband.  

After going through one of his earliest memories via his butterflies, HC spent days sketching, outlining, and painting the portrait. He miraculously managed to portray the details as accurately as possible—MQ and FX themselves confirmed. The two heavenly officials failed to hide their teary eyes, MQ abruptly turning away while FX furiously rubbed at his cheeks. It’s one of the few instances HC holds his tongue when around the two martial gods.

There is no shortage of people who celebrate XL’s birthday when it arrives—heavenly officials, Ghost City, and worshippers alike. HC spends the entire day by his husband’s side, visiting as many festivals to witness the joyous ceremonies. Worshippers place extra lavish offerings on their altars while XL’s friends personally deliver their gifts at Puqi Shrine. (The designated location for heavenly officials.)

Once it’s evening and the festivities have calmed down, only two remain inside Puqi Shrine. HC has taken the liberty to cook a quick meal for them to share. He ladles soup into XL’s bowl, then scoops rice topped with fried fish onto his plate. 

“Thank you for making us dinner, San Lang. It looks delicious,” XL says, eyes sparkling. HC smiles warmly.

“I would be a fool to not spoil Gege with wonderful food, regardless if it’s his birthday or not,” HC solemnly says. “Though I do hope he enjoys the fish and soup.”

“There are no doubts about that,” XL replies before eagerly spooning some broth into his mouth. His eyes visibly widen as he sputters a bit, spoon lowering back into the bowl. “Oh, that’s hot!”

“Careful, gege. Allow this dutiful husband to blow on it.”

They finish eating with satisfied slurps and chewing, keeping casual conversation between bites. Before XL can get up to clear off the table, HC snaps his fingers, every dish already washed and placed back in the cabinets. 

They are finally alone, energy spent and stomachs no longer empty. HC’s eyes shift to the corner of the room where a covered, flat object is propped against the wall. 

“Gege, I have one last present for you.”

“That’s been here this whole time? Wow, it’s so big!”

HC doubts himself even as he hands over the wrapped gift. He watches with bated breath as XL carefully works open the covering with nimble fingers to reveal what’s inside.

Once XL sees the entire painting in all its glory, his hand flies over his mouth. His initial excited smile upon tearing away the wrapping paper is replaced with a tense frown, the type when someone is trying their best not to cry. 

A ragged sob escapes his lips.

XL can’t stop staring at their faces—his parents’ faces—who he hasn’t seen in centuries. Who he never got to say goodbye to. He touches the canvas, paints dried and glossed over with a finishing product that gives the image a sleek sheen. He touches their familiar faces, pleasant smiles etched onto their lips, and then his own, placed between his father and mother, smiling widely: happy.

XL hugs the canvas to his body, closing his eyes, and cries his heart out.

HC’s heart shatters at the sight of XL breaking down, though it was almost a guaranteed reaction. He doesn’t hesitate to rush forward to embrace his beloved from behind, nuzzling against XL’s temple as his smaller body trembles uncontrollably. But before HC can express his pitiful apology, he hears quiet, repetitive mumbling among XL’s broken sobs.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Gege-”

“Thank you.”

“-breathe, my love.”

“Thank you.”

Over and over again. Nearly nonsensical through ragged chokes and desperate gasps for air. HC shakes his head as tears wet his own cheeks, as if to say a thank you was not needed. He rubs up and down XL’s arm, occasionally pausing to massage his neck, anything to comfort him in his sorrow. XL suddenly grasps onto HC’s wrist, an anchor from the barrage of overwhelming emotions washed over him over the last few minutes.

HC eventually rasps out a remorseful, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what for exactly. For triggering XL’s tears. For the death of XL’s parents. For the loneliness and grief XL has experienced and never had the proper closure to.

XL continues weeping without a sound. For the fear of ruining the portrait with his tears, XL carefully places the painting on the table. He gives the painting one last lookover, lower lip wobbling. XL bites his lip to suppress the whimper threatening to erupt from his throat. 

How could he ever forgive himself?

“Me too,” a son whispers to his parents. 

Half an hour later, XL and HC are situated in their bed at Paradise Manor. Per XL’s request, HC skillfully hung the painting up next to their wedding portrait. Two pieces juxtapose two different eras; one, a window to the past; the other, a relic that will remain timeless.

Someday in the future, XL will have the strength to commemorate his parents with more than just a fleeting prayer. He will describe them with words and stories that do them justice. He will honor their legacy not by following in their footsteps (for they have long disappeared against the force of time), but by practicing the values they bestowed upon him while simultaneously learning from their faults and mistakes.

However, for tonight, HC wraps XL in a snug blanket burrito, holding XL from behind as the former prince mourns in silence. HC doesn’t push his beloved. He merely squeezes XL’s hand to remind him he has someone to listen to him. The last thing XL requests before falling asleep is another portrait of his parents, this time with both him and HC sat in the middle. 

“Father...Mother...if you could see me now...see how happy I am,” XL tiredly thinks, sleep beckoning him to surrender to the darkness. “You guys really...would have loved him.”

(Special thanks to @no-one-says-hi and @iaintnosidekick for listening/helping)

(Inspiration)

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay lasertag!!! Janus you should totally go visit Remus on the weekend and hang out! Also, maybe invite Remy too, if they wanna come. Then (specially if they don't show) you can plan with them both to maybe go on another hangout with Remus but to somewhere you like and let Remy tag along for the ride if they wanna while u're at it.

(Words: 3153 words)

Janus: "Ah yes! I will let you know that after hanging out with Remus I managed to use my incredible totally very good texting skills to ask the Rems if they wanted to go to an art museum and they both for some reaosn, maybe they are being blackmailed, said yes! I hope it will go g-"

He cut himself off as he saw the two Rems come towards him. He had been waiting outside the museum. (Honestly half the reason he had choosen it was because he knew Remus liked art)

Remus waved at him while grinning. He had on sweatpants, a way too large t-shirt and a necklace made out of animal bones. Remy had their arm swung around him. Even though they had sunglasses on their eyebags were still visible.

“Aight gamers! Are we ready to do an epic art heist!! I got my sunglasses ready!” Remus exclaimed. He didn’t, he was planning on stealing Remy’s sunglasses.

“Partner you’re forgetting that we must first observe the security measures of the museum before we can even start to plan the heist” Janus replied.

“Oh!!! That’s what we’re doing today isn’t it??”

“Correct partner!”

“Babes I dunno why you gotta steal art when I’m standing right here” Remy added while posing.

“Good point. Good point” 

Janus had on a yellow bowtie he’d gotten from Logan, a loose purple shirt and black dress pants. People had to look fancy when they went to museums right? Remy had a skirt short enough to fool god and their boyfriend’s hoodie on (it looked oversized on them but with how skinny they were Everything looked oversized on them).

As soon as they got in Remus started to bounce up and down as he looked at the posters showing all the different exhibitions. There was a modern art one, classical and one smaller exhibition for specifically mosaic works.

“So whatcha you wanna look at Snakey?” Remus asked.

Janus was caught of guard “Why are you asking me?”

“Well you chose how we would hang out. C’mon you deserve to choose this too”

He looked over to Remy who shrugged “Uhm okay. Well. The classical paintings would proably give us the most money on the black market so lets look at those”

“Yay!” 

Remus quickly took on his noise canceling headphones and a chew necklace before doing thumbs up. He firmly took Janus’ hand in his. He sent him a soft smile which made Jan’s heart spin before dashing of with him into the exhibition.

A few big paintings from the renaissance hung on the wall. Remy came a little later since with the cane they walked pretty slow. Remus eyed the paintings from a distance before squinting at them up close. He flapped the hand he was hoding Janus with around.

"Oh!!! This is so cool!!!! This is from the renaissance but it's not using the chiaro oscuro technique like everyone did 'cause Da Vinci would eat their newborn if they didnt!”

"Is that why it's looking flatter than me?" Remy asked.

“YEah!! Augh I love the renaissance!!! Mostly because they were dissecting bodies so much!! sometimes for the sole purpose of drawing anatomy better!! I wanna do that! Or watch someone do that! Getting to see one of those old classrooms where they dissected corpses would be so awesome!”

“Huh good way to get rid of bodies. Great time for serial killers” Janus commented.

He let out a dreamy sigh “It truly was. They’re doing serial killers dirty nowadays”

They went through some more rooms of renaissance paintings. Janus made sure to hold Remus back a bit so Remy could keep up with them. The duke kept rambling about different shading techniques.

They stepped into another room and the style changed. Remus continued to flap his hand nonetheless. Janus was definitely going to have pain in his wrist tomorrow. It was worth it if he could hold his hand though.

Remy leaned their elbow on top of Janus’ head “This is like the baroque time right?”

“YEah!” Remus’ eyes went huge “Bean you didn’t tell me you were into art history??! Do you know about Ruben too?? I like how he paints butts!”

“What? Nah. I just- I can like see it on the clothes in the paintings. Can’t you?”

“Do I look like a time traveling fashiong guru” Janus replied sarcastically “That is honestly impressive”

Remy sunk in on themself and a hint of red appeared on their cheeks “No. Nah. I’m like a total airhead! Completel idiot! hehe I’m like tots sure everyone knows this stuff. Y’all are just bad at fashion. I uh anyway Rem you were gonna rant?”

“I was?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh....Okay!!” He looked around the room before getting caught on a small painting in the corner. He dashed over to it “HANds!”

The painting depicted 2 bloody hands over a table. They were holding onto each other. the red stuck out against the dark background. It was hard to see if they were supposed to belong to two people who were fighting or in love.

Remus looked down at Janus’ hand while playing with his fingers “I think my favorite body part are hands” He mumbled “I mean they’re horseshit to draw but they can do so much”

Janus looked away from the painting as well. He let his crush do whatever he wanted with his hand as long as he kept holding it. the way he held him so lightly but kept rubbing his thumb up and down his skin made him melt.

“Yeah they can do a lot of fucked up shit” Remy butted in. Jan nearly jumped. He’d completely lost himself in adoring his crush.

“Well hands can also be used to give snakes small berries! And to make coffee!”

“Girl I wasn’t starting an argument. But you sure did won it!”

Remus was staring down into the floor as he said “When I become a cannibal I would wanna try eating human fingers first. I’m sure they would be tasty”

“Why was there a when in there?” Jan asked in a small amount of terror.

“Oh yeah babe totally. I will like actually eat a dick” Remy agreed.

“Why is there a will in there? What kind of time tenses are you people on?? Does english grammar mean nothing to you heathens!?”

Remy got a smug look on their face. They poked their finger right into Janus’ chest “C’mon say what you will eat when you become a cannibal”

“Yeah Snakey” Remus squished his cheeks “Say it! Say it! Say it!”

The two of them kept going on while Janus looked like a sour lemon until he finally caved in.

“Fine. I would either eat the stomach or....the buttocks since they would have the most fat and sustain me the longest”

The Rems looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. “He said butT!” Remus cackled out. The other Rem nodded along and pretended to wipe away a tear from laughter.

“Aight babe let’s put the guy out of his misery” 

They motioned for Remus to go ahead. He happily skipped into the next room and grabbed Jan’s hand to take him with him. The snake couldn’t help but notice how Remy stayed behind for a monent.

“Oh cool!! We’re onto impressionism! The first real art style!” He sighed “From impressionism to cartoon furries. How magical the journey of art is” 

(Jan who had a scaley phase in high school chose to not reply)

“I love the music as well. Crazy lads. My favorite lad?” Remus snickered “De bussy!!”

“That’s my porn name” Remy instantly replied, coming up behind them. “Hey that paint lady kinda like looks like Terra” They pointed at a painting.

“....Hey YEaH! I guess my art is timeless!”

Janus looked between them “who’s Terra?”

“Well girl” Remy playfully ruffled Remus’ hair “She’s just Rem’s tots cool like cartoon character. She’s like all over his sketchbook. Makes it look kinda straight if you ask me but she does have like a very cool design so I get it!”

“Oh......Yes...Sounds very....cool”

The group kept going around looking at art. While it felt like lead was filling Janus’ chest. He’d never heard about Terra. He’d never seen his sketchbook. Meaning they had spent time with each other without him.

He pierced his nails into his palms to stop the thoughts. He refused to be some jealous person who didn’t allow his friends to hang out without him.....Still he wish he could have seen the drawings as well....seen them smile together...heard their shared laughter....

Oh. Oh what if they thought he was annoying. What if they preferred being without him. What if he’d forced them to come here today. What if-

“Hey snakey wanna look at the modern art as well?” Remus interrupted.

“What?” 

Without realizing they’d gone through all of the classic art. Now they were in the last room with not much more than a giant painting the size of one of the walls and a bench.

“That sounds horrid!”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly continued of into the next exhibition. Janus still had the taste of lead filling his throat as he went to follow. Until he realized Remy wasn’t there. He turned around and saw them sitting on the bench in front of the painting. They were leaning their arms on their cane.

“It would probably give us a lot on the black market” Jan said while sitting down beside them.

“Mhm. It’s pretty. I just like wanted to look at it some more” They lied.

“Understandable” 

The painting was pretty much a big flower field with a summer sky shining down on it. Janus noticed how Remy forced deep breathes through their gritted teeth. Their brows were furrowed and their hands kept shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!” 

“I have some painkillers with me. Would that help agains the pain you’re totally not in?”

They glanced over to him “Girl what you doing walking around with painkillers?”

He looked at them with the most deadpan expression “Remy I’m overweight. You can not phantom how often I get knee pain" He took out a pill and held it out to them "Here"

"There's really like no need! I can like handle it"

Even more deadpan "You shouldn’t have to ‘handle it’. It's 1 painkiller dear. I'm not exactly becoming a saint because of this"

They hesitantly took it "Thanks"

He did fingerguns "No problemo"

They stayed sitting for a bit so the pill could kick in. Jan shuly glanced over to admire them every now and then. Remy kept looking down into the floor while picking at their skin.

“I’m sorry” They said it in a much quieter voice than their usual high pitched one “I tried to do everything right so I wouldn’t ruin everything. I even went to bed early so I wouldn’t get tired....I...I really looked forward to getting to be with you two”

Janus heart beat faster. He pulled himself together to comfort them “You haven’t ruined a thing”

They hid their face in their hands “I’ve been tired and out of it all day. I keep like slowing you down. Don’t think I haven’t like noticed how much you have to hold Rem back from going faster! I’ve just been making this all much worse than it should have been”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? I for one appreciate you simply being here. You don’t have to do anything to make me appreciate you, don’t even have to talk. I hope you know that”

“....really?”

“Oh no darling I totally expect you to win the nobel prize while in a kind of pain I can’t even imagine being in on a daily basis”

Remy chuckled “Thanks”

“There’s really no need for that. I am at any and all times doing the absolute minimum to be counted as a decent human being”

“Sure snakey-babey” They had a soft smile on their face.

They moved to hug him. Their arms wrapped around his back and they muffled their head right between his man titties. Janus sat still for a few seconds, too flustered to think before moving his arms around them as well. A hand on the back of their head, another on their lower back. Their skin felt so cold against his.

Remy closed their eyes and let themself calm down. They could feel Janus’ breathing against their hair.

“I think my fav like human part is the chest” They mumbled out “‘Cause I can hear the heart beat. It reminds me I’m- we’re still like alive”

“Like a bloody biological seashell”

“Exactly” They pressed themself closer. “I like being with you” It was nothing more than a whisper, like it was a secret “When you’re here I feel a bit less like a rotting corpse”

Janus held onto them harder “Well I-I try my best”

“I know babe”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The people around them must think they were a couple. He closed his eyes and focused on Remy’s touch, on Picani’s words from their last session. He managed to push enough of the shame away and focus on the happy butterflies in his stomach instead.

Remy moved away. The moment broke.

“We should probs go find Rem before he starts like eating the art”

“haha yeah” Janus did thumbs up but kept sitting. He’d gone full idiot.

It wasn’t until he saw Remy straining to stand up even with the cane his brain kicked back in.

“Is there some way I could help?”

They didn’t answer. But they did lean their arm around his shoulder to let him carry some of their weight. They slowly but surely made their way to the modern art exhibition.

Remus was sitting crosslegged in front of a weird statue, he was doodling in his sketchbook but shone up into a smile when he saw them.

“There you are! I was starting to think that either the zombie apocalypse had started or you were making out somehwere”

“Oh yeah babe. Full tounge” Remy joked back. Jan let out an inhumane noise.

He closed his sketchbook “I think we’re done here. You’re looking tired beanie. We can come back some other day”

Remy held back the urge to lie that they were fine. Instead they weakly nodded.

The gang left the museum. Right beside it was an ice cream shop. Remus got 3 scoops of a worryingly weird mix of flavors. Janus got 1 scoop of lemon. Remy didn’t feel like eating.

They sat down on a couple of benches right outside. Remy laid down with their head leaned onto Remus’ thigh. He chewed his ice cream while calmly moving his hand up and down their back.

Soon enough they were deep asleep. Janus quickly laid his jacket over their legs. He didn’t want to accidentally see anything under their skirt without their consent.

Remus stared at him like a blood sucking eagle while smiling “Soooo now when beanie is in dream land.......Do” He stopped to giggle “Janny. Janny. Do. Do you like someooooonnneee??”

Janus just blinked at him for half a minute. This was too much. This whole day was too much. He was a wreck. His crush was asking him THis?! While his other crush was laying in his crush’s lap?!?

“Why- Why- What- Who are you working for?! The fucking FBI??? Are they after me?” He desperately tried to joke it away.

“No. No. But seriously JanJan!” He wiggled his shoulders around in a stimmy way “Do you happen to like anyone with a name that starts on R????”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Janus kept glancing between his two crushes while his blushing could be seen out into space. He wanted to lie but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Remus leaned closer and whispered “You’re into Remy right?”

He nodded. A breathe of relief went through him. At least Remus didn’t know he liked him.

“OH I KNEW IT!” Remus yelled out in excitement while flapping his hands.

“Shh! Shh!” Janus scrambled to cover his mouth as Remy stirred for a moment. “Shhhh!” They cuddled closer to their friend and fell back asleep.

“I knew it!” He giggled “Or I mean Remy knew. They told me they thought you were into them”

“WHAT?!” 

Now it was Remus that covered his mouth. He was full on cackling “Yeah! They said it was really obvious! But good for you snakey! I’m sure if you murder their boyfriend you can get them in no time! Or you can become a fab homewrecker!! I can help you buy a nice sexy dress and all!!”

Janus paled in terror “How- In- What- In what way did they say it was obvious?”

“Oh y’know-”

The notif on his phone went off. He checked and his eyes went wide. He carefully moved Remy’s head onto the bench before standing up.

“Sorry snakey! Ro needs super duper emergency help! Gotta go!! See you later! Don’t die!”

Remus left him just like that.  Right after dropping THAT bomb on him. Janus sat unmoving. His mouth was slightly agape in shock. His thoughts were runnig around screaming nonstop.

He sat like that for over 20 minutes until Remy let out a yawn and slowly woke up. They took off their sunglasses to rub their eyes. Just seeing their vibrantly green eyes made Janus panic even more.

“Did Rem disintegrate?” Their voice was hoarse from sleepyness. Janus pinched himself to hold back the uhm feelings.

“He- he uh he went he went he sure did went yeah”

“....Cool!”

They stretched their joints, they all cracked. They looked to Janus and moved closer. He couldn’t breathe. They knew. They knew. They knew.

“Girl are you feeling okay?” They pressed their palm to his forehead “You’re like super hot. In both ways! Maybe you should like go home and rest. I gotta get home before my boyf gets home anyway”

“Y-yeah” Was all Janus could get out.

“Cool. OH! By the way! Girl!!! We haven’t like hung out just the two of us right?? We should tots do that! Just like tell me whatever you wanna do and we can do it!”

“Yeah”

“Awesome! Well I’ll see you on that hang out then”

They hugged him for just a few seconds but for those seconds Janus felt like he was in heaven.

They got up and left. Janus slumped over on the bench. His heart was going crazy. They knew. They knew and now they wanted to hang out alone with him. He turned to you. His eyes were wide and panicked.

Janus: “W-what am I supposed to do? I don’t know any good hang out plans! Do you know any??? I’m- this is all- how did they even know I like them! Oh I’m sounding like an overdramatic 13 year old.....This totally isn’t really overwhelming. I would hate getting Logan cuddles right now!”

[kaibacorpintern]

For the prompt thing: kaiba + yuugi + professionalism!

this was fun!! thanks to @dxmichelle for the retail stories. kaiba as a retail worker is like me when I was a retail worker because when i worked at a barnes and noble, i spent a LOT of time perfectly squaring the books. anyway all the kaibacorp adventure park castmembers get some fat fucking pay raise/benefit boosts after this

***

This was all Jounouchi’s fucking fault and Seto was never agreeing to any stupid fucking bets again. When did he become a good duelist, instead of just a lucky one? And he knew it, too, announcing his plans to win the Domino City Invitational with the kind of brash, easy confidence that was a front for nothing, a Roman wall around nothing, with nothing he needed to defend on the other side. As hard to read as a coloring book. Asshole. 

“The gods have struck men down for less hubris than this,” Seto snapped, over a game of poker at Yuugi’s weekly game night. Mokuba had badgered him into attending after their return from the yearly strategic planning retreat with the board. You need to be around normal people! No more sharks in people suits! 

“So what? You don’t believe in higher powers, Rich Boy.”

 “In my experience, a god and a higher power are two separate things."

“Oh, okay, Neeshee. Maybe you don’t believe in me, but you do believe in games,” Jounouchi said.

“Devastating insight,” Seto said. “And it’s Nietzsche.”

“Bless you. Don't be rude and sneeze into a tissue next time. Let’s make a bet. When I win the Invitational, you… pick up all my shifts at the Kame Game Shop for a week. I take home all the paychecks, but you do all the work. You know, bog-standard capitalism.”

Seto rolled his eyes. “When you lose, you give the jet a good wash and wax. Then you throw your deck and your Duel Disk into the river, and never duel again.”

“Deal. And I tell you what, Kaiba. One day we’re gonna meet across the field, and you’re going to lose, but it won’t even bother you, because you had just so much fun,” Jounouchi said, extending his hand across the table, with a savage grin. 

“Don’t fucking threaten me,” Seto said, shaking his hand.

Asshole! Jounouchi stomped the competition with an ease Seto hadn’t seen since he was fourteen and unceremoniously sacking Inspector Haga at the Pan Pacific Final. 

At least Yuugi gave him his own nametag, instead of making him wear Jounouchi’s: a plastic, turtle-shaped badge with a white space for his name. There was a line below it that said MY FAVORITE GAME IS... chess, Seto wrote in moodily, with the marker. Then he affixed it to his dark-green apron, neatly and precisely, just over his heart.

Yuugi nudged the curtain into the stock room aside, wearing a matching apron and smiling like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Ready to clock in - oh, no. This is the Kame Game Shop,” he said, reaching up to fix Seto’s name tag, tweaking it to sit slightly at an angle. “Perfect right angles are for squares.”

“A KaibaCorp Adventure Park castmember wouldn’t be caught dead with their nametag this sloppy,” Seto snapped.

“It’s not sloppy. It’s jaunty and playful,” Yuugi corrected. “Now, let’s review. You’re an engineering prodigy, so I’m sure you can handle the register. What do we do when a customer walks in?”

Seto sighed, hands bracing on his hips as his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. That asshole picked up five full days of double shifts. 

“Welcome them when they walk in,” he said, as Yuugi nodded along. “Ask if they need any help. If they’re just browsing, leave them alone. Provide recommendations if they ask.”

“And?” Yuugi prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“Wrap and bag their purchases and thank them for wasting my fucking time.”

Yuugi reached up, pressing the tips of his index fingers into Seto’s cheeks. “No! Smile!” 

Seto bared his teeth.

“Can’t believe people call you a bad sport,” Yuugi said. “Maybe just smize instead. Go! Clock in! Upsell your own Duel Disk!”

Seto let out a final dramatic huff, took the clipboard off its hook on the wall, and added his billion-dollar contract signature to the timesheet, below several rows of Jounouchi’s scrawl. 

***

After four hours, Seto took his lunch break, an all-too-brief thirty minutes in the alley behind the Game Shop, leaning back with one foot propped against the wall, answering emails on his phone with all the speed and fury his thumbs could muster. It was high summer. Vines spilled over the wall on the other side of the alleyway, limp and vibrating with heat. Even the shade under the wall was warm. 

The side door opened. He turned his head, preparing a choice little bon mot for Yuugi, and paused, his breath hitching in his chest with a wild regret, birdlike, startled suddenly out of hiding. 

He stared at Sugoroku, privately cursing Jounouchi for the nth time for making the fucking bet, winning the fucking Invitational, and putting him here in this fucking alleyway, staring at Sugoroku. It was too late to go back inside. Sugoroku stared back, hoary-haired, stooped under the weight of his years. Even wizened, with skin like old, pale leather, the family resemblances were clear: the same big, warm eyes, the same bright smile, no less weakened for age. 

He shuffled out the door, dragging a small garbage bag of recycling beside him.

“Open that up and drop this in, will you please? My back’s not what it used to be.”

“Yes,” Seto said, rapidly stooping to take the bag. Should he add sir? Yes, sir? He hadn’t said 'sir' to anyone in ten years. What was he supposed to say? Sorry. I was not myself. I was myself, but the worst version. It was the beta release of me and we have removed the bugs (the murder bugs) in advance of stable release. All remaining bugs are acceptable. We have added accurate legal and medical disclaimers to all our SolidVision and Virtual World products about how the sensory intensity of KaibaCorp proprietary holographic technology may exacerbate existing heart conditions. I am taking good care of her and I love her and she loves me. Who? Her. The dragon. 

He dropped the bag into the recycling bin several steps away and turned around to face Sugoroku, summoning his resolve with an inhale, exhale, firm and deep. 

“How’s your first day?” Sugoroku said.

“My company isn’t going down in flames without me,” Seto said. “Color me surprised.”

“How’s your first day here?”

“Enthralling. The adrenaline high of consumer retail is really just something else - ”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you over all that racket you’re making,” Sugoroku said. Seto paused, bewildered, mouth half-open - and shut it, color flaring across his face.

“Uh - fine,” he muttered. “It’s fine. I helped an eight-year-old pick out a board game.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She came in with all the allowance she’d saved up and she wanted something she could play with her sister. I sold her on mancala."

"That's a classic. Not a board game, but a classic. And hard to sell to children."

Seto scoffed. "I hate the crap they pass off as board games these days, with all the… fiddly, little plastic pieces and the arcane rules. Children get drawn in by the colors, but they don't have patience for the rules, so it ends up forgotten at the bottom of a bookshelf somewhere with half the pieces sucked up in the vacuum cleaner. Mancala is simple. You can play it with a patch of dirt and a handful of gravel. But if you want to win, you need to play with skill and wit. It's timeless. It’s elegant."

"Well, you've sold me. I haven’t played mancala in years. Shall we play tomorrow? During your lunch break?"

Seto said nothing, resisting the urge to bite his lip, a bad habit and a sign of nervousness.

“Yuugi speaks very highly of you, you know,” Sugoroku said. “I’d love to know why.”

He chuckled and shuffled back inside, leaving Seto fuming with an odd, stomach-clenching embarrassment. 

He checked his phone. Three more minutes left of his lunch break, and his feet were aching. He should’ve worn different shoes, not the Chelsea boots. Tomorrow. Mancala? Damn Jounouchi to hell. Better shoes.

***

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “Do you have Legendary Heroes II?”

Seto abandoned his task of aligning board game boxes at perfect right angles. Fuck jaunty and playful.

“No. That’s not out until December,” he said. The production issues on Legendary Heroes II were a fucking nightmare, and the thought of making his game developers crunch - making them miserable, overworked, and more likely to quit and get snapped up by Schroeder Corp - gave him hives. So he’d pushed release back to December, allowing the small hit to his stock under the rationale that the holiday retail season would make up for it. But she didn’t need to know that. 

“But - it’s my son’s birthday next Saturday, and Legendary Heroes is his favorite game,” she said, hands clenching loosely by her stomach, a gesture of pleading.

“I’m delighted to hear it. It does not change the fact that the game literally does not exist,” Seto said. 

“Can you just check in the back? He’s been asking about this for months now,” she said, and Seto clicked his teeth, face slipping into a snarl - from the corner of his eye, he saw Yuugi, watching him.

Smile, he mouthed, and pressed his fingers into his own cheeks, putting on a manic, plastic grin. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” Seto said, smiling, and stormed away. As expected, he did not find Legendary Heroes II in the stock room. He dawdled, checking his email, firing off a few replies, advising Mokuba on the right way to handle the zesty temperament of their general counsel - this’ll be fun, Mokuba said, I get to run KaibaCorp without you, like, dying or something - WHAT? - and stashed his phone back into his apron pocket.

“My apologies,” he said, returning to the woman. “We don’t have it in stock. If you’d like to pre-order it, it’ll be available just in time for Christmas. Just log on to the KaibaCorp website and enter the Kame Game Shop as your pick-up location. If you’re still looking for a birthday gift, I strongly suggest the new Duel Disk. The design is much better for children than the old one - lighter and more streamlined, with less intense haptics. If he already has a Duel Disk, he can bring that in for a trade-in.”

“Oh, perfect!” she said. “We'll do that. Thank you. You’ve been so helpful.”

“You’re welcome. Have a fantastic day,” Seto said, still smiling. He watched her leave and returned to his board game boxes, feeling hideously, fabulously smug. A customer walked in, carrying a bare Duel Disk under his arm, and Seto shot him a cheerful welcome. The man ignored him, heading straight to Yuugi at the counter.

***

Yuugi swallowed, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin.

"I'm sorry. We cannot accept a Duel Disk return without a box or a receipt," he said. Clearly stolen. 

"But I bought it here two weeks ago. And the stupid piece of shit is defective," the man said. "I want my money back!"

Loud enough that Seto, re-stocking towards the front of the store, turned towards them, with open curiosity.

"What's the nature of the defect?" Yuugi said.

"It just doesn't fucking work. I don't know what else to tell you," the guy said. "Are you gonna do the return or not?!"

His least favorite type of customer: smashing reason apart with the baseball bat of belligerence. Yuugi steeled himself for the inevitable slew of insults. 

"Sir. I can't do the return without a receipt - "

A hand came down on his shoulder, pulling him with polite insistence out of the way. Seto, with a canny, feline smile, the kind that foretold bloodshed on the dueling field.

"Oh no, Yuugi," he said. "Let me handle this."

[darkarfs]

my favorite WWE matches of 1997

Though I officially started watching wrestling in 1995 (my family famously first bought SummerSlam that year, which would be my first wrestling show ever, because it was $25.00. 1995 was a bad year for wrestling), I became a regular watcher of both WWE and WCW Raw and Nitro, and was able to buy my own PPVs, around summer of 1996, when Hogan turned. The first show I bought with my own money was In Your House: Buried Alive, though I kept up with weekly TV. And, for better or worse, I've been a fan ever since.

1997 was a REAL rollercoaster year for wrestling. The NWO was becoming a bloated mess in no time at all, Bret Hart was riding high, while he and Shawn Michaels publicly hated one another, a young Rocky Maivia was slowly transforming into the most charismatic wrestler of maybe all time, a young Steve Austin has broken his neck and can only work 5 minute matches but is somehow the most OVER wrestler in the company, and by the end of the year, the Screwjob happens, Bret's in WCW, Shawn's on handfuls of SOMAs (yet main-eventing). In a lot of ways, I'm grateful, because I side-stepped all of Hogan's WWF and WCW run. But it was a tornado of a year for a business always on precarious footing, as it ever has been.

And it gave us some CRACKING matches! - The 1997 Royal Rumble I love me a Rumble, and it's REALLY hard (but not impossible) to find a bad one (1993, 1995, 1999). And I personally love one with a storyline that runs throughout, and in this case, it's the ultimate heeling of Stone Cold Steve Austin. He visibly dominates the match until he hears Bret Hart's music, and then goes into panic mode. And it furthers the characterization of Bret's hand-spun narrative as being rightfully pissed that he's being taken advantage of by the roster, screwed by the company, and booed by the fans. Fun bonus: this is also the only Rumble appearance of lucha legend Mil Mascaras, who was so full of old-school carny spirit he famously refused to let anyone else eliminate him, so he eliminated himself, pissed Vince off, and was not spoken of again on WWE TV until the 2012 Hall of Fame ceremony, where he was inducted by his huge prick nephew, Alberto del Rio. - Bret Hart vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin, WrestleMania 13 This match is considered legendary, and for good reason. The greatest technical wrestler in the company vs. the best brawler, months of build, the world's most iconic (and off-the-cuff) blade-job (so much so that the visual of Austin bleeding in the Sharpshooter going "DAAAHHHH!" became the cover for his first VHS) and the wrestling world's most exquisite double-turn. It's fun, it's thrilling, it feels at once timeless and modern. Fun fact: there's a fun version of this match you can watch with just Austin doing commentary over it, and it's entertaining as hell. A true classic, and one of the greatest 'Mania matches of all time. - Ken Shamrock vs. Vader, No Holds Barred match, In Your House: a Cold Day In Hell Vader, famously, while a big teddy bear and a for-all-accounts lovely guy outside of the ring, had a reputation of being a bit "snug" with other wrestlers. Meaning he hit a little too hard, had little self-control, and took liberties with people, especially rookies and younger guys. It's supposedly why Shawn Michaels didn't want to work a world title program with him from summer to fall of 1996, because he was "too rough." But what never occurred to Vader is that trying that with a guy who's had 2 matches but has almost 5 years of MMA experience might not be the smartest or most prudent idea. Shamrock gives Vader as much as Vader gives him in this match, and there are moments where you can tell the guys are going into business for themselves. There's a moment where Shamrock is clubbing Vader with punches, and you can hear Vader, as he's turtling up and putting his arms up to block, yell "SLOW DOWN!" and then he rolls out of the ring to catch a breather. Vader, by the end of this match, is bleeding through his mask, a product of a broken nose, which is why I assume he gives Shamrock the stiffest short-arm clothesline I've ever seen. It's brutal, it's stupid, it weaves in and out of the script SO many times like a drunk man trying to stand up straight on a canoe, and I'm fascinated by each and every instance. - Owen Hart vs. the British Bulldog, European Championship Tournament Finals, Monday Night Raw, March 3rd Somehow, a workrate classic is stuck on a rinky-dink episode of Raw from Berlin, Germany. Smith and Hart blended some of their acquired WWE-style of work with classic junior heavyweight wrestling, complete with intricate reversals and fast-paced offense that was unlike either man's designed ethos of the time. Hart's shift toward his underhanded instincts as the match wore on provided enough story to balance the beautiful grappling from two men with impressive resumes. You can feel that these two knew one another, grew up together, and most importantly, wrestled together. An honest-to-God sleeper hit, but everyone who knows this match calls it a classic. - Shawn Michaels vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin, King of the Ring It's a concept that would be beaten into the ground in short order: Tag Team Champions that hate each other's guts. John Cena, seriously, has only been tag champions with people he's feuding with. That's

not even a joke. Austin and Michaels won the belts out of mutual dislike for the Hart Foundation, and then were programmed together for a wild match at the King of the Ring, one without a winner. Early on, the two actually pieced together a tremendous wrestling match full of nifty counters (prior to Austin changing his style after August for obvious reasons), before it degenerated into chaos after both men assaulted referees in the heat of the moment. Granted, neither man could really lose this one, so the screwy finish did serve its purpose. Until that point, it's a different type of incredible Austin match. You're never so happy to see a double-DQ finish. - Owen Hart & the British Bulldog vs. Shawn Michaels & Stone Cold Steve Austin, Monday Night Raw, May 26th And now we have a match set! The previous 4 participants in a brilliant and brutal tag team match. The Tag Team championship switch marked Austin's first piece of recognized gold in WWE, in a match on free television no less. That's not to insult the match any, as it was a pay-per-view quality fracas that barely slowed down. It is a mere 14 minutes long WITH entrances, but it moves at a clip, and everyone has their working boots on. It was a harbinger of days to come for this new period in WWE's history, and the crowd ate it up.

- Taka Michinoku vs. the Great Sasuke, In Your House: Canadian Stampede What happened here? Just when you think WCW had the cruiserweights cornered, WWE pulls this shit...and then kind of ignores it for a few months. But not before importing two of Michinoku Pro's finest to have a TakeOver-length exhibition. At first, the crowd in Calgary wasn't sure what to make of the undersized performers, but it wouldn't take long to win them over. From Michinoku's hands-free springboard dive to Sasuke's beautiful Thunder Fire Powerbomb, the expansive crowd was positively hooked on the daredevils with each passing minute. Although Sasuke wouldn't be long for the company, and Michinoku's run as Light Heavyweight Champion faded as 1998 wore on, the display at Canadian Stampede was a wondrous experience. This wouldn't have looked out of place in a Chikara King of Trios tournament. - The Hart Foundation (Bret Hart, Owen Hart, Jim Neidhart, Brian Pillman, the British Bulldog) vs. Team Austin (Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Legion of Doom, Ken Shamrock and Goldust), In Your House: Canadian Stampede I would have put this match on the list for the entrances and the finish alone. The crowd is at fever static for the entire match, seriously at the level of Punk/Cena at MITB 2011. And even though the Harts are the heels, they're in Calgary, and they get rock-star level ovations for merely existing. Everyone plays it mad and delighted, and you can tell they're all having a ball. Especially Pillman, who is just magically unhinged, a template for a young Dean Ambrose during their feud with the Wyatt Family. It is a magical, unreal main event, one of the best B-ppv main events maybe of all time. Well...other than MAYBE... - Shawn Michaels vs. the Undertaker, Hell in a Cell, In Your House: Badd Blood The very first Hell in a Cell match may very well double as the greatest of its kind. What stands out to me (other than how the match ends) is just how GREAT Michaels' selling is. When he's running away, he's constantly looking around for an exit, like a scared rat. When he finally gets caught and struck, he sells almost to the level he did for Hogan at SummerSlam 2005. But while he was doing that to make Hogan's offense look stupid, he's doing it here to make Taker's offense and anger look legit, and it somehow WORKS. But as fabulous as the match and the psychology is, it somehow takes a backseat to the debut of the Undertaker's monstrous little brother Kane, finally confronting his older brother in perhaps the greatest character debut in WWE history. - Mankind vs. Kane, Survivor Series I dunno what it is about this match that does it for me. Mankind's emotional lead-up to the match, where he's sad that Uncle Paul (Bearer) left him. Maybe the fact that Kane sells like Michael Myers, not so much that he's in pain, but as if he's never been hit in the face with a steel chair, a DDT or a piledriver. Maybe it's because Mick takes more horrific bumps than he needs to to make sure Kane looks like a legit monster. Maybe it's the broken Virtua Boy lighting. But it's genuinely unlike any other Mankind, Kane or ANY match I've seen before or since. It's a perfect somehow sympathetic serial killer vs. bigger, scarier serial killer that feels nothing story in a wrestling match. I didn't even know you could DO that.

[recentanimenews]

RECS: Want to Watch Old Anime? Discotek Has You Covered

Every anime season brings a new roster of hits, but the shows of the past recede into the distance. Certainly, there are some exceptions and niche fans keep the spirit of ongoing series like Gundam alive. But with the continued emphasis on new and exciting anime, it’s tempting to forget the multitude of great shows and movies that already exist.   The Discotek label has fought consistently over the past several years to ensure that anime’s past is preserved. Run by industry stalwarts, they’ve done the impossible time and time again: they tracked down the masters of cult OVA Project A-Ko, painstakingly restored the 2001 remake of Cyborg 009: The Cyborg Soldier from thousands of damaged tapes, and much of their best stuff is now available for streaming.

  If you’re looking for something a little different or simply looking for a new show to watch, why not travel back into anime’s past? Here are some great TV series and movies as enjoyable today as they were when they were produced.

  These are just my own recommendations, picked from the great sea of Discotek titles. But if you want to explore further, and check out titles including real-life inspiration on Yoko Taro, Sister Princess, you can find their shared Crunchyroll catalog list here.

  Note: The titles listed are largely only available in the United States and Canada.

  Movie Night

  Urusei Yatsura Movie 2: Beautiful Dreamer

    One of the best-known anime directors ever, Mamoru Oshii first made his mark with an outrageously popular animated sitcom: Urusei Yatsura, the series that put the queen of romantic comedy manga Rumiko Takahashi on the map. Oshii struck a balance throughout the TV series between hilarious comedy and experimentation, but it was in the second Urusei Yatsura film, Beautiful Dreamer, that he really went all out. This surreal time loop story keeps finding new ways to defy audience expectations throughout its runtime both as an atypical Urusei Yatsura tale as well as a sterling example of just how imaginative and ground-breaking the Urusei Yatsura anime could be at its best.

  GoShogun: The Time Etranger

    GoShogun: The Time Etranger is that classic anime standby: a film completely different in tone and content than the franchise that spawned it. Released four years after the original 1981 super robot series, The Time Etranger spends much of its runtime focused on the dreams and anxieties of sole female cast member Remy as she lies in a coma at the hospital. Examining “what happens after” a final super robot fight, it remains an enjoyable film with smarter writing than you’d expect.  The Time Etranger is also a notable favorite of the great 80sanime Tumblr.

  Night on the Galactic Railroad

    Kenji Miyazawa’s novel Night on the Galactic Railroad might be best known to English-speaking audiences as a reference point for anime like Mawaru Penguindrum and Galaxy Express 999, but in truth, it’s one of the most beloved Japanese children’s stories ever written. An anime film adaptation was released in 1985, directed by the famed Gisaburo Sugii and scored by Yellow Magic Orchestra member Haruomi Hosono. Also, the characters are all drawn as cats! While slow-paced, it’s a strong adaptation that captures the charming and whimsical spirit of the original novel.

  Other Discotek movie recommendations:

All the other 6 Urusei Yatsura movies

Jin Roh

Like the Clouds, Like the Wind

Ringing Bell

  Mecha

  Giant Gorg

    Folks talk up director Yoshiyuki Tomino as the key creative force behind the original Gundam. But don’t forget Yoshikazu Yasuhiko, the talented character designer behind both Mobile Suit Gundam and Zeta Gundam. His most personal anime project is Giant Gorg, the story of a young boy who stumbles across a giant robot on a mysterious island. Rather than a Gundam-style war narrative, Giant Gorg is a proper adventure story in which the young cast spring from cliffhanger to cliffhanger. A white whale in American anime fandom for years, it was finally licensed for distribution in the United States in 2015. Don’t forget this fantastic mash-up between the Giant Gorg OP and the Perfect Strangers theme!

    Mazinger Edition Z

    In Mazinger Edition Z, cult-favorite director Yasuhiro Imagawa reimagines Go Nagai’s classic robot series to create a unified setting packed with pulpy thrills and conspiracies: The giant robot Mazinger has a past history involving the Greek god Zeus! The villain Baron Ashura is recontextualized as a deeply tragic villain with the best story arc in the series! We’re even given Tsubasa Nishikori, a Go Nagai staple who here becomes Imagawa’s best-written female character! 

  Mazinger Z is absolutely suffused with the spirit that made Imagawa’s earlier masterpiece Giant Robo so beloved and is an essential watch for any fan of that series. Not to mention that it ends with a cliffhanger brutal enough to make Go Nagai jealous.

  Other Discotek mech recommendations:

Dai-Guard

Gunbuster 2

Tetsujin 28

  Comedy

  Cromartie High School

    Anime comedies speak to the time that they were made, but there’s something uniquely timeless about Cromartie High School. You could say the show is funny because it’s set in a high school whose roster of delinquents includes a robot, Freddie Mercury, and a gorilla. But I think it goes even further than that: Cromartie High School is funny because its rowdy delinquents live lives just as boring as our own. When I watch Cromartie High School, I think not “what weirdos!” but “same, bro.” True in 2003, true in 2021.

  Other Discotek comedy recommendations:

Bludgeoning Angel Dokuro-chan

Cat Girl Nuku Nuku

Golden Boy

Samurai Pizza Cats

  Drama

  Key the Metal Idol

    Key the Metal Idol is a truly weird series. Directed and written by Hiroaki Sato, one of three animation directors who brought anime film masterpiece Akira to life, it’s the story of an android tasked by her creator to become human by making 30,000 friends. It’s a series that skewers the entertainment industry but is also loaded down with science fiction exposition. It’s a series that’s deeply in love with the work of David Lynch. Key the Metal Idol is flawed and idiosyncratic, but it’s also a genre-busting original far ahead of its time. And the opening credit sequence rules.

  The Twelve Kingdoms

    Fantasy anime are a dime a dozen these days, but for my money, no recent title comes close to The Twelve Kingdoms. The series has its share of magical creatures, epic duels, and even more elaborate fantasy worldbuilding than you can shake a sword at. But most of all, it’s a story about people and growth. Twelve Kingdoms puts its cast of scared teenagers in a crucible and subjects them to intense pressure until those teenagers realize, to their shock and genuine awe, that they can handle anything the world throws at them. Twelve Kingdoms deserves consideration along with Berserk as one of the greatest works of epic fantasy that animation has to offer.

  Other Discotek drama recommendations:

Hajime no Ippo: The Fighting!

Honey and Clover

Kaiba

True Tears

  What are your favorite older anime? Is there an anime BluRay or DVD you treasure most? Let us know in the comments!

    Adam W is a Features Writer at Crunchyroll. When he is not evangelizing Kaiba to his friends and neighbors, he sporadically contributes with a loose group of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? You can find him on Twitter at:@wendeego

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a feature, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Adam Wescott

[mischiefandi]

A Shitty Love Song (Part 2) - Stiles Stilinski

Altered State Of Mind

A/N: hi guys!! im super happy im posting part 2 of this series :)) I really hope you like it and once again, huge thank u to @duskholland​ for all your help <33

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: panic attack, mentions of underage drinking, swearing

Word Count: 5,2K

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ elevantarts on unsplash)

A blaring sound resonated in Y/N’s ears and she groaned, her fingers curling around the blanket she lay beneath. A throbbing sensation in her head forced her to pry her eyes open, sunlight seeping through the gaps in her eyelids.

Reaching up to rub her eyes, Y/N tried to sit up, the throbs against her forehead staggeringly more painful. When her eyes finally accustomed themselves to the light, Y/N glanced around, looking for the source of the insufferable noise. The blaring seemed to come from far away and nearby at the same time; Y/N was simply too tired to make any sense.

“Oh my god, my head,” she moaned, falling back against the soft pillow with a grunt.

“Would someone please shut that off,” a voice mumbled from underneath a heap of pillows and messed up sheets.

“Y/N, it’s your phone,” another voice groaned.

Passing a shaking hand over her face, Y/N forced herself to fully open her eyes and focused on the sound of the alarm, still shrieking in sync with her god awful headache. Reaching over her head, she grabbed her phone and put it on silent, thanking the universe for the sudden alleviating silence.

“Well last night was-“

“-crazy.”

Y/N shot a glance at Lydia’s bed where the strawberry blonde was propped up against her pillows, wiping off the smudged mascara beneath her big green eyes.

“I can’t even focus right now. What happened last night?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

“You don’t remember?”

“I mean, bits and pieces, why?”

Allison and Lydia exchanged a look.

“Uh, Y/N you went wild yesterday.”

“I did?” asked Y/N, worry seeping through her oily pores.

“We had to get a cab home cause neither one of us was fit to drive, and…you definitely threw up in the cab.”

Y/N groaned, a hand flying up to her forehead. “That explains the taste in my mouth.” She thought to herself.

“Yea, you got pretty drunk. Thank god, Stiles and Scott were there or you’d have passed out right on the dancefloor.”

“Wait, they were there?”

Allison sent Y/N a confused look, biting her lip.

“Well yeah, they got there about thirty minutes after we did. Did you not hang out with them at all?” she asked.

A sudden flash of colour appeared in Y/N’s head, the feeling of skin against skin, lips hungrily claiming each other, the smell of sweat and leather. She gasped, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Jumping up to her feet in a burst, ignoring the violent throb in her head, she rushed over to the mirror and turned her neck towards the right, her eyes widening at her sorry reflection.

“Are those-“

“Hickeys?” exclaimed Allison, leaping off of her mattress and onto the floor.

“Oh my god…”

“No way! Who are those from?” inquired Lydia, shock painted across her face.

“I’m not sure…” answered Y/N, her voice but a quiet murmur, her eyes still fixated on the deep purple marks scattered across her neckline.

In the back of her head, amber eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the dark pit forming in her stomach.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Y/N stepped out of her bath, all of the dried up paint and sweat cleansed from her body. Stepping up to her bathroom mirror, she wiped the hot steam off the glass, the purple stains on her neck still very visible. She sighed, her fingers lightly tracing the mark by her collarbone, her mind elsewhere. She was at a loss.

Had it been him? Had it been Stiles? Maybe she had him confused with someone else, maybe she really had shared this moment with Jeremy. Maybe.

Y/N’s frown deepened. All that was left from that moment on the dancefloor was these purple love bites and blurriness. So much blurriness. Hundreds of questions and voices overlapped in Y/N’s head.

“What does this mean? Was it really him? What’s next?” She shook her head anxiously, quietly tapping against the steam covered sink.

Grabbing her phone with shaking fingers, Y/N typed in a message and sent it to the person she had had stuck in her brain all day long.

Y/N: did u ever show up at the rave?

Y/N: cause my drunk ass can’t remember a thing :/

Minutes seemed to last longer than hours as she waited by her phone. She sat impatiently on her bed, furiously tearing off the tips of her fingernails, occasionally drawing out a tiny spot of blood accompanied by a soft hiss. Finally, the buzzing sound of her phone snapped her back to reality and she unlocked it in a flash.

Stiles: yea I stopped by

Y/N stared down at her phone screen, puzzled.

Y/N: did you have fun?

A few minutes passed before his short answer came.

Stiles: yea it was alright

Stiles: I was just glad to get out of the rain

Y/N: the rain?

Stiles: yea it was raining when Scott and I got there

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she started typing in a new message, her hands abruptly pausing when her phone buzzed again.

(Y/N: did we hang out at all last night?)

Stiles: my dad’s asking me to help him out with dinner

Stiles: gotta go

Deleting her previous and thankfully unsent text, Y/N quickly typed in something else, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

Y/N: oh okay, np

Y/N’s wet hair cascaded down her shoulder as she removed the towel from her head, letting her body gently plop down onto her bed.

Had she truly imagined it all? Something was off, but somehow, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The girl braided her damp hair and slipped under her toasty covers. Exhaustion soon took over her body and pushed her into a deep slumber, her dreamless sleep a tranquil break from her precipitating thoughts.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Amor loves to have one’s undivided attention. It slips through the thinnest of cracks and likes to hide behind your thoughts, carefully creeping around your mind, giggling at your confusion. Without even knowing it, you consume amor, you breathe it in, you bathe in it.

Amor is sneaky. Which is precisely how Y/N went about her day, ate, showered, studied, breathed without ever discerning her bewitchment.

Monday’s sunrays broke over the horizon, the song of gleeful robins piercing through the cool morning air. Lazily, Y/N slipped her clothes on and decided to walk to school, enjoying the crisp breeze. Autumn trees coasted along the route as she slowly carried herself to school, her tired eyes carefully observing the orange and brown leaves twirl down in timeless waltzes onto the cold concrete ground.

When she finally got to school, Y/N walked over to her locker, unlocking the padlock with her designated combination. As she placed the contents of her bag on top of the metal shelves and retrieved her chem notes, Y/N readjusted the wine-red turtleneck she had meticulously picked out from her wardrobe the day before.

“Uncomfortable but necessary.” She thought to herself as she turned around.

Her heart suddenly leapt into her chest, her eyes landing on Stiles’ dark blue flannel shirt. Taking a step forward, she was about to call out his name, when his eyes met hers. Time paused yet again, Stiles’ furtive gaze avoiding hers, his amber irises quickly looking down at his feet as he resumed his conversation with Scott.

A brief glimpse of the undeniable tension between the pair, a sight covered by amor’s thick layer of fog.

A wave of hurt washed over Y/N’s entire body, but she bit her lip and hurried off to class, choosing to ignore the feeling rather than dwell on it.

Class seemed to last even longer than usual, the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock rocking Y/N into a state of pure passiveness. The words spoken by her teacher floated around her head, seeping out through her ears almost as rapidly as they had penetrated her mind.

When the lunch bell rang, Y/N couldn’t help but exhale softly, releasing some of the tension stacked atop her weary shoulders since earlier that day. No matter how much she tried to focus on her notes, a chaotic whirlwind slowly formed inside of her, preventing her from following the teacher’s train of thought.

Her fingers furiously tapping against her thigh, Y/N stood up hurriedly and grabbed her bag, sliding its handles onto her shoulder. Pushing her way through the crowd of students, she walked out of the building and onto the school field, making her way towards the walnut tree.

“Hey, Y/N!” shouted Allison, waving her over with her gentle hands.

Y/N rushed over and plopped down by the brunette, breathing in the cool air.

“Where are the others?” she asked, noticing how empty the table was.

“Why are you so impatient? The bell only just rang,” Allison said, her light laughter filling the atmosphere surrounding them.

Y/N watched as the group slowly reunited, Scott and Kira walking over nonchalantly, arms linked together, followed by Isaac, unmistakingly blushing at the sight of Allison. Finally, Lydia joined the table and sat across from Y/N, her beautiful hair wrapped into a low bun.

“I am so hungry,” said Scott as he hurriedly took out his sandwich, eagerly taking a large bite out of it with a moan.

“I thought I was gonna pass out in calculus. I am so tired!” exclaimed Allison, burying her face in her delicate hands.

“Yeah, I still haven’t recovered from Friday,” agreed Lydia.

Y/N’s mind flashed right back to the sweaty dance floor, bursts of colour flooding her memory, and she bit down on her lip, shutting her eyes.

“Y/N, you okay?” asked Isaac. The group looked over at her, puzzled faces staring at her own.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” she replied, her fingers dramatically twisting around the fabric of her coat.

“So, uh, where’s Stiles?” she asked, quickly but not subtly changing the subject.

Scott’s head slightly tilted to the right, a confused expression on his face.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Scott nonchalantly pointed at a table a few feet away from the walnut tree where the gang was seated, Y/N’s eyes following his lead. Her puzzled gaze landed on the dark blue flannel shirt from that morning, wrapped around a boy sitting across from a tall brown-haired girl, their heads buried in books, but their eyes fixated on each other.

“There’s this new girl, Malia Tate. He offered to help her with her math,” explained Scott, unaware of the pit deepening in Y/N’s gut.

As Y/N observed the pair sitting far away from the group’s table, the pumping muscle lodged between her lungs tightened with affliction, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

The voices surrounding her melted into each other, the sound of her friends’ chatter fading into the background as she kept on staring, the ache in her abdomen persisting.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Several interminable weeks had passed since this particular lunch break. November was slowly coming to an end, along with Y/N’s withering patience. The air had become cooler, and not just the one blowing through the leafless trees.

Stiles and Y/N’s friendship had started to abate, its previous progression suddenly coming to a strange halt, much to Y/N’s dismay. Her phone occasionally buzzed, the screen revealing only a brief answer on his part, or a funny picture or joke every once in a while. However, the long phone calls and texts until 2 am had seemingly come to an end.

Y/N couldn’t exactly pinpoint how it made her feel, but it didn’t feel good, that much was clear. Stiles hadn’t disappeared from the face of the earth, but his texts were spread much further apart, and when he was around, at lunch or in class, he wasn’t truly there, always focused on something else.

She couldn’t help but feel as though there was a void in her day, a gap only replenishable by the mole-speckled boy. She tried to distract herself from the looming feeling of loneliness by hanging out with Allison and Lydia, their light hearted conversations usually effective. Only, her attempts fell short as soon as she was alone again. It had come to a point where Y/N would count the hours between each message, trying to come up with reasons why he wouldn’t just text her back sooner. None of this helped of course.

Constantly thinking about the source of your pain can only do one thing: vivify it.

One rainy Tuesday, Y/N sat down at a table in the school cafeteria, dropping her lunch tray onto the cool surface with a soft thud. Squeezing in between Lydia and Allison, across from Scott and Isaac, she reached for her apple and bit into it with a satisfying crunch as the chatter surrounding her slowly increased.

The girls chatted as the boys focused on Scott’s phone, their eyes glued to the screen.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at them and leaned forward, snapping her fingers just a few inches away from their faces. Scott’s head snapped upwards and Isaac startled, the pair releasing a breath as she chuckled.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” she asked.

Isaac handed her the phone before grabbing his turkey sandwich.

“Our English teacher showed us this website with a bunch of riddles and we’re trying to figure some of them out,” Scott replied, pointing at the screen as Y/N slowly scrolled down.

“You guys are studying riddles?” Allison gasped. “Why do we always get stuck with the boring English teacher?”

“The more you take, the more you leave behind.” Y/N read one of the riddles aloud.

“Footsteps,” replied Lydia with ease, nibbling on her carrot sticks.

“Okay genius, what about this. What is easy to get into but harder to get out of?” Allison asked, peering over Y/N’s shoulder.

Lydia paused, reflecting quietly as the group observed her furrowed brow with amusement.

“Can I give it a go?” asked Isaac, hand raised.

“Go ahead.”

“Trouble?”

“That’s it!” replied Allison.

“Of course you’d get that one right,” Y/N joked, shaking her head.

“Oh okay, try this one. Who has married hundreds but still stays single?”

Suddenly, Stiles’ voice resonated in Y/N’s ears as he sat down next to Scott, his lips curled into a grin.

“A priest,” he said, accompanied by a soft click of his tongue.

“Correct,” replied Y/N, pointedly staring down at her apple.

“Speaking of weddings…when’s yours Stiles? We’re all invited right? And is it an open bar or have you not yet discussed your opti-“

“That’s funny, Isaac, that’s very funny,” answered Stiles. “Yeah, I’ll make sure your invitation gets lost in the mail.”

“Seriously though...Malia?” asked Scott, a sly smile drawn on his lips, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

Stiles blushed a little, avoiding everyone’s gazes as he watched his fingers repeatedly tap against the table, his lips pursing together.

“Malia, the girl from your math class?” inquired Lydia.

“Yep, and they’ve been talking…a lot…” Scott teased, his voice higher than usual. Stiles shot him a glare and shook his head in disbelief.

“You can’t keep a thing to yourself can you?” he laughed.

“Wait, so are you guys…?” Allison asked, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

Y/N shot a glance at Stiles, her heart picking up its pace as she waited for a response.

Was something going on between them? Were they just friends? Was Malia the reason why Stiles and her weren’t talking as much?

“We’re talking. She’s fun. It’s fun. Talking, is- fun,” Stiles said, fumbling his words in embarrassment, his cheeks flooding with red.

“Wow, you’re smitten aren’t you?”

“Okay! Guys, let’s give him a break from the interrogation. He looks like he’s about to explode,” exclaimed Y/N, desperately trying to change the subject, for both their sakes.

Stiles sent her a grateful look and chuckled, the group moving onto another topic, enjoying their lunch together before classes started anew.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Later, after the busy day had winded down and the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Y/N lay on her bed, the tiny fairy lights hanging on her wall catching her eye as she quietly hummed along to Peach Pit. As the leader singer gave way to the guitarist’s blissful riff, her phone buzzed, and her quiet bubble burst.

She sighed as she reached for it, her fingers connecting with the cool screen. Her tired eyes adjusting to the sudden blue light, she focused on the screen, her lips curling into a soft smile as she read the words she had just received.

Stiles: what comes in hard but comes out soft?

Stiles: tip: you can blow it

Y/N: you’re disgusting

Stiles: excuse me

Stiles: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Y/N: what is it?

Stiles: it’s gum

Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes at the pervy connotation.

Y/N: ha ha ha

Stiles: it’s not my fault you have a dirty mind

Y/N: yea yea, I was completely innocent before meeting you guys

Stiles: please

Stiles: there’s nothing innocent about you

She stopped, rereading the words carefully, her memories from the Halloween rave flooding back. Those god awful colours just couldn’t stop dancing in the back of her mind.

Hesitantly, she typed in her answer.

Y/N: so what’s up?

She patiently waited, her hands still holding onto her phone, the soft music in the background rocking her peacefully.

Stiles: well

Stiles: I’ve been talking to Malia a lot

Y/N: how’s it going with her?

Stiles: actually we’re hanging out tomorrow

Stiles: in the woods

Y/N felt a pang of hurt in her abdomen but she swiftly ignored it.

Y/N: wow

Y/N: is this a date?

Time stopped for a few seconds before his painful answer showed up on the screen.

Stiles: I think so yea

Y/N: damn

Y/N: so you really like her huh?

Stiles: yea she’s great

Stiles: she’s kind of dominant too?

Stiles: very assertive

Stiles: it’s

Stiles: interesting

Y/N: you like that?

Stiles: it’s definitely not something I’m used to

Stiles: but yea it’s nice

Stiles: I haven’t really talked to anyone about this besides Scott so don’t tell anyone please

Y/N: ofc not

Stiles: thanks

Stiles: quick question

Stiles: might sound weird so don’t judge me

Y/N: go ahead lmao

Stiles: what do you do before you kiss a girl

Stiles: do you ask for permission or do you just do it?

Y/N’s heart momentarily stopped beating and she gulped, her eyes fixated on the surprisingly hurtful words. Her mind completely blank, she paused the music from her computer and passed a hand through her hair, trying to think of an answer. Finally, she drew a deep breath and replied, her hands steady as stone.

Y/N: there’s no answer to that haha

Y/N: you have to do what feels natural

Stiles: yea, you’re probably right

Stiles: just don’t want to mess it up

Y/N: you won’t

Stiles: thanks

Y/N: tell me how it goes!

Stiles: will do

Stiles: and thanks again

Y/N: npp

Y/N shut her phone off and plugged her charger in, placing it on her bedside table. Turning off all of the lights, and drawing her bedroom curtains to a close, she settled beneath her comforter, spreading her limbs with a wide stretch. As she shifted onto her side, placing her hands underneath her cool pillow, she let her eyes roam around her bedroom, thoughts churning in her head.

He had feelings for this girl. Stiles actually liked Malia. And not only was he going on a date with her, but he had talked to Y/N about it. Had she really just imagined it was Stiles on that dance floor? Had she really just mistaken the person kissing her, sliding his lips up and down her neck as she held onto him? And if so, if all of this was purely just her mind playing tricks on her, what did that mean? Did she want it to have been Stiles?

Amor was lingering around her head but she couldn’t see it. All of these questions bustling in her mind soon blended into silence as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next day flew by in a blur of classes and scribbles on sheets of paper, a bland and monotone school day. Only one event stood out.

Stiles: well it’s official

Stiles: Stiles Stilinski is a bachelor no more

She congratulated him and heard all of the details surrounding Stiles’ date with Malia. The brunette had laughed at his jokes, she’d held his hand, they’d walked down the stream in the woods, talking endlessly, and then he had leaned in and kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

What the group had originally thought to be a fling had turned into something more, it had become a real serious relationship.

More absent than ever, Stiles spent most of his time with his new girlfriend, enjoying the feeling of her lips against his own when they kissed each other and the complicity between them. Everyone could tell he was beyond excited about the thrilling sensations that came with young love, though no one other than Y/N knew just how much.

Every day, her phone buzzed, the notifications reminding her that her friend loved making Malia laugh, or that Malia liked the same band he did. Reminding her that he was happy.

And Y/N was unbelievably happy for him as well. She tried to focus on the positives, mainly the fact that the pair had started talking again. Things had gone back to normal, their inside jokes rekindled and their conversations more frequent. But still, something just didn’t sit right.

Y/N pushed this feeling away, diving into new hobbies and hanging out with her friends. As a child, she had always loved drawing and painting. As a matter of fact, she had even followed lessons in an atelier not far from her house, in her hometown. She’d always loved painting but as she had grown older, her extra time had become much slimmer and with life getting in the way, she had had to let it go.

Then one fateful December afternoon, Lydia forced the girls to paint with her in the art room at school. Much to Y/N’s surprise, the tranquility she had felt as a child while holding a brush came back unbelievably naturally.

It was like the brush had never left the palm of her hand. So she started painting again.

When she wasn’t studying or spending time with the pack, creating timeless memories with them, she was hidden away in her room by the window, her fingers curling around her paintbrush, her hair wrapped into a loose bun.

The simple act of turning thin stripes of colour into shapes and scenes was so beautifully appeasing to her. With every flick of her hand, with every twist and turn of blues and yellows onto the white canvas, she felt herself come alive again. Every worry, every disappointment, and every doubt poured out of her hands and blended into the mythical paradises she painted.

Sometimes we live without something, and we don’t realize just how much we miss it until we let it back in. She had missed this terribly.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As the early mornings became darker and darker with every passing day, Y/N spent hours watching the sky and the leafless trees, observing time and its slow and tantalizing movement. She memorized the scenes before her as she got dressed for school, her eyes lingering on the dark blue sky outside and the yellow halos of light emitted from the streetlamps.

Sometimes simple things like the way your eye catches the light can be astoundingly beautiful. Y/N paid attention to details in order to paint them later. Every trace, every shadow, every speck of light was equally important.

One morning, finally ready for school, Y/N walked out of her home, adjusting the red beanie on her head, her bag swung over her shoulder. The frosty morning air greeted her and she thanked herself for having decided to wear her dark grey wool sweater. Turning on the ignition (and the heat) of her dad’s car, Y/N left the driveway, and made her way to the high school, the sun slowly but surely peaking above the horizon.

Y/N’s fingers furiously tapped against the steering wheel of the car, the school coming into eyeshot. Classes were becoming more and more exhausting with winter exams right around the corner. The air was tense inside the school, students talking about their exam schedules and fears about their upcoming performances.

Y/N was nervous too. She was a good student, but quite often, she would get lost in her thoughts, ignoring her teachers rant about equations and The Scarlet Letter. She studied and she handed in her essays on time, however doubt clouded her mind, and maybe her hard work wouldn’t be enough.

These thoughts played on a loop in her head as Y/N attended her first two classes, time ticking by slowly.

When Y/N entered her classroom for the third period, students shoved past her, quickly exiting the room and heading on to their next lesson. She slumped into her seat, her bag landing on the surface of her desk with a thud. As she waited for her history professor to get to class, her eyes scanned the room.

She watched her fellow classmates enter the room, chatting loudly, groups forming around students seated on their desks or lingering by the windows. She glanced to her right and noticed Stiles, always recognizable due to his colourful flannels, seated a few desks away from her, close to the blackboard.

“Stiles!” she called out his name, puzzled. He didn’t have history class with her. Her eyes lingered on his arched back and she repeated herself. “Stiles?”

His back still turned to her flinched at the sound of her voice and she frowned before standing up and walking over to him. As she inched closer, she glanced down at his fingers, curled around the edge of his desk, the tips white from the pressure of his grip. His knee burst up and down at a furious pace as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the color draining from her face when her gaze fell upon Stiles’ contorted expression.

“Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked with a whisper as she bent down next to him.

He emitted a small whine, his breathing suddenly more audible.

“Sti, talk to me,” she murmured, rubbing his back slowly.

His breathing became more unsteady with every movement of her hand and he gasped, making Y/N’s heart leap in her chest. The room had started to quiet down, and she turned, quickly realizing the scene was starting to draw a lot of attention. Putting her arm around her friend, she stood up and dragged him out of his chair, his legs staggering as he followed her out of the room.

As soon as the pair had gotten out of the classroom and into the hallway, Stiles’ breathing tripled in velocity, his breaths short and intense. Y/N held onto him, treading as quickly as possible through the hall, trying desperately to get to the boy’s locker room, where they’d be alone.

Pushing past the crowd of bustling students, Y/N’s eyes lit up as they approached the blue door she had been looking for. The pair burst into the dim locker room, Stiles rushing over to the back of the room, his legs giving in under the weight of his shaking body. His breathing was erratic and fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the floor, the pain in his knuckles incomparable to the burning sensation in his gut. Y/N ran over to him, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud, but she didn’t care, instead focusing on Stiles’ pale and tormented face.

“Breathe. Come on, breathe with me,” she said, an undeniable hint of worry in her voice she had difficulty hiding.

“I-I…can’t,” he gasped, a choked sob escaping his throat.

Y/N grabbed his quaking hands and held them in her sweaty palms, her eyes fixated on his.

“Sti, look at me. Look at me,” she insisted and he squinted at her through the thick tears spilling over the barrier of his eyelids. Soothingly caressing his shaking hands, her eyes piercing through his, she spoke, her voice a gentle anchor grounding him into reality.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m here. You’re okay,” she repeated, her voice slightly trembling.

She had never seen him like this. He was a shaking mess, his face wet and twisted in pain, his breathing still highly unsteady.

Stiles held onto her hands with difficulty, his chest heaving as he struggled not to give in to the never-ending waves of panic washing over his quaking body.

Y/N inhaled and exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Her exaggerated breaths were soon followed by his own weak attempts at controlling his lungs, groans of pain slipping through his gritted teeth.

“Here do this. Press your finger against one of your nostrils and inhale for 5 seconds with the other. You can do this,” she said, acting out her words as carefully as possible.

Stiles struggled to follow her lead but slowly, he pushed the tip of his shaking finger into his skin, blocking the path for oxygen through his left nostril.

“Okay, good. Inhale. 1…2…3…” she counted, and he inhaled with her, his breath occasionally bursting through his mouth.

“Keep going, come on. 4…5…Hold it in!” she cried, her eyes welling up at the sight of Stiles’ pained expression, his chest obviously about to burst.

“Okay, breathe out, with me. 1…2…3…4…5…” Y/N murmured, her gentle fingers caressing his hand. The boy exhaled with her and shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe the method was starting to work.

“You’re doing great. Switch nostrils now. There you go. 1…2…3…”

The pair breathed in and out in sync, Y/N’s hands still holding Stiles’. After a few minutes, each breath of his was accompanied by a slightly deeper one, Y/N’s shoulders loosening with relief as a wave of calm washed over her.

As the chaos in the room started to subside, she felt Stiles’ fingers tighten in her palm, his sweaty skin pressed against hers. She looked into his red-rimmed eyes and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her unoccupied hand reaching up to wipe the tears off of his weary face as her body shifted upwards.

Before she could touch his skin, Stiles caught her hand and pulled her into an embrace, his lips quivering tremendously as he broke down, warm tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t leave, please. I need you. I need you,” he repeated like a mantra, his entire body going limp in Y/N’s arms, strangled sobs escaping from his sore throat. The girl closed her eyes as the felt Stiles’ heart thunder furiously against her chest, small tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered in his ear, tightening her embrace.

“I need you. I need you.”

A/N: hope u liked this part!! please reblog if u did :) feedback is also always appreciated <3

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[365days365movies]

February 2, 2021: Pretty Woman (Review)

Before I jump right into this review, I would like to say something about this movie: it’s timeless, while not aging super well for a couple of reasons. Those reasons make this film a tad problematic, and they are as follows, at least according to me:

Prostitution: Look, in NO WAY can I claim to be an expert, or very knowledgeable on culture in the world of sex workers, duh. But, given changing opinions in this during the past three decades since this film came out, this is bound to seem a little dated. Still, some credit for Edward not being...terribly condescending to her throughout this movie. Again, this is just something I’m noting. If anyone with more expertise knows more about how sex workers feel about this film, hit me up; I’m quite curious.

Edward: Speaking of Edward, though, I know that his character came off at the time as similar to Gordon Gekko from Wall Street (can’t confirm, never seen it), and stereotypical businessman characters (and actual people) from the time, and that he was probably considered quite suave and cool at that time. And don’t get me wrong, Edward is...fine...but living in 2021, and in the current political climate in America...dude comes off like a STRAIGHT sociopath throughout this movie. Yeah, no, less Prince Charming, more Prince Harming. I saw somebody describe him as a romantic Patrick Bateman, and GODDAMN does that resonate. That Zodiac Killer joke from the Recap? That was only slightly kidding, real talk.

I’m sure there are more (especially in terms of gender politics and sexism, but I AM NOT QUALIFIED ENOUGH FOR THAT), but these are the ones that came to me during the watching of the film. Anyway, shall we continue? Because I really DID like this movie, despite some problems with it. Let’s get the Review started!

Review

Cast and Acting: 9/10

Edward might be a sociopath, but I don’t lame Richard Gere for that at all. He works through the character to create some legit emotional development for him, and I appreciate it quite a bit. But he’s not the draw here. First, let’s talk about the supporting cast here. Yes, really.  Héctor Elizondo, a Garry Marshall regular, IS A GOD in this movie. I love Barney so much, you have no idea. Laura San Giacomo is a quirky best friend, and I love her. Ralph Bellamy plays a very sweet man in David Morse (even if I disagree with his business). And finally, Jason Alexnder’s Phil Stuckey is IMPRESSIVELY slimy, if a little much at times. Still, he made a good villain in a film that didn’t necessarily need one.

But you all know. You know who takes the entire show here, I know you do. That 9 up there? Sure, the supporting cast carries about 2 of those points, and Gere has one...but JULIA FRIGGIN’ ROBERTS, ACTRESS QUEEN OF ROMANCIA is the star and glue of this movie! She’s perfect, she’s charming, she’s quirky, and she’s absolutely fantastic. Holy shit, I understand solely from this movie, why Julia Roberts became as much of a star as she is.

Plot and Writing: 8/10

Roger Ebert called this a good take on the Pygmalion and Cinderella formulas, both of which the movie heartily acknowledges. And, uh...yeah, it’s a legitimately good take on those formulae, while still being its own unique film, and it’s getting credit for that! It’s interesting to me that J.F. Lawton is the writer, because he...he didn’t do any great things after this one. Under Siege, maybe. Blankman, maybe. I haven’t seen either, so I can’t comment. However, he also wrote Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death. Um. What. Pardon me. Wut. Anyway, plot’s good, character development is apparent through the writing and story, and the only real problem I have is that the time scale is literally a week. And it’s a fairy tale, yeah, and the cheesy nature of some of it definitely shows that. So, not perfect, but still good and unique!

Directing and Cinematography: 7/10

Garry Marshall, former advisor of the land of Romancia...yeah, you did alright. Nothing over-the-top amazing, but not bad by any means. It’s good, but it’s an average kind of good. Same goes for Charles Minsky’s cinematography, which is quite good, but never really breathtaking to me. Good, just not necessarily a cinematic masterpiece.

Production and Art Design: 8/10

The dichotomy between Vivian’s street world and Edward’s high-society world is very well visually portrayed, I gotta say. Most of that isn’t exactly iconically distinctive, but it’s still good. I say MOST of it because, well...Julia Roberts, man. The outfits she’s given in this movie are insanely iconic, even to this day, and they really pick up during the second half of the film. The polo dress, the Rodeo drive dress, the GODDAMN RED OPERA DRESS! It’s all gorgeous, and I genuinely love it all. But one wardrobe does not a movie make. Hence, it’s not perfect, but it’s still up there.

Music and Editing: 7/10

How goes it, James Newton Howard? This won’t be the last time I see you this year, I’m sure. And your score here is great! ANd I don’t remember it...at all! Literally, all of that music is drowned out for me by Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman.” By the way, DID NOT REALIZE that that wasn’t Elvis Presley, nor did my girlfriend. You learn something every day. But anyway, here’s the deal: this film is Dirty Dancing in reverse, in terms of music. And slightly worse than that. A lot of pop songs are peppered throughout this movie, and they’re all famous and good...but they aren’t really tied to this movie much, outside of “Pretty Woman.” But they’re mostly fitting with the times presented in the movie, unlike some of Dirty Dancing’s soundtrack. Not as iconic, but better fitting with the atmosphere. There you have it.

I mean, yeah, a LOT, even. At least 78% approval from me!

Pretty Woman is a cheesy yet heartfelt fairy tale of a movie, and it’s sweet all throughout. Problematic or not, I understand how this film but a crown on the heads of the King and Queen of Romancia. ALL HAIL KING GERE AND QUEEN ROBERTS!

But wait...on the horizon. A rival, and far larger nation, is arming its people, led by a fearsome warrior Queen, and one of her most faithful Kings. The Holy Romance Empire is on the march, and it wants blood. Until then...they will get no sleep.

February 3, 2021: Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

[insanityclause]

Guillermo Del Toro is no stranger to widespread acclaim, especially from his ride or die legion of fans. Pan’s Labyrinth, the Hellboy duology, the list of genre-bending, timeless masterworks goes on. Coming off his 2 Oscar wins for The Shape of Water in 2018, and moving into finally releasing his animated Pinocchio film from the pits of development hell along with an adaption of Nightmare Alley next year, this couldn’t be a more thriving time for the Mexican auteur. Though amongst all the praise and glory, something has still felt missing these last handful of years. Besides his Oscar-winning film, Del Toro’s works prior to the 2010s are what generally buzz conversations of his genius. Those aforementioned films did, after all, skyrocket his name to fame. His titles from the last decade, however, are just as crucial to the Del Toro canon and emphasize his greater influence as a filmmaker. One, in particular, has seemingly gotten by in its young life at the hands of few. But now that Crimson Peak has officially turned 5, it’s time to turn that few into many.

Del Toro’s trifecta of the 2010s (not counting his work on television) stand out vastly from one another. Pacific Rim, Crimson Peak, and The Shape of Water: all love letters penned from the ‘nichest’ corners of his mind. These 3 arguably boast more diversity in genre than Del Toro’s 5 films of the 2000s (3 comic-book adaptations and 2 Spanish-set fantasies). Not a criticism, as established, those films now flaunt an immovable place within the cultural zeitgeist. Though with a career notoriously marked by a slew of unrealized projects (more on this later), it’s not often recognized how the ideas that did make the cut still lead a crystal clear trajectory in Del Toro’s growth as a storyteller. In the eyes of many, Del Toro pulls ideas out of a hat and gambles on which one actually sees the light of day. Humorous sure, but this is far from the truth.

Each Del Toro project feels like a pivotal step for what would come later, take his work on Trollhunters paving the way for his upcoming first animated feature for instance. Despite this trajectory, Crimson Peak feels criminally unsung 5 years later. Pacific Rim continued its life with a sequel and more planned spin-offs. The Shape of Water literally set a new bar for the Academy. This leaves Crimson Peak feeling like the pushed aside middle child of this trio. This isn’t a call for a sequel, and ‘underrated’ gets tossed around very loosely in modern film discussion. But for cinema as quintessential as Crimson Peak, it just doesn’t feel like it gets enough recognition – especially when the current film industry is seeing less big-budget, R-rated projects heavily steeped in genre.

You can easily trace Crimson Peak‘s short-lived spotlight back to its marketing. The timely October release and scare-heavy trailers sold a classic ‘Haunted House’ horror, when in reality, Del Toro’s film is a Gothic Romance. Set in the early 1900s, an aspiring American writer, Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska), is swept away by a promising English baronet, Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). They discover true love and marry, leading the young newlywed to her husband’s decaying mansion in the English hills. The age-old manor is slowly, but surely, sinking in red clay – the very source of Sharpe’s wealth. Here Edith is forced to live with her new sister-in-law, Lucille Sharpe (Jessica Chastain), a reserved yet commanding force who works to hide the true nature of the house and its endless secrets. Mystery lingers as untamed lust, envy and greed unfold between the mansion walls, not leaving enough room for the restless red-colored spirits who haunt them. When it snows on this cursed hill, the clay surfaces, making it seem as if the land bleeds. Given more than just red clay rises from beneath, a deeper meaning is given to the place locals call ‘Crimson Peak’.

Just like the clay at the center of its mystery, Crimson Peak is an amalgamation, but of genre. It would be novice to expect anything less from Del Toro. The Gothic elements call back to many classic tales, such as Alfred Hitchcock’s adaption of Rebecca and, of course, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. On the horror side, homage is paid to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining and Jack Clayton’s The Innocents. It’s a devilish blend that only this filmmaker could pull off so beautifully. And oh is Crimson Peak so god damn gorgeous. To contrast common period pieces that go for muted or sepia-toned color palettes, Del Toro turns the saturation on high. The result is an eye-popping picture that heightens the core emotions at play: fear, pain, and more importantly, love. Simply mesmerizing, avid fans will be quick to recognize the same shades of golden yellows, sea greens, and ruby reds found in Del Toro’s other works. It feels right at home in his filmography visually, while packing its own unique punch.

Red, a color mainly associated with passion, here instead intricately represents endless bloodshed. A twist that would suggest Crimson Peak is just as equal a horror film as it is a love story. Regardless of what might have been initially marketed to audiences in 2015, this film is a Gothic Romance from start to finish. Del Toro himself made this distinction clear to the studio from the get-go and repeatedly draws the line whenever given the chance. Yet, much like the rest of his repertoire, Crimson Peak utilizes horror not as a means to an end, but as a means for introspection. Yes, there are classic horror conventions such as jump scares, but it couldn’t be more obvious that Crimson Peak isn’t trying to evoke the same kind of high and dry fear other films heavily rely on. Del Toro is actively trying to get under your skin to achieve a hell of a cathartic viewing experience.

The ghosts of our past and how we let them define us is a core theme in Crimson Peak. The film opens on a flashback in which Edith is visited by the charcoal black ghost of her recently deceased mother. The nature of this visit sets the groundwork for the rest of the narrative. Mother Ghost, dreadful in appearance, doesn’t necessarily come to haunt her child, but to warn her. “Beware of Crimson Peak,” she says. The way Edith takes in this otherworldly occurrence, and those that follow, sets her apart from everyone else in the film. Wherein others flee from or lock away the ghosts of their past, she learns how to wear them on her sleeves – reaching out to the dead multiple times in the story, each attempt more confident than the last. Not too dissimilar from what Del Toro was playing with before, Jaeger pilots confronting past trauma in their quest to defeat Kaiju. At the same time, the transformation that occurs in Crimson Peak when neglected demons consume you from the inside – humans becoming the true monsters of their supernatural tales – would only be amplified in Del Toro’s next film.

Every minute detail coincides with this strategized, therapeutic use of horror. And to the everyday moviegoer trained by common tropes, Crimson Peak is quite deceptive. Just like Mother Ghost at the beginning of the film, the red spirits never manifest with the intent to cause physical harm, but instead to give messages and guide. Red clay seeps down the walls and the mansion ‘breathes’ as the country winds burst in. The house feels alive in the most cinematic sense possible, but the case as to it being ‘horrifying’ is not so black and white. Expertly designed to every inch, there is plenty of beauty to be found in the manor. Much of it has just been corrupted by a debauched affair – keeping this story rooted as a Gothic Romance. Subversion has always been the name of Del Toro’s game, and it’s within Crimson Peak that he uses it to mix genre so well while still staying true to his vision.

Though Crimson Peak saw Del Toro take subversion to a new level, notably with his main character. This film is a key chapter in his overarching legacy; not the first of his works to be lead by a defiant woman, but the first to have the female hero entangled in an unabashed love story. Effortlessly played by the brilliant Mia Wasikowska, the not so damsel in distress at the center of Crimson Peak is one of the most significant characters of Del Toro’s career. In discussing Gothic Romance with The Mary Sue in 2015, Del Toro explains: “This is quintessentially a female genre, that was written with characters that were very complex, very strong. I wanted to make a movie in which to some degree I recuperated and, maybe if possible, enhanced all that.” And enhanced he did for every central male character acts in more distress than Edith ever does, even when she is literally at the edge of death. A more than welcome change of pace that makes for a more resonating film.

Edith’s willingness to tackle the unknown is captivating and her vigor inspiring. But she isn’t absolved of frailty. For someone who comes to terms with facing the dead, her sheer vulnerability to heartbreak and suffering brings great humanity to the role. Hardly recognized, but Edith is one of Del Toro’s most self-reflective protagonists. A marginalized writer, inspired by the great Mary Shelley no less, in the midst of drafting her magnum opus, she immediately faces backlash from her novel’s inclusion of the paranormal. “It’s not [a ghost story]. It’s more a story with a ghost in it. The ghost is just a metaphor… for the past,” she says – giving Crimson Peak a rare Del Toro tongue-in-cheek quality that he utilizes until the credits roll. Meta enough given that the crimson ghosts Edith later encounters are, in fact, echoes of the past, but when looking back on the public’s initial perception of the film, it creates a charming, albeit ironic, wit only found here.

Additionally, when tracing back to Crimson Peak‘s pre-production days, you’ll find something even more profound. Penned by Del Toro and an old collaborator, screenwriter Matthew Robbins; this was the first script completed after the release of Pan’s Labyrinth in 2006. The two first worked together an entire decade earlier on Mimic, which has now gone down as the only film Del Toro has truly lost to studio interference. Del Toro was supposed to direct Crimson Peak in the late 2000s, but along came Hellboy II and his involvement in launching The Hobbit (another R.I.P). Through this hectic time, Del Toro would reunite with Robbins in writing 2010’s Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, directed by Troy Nixey. However, the two also spent time together writing something else: an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness.

For those unfamiliar, At the Mountains of Madness is by far one of, if not, the most tragic of this filmmaker’s unrealized projects. After spending years trying to get this dream off the ground, Del Toro had the following to say to Empire in 2010: “It doesn’t look like I can do it. It’s very difficult for the studios to take the step of doing a period-set, R-rated, tentpole movie with a tough ending and no love story.” The payoff of Crimson Peak being a period-set, R-rated, tentpole film only 5 years after that statement couldn’t be sweeter. In the film, Edith is told to insert a love story for the better of her novel. Del Toro is obviously commenting on expectations tied to gender here, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s also referring to one of the biggest thorns in his own writing career – one that also ties back to writing partner Matthew Robbins.

When faced with the question, Del Toro has consistently said that all of his films carry an inherent Mexican touch just from the utter fact that they come from him, and Crimson Peak is no different. Whether if deriving from his personal experiences with tackling genre, both on and off paper, or from actual events tied to his life – Del Toro reimagines two separate ghostly encounters experienced by him and his mother through Edith – this film beams with the very essence of Del Toro’s soul. Perhaps most personified when the marginalized writer gets bloody and fights back with nothing but her pen, a visual that cements this as an important stepping stone in his career. It’s a fascinating through-line, connecting to very different segments of his canon while still defining a clear path. The mending of our wounds and subversion of gender roles is continued from Pacific Rim, while setting a bold new course for delving into unfiltered, mature romance in The Shape of Water.

This is only a fraction of what makes Crimson Peak quintessential Guillermo Del Toro. Gothic Romance has long been part of this auteur’s framework, and you would be remiss not to indulge in all of its glorious melodrama. Even if it isn’t your cup of tea, Del Toro will make it so. Reaching its 5-year anniversary, the film hits stronger than before. The intricate motifs, compelling use of practical effects (complete with the involvement of Del Toro veteran Doug Jones), and cathartic use of horror make for something that has yet to be replicated by a major studio. Its lacking box office performance suggests that maybe the world merely wasn’t ready for this masterwork? But just like its characters, we hold the power to define what comes next. Del Toro himself has previously ranked Crimson Peak as one of the 3 best films he’s ever made, and straight-up called it the most beautiful. Take his word and dive in no strings attached, because who knows when we’ll get another large scale, unapologetic Gothic Romance with this much grandeur.

[iamtwilighttrash]

My Breaking Dawn

My Breaking Dawn

BACKGROUND: I am rewriting Breaking Dawn the way I think it should have been written. To preface, please note that in my Twilight universe: 

1) Jacob and Bella were never anything more than friends. In New Moon, they were nothing more than brother/sister-ish friends. In Eclipse, Jake and Edward actually became good friends, and he was ecstatic to hear about the wedding. (NO KISS EVER OCCURRED) 

2) Angela is more present in Bella’s life. This is very important to me. 

3) Edward and Bella have basically the same relationship: he still left her in New Moon, they’re still the classic/mushy/everlasting romance type, etc. BUT they also are young, they have more fun with one another, and Bella knows how to hold her own a little bit. 

4) Bella is much more integrated into Cullen life/family. She, Jasper, and Emmett are closer, and there is no tension between her and Rosalie after Eclipse. 

5) Edward does not buy Bella a new car. I like her truck, and so does she, and Jacob and Rosalie are around to fix it up. 

6) Please assume that Charlie found out about the engagement in the same way as in the original. I don’t feel like rewriting that, and I thought that it fit the narrative well. 

7) Jacob has long hair. This might seem insignificant, but it isn’t, and it means something to me. 

Anyway, I’m going to jump right in! I hope you enjoy my Breaking Dawn. 

(Stephenie Meyer OBVIOUSLY owns these characters and the saga. I’m just adding my creative aesthetic spin to it. Some elements will be incredibly similar in wording to the original, but for the most part I am entirely rewriting it) 

CHAPTER ONE

     I was getting married. I was getting married. I was getting married. Tomorrow. So soon, my head spun. 

     I paced around Alice’s bedroom, the sound of my socked feet just whispers to my own ears; to my vampire family, I probably sounded like an entire marching band. Alice was perched on the edge of her bed, Rosalie beside her, both of them bemused and statue-still. Esme flitted anxiously by my side. Her soft, sincere face broke my firm resolve to bolt from the door. 

     “Bella, honey, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” she murmured gently, slender fingers framing my face to stop me. I met her gaze, certain I appeared frantic. 

     I’m getting married! This was the final fitting. I would have to look at myself in the mirror, in the elegant gown of eggshell white, and see a stranger looking back. “Esme, what if its all...wrong?” Before Esme could answer, Alice surged to her feet and gripped my hands. Her touch was stone-cold, hard, but gentle. It soothed me marginally. 

     “It will be fine Bella, go to your happy place.” Rosalie sashayed to the corner, a vision of grace, to grab the satin dress. The color complimented her skin and hair beautifully. She would make a stunning bride. But what of me, silly, insignificant, young, human girl? Would the fabric turn my skin translucent; would the guests be able to see right through me? 

     I closed my eyes, trying to listen to Alice. If I couldn’t shut off the ramblings of my mind, perhaps I could redirect my thought. My happy place. The nerve-wracking wedding done and behind me. I had married Edward, fulfilled my end of our life-altering bargain. It would be his turn. Our final adventure together with me as a human. So soon, I would become just like him. The eternity that I had long-hoped for would begin. But, before that, there was just one more thing...

     Our honeymoon.

     Sex was not so scary to think about in the grand scheme of things, even if I would be having it with a vampire. I trusted Edward entirely. In fact, my only worries stemmed from insecurity. How would either of us know what...to do? Edward had his brothers around to help him. I supposed that I could ask Alice or Rosalie, but then...but then what if Edward heard them think about what I asked? The thought was so mortifying that, in the moment, I blushed. 

     Okay, so maybe I couldn’t go to my happy place with company in the room. Even barring my embarrassment at having him know I asked his sisters how to have sex, there was still the inevitability of my heart racing at the thought of being with him in that way. If Esme could hear the evidence of how much I enjoyed my happy place...

     So, instead, I focused the slip and glide of the satin gown over my skin and the cool brushes of Esme and Rosalie’s hands as they held the garment in place for Alice’s minor sewing adjustments. My weight hadn’t fluctuated much, so there was little that needed to be altered from the last fitting. Just a little bit taken in in the back, I thought, judging by the pinch of the fabric. Esme hummed while Alice worked, and the melody worked to soothe the nerves that threatened to fray. 

     “Oh, Bella...” It was Rosalie speaking. I opened my eyes to look at her, concerned by the tone. 

     “What? Is something wrong?” She was looking at me, at the dress, at me in the dress. Oh, god, I’m hideous! I’m too human. Esme had stepped back to join Rosalie, and she daintily covered her mouth with her hands. The only person seemingly unaffected was Alice, who had seen me in the dress many times. 

     “No, Bella, you’re...” 

     All wrong? 

     “Stunning.” The word shocked me. Stunning? Me? Coming from Rosalie’s mouth, Rosalie the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on, that word was like an expletive. I shuddered beneath the weight of her praise. 

     “You...you think so?” I had yet to turn around and look at myself in the mirror. I was frightened. Would I be able to recognize myself, Bella the bride? 

     “Oh, sweetie, you look beautiful!” Esme reached out and hugged me; she smelled like lavender, and orange blossom, and breakfast tea. Her body was like ice and yet, as she gave me a little squeeze, my whole body felt like it had been basking beneath the Arizona sun. I hugged her back automatically. In her, I had found a mother in the areas that my own was lacking. Unwanted tears sprung along my lower lash line. On a day such as this, my mom should have been there. I was reminded once again that my choice— becoming a vampire— would effect more than one aspect of my life. 

     Esme pulled back and wiped away the moisture with steady hands. Alice, sensing my unraveling, was quick to change the subject. 

     “Alright, Bella. Go ahead, look at yourself.” Simple enough task, but my feet felt like they were buried in cement. Look at myself? How? With an uneven breath, I forced myself to turn and face the long mirror on the wall. 

     The dress was so...Edward. Even on my body, I could tell it was designed for him. I panicked, trying to see myself in the timeless shape, the Calla Lily folds; even the lace of the sleeves mocked me. I was far too plain, too ordinary. Was I all wrong for him? They had spoken of how beautiful I was, but where? I noticed the splotches on my cheeks from crying, the puffiness under my tired eyes, the unevenness of my body’s proportions: human. Mortal. Meant to end.

     “Well?” beamed Alice. I turned back, and three pairs of golden honey eyes appraised me warily, waiting for my response. 

     “I love it,” I choked out. Esme’s smile vanished. Alice and Rosalie pursed their lips. I could not fool them. I was an awful liar. 

     “What’s wrong?” The dam broke; I came, at last, undone. Esme was quick to usher me towards Alice’s bed, folding me into a marble embrace. I was glad Edward wasn’t home; the sound of my distress would have roused him to check on me, regardless of Alice’s stern warning to mind his business and stay out of her room. 

     “I’m not,” a hiccup broke the sentence, “good enough for him. I’m all wrong.” Rosalie— I knew it was Rosalie from her feather soft touch— rubbed my back while Alice touched my hair. 

     “Isabella Swan,” it was her stern voice that jolted me. I sniffled, conscious of the fact that I was staining Esme’s lilac blouse with my tears, and pulled back to meet her gaze. One strand of spiky black hair had escaped its polished, messy spikes and was drooping over her left eye. She brushed it back, so quickly that my eyes barely registered the gesture. “Edward loves you, you silly girl. He wouldn’t go through all this trouble for just anybody.” It was teasing, but truthful. 

     “Okay.” Yes, she was right. He loved me. I loved him. It would be okay. I took a deep breath, mortified that I had started sobbing. “Sorry, sorry.” The knee-jerk reaction made me sniffle. Had Jacob been there, he would’ve made me laugh, told me to get over myself— maybe I should call him. As if on cue, my phone buzzed on Alice’s antique vanity, the sound like a beehive. Sometimes, I swore, Jacob could sense my sadness from miles away.

     Esme released me so I could answer my best friend. His voice, husky and warm, assaulted my ears before I could say a single syllable.

     “Bells, you better not be crying you idiot. I can hear you from outside. I’m here to spring you.” I rushed to the window to pull back the sheer curtains, and indeed he was there, leaning against his bike with my spare helmet tucked under his arm. He waved.

     “I have to get out of my dress you jerk. I’ll be down in a sec.” As I spoke, Alice started undoing the pearl buttons on my back.

     “Cool. I’m letting myself in and grabbing a snack.” Esme heard that and her soft, soothing laugh began when I snapped the phone shut.

     “I’ll go down and keep him company. I’ve been meaning to ask him about the progress on his new car. Oh, and Bella dear,” she said, reaching out to cup my cheek. I gave her my full attention. “Edward might not be biologically mine, but he’s still my son. I know how much he loves you. He smiles so much more now, and I can tell his happiness is due to you. You are so incredibly right for him, Bella. And I—” there was a little catch in the back of her throat, “I’m so happy you’re joining our family.” With that, she kissed my cheek and all but danced from the room.

     I couldn’t help but smile. I told myself to relax— all that mattered was that I loved Edward, and he loved me back. The rest— the dress, the wedding, the guests, the honeymoon— was unimportant. I stepped out of the gown, and Rosalie gave me a firm look.

     “Bella, this is your wedding. I thought the dress was lovely on you, but if you’d rather wear something else, the choice is yours.”

     “Of course, Bella,” said Alice, though her brows furrowed slightly. Visions of me prancing down the aisle in my sweatpants likely plagued her thoughts. “We can come up with something, anything you want, in time for tomorrow. I’ll hand sew a dress myself if I have to.” I looked at them, my sisters, and felt so loved I choked. Forgetting my partial nudity, I wrapped both of my arms around them in a tight hug.

     “I love you guys.” They both laughed. “Tomorrow is going to perfect. I’m just nervous.”

     “Well of course you are,” Rosalie chuckled. I pulled back to dress myself in my jeans and one of Edward’s hoodies. It smelled like him— I inhaled deeply. “It is your wedding day, after all. I’ve been married so many times and I still get butterflies.” I was so excited to get to attend one of Emmett and Rosalie’s weddings in the future; Emmett promised me that their next one would be ridiculously themed, as it was his turn to decide.

     “Okay. I’m going to go spend time with the Best Man before Edward steals him for the Bachelor Party.” That thought put a little knot in my stomach, though Jasper had promised me he would keep it under control. It would just be Edward, his brothers, Jacob, and Seth. 3 vampires and 2 werewolves walk into a strip club sounded like the start to a bad joke, and two of them were underage anyway.

     “Don’t forget, your Bachelorette starts at 8:00.” Alice’s tone was stern, but she was smiling.

     “Yes ma’am,” I joked, saluting playfully as a ducked through the door. On the way down, I could hear Jacob and Esme talking. After the battle that had rid us of Victoria, Jacob had spent a great deal of time recuperating at the Cullens. He and Esme bonded; I knew he saw some of his own mother in her features, and that warmed my heart. 

     “Hey Bells!” cheered Jacob. He draped one bulky arm over my shoulder as he finished up his conversation with my almost mother-in-law. In his opposite hand, he held a soda. Esme had started stocking food and drink for the wolves, and for my human father, the latter of the two having only ever braved the threshold once since finding out about my engagement. 

     “You two should get out of here before Edward shows up and ruins the tradition. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Esme kissed both of my cheeks, and then stood on her tiptoes to do the same to Jacob, before shooing us from the kitchen. 

     “You wanna ride on my bike, pretty girl?” asked Jacob, wagging his brows at me while he offered me the helmet. I snorted and shoved him a little. 

     “My mom always told me to say no to creeps.” But I took the helmet, securing the thick strap beneath my chin. “Why aren’t we running?” Riding on Jacob in his wolf form took days of practice, but I had finally gotten the hang of it. Emmett had even taken his fair share of turns, much to everyone’s amusement at the time. Jacob revved the bike. 

     “I figured we better do something just a little dangerous. It’s your last night as a free woman, Bells. And its the last time I’ll get to spend a full day with human- you.” I swallowed hard at the reminder. I had no regrets, of course, about the impending wedding or my decision to join Edward’s family permanently. Even setting the Volturi aside, I knew I was meant for vampire life. I could feel it in my bones, in my heart— an eternity with Edward was what I wanted. I was almost there. 

     Jacob started to drive; the bike didn’t go very fast, but it felt like we were flying. I clung to him, watching the forest blur, as the wind whipped my skin. There wasn’t much room for conversation, so my mind— predictably— wandered. I thought of the passed summer, my last human summer, which was coming to its glorious end. I thought of staying out late to build card empires with Jasper and Alice, infuriating chess games, and movie nights with Emmett. I pictured Edward sprawled out in the sun, body engulfed in a see of purple wildflowers, as his diamond skin refracted endless light; they swore that my memories would fade, but I swore that nothing in the whole world could make me forget that. Even then, in the present, I could feel the hard planes of his cool chest as we swam in the hidden lake he’d taken me too in July, could see the way those amber eyes glittered in the moonlight streaming through his open bedroom windows on late June nights. 

     I would remember more of my last mortal summer than just the Cullens, of course, as I knew they would be mine forever. Going fishing with Charlie— who had begged me to go just one time with him— and hearing the way his surprised laughter echoed in the cab of his cruiser as I told a joke about fish (Why did the trout leave the cult? They were too sacrifishal). Roasting marshmallows with Jacob and the rest of his pack while Billy and Sam raced around the yard; of course, Billy had won. Buying books with Angela. Walking the beach with Jacob. Spending one last weekend in Florida with Renee, painting our nails and listening to rock. 

     But my human life was soon to be over. I had said goodbye to the possibility of having any more memories like that, as being a bloodthirsty newborn would ensure that I was too dangerous to have those moments again. 

     Just as thoughts began to somber, Jacob cut the engine. I realized I had closed my eyes— when I opened them, we were on the beach. We both dismounted and stretched, me removing the stuffy helmet so I could gulp in salty air and him tidying up his windblown locks. We headed down to the shoreline in silence. The quiet was comfortable; in it, I could hear the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs and the rhythm of our feet on the damp earth. It was an overcast day, but the sun promised to poke through the cloud cover at any moment. 

     “I’m going to miss this,” I said after a few minutes of us slipping off our shoes and wiggling our toes in the sand. Jacob nodded. His eyes were on the waves. 

     “Me too, Bells. It’s gonna be weird, after you...well, when I see you next.” 

     “I won’t be able to show my face in public for a long time. I’m gonna be a walking freak show.” 

     “Oh, yeah,” he said, teasing. “You’ll be a real circus act.” He took my hand as we continued to walk. With Jacob, there was nothing romantic about the action; he had always just been my sunshine, my best friend. I hadn’t realized until then just how much our friendship would be effected. No more beach trips, or dinner with Angela in Forks, or watching TV on his couch during lazy Saturday mornings. I would be a vampire. Though the pack and the Cullens were on good terms, there would be something in our biology pushing us apart. I was going to be, genetically, his enemy. 

     “Will you still be my friend, Jake, after all this is over?” There was a lump in my throat. It wasn’t time to say goodbye yet, but it would be the last time I would get to see him alone. He pulled us to a stop and studied my face.

     “Bella, how many times have I told you? What you are doesn’t matter to me. You’ll still be Bells. Just a little more creeptastic.” The fake word made me giggle despite the fact that tears threatened to surface. He gave me a goofy smile— when he hugged me, though, I could tell that he held on just a little bit tighter than he would have had this been any other day.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Hi!! It was just my birthday!!! I was wondering if I could request a little fic of birthday Shenanigans from the Witcher Gang? Maybe Jask drags everyone into planning a surprise party for reader and it goes about as well as you'd expect from these nerds? 😜

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,197 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Happy late birthday!!! I’m a slut for fluff right now so it actually goes perfectly sorry not sorry xo

Something was up.

Jaskier had been acting strangely all night. He’d been distracted, always looking over your shoulder and seeming intent on keeping you occupied. First he asked your help writing a song, then involved you in a debate on Redanian literary canon, then insisted on teaching you the latest dance being performed in the courts. You complied with a smile plastered on your face though in truth you were more than a little disappointed. Jaskier had mentioned your birthday, it was true. The daisy he’d plucked for you was still tucked in your hair as he spun you and criticized your footwork. There was nothing else, though. No cake. No congratulations from your other friends. Hell, they had disappeared to buy supplies. You knew it was silly to be so sad, you had insisted the moment Jaskier found out your birthday was approaching that he not make a big fuss. Yet as dusk broke and you saw your birthday coming to a close a heaviness settled in your heart.

After the fourth attempt at a complicated step that was halfway between a twirl and a step you took a deep breath and began walking towards the inn.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier called after you.

“I’m tired, Jaskier, I’m going to get some rest,” you called back. He shot out in front of you in an instant and you cursed his long legs. His arms were thrown wide, unnecessary as you had already stopped walking to fix him with a determined, exasperated look.

“You aren’t done yet!” he protested.

“Jaskier I do not want to dance,” you insisted, hands on your hips. He echoed your posture and stuck his chin out determinedly.

“You have to wait,” he said.

“Or what?”

“Or… you… just have to,” he finished lamely, though he gave you a very self-impressed look as if he could convince you by sheer conviction alone. You wove around him and continued to head off towards the inn. He spun you around in a pirouette back into his surprisingly strong arms.

“Y/N just trust me,” he pleaded, light blue eyes striking up close and illuminated by the setting sun. You lost your will for a moment as you gazed into them and then saw them flick back up to something in the distance, lighting with excitement.

“What is it?” you asked, already turning to see.

The inn door was opened and to your surprise Geralt stood by it, apparently waiting for something.

“Well goodness Y/N it’s freezing out and getting late we must get to the inn,” Jaskier said, changing his tune so quickly you were halfway marched across the street before you realized he had flipped positions. Geralt nodded at you once and then held out a long box. You took it tentatively, uncertain if this was something for you to assess for curses or a present. Your heart eagerly hoped for the latter.

“I thought we agreed on the bow,” Jaskier said with a frown.

“You used all the bloody bows with your present,” Geralt grumbled.

“Geralt! What part of surprise do you not understand?” Jaskier cried. You left the pair to squabble, clutching Geralt’s present to your chest and moving into the inn where you found Yennefer standing by a table. It was hard to miss, even without the mage. There was a whole roast chicken, four cups of ale, and a ludicrous number of ribbons strewn across the table in decoration. A pie sat in the center with a candle that was clearly taken from one of the rooms shoved unceremoniously in it and two more presents sat by it. By the time you reached the table Jaskier and Geralt and moved inside as well and caught up to you as you grinned broadly at the table.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Yennefer said.

“You didn’t think we’d miss it, did you?” Jaskier asked, giving you a playful little nudge.

“Hmm.”

You didn’t have the words but Jaskier watched your face, beaming with satisfaction and already anxious to keep your happiness multiplying. He lead you to your seat (a large, tufted chair from one of the rooms and likely the source of the owner’s glares being shot in your direction). You opened Geralt’s present first and found a dagger. It wasn’t ornamental but the steel was strong and good and the sheath had a lovely design burned into it. When you asked if he’d done it himself he demurely shrugged and looked askance, though you saw a little smile flit across his lips when you praised its beauty. Yennefer’s present was a vial of what she called a lucky draught to be used in any moment you needed a bit of extra courage or certainty that things would go your way.

“Isn’t that just mead?” Jaskier scoffed. Yennefer shot him a withering look and you thanked her, happy for any bit of luck you could get. Finally Jaskier handed you a scroll.

“Is it a song?” you asked delightedly.

“Something like that,” he answered, rubbing his neck sheepishly as you unfurled it. You gasped and your eyes grew wider as you unrolled. It was a song, more to the point it was your song. He’d turned your life into an epic tale that transformed every mundane action into a heroic act. But beyond the beautiful words, which were enough that you got teary and had to look away, he had gilded it. The illustrations and calligraphy decorating the piece had been done lovingly by hand and taken hours of work, gods knew how many. The longer you looked at it the more things you noticed like the cornflowers and the buttercups in the margins and the inside jokes peppered throughout.

“Do you like it?” he asked after several minutes of silence. Your glossy eyes looked into his anxious ones and when you blinked the happy tears rolled down your cheeks, carefully angled away so as not to harm the precious parchment.

“I love it,” you whispered with every bit of sincerity you could muster. He beamed and moved in a bit closer.

“It’s part one, you see, because this is only one part of a very long life filled with very many adventures,” he explained.

“I haven’t had that many adventures. You even make milking goats sound like a deed done only by the bravest of souls,” you laughed, pointing to the little goat drawn in the corner by the lines you referenced.

“Everything you do has a touch of heroism to it, Y/N. That’s just who you are,” he said. You glanced up in surprise at the sincerity in Jaskier’s voice and let yourself slip into the ocean blue of his eyes, happy to drown there for eternity if given half a chance. After a timeless moment that could have been five minutes or five seconds he leaned in close. Your heart hammered beneath your ribcage and time seemed to slow down as you closed your eyes tight and felt his lashes brush featherlight against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss there, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, whispering the words into your ear like a secret.

“Happy birthday.”

[sheeple]

Real thing | 5: An unexpected guest speaker

GIFS NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): mafia!au / hacker!au Group(s): NCT Pairing(s): Qian Kun x fem!reader / Jung Jaehyun x fem!reader Summary: (Y/n), a college student who joined WayV ─ an international crime organization ─ for some extra cash as one of their hackers. But what happens when she gets mixed up in a lot more heavy stuff than only sitting behind a computer and disabling security cameras? Warning(s): A panic attack happens at the end, so be prepared if it triggers you [Masterlist]  [Mini masterlist]

It’s been a month or so since the cafe incident and I haven’t heard or seen Qian since then. Thank God he keeps up his own anonymity policy.

Qian Kun has this rule that he shouldn’t know the faces of certain departments, IT in specific. It keeps him and his employees save. Once someone gets recruited they only know the people closest to them and someone from Qian’s inner circle. 

YY and Lucas are the only faces I knew before I accidentally saw a photo of Qian on YY’s screen. 

YY had to do a background check on someone and accidentally opened Qian’s file when he wanted to show me how he did it. 

Of course, my first thought ─ like probably every other female he came across ─ is that he’s handsome. Not the big and buff way of handsome with a sixpack and a V line where you can cut fruit with. 

But the timeless kind of handsome. He’s still young but has a mean stare, thick eyebrows, and an okay bone structure. Not like that makes sense, but for him it does. 

So imagine my surprise when, the first thing I see when I walk in my first class of the day, I see Qian himself standing next to the teacher, talking to him. 

I quickly take place in the back of the class next to Ah Ran, one of my girlfriends, to hide between the masses without him seeing me. 

“Who’s that?”, I ask her in a whisper as we grab our laptops out of our bags. 

“I don’t know”, she replies with a shrug, “isn’t that the guest speaker of today? The one about business strategies?”

I look back to the front and my eyes lock with Qian. I gulp before quickly looking away. This couldn’t be any worse. 

“Settle down everyone.” Mr Li’s voice booms over everyone’s muffled chatter and the whole room grows quiet. 

“Today we have a guest speaker. This is Qian Kun, he owns a small business in the economics field and will be telling you guys about the ins and outs of economics.”

I swallow thickly, what is he planning? Qian is lucky this isn’t my class with Jaehyun. Otherwise, it would have been a total disaster.

The hour passes slowly, with me not concentrating on any of Qian’s words. I feel his intense stares on my figure but I try my hardest to ignore it. The girls around me giggle, thinking he’s looking at them. 

After the presentation Qian prepared finally turns black, Mr Li reminded us to finish our paper on business strategies with the newfound information of Qian, he dismisses us.

“Hey, can I take a look at your notes after school? I couldn’t keep my attention to the presentation”, I ask Ah Ran as I quickly put my laptop in it’s designated spot in my bag. 

She rolls her eyes but complies. “Only if you buy me lunch.”

I laugh and push her hair away from her shoulder. “For you and your amazing notes, anything.” Ah Ran and I walk down towards the exit when Mr Li stops me. 

“(Y/n), can you come here for a second.” 

I stop in my tracks and look at Ah Ran. “Go to your class, I have a free period after this anyways.”

I turn around with a fake smile and walk towards Mr Li and Qian. “Yes, professor?” 

“Can you accompany Mr Qian to his car. The building is such a maze for someone outside our organisation..” Mr Li laughs a charitable chuckle, Qian joining him with cold eyes and I nod, knowing that I have no choice but to see Qian out. 

“Of course, sir. No problem.” I turn towards Qian and nod. “Ready to go, Mr Qian?” 

He nods and holds up his briefcase. “Yes, shall we?”

I bow one last time to Mr Li before leading Qian out of the classroom, my fake smile falling. 

“I got so lost on my way here that I didn’t want that a second time”, chuckles Qian as if he’s not some gangster with probably a .48 Glock in that briefcase of his. 

As we enter a deserted corridor, I stop and turn towards him. “No offence sir, but why are you here? Do you know how risky it would be if one of the two suspects saw you?”, I hiss the last part while taking a step closer towards him, still keeping enough distance between us. 

Qian coughs before looking around. “Hendery actually had to go but he has a... more important job right now. And I have the morning free so I thought why not? I didn’t even know this was your college.”

A humourless laugh leaves my lips. “Don’t tell lies, Sir. I know you did a background on me, YY told me.”

With a sight, Qian looks away and runs a hand through his hair. “No lying to you, I guess.”

I roll my eyes and start to walk towards the exit, almost jumping three steps at a time down the stone stairs. The faster Qian is away from school grounds, the earlier I can discuss this with YY and rage about it. 

Qian follows me quickly, not wanting to be lost again in the school. “How are you? Did your neck heal?”

“Sir...”, I sigh, holding the doors open for him to walk out. “Just... let me handle this, okay? I can do this.” I scan the parking lot and walk towards the most expensive-looking car. 

“Thank you for escorting me out. And I do trust you with this assignment, even though it’s not your field.” Qian opens the door on the drivers’ side and throws the briefcase on the backseat.

I nod shortly before turning around, quickly walking away. 

“(Y/n)...”, he calls behind me and I stop, “I have to ask you something.”

‘Shit’  I think and turn around on my heels. “Yes?”, I smile uncomfortably. 

“I need you to be my date for a gala this weekend.” 

I look baffled at Qian. This has to be a joke. He can’t be serious right now. Doesn’t he have escorts or sugar babies for that? 

“You’re kidding right?” But the blank look on his face makes me realize that he is serious.

I shake my head as Qian begins to talk, explaining his motive. “I am expected to bring a partner with me. I can’t bring Lucas with me. Rumours will start and that’s not good for the economy. Since you’re the only... female I know and trust─”

“So you decided that it has to be me who you take with you to that meeting-thingy. Like a piece of arm candy, a pawn to use.” I cut in with slight anger rising in my tone, the idea of just sitting there and being pretty going strongly against my moral. 

“Do not cut me off! I am your boss, you have to comply with my order”, he urges angrily and takes a step closer to me, towering over my figure. Our eyes lock and I see those familiar cold eyes I saw back in the basement. My breathing hitches in my throat and I take another step back, the anger replacing with slight fear. 

Qian notices my sudden change in behaviour and posture pulling him out his trance, his eyes softening slightly. He takes two steps back and exhales deeply, closing his eyes to calm himself. 

“I apologize for my outburst.” He looks away and neatens his suit jacket and dress shirt. 

“No, you are right, sir. You are my boss and that was an... order. Just call or text me what I have to wear and when to expect you. I’m sure you could get my number from Lucas. Now if you excuse me.”

I turn around and speed walk away from Qian Kun and his unnecessary expensive-looking car. As I turn around, I bump into a chest and stumble backwards. I land on the ground with an ‘oof’ escaping my lips. 

“Oh, (Y/n)!”, calls out Jaehyun and helps me up by my arms. Great, just what I needed, more mafia men in the middle of me having a beginning panic attack. 

My vision starts to blur and my knees give in, making me drop to the ground. A loud gasp leaves Jaehyun’s lips and he quickly catches me, pulling me towards one of the many benches in the hallway. 

“Breathe”, he whispers and pushes my hair away from my face, his eyes falling on the light scar on my neck. “Focus on my voice and close your eyes. Breathe deeply in, hold for a second, and then breathe out. Breathe in... hold... breathe out.”

I concentrate on Jaehyun and lean against him, focussing on how deep his voice is and the way his thumbs rub circles on the top of my hands. 

“When you feel ready, open your eyes and look into mine. Focus on them and, if you can do it, describe them for yourself.” 

My eyes flutter open and I study his face first. How his bangs cover most of his forehead, his angular eyebrows, the small rings piercing his ears. 

I finally look up, expecting to see cold eyes. The eyes I meet are everything except cold. They are warm and look at me with great worry. 

“I see... warmth. And comfort. Little specs of lighter brown in them. I like them, they shine in the sunlight”, I mutter to myself, the words escaping my lips.

It seems like Jaehyun still heard it because his breath stops. He comes closer but stops just millimetres away from my face, quickly standing up from the bench and coughing. 

“Let me take you home. You can’t continue your day like this.” Jaehyun takes off his jacket and places it over my shoulders, engulfing me in an earthy smell. Strong hints of sandalwood, patchouli, and rosewood. 

I don’t ague and let him lead me outside, into his car and drive me home. As Jaehyun opens up the door of my apartment and placing me on the couch with a blanket and a glass of water before he leaves again with a sad smile on his face, a single thought crosses my mind. 

How did he knew where I live?

[bonesingerofyme-loc]

Oryx, Beloved of the Deep

The Deep liked Oryx the best because Oryx came the closest a being born in the universe could to actually understanding it.

The Deep (The Darkness, the Winnower, whatever title you’d like to give it) is incompatible with mortal concepts of morality, and really any mortal concepts at all. It’s like arguing with gravity or taking personal offense to light being both a particle and a wave.

So what we get are intermediaries between the Deep and individuals - we get Worms. Worms are sort-of-between the timeless tropism that is the Deep and the impossibly small-scale living creatures of the universe. Which means the Worms can’t really relate to either, but try their best to bridge it. 

When the three Krill siblings found the Worms, the worms sold them an easy deal - eternal life, as long as they do whatever the worms say. Considering what the Worms say is pretty well in line with what the three wanted to do anyway, it seemed pretty sweet.

But the divergence begins here, as does Oryx’s climb to real ascension. 

Xivu Arath wanted to fight. She was, and is, simple. She is war, she is a knight, she wants to test her blade against all things. There isn’t much nuance.

Savathun wants to live forever. Oh, sure, she’s known for her trickery, for her traps and plans and infinite cunning - but all of those, all of those, are bent toward the goal of immortality.

Let’s look at these two, then. And how they live up to the urge of the Deep.

Xivu Arath wants to fight. In a way, that’s pretty in line with the Deep - it desires a final, ultimate shape. But see - the Deep doesn’t care how that comes to be. It doesn’t care if that final shape comes to be because a single extremely angry Hive went out and personally cut everyone’s heads off, or if a bunch of self-replicating grey-goo nanobots managed to consume the whole universe. They’re both perfectly valid conclusions to the Deep. One final shape. The end. Easy.

So Xivu superficially is following the ‘philosophy’, so to speak, of the Deep, but she doesn’t believe it. She’s not doing this out of some desire to to be the Only Thing Left Standing. No - from what we know of Xivu (which is precious little, really, compared to her siblings) - she’s just a scrappy sonofabitch who wants to fight. The fact that her burning need for war results in species and complexity dying off, and thus in some way the Final Shape is approached is really kind of serendipity. Not every thing that goes to war worships the Deep - conflict is just a natural part of existence, even in the Sky’s view of it.

Then we have Savathun. She wants to live forever. You could say that the desire to live forever is coterminous with the desire to be the Final Shape. To kill all other things so that one is never threatened and can exist eternally, one and the same with the universe.

But that’s a stretch. Savathun actually hasn’t seemed inclined toward omnicide in particular.

Oh, sure, she’ll partake of it of course, because she is, after all, Hive, and has a Worm gnawing in her throat, but Savathun is out here to live. That’s why she took the Worm, remember?

Aurash wanted to understand, Xi Ro wanted to fight, but Sathona - Sathona wanted the Mother Morph, because she didn’t want to die.

We’re seeing this more and more as more lore is revealed, and it’s becoming interesting how Savathun appears to be growing discontented with the Worms and perhaps even the Deep itself. Indeed - they seem to be nothing more than a means to an end, which was power, and longevity, so that she could learn more and discover more, and draw more power and longevity to herself, that she might then move onto the next stage of her plan for eternal existence, leaving behind both the Worms and the Deep. Unlike Oryx or Xivu Arath, Savathun has tried plans to satiate trick and satiate her Worm’s hunger. Unlike her siblings, she’s trying to find loopholes.

And now she’s hit upon Imbaru, which, by it’s very nature, actually requires other life to exist for it to work. Savathun’s humdinger of a scheme is actually antithetical to the Deep entirely - instead of becoming eternal as the only one, she wants to make herself synonymous and synchronous with suspicion and deception so that as long as those things exist, so too will she. 

But how can those things exist if the universe is sterile and dead, all into the Final Shape?

It can’t.

Savathun is angling to break her contract with the Deep and the Worms.

Thus do we have one sister who is merrily warring across space and time, content to do what she always wanted, and it just works out nicely that the result of her hobby does trend toward what the Darkness wants. The other sister is merely using the Deep as a tool, ready and willing to discard it as soon as it becomes useless or a hindrance.

Now Oryx.

Now we look on Oryx, the Taken King, First Navigator of the Osmium Court, Lord of the High War.

Oryx, you could say, was a true believer. In classic fashion, the true believer had his doubts in the beginning, and wavered in his faith. In classic fashion, from the doubt came only the passion that true zealotry can bring, and thus did Oryx become the mightiest of the Hive and most beloved of the Deep.

Now why would Oryx be the most beloved of the Deep?

You could say it’s for a number of reasons. Maybe Oryx had the highest K/D. Maybe Oryx extincted one more species than his sister’s did. Maybe Oryx made sure his lineage said the right prayers in the right way to make the Deep pleased.

It’s none of that.

Oryx was the most beloved because Oryx actually understood.

The Deep is impersonal and it is a force. The Deep doesn’t care about you, or you, or you or you. Your death means nothing to it - literally nothing. Not a positive or negative, just a fact. A fact. There is no malice in the Deep, no hatred - it is a force. That all things must end and become One Shape, to end the game. 

These things the Hive do - the tortures, the horrors, the torments - the Deep didn’t ask it of them. The Worms did. 

The Hive must do one thing. They must kill. Whether they kill with torturous scalpels or with impersonal nuclear fire - it doesn’t matter. Dead is dead, and the game progresses toward the end.

You could imagine a culture of grieving righteous crusaders, bringing silent death to worlds with painless gasses and bursts of gamma rays, extinguishing trillions of lives as humanely as they can, mourning for each culture lost but knowing it must be done, and taking it on as their curse.

They would serve the Deep as truly as a zealous, shrieking horde of tormented Thralls clawing apart screaming masses.

This is what Oryx began to understand. Oryx in his studies, in his charting of the Deep, came the closest to being able to converse with it on a comparable level. Consider his death - he forsees it and welcomes it. He recognizes and accepts his role as but a tool, an implement, in the great design of the Final Shape. Sure - he hopes that he might be that Final Shape, but he is content, if he is not, that he has done his duty to the universe in progressing it that much closer. And he hopes that whomsoever does end his existence will understand Oryx, and Oryx’s goal, so that even in death his influence can guide his slayer to continue his good work and seek the Final Shape.

When Oryx went to speak with the Deep, and Savathun and Xivu Arath tried to strand him there, something happened.

Oryx fought the deep.

What manner this fight took, what shape it held, what result it had - that’s unknown. But from Verse 4:3, metaphorical though it is, Oryx clearly turns on the Deep and vies with it in some way.

And the Deep is pleased.

Why wouldn’t it? Oryx met with his ‘god’, and stayed true to the exact thing that god cares about more than anything else. The struggle. The push for single victor. Oryx would fight and kill his god to prove his god correct - and this is all the Deep asks.

In his time as a Hive God Oryx stripped away much of what he was. There’s mentions of emotions alloying together, of reduction of complexity in his psyche until all things seem to smear together. 

This too, is as the Deep is.

Oryx, in a way, was mantling the Deep. He was becoming simpler, closer to the smile of a blade, closer to nothing but a knife, in mind and purpose, but a knife that was willing to shatter if another knife greater than it contended. 

I think the Deep misses Oryx. I think, in as much as it could be, it was proud. In this strange new game with warped rules and twisted grounds, Oryx came the closest to what the Deep once had before it all began. Oryx came the closest to understanding the Deep, personally, and for once, the Deep almost had a peer in the way the Gardener could never be. 

In a way, Oryx was almost a friend.