#IT IS MY GOD GIVEN RIGHT TO BE PRETENTIOUS ABOUT MY OWN ART!!!

[multi-lefaiye]

:3 it is time. going clockwise from the top right !

as a refresher, here's the poster: [link]

tagging some people i think would enjoy this the most: @corvus-rose @invaderskoodge @vacantgodling @paradoxspir1t @moonflowerrss

@skitzo-kero @anexor

- glaive and blood splatter - the glaive is quite literally the weapon strata uses much of the time, but it being so close to her (and the blood) symbolizes the violence that has always defined strata's life. she was raised in a warzone and had to learn at a very young age to fight for her own survival. violence is part of who she is, for better and for worse. (and it was also ultimately her end, symbolized by the glaive being turned to point towards her.)

- broken wedding band - the broken wedding ring is an actual item from strata's backstory i was asked to include, but i put it here specifically because it relates to both her and barley. they were both married (or engaged) in their first life, but it ended in brutal tragedy for both of them as their loves died.

- pocketwatch - this is a pocketwatch barley carries that belonged to his husband in his first life, one he carries with him now. it's a very literal representation of his grief and the happy life he lost.

- wheat - barley is a farm boy and a cowboy cat, and he frequently has a piece of wheat in his mouth.

- apple - again, farm boy, but also a silly reference to eden teasing eddie by telling him "you could not bite through the skin of an apple without help." but the bite in the apple is also kind of a cheeky nod to the "forbidden fruit of knowledge" thing in the bible... barley and eden are both warlocks for key, but barley took that leap first and was the one to introduce eden to their patron.

- journal - kind of a generic symbol for the books and journals eden carried with him in his university days, pushed to the side because he's abandoned so much of what he'd learned before in favor of diving headfirst into this new kind of magic.

- skeleton key - eden and barley's patron is called the keystone, aka key. this is a pretty literal representation of that, and it's a skeleton key specifically as a nod to key's expansive reach and knowledge. very little hides from it.

- fountain quill - this is at least similar to a pen eden uses in the campaign, frantically taking notes on everything and trying to piece his theories together. always writing, never stopping.

- chalk - this is one of the more literal items lmao, but eden carries a few sticks of chalk with him. for magic reasons.

- skull - here to represent eden's history with necromancy, the good and the bad. it's what he dedicated his life to, but it's also what his father was famous for. in many ways, necromancy is itself a representation of the shadow of abdiel's legacy, always hanging heavy on eden's shoulders.

- cigarettes - eden and hyndrol are both smokers, hyndrol more so. the cigarettes near hyn are all stubbed out and burnt, implying a long life of smoking them down. meanwhile, the one closest to eden is clean and unburnt, representing his own life being cut short. and as a fun aside, fire and arson feature heavily in hyndrol's story--she's burnt a lot more than cigarettes.

- photos - originally i meant for these to represent a picture i imagine eden carries with him of his family, before his father left but with abdiel's face scratched out--a memento eden defaced years ago in a fit of anger and carries with him to this day. BUT... i decided to leave them blank, to fit them both. and as a nod to hyndrol's memories being... not as reliable as they used to be, let's say :) (evil). also, jamie told me that hyndrol definitely kept a copy of her own wanted poster, and that's so funny, so consider this a reference to that.

- knife - again, this is a representation of a knife hyndrol actually carries on her, minus some of the more specific decals. it's something important to her from her previous life, like with barley's pocket watch. a representation of the life she lost and the people in her past, as well as the violence that followed her for much of her life. and like with strata's glaive, it being pointed at her is another nod to the violence that she wrought eventually killing her.

- morel mushroom - so hyndrol's shitty toxic ex-lover's name is morel, which is a kind of mushroom. so i threw one of those here. and as a fun aside, to me morels kinda look... dead, and a little rotten. so i tried to lean into that a bit and make this mushroom look dead and kinda gross. morel is a toxic sack of shit of a person and the rot she brought into hyndrol's life is represented very literally here. but, in a way, i tried to reflect that the rot was destroying her as well.

- arrows - hyn is a sneaky rogue and uses a classic bow and arrow, so i threw some arrows in as a little nod to that. BUT... i had them point away from her as a nod to the violence she did on others, both in this life and her previous. she's an internationally famous pirate and did SO much murder and crime. like... she wasn't responsible for the same scale of destruction and violence as strata, but she's also infamous. and she's proud of it. (also, the arrows pointing to eden was mostly incidental, but is funny enough that i'll say it's intentional. because they have a very mutually antagonistic dynamic and it delights me.)

- wolf figurine - another literal item hyndrol carries, but wolves and wolf imagery are big with her as a character. i don't have much deeper symbolism behind it than that, but the wolf imagery means a lot to me. i care her.

- wedding ring - like strata and barley, hyndrol and pevier were both married in their previous life. this wedding ring is intact, though, because those two's marriages ended... well, not as badly, to put it plainly lol. hyndrol got divorced before her death, but her ex-wife outlived her; pevier, meanwhile, lived a happy life with his husband before they both passed later in life. it's a stark contrast to the other two's tragic romances, but the outcome is much the same. they're both missing their ex-loves.

- lute & flute - listing these together even though they're not next to each other, because they're there for the same reason. pevier is a bard, and in his first life he had a lucrative career as a theater actor. in the campaign, he uses a lute, but i included a flute as well as a nod to him having other talents with performing as well. he's very skilled! king!! also, both of them have red and blue detailing wherever i could get it in there, because red and blue are the pevier colors.

- sea shell - this is the only one that i kinda put in there just to fill space, but i picked a sea shell for two reasons! one, hyndrol is a pirate who spent much of her life on the sea. reminders of that are comforting to her and remind her of home, and, pevier may not be a seafarer, but more than anyone else in the group, pevier makes an effort to see the good in others and the beauty in the world. i picked a pretty sea shell as a little nod to that.

- white feathers - kind of a segue from pevier seeing the good in others, the white feathers are a reference to an npc named lament, a guardian spirit that helped hyn, pevier, and eden at the start of the campaign. when they found out that lament had been lying to them about their motives, hyndrol and eden immediately disregarded them going forward... but pevier has continued hearing them out, and he's been willing to give them another chance and listen to their guidance. so, the feathers are a representation of that influence.

- tickets - i feel like this one is a bit self explanatory lol, but like i said, pevier was an actor in his first life! i threw in some tickets to one of his shows!! that's it, that's what this is.

- open book - i meant this as just a book of james' personal notes, whether they be about potion making or his mission. he's the most modern of the group and has a lot of shit on his person and that he's keeping track of. but i specifically had it lie open because... well, james isn't an open book per se, but he's also been pushing more for open communication in the group and for everyone to be willing to actually trust each other and work together. he's taking a leap on the others and expects that same courtesy.

- potion bottle - this one isn't that deep lmao, james makes potions!! it's something he's very skilled at!! but as a fun fact, i originally planned to have the bottle open or smashed and spilling everywhere, but then i was like... no, he wouldn't be so sloppy. so, it is neatly closed and sealed, and we don't get to see its contents.

- dog tags - this is another item i was specifically asked to include, but i decided to position it here for my own nefarious symbolism purposes. james and strata are both soldiers, just from very, VERY different circumstances. like i said before, james is the most modern of the group, and these dog tags are the kind he'd carry with him. he's a product of his homeland's military industrial complex and it's shaped a lot of who he is. strata, meanwhile, is from ancient times and had to become a soldier to survive the brutal wars her people were forced into. they're two very different kinds of soldiers, but they have a lot in common at the same time.

- wrench (+ nuts) - admittedly this one also isn't that deep, but i wanted to add some representations of some of the tools james carries with him. he makes potions! he tinkers with machinery! he is the only one here who fully understands a lot of modern technology. i love that for him.

- knife & bloodstain - ONCE AGAIN this is a recreation of a specific knife that james carries with him, with some of the specific dragon decals. i'm not gonna repeat myself with the whole "oh the weapon is pointing AT them" thing, but the dragon imagery is more common ground with him and strata. they both carry the sin of Wrath, represented by a dragon, and they're both marked by the dragon as a result. if that makes sense. (and while i don't know all the specific details for this knife's significance to james, iirc it's related to his older brother, the most important person in his life. little nod to family being important to both him AND strata.)

- violets - this is more a symbol for strata than james, but this was inspired by an answer para gave me when i sent him the questions for the into darkness quiz. a specific item he associated with strata was dried flowers. SO.... dried flowers. and i specifically chose violets because violets have a long, documented history as a symbol of sapphic love and romance.

and finally, the marble floor they're all chilling on is specifically white marble with black and gold details as a nod to the domain of eden and barley's warlock patron, key. key's domain is full of this shit!! implying they're all just passed out in key's realm.

we did it gamers

btw if anyone would be interested in a list of every little item in the picture and a description of what it means for the characters and their stories. i would be very happy to provide :3

[krakensdottir]

GO s2 trailer thoughts

Yeah, I have a few of my own, wanted to put them all together before they slither away.

So, people are split between Crowley being gone the last four years vs. just stepped out for milk or something, and I agree either would be hilarious. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the former. The vibe they have... it doesn’t feel like four years of domesticity has passed. It seems like they’re still very much figuring things out re: each other. Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley suggesting they work together again, his wistfulness when Gabriel mentions that ‘one particular person’... yeah, there’s still yearning. Which means, friends, we are in for some serious relationship development this season.

Interesting that Crowley’s replacement is confiding in him. Casual meeting on a bench and everything. Does Hell still want to use them, or is this her initiative?

I’ve seen a lot of speculation about the lightning thing as well, but given how pissed off Crowley looks beforehand, I think he’s just letting off steam. Literally. Because that’s how demons do. Especially ones that’ve graduated from Drama Queen University. (He used to make nebulae, we’re probably lucky he’s not setting off atomic explosions instead.)

Some have spotted it already, but yeah, the candlelit dinner scene is from 1941. So it’s immediately after Crowley saved Aziraphale’s books. No wonder he’s giving him Looks across the table. (This scene was mentioned way back in the early production days, and I won’t lie, I’ve got my own hopes for it, though they probably don’t match much of the fandom’s.)

Y’all say what you want about Crowley’s angel attire, we have seen how they dress and you KNOW he’s gonna walk in without raising an eyebrow. If I had to guess, he’s going for a vibe of Pretentious Art Snob because it fits with his former angelic profession and if he has to lie to anyone up there, it’ll be more convincing to stick to what he knows. In other words, an angel seeing him in passing would be like ‘oh god, it’s one of those pricks from the Cosmic Architecture Department.’

Okay, I think that’s everything.

EDIT: Wait no, one other thing. Having seen several comments that say this or that story element is just like a fanfic they read - THIS, people, THIS is why Neil Gaiman doesn’t read your fanfics. This right here is why. Because if he did, any of those similarities would be grounds for an accusation of plagiarism. Does it make more sense now?

[blahkugo]

Biggest Fan

DABI x HAWKS x READER

Music! AU inspired by THIS photo set...or, the one in which Dabi, Hawks, & Endeavor are a famous rap group, and the reader gets VIP treatment. 

NSFW begins after the ~~~ for those of you who don’t care for plot! 

Warnings: 18+!, SMUT, cursing, threesome, rough sex (? not sure what your definitions of the word are but they do be slapping you around…), just pure filth basically 

You’ve been squealing into the phone for the past ten minutes. Honestly, you can’t believe the words coming from your best friend’s mouth, even after asking her to repeat them a fourth time. 

“Babe, even if you weren’t my agent, I would have found a way to get you in,” Rumi scoffs into the speaker, unphased by your relentless questioning. Though she’s always been a bit impatient when it comes to your antics, she knows how big of a deal this is to you. “How could I not? You talk my ear off about them.”

“I owe you for the next thirty years!” Your screech turns the heads of a few other customers, and you can feel the irritation radiating off the glare of one particularly peeved woman seated near you. But who cares? You’re too excited for a few middle-aged drags to dampen your mood. 

“Remember what you just said the next time I try to skip out on an interview,” her laugh echoes loudly; she must be at the studio.

“Yes! Whatever you want, Twinkle Toes. It’s yours!” She begins to grumble at the use of the old nickname,

“How many times have I told you not to-” You catch the scowling woman turning towards you.

“Got-to-go-text-me-the-details, love you!” The parting phrase comes out a hurried ramble. Unbothered as you are by a few stares, direct confrontation definitely isn’t worth the trouble. You’re out of the bistro and in your car before anyone can open their mouth. 

The cup of iced coffee you press to your flushed face does nothing to curb the elation threatening to bubble over from inside you. Rumi really has outdone herself this time. Being that she’s both a long-time best friend and client of yours, you know just how hard she’s been working to book a job of this caliber. Images of the two of you icing sore feet after hours of grueling practices spring to mind, making your bad ankle throb. If you could tell your younger selves who they are now— an internationally acclaimed dancer and a talent manager with a novel’s worth of influential clients— they wouldn’t believe it. And the work was paying off in more ways than one. Soon, Rumi will be making her music video debut...and you’ll actually be in the presence of your favorite artists, Suns of Icarus. 

The rap trio’s been all you can talk about forever. No, like really, forever. Even back at arts school, Rumi had to talk you out of choreographing dances to their music practically once a week. You can still hear her promising you that your 70 year-old ballet instructor did not, in fact, want to see you pirouette to a song that's chorus consists of Hawks saying the word “pussy” over and over again. Usually the memory would drown you in embarrassment (especially considering the story is Rumi’s favorite icebreaker), but now even that can’t hamper your mood. You sigh cheerily, pulling into your reserved parking space. Tomorrow, you’ll be surrounded by your idols.

-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask for the third time in an hour, tugging at the hem of your silk tank. Though you’re wearing your favorite suit, you can’t help but feel out of place in the large dressing trailer. After all, it’s  not every day that you accompany your clients on their gigs. Your job is getting them the gigs, and usually you prefer it that way.

“(Y/N), quit stressing! If you looked any hotter the guys would have a heart attack,” your best friend bellows loudly. “Doesn’t she look smokin’?” She questions the hairdresser who, apart from a nod and reassuring smile, you can’t quite understand over the sound of the blow dryer. “Who’s the bad bitch that got me this job in the first place? Oh right, that was you,” she pumps a manicured finger towards you to echo the claim, “so woman up!” 

She doesn’t put her finger down until she sees your face soften. It’s not like she’s wrong. “Professional smooth-talker” is basically your job description. In Hollywood people are afraid of you, the woman who can make or break a career. Who are you to let a couple of talents get you riled up? You allow your body to relax in your seat. Even if those talents are the group of boys that you’ve been crushing on since you were 16. Recalling that fact has you scrambling out of the trailer, face beet-red yet again.

“I’m going to grab something from the coffee cart. Be right back!” The door shuts behind you with a loud thud. Rumi should be spending this time going over the routine, not talking you down from the ledge you’re attempting to throw yourself off of over a few stupid guys. Besides, you’ll probably receive a polite greeting at best. The world’s favorite musicians have more important things to do than indulge your fantasies. 

Having iced coffee and a bagel in your hands is all you need to feel the tension in your shoulders dissipate and your smile return; truly a working woman’s comfort meal. The spring in your step is restored as you walk back to the trailer, too entranced by the savory goodness to properly hear the voice that hollers from your right. You do, however, hear the scolding that follows the catcall,

“How many times have I told you not to hit on people that work for us, birdbrain.” Your entire body swings towards the familiar nickname and a piece of bagel nearly falls from your mouth. Not even a few feet away, Dabi holds your favorite vocalist in a one-handed headlock, attempting to ruffle the blonde’s hair while keeping a cigarette balanced between his own fingertips. 

“Not the hair, man! The stylist’s already had to touch it up twice today!” Hawks’ shrieks are muffled beneath the bicep of his counterpart. 

“Go apologize,” The lanky man shoves Hawks towards the spot your feet are now cemented to. Though he’s reprimanding him, you swear you detect a hint of amusement in his tattooed face. “I’m sorry about him, sweetheart,” he calls, lips contorting into a smirk that should be illegal. You feel your thighs press together on their own; the situation isn’t made any better by the pretty boy walking towards you, hands threading through his golden locks in an effort to fix the havoc Dabi wrought. 

“My bad,” he flashes you an award-winning set of teeth you’ve previously only had the pleasure of viewing through your laptop screen; somehow they’re even pearlier in person. The glimmer of a tiny gem catches your eye and you notice one is sealed to his canine, only dazzling you further. “I meant what I said though, you’re gorgeous,” his hand moves from his own hair to twist a piece of yours between his fingertips. The lack of boundaries leaves you feeling stupefied, but he doesn’t let up, going as far as wrapping the lock around his polished index finger. God, even his hands are pretty...What if they were trailing the inside of your thigh and—  Your mind shouts at you to behave, a fruitless undertaking when the object of your adolescent desires is touching you ever-so softly. 

“Um- I- Thank you?” The stuttered phrase comes out confused. Where the hell is the professional smooth-talker side of you when you need her? “I’m Rumi’s agent and uh- I-I’m a big fan!” Heat blazes through your face and chest; you’d slap yourself for the outburst if they weren’t here. 

“Oh, really? She told us all about you!” He waves a hand towards Dabi. “Oi! Matches! She’s not an assistant, she’s Rumi’s manager!” The gloomier man extinguishes his cigarette before making his way towards the two of you, smug expression wavering only when he glances at Hawks. A short wheeze leaves the blonde when his chest is smacked lightly by his partner. 

“I told you not to call me that.” Dabi turns his attention towards you. “(Y/N), right?” He sticks a hand out to shake and you quite literally drop the remains of the bagel to reciprocate the motion, a move that makes you redden and him snicker. “Rumi told us you’re our biggest fan,” his sly grin tells you your loud-mouthed best friend had probably spilled too much information their way. Oh, she’s definitely going to get an earful later. 

He doesn’t drop eye contact the entire time he’s speaking to you, and you find yourself enchanted by the deep sea-blue of his irises. You would literally swim in those pools if given the chance. Only when Hawks clears his throat do you realize you’re still shaking his friend’s inked hand. After dropping it rapidly, you urge yourself into composure out of pure distress. 

“Sorry, I’m honestly a bit starstruck. I’m sure Rumi told you how much I love your music,” you finally sound a bit like your usual self. 

“She didn’t really mention our music, did she Matches?” Hawks chirps, dodging Dabi’s fist this time.

“No, I don’t think she did, dipshit,” he spits the insult through gritted teeth as a final warning. “But I do remember her telling us something about being your first two crushes...or was it your ‘sexual awakening’? I can’t really remember the term she used…” Your knees almost buckle at the obvious teasing, and you silently swear to murder Rumi when she’s done shooting this video. It’s evident that the mockery is highly amusing to them— the glints in their eyes border on ravenous. 

Because you’re not typically someone whose presence is taken lightly, the thought of being toyed with by a few arrogant men has your blood boiling. You’ve already dealt with too many pretentious assholes who don’t believe women, especially younger ones, belong in management; you didn’t claw your way to the top of the industry for all of that hardship to go to waste. Ever the more perceptive of the duo, Dabi seems to realize the shift in your mood. 

“Relax,” he reaches a hand towards you before thinking better of it, choosing instead to tug at the thin, silver piercing adorning his bottom lip. “We’re only teasing. She didn’t say anything like that, obviously.” You stare at him incredulously, arms crossing your chest. “Why don’t we give you a tour?” Though he’s the one who makes the offer, it sounds as though he’d rather be doing anything else. 

“We’re not really assholes, promise,” Hawks jumps in, crossing his fingers over his heart in a show of good faith. “This one just gets too big headed around beautiful women,” he points at the heavily-inked man, who simply rolls his eyes at the accusation. You’d thought the blonde was…well, nothing more than the stereotype his hair color implied, but he’s sharper than he seems. It appears that unlike Dabi, who comes off curt and ungenuine, Hawks’ wit stems from his charm. 

You can’t help but think of how the two of them compliment each other beautifully. That’s probably why their entire fanbase thinks they should be dating. With that ludicrous thought, your exuberance returns. After Hawks assures you they don’t have to be on set any time soon, you find yourself taking them up on their offer. They seem to be a handful, sure, but how long have you dreamt of spending uninterrupted time with your favorite members of the group? Besides, it’s only a tour. What could go wrong?

-

It’s apparent only five minutes into your time together that Hawks (despite his insistence you call him Kiego, it’s difficult after years of referring to him by the stage name) does not know the meaning of personal space. He spends the better part of the tour hooking an arm through yours, touching your hair, or pestering Dabi. While some may take this over-familiarity as a sign of disrespect, it feels more to you as though he’s simply comfortable in his skin. 

Rude or not, his bold actions do nothing but spur your heart to beat out of your chest. Every time he guides you towards an attraction with a cheerful comment, you swear his fingers purposefully dash under your layers of clothing, brushing faintly at the skin of your waist in a way that makes your heart (among other parts) flutter.  

“And as I’m sure you know, we’re filming this music video mid-tour,” his hand flits away as swiftly as it skimmed you, prolonging the torture of wondering whether his movements are purposeful or a figment of your twisted imagination. After showing you most of the fabricated scenery— and even the gorgeous, cherry-red convertible that was rented— for the video, you’ve arrived at the group’s infamous tour bus. You once read that most of their concerts end with the vehicle being mobbed by ruthless fans, one of the sole reasons you’ve never attended a show. Someone as busy as you doesn’t have time for all the horrid traffic the mobs cause. “Wanna see inside? It’s actually pretty roomy.” 

You nod, eyes trailing towards Dabi, who’s busy stomping out the most recent cig he’d been puffing on. Aside from the occasional chuckle at your flustered blunders or annoyed curse thrown towards Hawks, the taller man had kept mostly to himself. His indifference confuses you, makes you wish you hadn’t reacted so bitterly to the loose smile and banter he offered you upon first meeting. At the same time, part of you is irritated by his standoffish personality. From what you’ve seen so far, his remarks serve the single purpose of humiliating others for his own amusement— a stark contrast to the misjudged softy he’s portrayed as on camera. 

You’re guided onto the bus and Dabi follows, cursing under his breath at something or other. Sociable as he is, Hawks begins to chatter again, seeing no issue in being the center of your attention. You realize the space is much roomier than it seems. State of the art technology allows the bunk beds to fold back with a press of the button, leaving room for a decently sized couch. It’s also much cleaner than you would expect three young men living on the road to allow. 

“And the lowest one was my bunk, just in case you’d like to see it again later,” he whispers the sentence as though it’s his best kept secret, wagging his thick brows exaggeratedly to key you in on his joke. “Hey, why are you laughing? I’m totally seriou–” The doors swivel open and your giggles are cut off by heavy footsteps and a booming voice,

“Oi! Keigo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You have to crane your neck to see the pillar of a man’s scrunched, stoic face. Endeavor, the pyrotechnic-obsessed “hype man” and third part of Suns of Icarus’s trio, stands a few feet from you, clearly exasperated by something his bandmate has done. Hawks must know precisely the reason for the bottle-redhead’s tone, because his face pales. 

“Enji, we made a new friend!” He pulls you into his chest in an obvious attempt to shield himself from the giant, but your face heats at the close contact regardless. 

“You were supposed to be on set for your solo scenes ten minutes ago,” he crosses his sculpted arms, “so let’s go.” The lively man is being whisked away by the larger one before he can utter a word of rebuttal. “Nice to meet you,” he calls casually to you over his shoulder. 

“Dabi, keep (Y/N) company! I’ll be back!” Hawks shrieks with a dramatic flare. The man was truly born to be an entertainer. 

An unbearable awkwardness envelops the two of you once you’re alone. Without his best friend around, Dabi drops any semblance of amiability, but it’s not as if he was trying very hard before. He plops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. You sit as far away from him as possible, but realize you don’t have your own device to keep you busy. After a few nervous minutes of twiddling your thumbs, you attempt to break the silence.

“So, Haw– Keigo and Endeavor use stage names, why don’t you?” You spout the first question that comes to mind, hoping it’ll spark an interesting conversation.

“Dabi is my stage name,” he answers curtly, without looking up from his cell. 

“Oh...but– even your bandmates call you by it?” 

“Yep. Don’t care for my real name,” his eye roll sends ice through your veins.

“Excuse me,” you snap, “have I done something to offend you?” The frustration in your tone wins you eye contact, at least. 

“Nope.”

“Unbelievable….I’m going to need your publicist’s information.” 

“Huh?”

“Well, anyone who can make you seem like the world’s most ‘misunderstood heartthrob’ on camera certainly deserves a pay raise, dontcha’ think?” His eyes drop to send a steely glare your way, but you’re too fed up to feel intimidated. You smirk at him, a single eyebrow raised in twisted satisfaction. There’s the bitchy self you know and love. 

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he sits up, “but I know everything I need to know about you.” 

“Oh? Enlighten me then, sir.” 

~~~

“You may think Keigo likes you, but he likes everyone. You’re, what, thinking you’re special because he’s throwing some attention your way?” Dabi inches closer. “Hoping he’ll get in your panties?” 

“It’s not like that at all–”

“Don’t lie. The idea of being with someone you’ve idolized for years is thrilling, isn’t it?” The heat that rises on your cheeks is enough to confirm his suspicions. “He doesn’t like to see people for who they really are, but I know your type...just another tramp that’ll use him and move onto the next,” his smug expression returns after that little rant. Paired with the tattoos covering most of his face, he appears every bit as wicked as the skeleton his ink emulates— devilish, even. 

“You’re wrong.” You can’t think of a proper argument when he’s so close to you, basically breathing down your neck. 

“Am I?” His hand trails up your clothed thigh, and an unwelcome shiver crawls up your spine. “So you’re going to stop me when I do this, right?” Then, he kisses you. 

It’s not at all soft, or compassionate, or anything resembling your naive teenage fantasies of the artist in the slightest. Rough, slender fingers wrap around your jaw and yank your lips to his. He doesn’t stop at a peck either, choosing instead to assail your mouth with all of his pent-up rage. The cool, hard metal of his lip ring strains against you, a pleasant contrast to the quick heat traveling the rest of your body. You want nothing more than to prove him wrong— to throw him off you, tell him to go straight to hell— but he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and- God, it just feels so good. Your mouth parts in a breathless moan and Dabi takes the reaction as an invitation to swipe his tongue against your teeth. With your bodies melding together violently, the make out feels simply a continuation of the intense argument you were having moments before. 

Pulling you between his lap, he shifts you so that your back is flush across his chest. Nimble fingers make quick work of your clothes. You just barely raise your hips so that he’s able to take your pants off with ease, but you’re sure he notices the eager movement. When you’re left in nothing but your panties, you feel the rumbling of his solid body behind you as he laughs, the sound bitter and pleased all at once.

“Oh you really are a whore,” he chides. “Who’d you wear these for, hm?” He runs his fingers across the band of your red lace thong. 

“Not you,” you bite back, feigning disinterest towards the dangerous position he has you in. The asshole’s not going to get to actually hear you admit defeat so easily. One of his hands kneads your chest and the other grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together so that you’re unable to speak.

“Not me? Take a good look at yourself, sweetheart.”  He lifts your head upwards and your breath hitches; the entire ceiling of the bus is covered in a dark, reflective surface. “Who has you naked in their lap right now?” he whispers onto your neck, licking a long stripe upwards until his teeth graze your ear. You watch fervently as he strokes his digits across one of your perked nipples, tweaking the bud roughly. “Who are you being such a slut for?” He’s aware he won’t get a response because his left hand still grips your face, demanding you watch his every move. 

Dabi then snakes his fingers down your midriff tortuously slowly, brushing lightly in a way he hasn’t touched you yet; as if the skin there is delicate, worthy of his valuable adoration. The ink traveling his arms makes him appear so ethereal, so sinister and compelling, that you can’t help but let out a muffled mewl. Once he reaches your panties, his fingers dart beneath the material and the tender moment is lost. An onslaught of pleasure wracks your body when he begins to draw quick circles on your clit. He lets go of your cheeks, now sore and reddened from both pressure and bliss. 

“I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” his fingers glide against your soaked slit, “who are you being such a dirty slut for?” You contemplate not giving him the answer he’s looking for, and part of you is sinfully curious about what may happen if you enrage him further; however, that idea is put to rest immediately when he snaps his head up to look at you through the mirror, blue eyes pooling with lust and a hint of something animalistic. That stare, paired with the relentless strokes across your clit, provokes your moaned answer,

“F-for you, Dabi.” He uses his free hand to insert two, thick digits inside you.

“Say it again.” 

“I’m- fuck– a s-slut for you,” you practically sob out. You press the back of your head into his shoulder harder, squeezing your eyes closed and biting your lip. 

“Not going to keep your eyes open? Fine.”  The fingers are removed from your clit and you’re about to let out an unsatisfied whine, only for him to grab the back of your head and mash your swollen lips to his once again. Then, after another brief caress of your abdomen, he’s back to touching your sensitive bud. All of your moans are silenced by his mouth, and you feel the vibrations of a low groan from his own throat when your ass grinds against his clothed member. When your stomach pulls taut you know you’re seconds away from feeling that all-encompassing pleasure, the tidings of an orgasm so close to washing over you. 

“Oi, Matches! You didn’t throw her out did you?” Hearing Hawks’ voice call out from the front of the bus has you reeling your lips away from Dabi, and though he slows his movements, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your core. Rather than push you away, he takes the other hand off your clit to hold you tightly against him. “(Y/N)? Dab–”

For a few seconds, the only sound you can hear is your own heart beating out of your chest. Takami takes in the scene in front of him— your bare body splayed across his best friend in the lewdest of positions. You know your face is blooming in embarrassment as you wait for a reaction, for his face to drop in disappointment, anger, anything. Instead, he smirks. 

“Starting without me? That’s no fair,” the golden-haired boy actually pouts, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes, something almost bloodthirsty. Though this is happening right in front of you, you can’t truly believe it. Dabi relieves the pressure of his arm from your chest.

“Look Kiego, the whore’s fucking drenched for us,” he lifts his fingers towards the beautiful man in front of you proudly, as if showing off a trophy or a new toy. Then he pops the damp fingers in his own mouth, humming at the taste of you. Hawks’ tongue dips out of his mouth, darting across his bottom lip. 

“I want a taste,” he leers at your bright panties, now soaked through. You think you must have died and gone to heaven, what with the two Adonises staring at you as if you’re their last meal. Hawks kneels at the foot of the couch, brings his face right up to your navel, and licks a long, cold swipe. His digits toy at your waist like they were earlier, except this time the movements are decisive and fierce. Just as he’s about to tug your panties down and place his mouth where you want it most, Dabi seizes his jaw and pulls his partner into a long, sloppy kiss. You let out a sigh at the view and— teases that they are— the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Is watching us turning you on?” Dabi taunts cruelly. 

“Looks like she’s a bit of a pervert, hm?” Hawks retorts, sliding a finger across your clothed slit. The movement causes your entire body to quiver, your senses on high alert. Without another word, he leans down again, shifts your panties to the side, and takes your clit between his lips. The way he laps at you hungrily makes you believe your initial judgment of him was completely inaccurate, and when he inserts two lengthy digits inside you, the thought is confirmed. Hot, white pleasure consumes your body as your core clenches around his digits. He simply cocks an eyebrow at you and chuckles darkly, holding you tightly against him by your waist so that you’re unable to wriggle away. Gone is the lovable persona you were introduced to, replaced now by someone entirely foreign, deviously lewd. 

“Fuck, Hawks,” you whimper, greedy for more. 

“Thought I told you to call me Keigo,” he scolds beneath you, biting the inside of your thigh so that a sharp gasp leaves you. 

“I-I’m sorry, K-Kei–” You’re cut off mid-moan when Dabi kisses you, wrapping one slender hand around your throat and squeezing. His other one threads through your hair and tugs harshly. A painful hiss leaves you but the sound only makes him pull harder, smirking against your lips.

It’s as though they’re competing for your attention. If one of the men evokes a sob or whimper, the other attempts to outdo him— and they have no regard for your body, becoming instead the battleground for their lascivious rivalry. You lose yourself in the intense sensations, unaware of time or its passing, instead focusing solely on the coil tightening in your abdomen. Every gasp, every moan, only pushes them further, and soon your legs are shaking as you feel yourself nearing the delicious edge. 

Just as you’re about to let go, allow yourself the mind-numbing relief of an orgasm, Kiego withdraws his fingers. Rubbing your bruised thighs together is a desperate attempt at friction, but the momentum is completely lost. Your core clenches around nothing, and you cry out, hopelessly bitter at the emptiness between your legs. 

“Sorry, princess,” his hair is sticking up, golden locks tousled from the harsh grip of your fingers. And yet he still looks perfect. He wipes your juices off his chin with a thumb, “but that’s for starting without me.” Despite the apology, he sounds absolutely delighted at your loss. You whine again, hoping it’ll change his mind. “What do you think, Dabi? Should we let her cum?” 

Hearing his name, the tattooed man takes his attention away from your chest and the onslaught of purple marks his lips’ were just peppering on your throat. 

“I don’t think so,” he tweaks at one of your nipples, eliciting a soft groan from you. “I want the bitch begging for it.” Dabi pushes you away from him and stands to unbuckle his belt. “Besides, don’t think she’s done enough to earn it.” You should be outraged at the way they decide your fate as if you’re not even present, but in reality it only thrills you, your clit throbbing at the lack of control. 

“You’re right,” your idol sneers, canines bared and gleaming as he unzips his own pants, “and I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

They switch places, shifting you so that your breasts are pinned against the couch between Kiego’s legs. Dabi grinds his hips against your clothed center, and you mewl at the long-awaited friction, hard member straining against his briefs. 

“Get to work, princess,” Kiego calls to you, boxers down to his knees. You can only balk at the sight in front of you. His cock is thick and long, essentially everything you could’ve ever hoped for, but that’s not it. 

Rather, it’s the shiny, silver ball pierced through the shaft and poking out from the top of his head that stops you dead in your tracks. He notices your eyes widen at it, but only snorts, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanking you roughly towards him. 

“Oh, that little thing?” Now he’s shoving you against his length, using your face as nothing more than a means for friction. “Just a drunken dare from Matches.” The nickname provokes the other man into leaving a stinging slap against your behind. And just like that, the angered man drives himself into your cunt. 

“I told you,” slap, “not to,” slap, “call me that.” With each thrust into you, Dabi releases an onslaught of pent-up anger onto your rear, the biting pain causing you to cry out around Kiego’s member. 

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that,” he leans his head back against the couch with a deep groan. “Such a pretty little whore, choking on my cock.” One of his free fingers shoots out to wipe at your tears, hand moving ever-so-lightly to cradle your jaw. The gesture might have been sweet if his other hand wasn’t forcing you down further to swallow him whole. 

“Mmmph–” you scrape carelessly at Kiego’s thighs in an attempt to secure yourself, moans coming out garbled with his cock down your throat. 

“Not done with you yet, slut” Dabi still pounds into you relentlessly. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being stuffed from both ends, knees on the verge of giving out until he fastens his hands around your thighs, pulling you into him with even harder plunges. “Fucking take it.” Something hard and cold grinds inside you, and you’re acutely aware of the ridged piercings now pressing against that perfect, spongy spot in your heat.

When he reaches an arm around to rub furiously at your clit, you’re sobbing. Kiego’s deep, golden eyes watching you, Dabi’s unrelenting fingers and thrusts, it’s all too much. 

And then you’re finally letting go. Legs shaking, mind wracked with white as you clench your eyes shut. Your mouth moves away from Kiego’s shaft, only concerned with riding out your high. The tattooed man behind you doesn’t stop his movements either, still pressed deep inside you until your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you’re tapping furiously at his waist. Kiego smiles, taking himself in his hand and slapping his cock against your cheek while he strokes himself. 

“That’s it, baby,” he smooths your hair back, grunting. “You look so pretty when you cum.” He pumps himself a few more times before he finishes, sticky liquid spurting across your lips and into your hair. You reach around to grab at Dabi’s waist again, willing him to stop. He removes himself from inside of you only to flip you around and your cunt clenches at the feeling of emptiness. 

Pulling you into a long, winded kiss, he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip to taste Kiego’s release. Then he’s pushing you to your knees once more, hands threading through your hair roughly.

“Suck,” he scowls down at you. Though you’re breathless, still reeling from your orgasm, the simple command spewed at you has your lips wrapped around him in a second.

He isn’t as girthy as Kiego, but just as long. A trail of piercings go down his length, and your tongue brushes against the cool metal while you wrap your fingers around the area you can’t reach. You stare up at him through thick lashes, piercing blue eyes ogling you as you take him further in. His hand is still perched on your head, but he makes no movement to push you down— instead, basking in your slow seduction. 

You’re sure you look a mess, dried mascara down your cheeks and still covered in Kiego’s cum, but Dabi only revels in the power he has over you, positively thrilled at the way you no longer fight for dominance. He breaks eye contact only when the blonder man tugs him into a kiss, deep and passionate, and the sight only urges you to swallow him deeper. 

“I like her with her mouth so full,” Kiego whispers against Dabi’s lips. 

“Just as long as the bitch isn’t speaking,” the other man groans, rutting into your mouth so that you know he’s close. 

Soon he’s pulling out of you to pump his shaft, your mouth wide open so that the head of his cock brushes against your tongue. Kiego reaches down to move Dabi’s hand, grabbing at his partner’s length so he can stroke it himself. It doesn’t take long after that for the brooding man to cum, head thrown back in a loud grunt while the tantalizing male next to him coaxes him through the orgasm. Kiego angles him so that his hot, white liquid gushes onto both your face and tongue; you suck at Dabi’s head until he forcibly pushes you off him. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty locks. “Knew you were good for something.” With that final statement, he turns away from you, pulling his pants back on and returning to his spot on the couch as though he wants nothing more to do with you. 

Kiego walks away as well, and you’re sure you’re about to be kicked out now that they’ve had their way with you. A part of you is angered, but a larger part is still processing what just happened, savoring the earth-shattering orgasm the pair blessed you with. 

You look for your discarded clothing, trying to compose yourself so you’re able to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Kiego walks back into the common area, wet rag in hand. He doesn’t speak until he pushes you into the couch, rubbing the clean towel over your face softly.

“So, you’re coming to our concert next week, right?” 

---------------

Tags:

@mindninjax @rat-suki @bakatenshii @yukiimanic @theygottheircages @lookslikeleese

DM me if you’d like to be tagged!

[antiloreolympus]

13 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats seriously what bugs me so much about LO, it never actually lets serious moments be serious, it's always lampooned by rachel's insistent need to force in her juvenile "humor" and never actually depicting how pressing things are. even the following moments from persephone's r//pe was undercut by hades making stupid puns! i understand if rachel cant write something more serious than "[x] is bad" but if thats so, then dont try it? because thats how you end up with this pretentious mess.

2. since when did lo hades have earrings??? i legit do not remember this ever being a thing??? is he trying to be hip with the kids 😭my man you still look like a crusty old man the earrings arent helping 😭

3. lo hermes looks and acts like flaky from happy tree friends and no thats not a compliment (TW for gore, blood, and violence if any of you google it)

4. Even though the earlier art style was better there are still some cursed panels from the earlier pages that still haunt me. Especially the way Persephone was drawn differently in so many of the panels.

5. lo hades has such "how do you do fellow kids" energy and im not sure why

6. im also confused on the fertility goddess stuff because how stupid is persephone if she didnt notice? she can create life and nature without even thinking and shes implied to be a genius in biology, so how would she not even notice this? if RS really wants to go with this plot, then why have her professor bring it up in class? why not show persephone going to her uni's library to research the topic and pouring over it? that's an easy way to show persephone's intelligence, yet LO doesnt even try.

7. What I wanna know in LO was how Demeter and Hestia were compensated after the war. The three brothers got to be kings and Hera is queen, but what we know of Demeter is that she had a millionaire dollar business that’s probably made it on its own (unless she was helped out) and then Hestia all we really know about her is that she runs that TOGEM and idk if there’s only 4 of them, Hestia really had a group by herself for a bit since Athena is Zeus’ (assumed) daughter, Artemis (Zeus’ assumed daughter) and persphone (newest member) which seems shitty since they won a war together

8. I think what happened with LO’s art style was RS got “lazy” (I’m lacking the right word). I feel like without the colors all of the men in LO have the same body type, and Hermès and Apollo may even have the same face if they smile the same. So to compensate for that lack of body diversity, RS doubled down on Hades’ features to make him stand out more to really show he’s the male lead. However, even in her own words he looks like Persphones’ “dusty ass dad”

The women use to be a little different but they’re all starting to blend with body types. Her was small, but now she’s short and busty like Persphone. RS makes Persphone look short and busty all the time but almost childlike. Minthe was skinny but her last moments she was busy. Aphrodite I feel was just busty but then tried to make her look small also with Ares and Hades beside her. Hestia stayed the same but is still small and busty. Athena was tall and thin (?) but now she’s tall but busty (and her relationship with Hestia looks like it mirrors HXP). Idk I just feel like the longer screen time the female characters get the more they start mirroring Persphone’s look. Like even Artemis was getting empathized on being small next to her brother Apollo. Like all the girls gotta look small but curvy as the story goes on. 

9. Demeter: watched her friend get ripped in half. Watched her friend get continually cheated on, paying the price for not hiding a mistress , watched metis get eaten, her back clawed, fought in a war. Later made a daughter who’s a fertility goddess (probably an accident) and now has to raise her. That same daughter then went on a rampage and isn’t really remorseful

Fans: Demeter is such an overbearing mother who gets in the way of our ship.

10. on regards to ace characters, asexuality is a spectrum like everything else, so a lot of asexuals actually do enjoy and have sex, so the maidens doing so isnt inherently a problem, its the fact rachel is clearly viewing it through a strict binary where she assumes asexuality is something that can be "fixed" over time/when the right person comes along. its also a bad modern reading of it, as "virginity" in an ancient sense meant via marriage, not via sex, but I doubt rachel cares to factcheck it.

11. Imagine an elf is given a job to do at a human institution. The humans think elves don’t need bathroom breaks, since they know they can hold it for days, but this elf has been traveling to reach their job, and has already been holding it to the point they are in pain. They ask for a break, but their job is important and time sensitive, so they admit they can still hold it when asked. After a full day of work, the elf tries to reach the bathroom in time, but they were never told where it is.

From OP: I think this might be a nymph allegory? Anon never specified so I'll put this here anyway.

12. ya know if hades has to lie to make apollo seem worse (who does not need much in this comic) its like??? why is he persephone's lawyer then?? lawyers are literally told not to lie, this is basic law 101. thats why they dont want their clients to mention to them if they actually did the crimes because then the lawyers have to say it in court. if hades lies so casually just to keep persephone away from justified punishment, then thats bad actually!  both in being a decent person and as a lawyer!

From OP: Hades didn’t lie but he was definitely out of line. RS liked a tweet saying that the wife thing was “subconscious” so it probably was. (Still doesn’t make it right but I doubt he’d say those things on the stand.)

13. I know Minthe was written in a way she was suppose to be unlikesable, she’s rude, she yells and she doesn’t hesistate. HOWEVER RS wrote her character badly. Minthe is so unliked? How was she able to be a bad gf to hades and Thanatos? Like yes it’s an affair but how was she able to pull 2 gods?! We don’t hear Hades or Thanatos say what they like about her BUT they both still had a fling with her. (Honestly I feel it’s cause RS can’t bare writing one nice thing about the female anatangoist without trying to make Persphone look good)

The other thing bothering me was everyone knew about her relationship with Hades after she put it on fatesbook, but everyone talked about the kiss in such a positive light IN FRONT OF HER. Aren’t they suppose to be scared of her? Why did the girls in the yoga class/dress shop had so much to say about that kiss? Because they knew persphone? Did they know every other detail too? What was their actual beef with Minthe?

I feel like realistically some more characters would have sympathy for Minthe if they didn’t know her that well because of Hera. Everyone knows Hera is a pill to deal with and she’s the goddess of marriage who hasn’t really tried bringing Minthe and Hades to the alter. That right there should let everyone know that Hera probably doesn’t help the situation.

Idk, I feel like RS could have gone deeper and made the character not such HXP shippers cause most people wouldn’t cheer for cheating nor an old ass guy getting with a 19 year old. (Idk how fast the news of the slap spread, but I doubt it made it to every place in their fictional world)

[boomkloppthesoundofmyheart]

Carraville Fic AU

Title:  the heart and mind are the true lens of the camera

Summary: On the eve of his departure, Gary thinks about the people he will be leaving behind.

“Look and think before opening the shutter. The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera.”— Yousuf Karsh

Gary scanned his London bedroom. The room looked bare, all his belongings stowed away in boxes and suitcases. The only evidence left that he once lived there was his still neatly made bed, waiting to be slept on for one last night.

It was his last day in London, for God knows how long. Tomorrow he leaves for New York to start a new chapter in his life. Phil had moved there years ago and has been living a good life for himself as a lawyer.

Gary craved a new challenge, so he hit his brother up one day and asked if there was room for one more Neville in New York City. With help from his younger brother, he spent the last several months getting his Visa and law license set up in America. Now, everything is finalized and he is eager to leave.

Not to say that he wasn’t going to miss anything here. He'll miss the rest of his family. They were devastated when they found out he's leaving the country as well. But they came around to the idea when they reasoned at least Phil won't be alone anymore. He'll have his big brother with him again.

Then, there's his friends. He'll miss them terribly, too. He'll miss Scholesy throwing him one of his famous glares as he leaves crumbs all over their notes. He'll miss listening to Giggsy and Butty arguing over which evidence to present first.

And he'll miss Becks mothering him when he's worked too hard, making sure he takes a break because "you getting sick won't help our client, Gaz."

He'll miss all his friends.

A crash of pots and pans followed by a curse brings Gary out of his thoughts.

Except one probably.

He's kidding, of course. Gary will probably miss Jamie the most. He had been friends with him before he even met the rest of his friends at law school.

They had become an unlikely pair when Gary's family moved to Liverpool for his father's work when he was 15 years old. Being a Manc in Liverpool made it difficult to find friends. But one Scouser seemed up for the challenge. Ever since then, they had been inseparable.

When Gary moved down to London for law school, Jamie followed and established his photography business there.

Gary walks downstairs to the kitchen. "Everything alright here?"

"All good. Go relax or summat. I'll get dinner ready soon," Jamie waves him off.

"When will that be? I may be on my flight already and you'll still be here cooking."

"Fuck off." A middle finger was thrown at his direction before Jamie continues bustling around the kitchen.

Gary laughs as he makes himself scarce. He walks around their shared home, breathing in their small piece of London one last time.

He ended up in Jamie's home studio. The room was covered by Jamie's most prized photographs, images of both their families. It was Gary's favorite room in the whole house. Gary will never let Jamie know that. That will only stroke his ego more and he already gets that a lot from his clients.

He loves to work in the same room as Jamie. They don't need to speak to each other. They embrace the comfortable silence between them. Him and his paperwork on the couch. Jamie at his desk, eyes glued on the computer, jaw set. Moments surrounded by those photos and Jamie made Gary feel like they were teenagers again, just doing their homework at his place, their futures still ahead of them.

Now, he's about to leave his home away from home.

Gary is about to leave his friend that made leaving home easier in the first place.

The friend who didn't give it a second thought when Gary said, "Come with me."

He just told Gary, "I thought you'd never ask." His camera and clothes were packed soon after that and he was ready to follow Gary anywhere without any solid plans for his own future.

Gary walked over to Jamie's desk and sat in his chair. He rarely gets to see Jamie's portraits until it was done. He always makes sure that his computer was off. Today though, Jamie has left his screen unlocked, giving Gary free rein to go through his photographs.

He scrolls through different folders, each titled with his famous celebrity clients' names. He's seen most of them. What catches his eye was a folder that was just titled, "him."

Gary doubles click on the folder and was surprised to see tons of photos of him. Some of the pictures of him he was aware of. Sometimes he'd help Jamie test out the lighting in his studio before his clients come. 

There were photos of him taken as far back as to when they were teenagers.

The oldest photo in the file was of him, Phil, and Tracey. Jamie had just been gifted his first camera and given them the honor of being the first ones he took a picture of. He doesn't really know if he should believe Jamie. The Scouser was notorious for being the flatterer.

Others were candid photos of him.

There was a photo of him and Phil, watching a university football match. He remembers that night. Gary had invited him to come, but Jamie was late. Punctuality was not his strongest suit when they were younger; Gary pinned his tardiness to that. Now, he's seeing the real reason. Jamie had been busy taking pictures of him and Phil, enjoying the match.

He scrolls further down the folder. There's another photo of him with Phil. This time it was when they were interns in the same case. They were walking out the courthouse, looking defeated, well because they did lose their case. He had confided to Jamie the night before the verdict that he didn't think they were going to get their client acquitted. It was no surprise to see his friend waiting there, ready to take his mind off the case.

That's just how Jamie was. He knows when Gary needed him.

I wonder what it'll be like in New York without him. He shakes his head. I have Phil. I won't be alone.

Gary clicks on another photo. This one was more recent. It looked like it was taken from their backyard when they had his farewell party. He was clearly talking to someone, with who, he doesn't recall nor could he tell because he was the focus of the photographs.

He was so engrossed with the photos that he does not hear Jamie come into the room. Gary was only made aware of his presence when Jamie spoke.

"Me dad always said, 'If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.'"

Gary spins in the chair around and finds Jamie standing a few steps behind him.

"I thought it was just some pretentious artist bullshit, but I always found meself taking pictures of you. I guess there's some truth to it," Jamie shrugs. "I guess I had been always afraid of losing you."

Gary blinked. For once in his life, he could not find his voice. Like he said, Jamie had always been a charmer, but he knows this time he is being sincere. Words were never Jamie's medium of art; he likes his photos to do the talking for him.

He gets up from the chair and stands just in front of Jamie. Gary places a hand on Jamie's cheek, which he immediately leans into. "You don't have to lose me, J."

"I don't know about that. We lost Phil to America. The lad loves it there," Jamie chuckles tearfully. "Always busy, too. We never see him on this side of the pond...I'm just scared you won't come back to us either."

Gary was never one for making promises he can't keep.

Jamie was right. Phil was always busy and rarely had the time to fly back home. He doesn't want to break any promises especially if it's ones with Jamie.

"I wish you would have stopped me or let me know how you felt. I would have stayed here for you; I wouldn't have even given America a single thought."

"That'd be selfish of me if I had stopped you. I would never hold you back from your dreams." Jamie takes Gary's hand between both his own and kissed it.

Gary steps closer to Jamie. "You're part of my dreams, too."

"Ask me then." Jamie presses his forehead against Gary's.

Gary didn't need to ask for clarifications. So he asks, or rather, demands like he did those years ago. "Come with me."

Jamie smirks. "I thought you'd never ask." Unlike last time, Jamie closes the gap between them and kisses Gary.

Gary smiles against Jamie's lips. Now, he won't have to wonder how New York will be without Jamie by his side.

[amerrierworld]

Wicked

Marvel (Thor Ragnarok) oneshot

For anon 

Summary: Thor sets you up on a date with Hela, and everything seems to go well until old high-school ‘friends’ interrupt your meal.

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Thor, former high school friends (I haven’t given them names or too much detail, so imagine whoever you’d like :) )

Word Count: 2,107

Warnings: uh, annoying high school girls?

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course!” Thor responded, trotting next to you. “Trust me, you’ll love her.”

“Hm, why am I finding that so difficult to believe?” you huffed, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt as you walked down the street. “If she’s anything like her brothers, I doubt I’ll be able to sit across from her without slapping her across the face immediately.”

“Very funny, Y/N,” he responded. “Give it a chance, will you? You’ve been single for forever. And Hela’s been single for, well, eternity.” 

“I can’t help but wonder if this is just a scheme of yours and Loki’s to try and keep Hela off your butts from what I’ve been told.”

The God of Thunder shot you a look as he led you inside a diner, winking at a few passing people who squealed in delight at recognizing him. You rolled your eyes.

As the two of you waited at the front of the diner for your date, you shuffled nervously, hugging your purse tightly.

“Just don’t question her power, you know?” Thor was going on about all the tips he could think of so Hela wouldn’t accidentally kill you and everyone else enjoying their lunches.

“And don’t bring up family, bit of a sore topic that. Steer clear of Asgard and the Avengers, she’s still a little salty about not getting to rule it and such. Oh, and don’t talk about me or our brother too much, she finds us really annoying.”

“I wonder why?” 

“Haha,” he said, bumping your arm. An easy silence fell between you two, and you glanced around to see anyone that might stick out to you as a god.

“What does she look like?”

“Oh, irritating, mostly,” Thor sighed. “Like an absolute pain in your ass, completely incoherent of understanding other people’s lives-,”

“Stop it, you doof,” you said, shoving him lightly. “I’m serious.”

“Right, well she looks a little like Loki- same dark hair, love the colour green. Bit of a copy cat if you ask me. Tall, just as tall as me-,”

“Intimidating, cunning, and absolutely bored to death by her little brother’s dialogue,” a smooth voice spoke up behind you. “Is this her, then?”

You turned around and stared, stunned at the sight in front of you. She was tall, with black boots adding an inch or two so she towered above you. With a tight, dark green tank top hugging her curves and showing off her toned arms and a pair of black leather pants she looked, frankly, delicious. 

You swallowed thickly and blushed as you met her gaze, piercing green eyes framed by a mess of black waves. 

“Hello sister,” Thor said dryly. “This is my friend, Y/N. Treat her nicely.”

“Oh, don’t worry little brother. I don’t bite... often.”

She gave you a coy smirk and you felt your face become even more flushed. Thor clapped your shoulder.

“Right, I’m off then. You two have fun,” he shot his sister a warning look and she smirked back before he was gone.

“Should we find a seat, darling?” Hela began, pressing a hand to your back. You nodded meekly as you watched her. She moved swiftly like a cat waiting to pounce. Either way, her sudden touch on your body sent your heartbeat into a wonderful overdrive as the hostess led the two of you to a booth.

-

“Do you do this often?” Hela asked, grumbling as she scanned the menu.

“What? Dating?”

“No, ordering food like this,” she said. “How are you supposed to just pick one?”

Her dark eyebrows were furrowed intently and you couldn’t help but giggle, making her look up.

“We can split an appetizer first, if you want,” you offered. “You don’t have to just pick one, but it’s not very common to go scrounging on like, three meals at a restaurant.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, her gaze flickering down to the menu again, almost nervously. 

“So what would you like to start with?” you asked. “The calamari is pretty good, unless you don’t like fish? Maybe nachos...”

“What are nachos?”

You blinked at her, stunned once again, but for a completely different reason. This time you burst into full-on snickering that didn’t dissipate for a solid few minutes, with Hela staring at you in confusion until you were done.

“What?”

You patted her hand. “We’re getting nachos. I can’t believe you’ve been on Earth with those two knucklehead brothers of yours and you haven’t ever had nachos.”

Hela was looking at your hands touching before a grin split across her face and suddenly she seemed more at ease.

“Nachos it is.”

-

Your meal with Hela was going wonderfully, which was a surprise for both of you. You steered clear of the advised topics that Thor had told you about, but found that conversation flowed easily enough without it; Hela was more intrigued about Earth and your every day routine than any realm-enslaving conquest she’d ever been on. When Asgard did come up, it was always in passing, or by her own choice, and you listened whenever she spoke of it, holding her hand tightly. 

You learned her favourite colour is green, that she had a pet wolf named Fenris that she couldn’t wait for you to meet and that she’d only been on Earth for a little while, so she wasn’t really sure how to act human around everyone. 

Nodding along, your hands intertwined easily and automatically. Hers were cool to the touch and you found yourself tracing her figure with your eyes as she spoke. The conversation turned to you, talking about your upbringing, and you were eagerly talking to her about your life when a high-pitched, god-awful squeal caught your attention. 

“Oh my god! No way! Y/N?”

Rising from a table a bit further from your booth was a trio of girls from high-school that you’d hardly talked to since graduating. Your stomach plummeted; they were the exact few ‘friends’ that you had during your four years that you avoided after leaving that school behind once you realized how horribly toxic they really were.

Your face paled as you forced a smile on your face, and your fingers suddenly had Hela’s hand in a trembling death-grip. She noticed, eyes scanning between you and the group, silently watching. 

“Girl, it’s so great to see you! How long has it been? God, you look so different than you used to!”

You grimaced and said a weak ‘hi’ to them. You pulled your hands from Hela’s and buried them under the table to wring them together, sweaty and trembling. 

“What are you up to these days? Do you work in the city? I never would have thought you would have made it, you know? None of us could have imagined it in high school! You were always so weird back then, right?”

The same preppy tones, glamour bags and glittery lip gloss stared at you like demons coming to haunt you again. You had been much different than their clique from school, and yet you had found yourself wound up in their drama and constant bickering anyways. 

Through your haze, you made out a clear, cool voice from across you speaking up.

“I’m sure Y/N wasn’t anymore weird than anyone else who went to that school of yours,” Hela chipped in. You came back to reality to watch Hela speak with the leader of the girl group, a loud and pretentious girl who had a way of making everyone feel useless without trying. Yet your date was staring at her with a feline look, waiting for something to happen. 

“And who is this, Y/N? Your girlfriend?”

“I’m Hela, pleased to meet you,” she ignored the question and reached to shake the girl’s hand. In a split second you saw her face contort in an ungodly pain from Hela’s grip. She struggled to pull her hand free and when she did she was huffing, clearly offended. You smirked a little.

“Huh, quite a grip there, lady. Martial arts?”

“No, just a lot of experience killing people.”

The girls chuckled nervously. “What, are you one of those Avenge folk or whatever?” they scoffed, cackling amongst themselves as if they had made the best joke of the century.

“No, but Thor, who spends a lot of time with them, is in fact my brother.”

“O. M. G. What! You know Thor? As in God of Thunder? Like, super-hot blonde dude with a hammer and stuff?”

“That’s the one. Although he seems more fond of Y/N than me, sibling-rivalry and all that.”

In an instant you were bombarded with questions how did you meet him? is he really that hot? god! isn’t he an absolute dream? c’mon Y/N let us meet him you owe us that much at least.

Your heartbeat sped up again and you found it difficult to breathe, clamping your hands together. Your leg was bouncing up and down until you felt a heeled foot press against your calf, rubbing up and down soothingly. 

“If you’d like, I could introduce you much faster you know,” Hela drawled, drawing their attention like a predator playing with its prey. “I can easily summon him if you want to come outside for a second. It’ll be too much of a commotion indoors.”

They were scuffling about like puppies begging for snacks as Hela stood up, towering over them. You felt nervous, wondering what she was going to do but she turned to you and winked before saying,

“Be back in a minute, babe.”

Once you got your bearings again, you shot up from your seat to follow and hurry outside, afraid to find three corpses littered on the street. You hated high school bullies, sure, but not that much.

As soon as you stepped out the front doors, high-pitched screaming erupted from the streets and you watched all three girls scamper for their lives, away from Hela and a massive black wolf that was growling and roaring at them by her side. A shimmering portal was pulsing behind Fenris, and Hela was nearly doubled over in laughter as they ran.

When she saw you approach nervously she stretched out a hand.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite either, unless I ask him to.”

She gave you the sweetest of smiles and your anxiety melted away. You placed your hand in hers and she pulled you closer to pet Fenris, who nuzzled your palm. 

“Off with you, now,” Hela said, patting the wolf’s head. “You don’t fit anywhere in this world.”

Fenris purred in protest and Hela tutted. “Now, now, I’ll visit soon. Thor keeps telling me if I bring you here they’re either going to hunt me or fear me, and apparently that’s not what the Avengers want right now. Scram now.”

Fenris turned like a wounded puppy and you giggled as he grumbled, before stepping through the portal and disappearing. 

“You alright, darling?” Hela asked suddenly, standing much closer than before, her face inches from yours.

“Y-yeah, I think so. Now that they’re gone.”

“They were absolute bitches, you know that?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, they’ve always been like that.”

“Were you really once friends with them?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. I was a different person back then, and a lot of things happened that just weren't right. Eventually I locked them out of my memory but seeing them like that; that was the best revenge ever.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Though I’m afraid when Thor gave me a blueprint of ‘typical first dates’, summoning a giant wolf and scaring off old bullies wasn’t anywhere on the plan.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Regular first dates are boring anyway.”

She grinned again, a hand snaking around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sucked in a breath.

“I couldn’t let them stand there and belittle you like that, it angered me so much.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t kill anyone,” you said, poking her playfully. “I consider that progress.”

She smiled at you.

“I had a wonderful time, Y/N.”

“Me too,” you breathed, before leaning up and pressing your lips to hers this time. She held you tightly as you kissed, her cool touch making you relaxed and dizzy all over.

You pulled away and brushed your hands through her hair, feeling the soft textures run through your fingers.

“Does that mean a second date is in order? Thor said a first kiss shouldn’t be until the third date, at least.”

“Thor is an idiot,” you mumbled against her lips. “I may owe him one for the best first date ever, but he’s terrible with dating advice.”

A/N: this was so much fun to write! thank you for the anon who prompted this <3 i don’t know about you, but I definitely had some specific people in mind when writing the hs girls and it made me very satisfied to write them running for the hills. let me know what you think folks!

[whenrockwasyoung19]

It’s Time to Talk about a Bespectacled Elephant in the Room

I’ve been in the Beatles fandom for 8 and a half years. I have had a Beatles blog for the entirety of those 8 and a half years, and I have watched as discourse about these four men evolve. The discourse inside and outside the fandom has become so toxic that I don’t think I can engage with it in the same way that I could before. Let me explain. 

When I entered this fandom 8 and a half years ago, it was in 2012, quite an infamous year in tumblr history. That was the pique of “”cringey”” fandom culture. The Beatles fandom was as steeped in fandom culture as any other fandom. I know this because I was part of two of the top of fandoms at the time, Doctor Who and Sherlock. Believe me, I have seen cringe. 

The fandom at the time was totally aware of the John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s flaws as individuals, but most fans tended to simply enjoy Beatles fandom as if it were the 60s. Some might call it ignorant bliss. If you asked me at the time, I’d have said it was self-aware ignorant bliss--if that even makes sense. At the time, there wasn’t a person with a Beatles icon who hadn’t heard the line “John Lennon beat his wife.” Everyone knew it, but everyone also knew the real story, and so everyone just made peace with it. As a result, people didn’t think about every bad thing the Beatles ever did on a daily basis. It was more like a once-a-month kind of thing. Otherwise, fandom discourse was quite fun and relaxed. There were no shipping wars, no one fought over who was the best Beatle, everyone gushed over the Beatles wives, and we all just had fun with fics and fan art. 

Of course, in this period, people engaged in conversations about one bespectacled Beatles problematic behavior. These conversations usually came from outside of the fandom. It was usually randos coming into the tags or into someone’s ask box and ranting about John Lennon’s violent behavior. Some of it came from within the fandom. Some people really didn’t like John and gave others shit if they listed John as their favorite Beatle. A lot of the discourse boiled down to: ‘hey, I see you like John Lennon. You should know that he beat his wife. And now that you know that, you should feel bad about ever liking him in the first place.’ And the response was often, ‘Actually, John Lennon didn’t beat his wife. They weren’t even married at the time. And also he didn’t beat her, he slapped her once in the face, and then never did it again.’ No one’s minds were changed. The fans had made their peace, and the antis came off as cynical and pretentious. 

When Dashcon happened, and Tumblr took a hard look at its cringey fandom culture, the Beatles fandom evolved as well. The fandom became, frankly, less fun. It no longer felt like a group of people who found the Beatles decades after the 60s and were fangirling like it was 1965. There was still some of that left, but a lot of it kind of faded. So, most fandom interactions were reblogging pictures of the Beatles from the 60s and various interview clips and quotes. But the barrage of antis never really went away, and the response didn’t evolve. 

Then, the advent of cancel culture came on. I always waited for the Beatles to get, like, officially canceled, but I also felt they were uncancel-able at the same time. Let me explain. I have been a Beatles fan primarily in an online space, rarely engaging with fans in real life. But I have met fans who are life-long Beatles fans, people who are a lot older than us and who’s fandom isn’t tied to the internet. They don’t give a shit about any of our discourse. They may or may not have heard it before, but they seem totally indifferent to all of it. I’m sure most of them have never heard ‘Mclennon’ before. These are the people that flock to see Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert (and pay astronomical prices for it). These are the people who go to record shops and buy vinyl. These are the people I run into at flea markets who buy up all the Beatles merch before I can even arrive (true story). So, the Beatles will never be canceled because there will always be people who love the Beatles and don’t engage with online discourse. Rarely said, but thank god for Gen-X. 

As cancel culture took over the internet, fandoms changed. It’s not as noticeable in fandoms without problematic favs. For instance, I’m also steeped in the Tom Holland fandom, and that boy is a little angel who has done no wrong. No one has discourse about the unproblematic boy who plays an equally unproblematic character. But in fandoms with ‘problematic favs’ the mood has shifted. I’m also in the Taron Egerton fandom. Taron Egerton, for those who only follow me for my Beatles stuff, is a genuinely sweet and kind person who has had zero scandals in his six year career. There were some rumblings when he was cast as Elton John, and some people took issue with the fact that he’s a straight man playing a gay man. This discourse seemed to die quickly as a whole lot of straight people played gay people in that same year (Olivia Coleman as queer Queen Anne, Emma Stone as her queer lover, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury). Why jump on this boy who at the time was still technically on the rise. He’s not exactly the same target as someone like Scarlett Johansson who has her pick of roles. Taron doesn’t have quite that some power in Hollywood, and I think most people made peace with the fact that this was a big role for him, and it’s not really fair to take that away from him. So, all in all, the closest thing to a scandal was something that died pretty much on arrival. 

That was until this summer when everything changed. When George Floyd was murdered, celebrities flocked to social media to mourn his loss. Taron’s social media account was silent. For weeks, Taron said nothing about Black Lives Matter or Floyd’s death. This caused outrage in the fandom. Many raced to defend him, starting a hashtage #IstandwithTaron. Others sought to tear him down and anyone who supported him. The kind of mania this one incident caused tore through an otherwise peaceful fandom. What I saw was two sides in a total panic. The antis were people who once had faith that Taron was a good person and were now questioning that. Andthe defenders were people who desperately wanted him to be a good person and were afraid that he wasn’t. In essence, both sides could feel Taron about to get canceled. The defenders wanted to stop it, the antis wanted to ride that wave. 

What this long drawn out Taron example is meant to convey: is that cancel culture has put fandoms on edge. One’s fav has to be perfect, otherwise it can jeopardize the existence of the entire fandom. I’ll admit, I was afraid that I’d be some kind of pariah for standing by Taron through all of this. My actions were to basically reason with the antis but still defend Taron. I defend him mostly because I felt that his silence was the result of a needed social media absence and that trying to shame him back onto social media was an invasion of privacy. But I was genuinely afraid that he would get canceled, and the fun of the Taron fandom would be lost. 

In the Beatles fandom, it often feels like the Beatles, mainly John, have already been canceled. I see this coming from two different sources: antis from outside of the fandom and antis within the fandom. The outside antis are just the same as the ones from 2012. These are people who like to drop in that John Lennon beat his wife, posting this in the tag (which violates an ancient tumblr real by the way--no hate in the tags). 

The antis outside the fandom speak to a larger anti-John Lennon sentiment online. I see references to John Lennon ‘beating his wife’  on Tiktok and twitter. The tone of anti-John Lennon posts has shifted. Before, it felt like the antis were being smug but also argumentative. They wanted to have a conversation about this bit of info they read on Reddit with no context. Now, “John Lennon beating his wife” is practically a meme. It’s a running joke online that John Lennon was a wife beater. I can’t look on my instagram explore page because every so often a John Lennon beats his wife meme will pop up amongst the other, normal, memes.

This change in discourse suggests that the internet has just accepted this as fact now. I should note that back in 2012, it seemed as if few people knew this fact. The fandom knew it, and these random antis knew it, but few others did. Now, because of how common these memes are, it seems to be widespread knowledge.

Consequently, the Beatles fandom, who used to ward off attacks from antis, seems to have given in. I recently saw a post from a Beatles blog (had the URL and icon and everything) that confessed they felt guilty for listening to the Beatles, and I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed in the fandom. People tend to put disclaimers in posts about John or even all four that John is an ‘awful man.’ It seems like the self-aware ignorant bliss has completely gone away. Occasionally, I still see posts joyously talking about Mclennon or reblogs of old photos from the 60s. But the culture has shifted. 

Online, it no longer feels comfortable to be a Beatles fan. It feels like you have to own up to 8 decades of mistakes by four men you’ve never met. And, I should note, this is kind of how it feels to be a fan of anything right now. Taron is not canceled today, but he could be tomorrow. It’s this pervasive feeling of guilt that the person you’re supporting may or definitely has or is doing something wrong.

I’ll admit this uncomfortable feeling has expanded into other parts of my fandom life. I listen to their music, and I feel elated--the way I always have. Then, I get these intrusive thoughts which sound like all the worst parts of Twitter combined. It wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, when I knew almost nothing about them, I saw them as four young men who were full of happiness, love for another, and talent. Back then, listening to their music was exciting and joyous. Sometimes, I fear that I can never feel that way again. Next year, when I finally go to Liverpool, will I be filled with excitement or guilt? 

I say all this for a few reasons. One, I love John Lennon. I appreciate all the good he did for the world not just as a musician and an artist but also his advocacy and charity work. I love him, and a part of me will always love him, but observing the change in discourse has enlightened me as a historian. Part of my job is to observe people’s legacies, and John’s is perhaps the most interesting legacy I’ve ever observed. When he died, he was hailed as a saint. But tall poppy syndrome set in, and the antis started. This culture grew and grew to the point where it seems to, at least among the younger generation, taken over the sainthood. 

But as a historian and a fan, I have never seen the saint or the devil. I’ve only seen the man, the incredibly flawed man. The thing that these antis never understand is that John Lennon was painfully aware of his own flaws to the point where it made him all the more self-destructive. In essence, his past mistakes caused him to make additional mistakes. But John, aware of his own flaws, always tried to change and was often successful. I’ve talked about this before, but John demonstrated that he was capable of being a good person, like properly so, again and again. After he struck Cynthia, he never hit her again. His shortcomings as a father to Julian weren’t repeated with Sean. He worked on his drinking, his drug addiction, and his anger, trying to overcome those demons till the day he died. By all accounts, the John Lennon that died in 1980 is not the John Lennon who struck Cynthia Powell at school. That John Lennon was living a cleaner, healthier life. He was a better father to both his sons by that point, and was trying to repair his relationship with Julian. He was a good husband to Yoko and saw himself living a long and happy life. 

John Lennon cannot and should not be boiled down to just his flaws. It’s one thing as a fan to acknowledge that John is a flawed human being (news flash: they all are), but he is also much bigger than that. 

So once again, why am I writing this long, rambling post, once again talking about John Lennon’s virtues? Because if I can’t engage with healthy discourse about the Beatles and John Lennon, then I can’t engage with discourse on the topic at all. So, I probably will post less Beatles stuff because I find it hard to go through the tags or even my dash (well, I can’t really go through my dash anymore for other reasons I’m not going to get into right now). If any of my followers have noticed a lot of Taron posts lately, it’s not just because I love Taron, it’s because Taron’s  tag is pretty much the only location on tumblr I feel 100% comfortable in. Any foray into John or the Beatles tags becomes uncomfortable and guilt-ridden quickly. 

So, I probably will post less about the Beatles until I can find a blog or a tag that doesn’t give me bad vibes. My fandom will likely outgrow tumblr and the internet. I have a ton of Beatles books; maybe I’ll rely on those. I am doing official scholarly research on them now. Maybe that will be my outlet. I’m sorry if I post less about them now, but it’s really for my own well-being. 

[transsexualhamlet]

tg anime vs manga *sighs*

i have the power of hyperfixation and anime on my side! AAAAAAAA

Ok now that we’ve gotten the sins of re post out of the way we need to discuss this. And I just feel that this needs to be covered because I can’t ever get away from constant discourse on this, mostly fueled by manga readers who feel entitled to always think they’re superior for reading the manga, that the manga is the only real canon, that it’s more complex or better, I’m so fucking tired of it. I am also a manga reader, and I tend to get like that sometimes too with many series (for example no. 6 and the promised neverland.) I get it. It can be really annoying to see something butchered on screen to what the original is, changed or represented differently or given a different message or simplified. But just. Some people like the anime and it’s not a goddamn holy war for y’all to fight. It only makes anime fans not want to read the thing even more yknow cause manga readers are pretentious assholes, and I am aware of this as one of them.

(again ok i’d like to mention i know this fandom is basically dead but a certain p*nterest is always like 4 years behind on fandoms so i keep fucking running into Discourse that’s like, still current, whenever i want old random ass content) (and youtube, why do i look at youtube comments, because I personally enjoy being offended? yeah probably)

And that brings me to the point of this anime vs manga. 

This is a lot harder to compare than a lot of other series, because there are just... so many more differences not just in the style and vibe but the story itself.

Disclaimer, I’ve never watched the anime for :re and i don’t intend to, because I honestly have no earthly clue how tf you can get from the highly diverged tokyo ghoul root A to re and make it make sense, and I don’t really want A ruined for me. So you can call me biased towards the manga in the case of re, i guess (which makes my eventual conclusion even more strong I’d say) Honestly I just see them as two completely different stories, the manga’s version connecting with re and A just like... ending there. So how we’re drawing the lines is basically tokyo ghoul A versus the manga and :re. God, I know this isn’t a fair fight because I already hate re so much, but I feel like the manga’s story is much more intertwined with :re than the anime’s is, so that’s what we’re going with.

oh god also another disclaimer this opinion is coming from the biggest fucking kanehide whore, you can disregard anything i say if you ship The Straights and/or do not care for my boi hide

To be honest, if I can take my own conclusions and liberties to the story, I like both versions, each have their pros and cons and kind of a conflicting message. They can’t really coexist. Usually I’d consume all versions and then create one consistent canon in my head for what I accept as the true events (for example my main owari no seraph, first season of the anime is canon but after that we only follow the manga since those can come together and make sense.) but it’s very hard to do that in tokyo ghoul, since I must confess... I really like root A. Like of course, it’s a lot different from the manga, but tbh I think it’s super valid. (unlike most Fans TM like this Fan TM who i’m sending this post to just to spite their singular Youtube Comment Section Discourse, yes I did write this post for you and many others like you) But the ideas that make up root A conflict a lot with the ones of the manga, so I just have to accept that they’re separate things and treat them as such.

Now to break it down so people can understand where I’m coming from I guess? God this is already so long here’s a read more

The Case for The Manga (including :re manga)

More Lore + Plot Shit: One of the main reasons that manga readers are pretentious little bitches is a valid reason, namely that, as is the case with most manga, there’s simply more to it than people can fit into an anime. (Although people need to understand that’s because,,, it’s simply a different medium, so it will have different pluses and minuses, such as for example a soundtrack, color, moving pictures,,, you know, all that. Anime onlys don’t say that the anime is better by stating these things that a manga won’t have... because they’re fucking obvious. So manga readers should stop acting like an anime is inherently sub-par for being less in depth, but we digress.) I can understand that reading the manga is kind of important for wanting to understand the lore (though there are like so many other reasons ppl might want to watch it other than to get the lore) and without the explanation of how all this came to be and how it works, everything tends to be really mysterious, confusing, and seemingly random. It’s really nice to know what’s all going on, of course, and stuff like the washuus, rize’s backstory, the explanation for like, kaneki in general, all that- if you’re looking for like, plot shit, manga is definitely your go to. But like, sometimes, you like, don’t actually care about those things.

Haise: Of course one of the most important things about well, including re is that I fucking love Haise. Like he is my favorite Kaneki. He’s just so wonderful, look at him in he glasses and he floofy hair and he striped pants and he energy boxers and he s p i c e and he MOM. And I really like how they took Kaneki’s character and developed it more with Haise, you can see his turnaround from innocent--> Emo--> Trying To Be Innocent Again But Failing and I think that’s really sweet tbh. I rejected that at first because I didn’t understand it but once I actually read re I thought it made a lot of sense and was a logical thing to do with his character. (though, uh, moving forward, after his hair changes again i disagree with it, haise 1.0 is a good take and i love him and i want the best for him) I could go on I’ve already written a post of what I think is wrong with :re so if you want to hear my take on kaneki’s 37 pokemon evolutions that’s in there

Good New Characters: And of course there are my favorite bitches such as quinx squad, oh my god, there was a terminal lack of dumbass squad vibes in the original and ishida fucking gave it to us, I love them, I love them with all my heart and I think that if I wasn’t attached to them I’d probably just cancel all of :re but like this is just my personal problem. God I love them. Ishida always pulls through with characters I’m now too attached to.

Vore Lmao:Ok like hear me out. I just get a laugh out of it every time the manga has to remind me of this little fucking fact. Like ok I just. Cannot get over it. It’s so serious about it too and like I realize it’s a serious deal but o h  m y  g o d

Ok and now that we’ve got that little rant over I do want to say that it is like actually really important past the “lmao that’s pretty gay” bit, like??? In some ways it’s more fitting than the anime because well, ishida’s point always seems to be “what would mentally and physically hurt kaneki the most right now” and does it because that’s who this bitch is. But it just?? Kind of makes a bit more sense for the storyline if we’re being picky here, it’s so,,, painfully on point? Like the entire reason he gave in to Being A Ghoul and all was so he could save his friends and shit (i actually do not remember if this was a thing in the manga but like? when he was being tortured and he like imagined hide being really mad at him and getting killed by jason and shit?) LIKE AND THEN HE GOES AND HAS TO BASICALLY BE THE PERPETRATOR OF THAT HIMSELF, FUCK, it’s a lose/lose situation of “don’t do the bad thing and watch your friends suffer” or “do the bad thing and watch your friends suffer but like, later” ishida please

The meaning of Hide being alive: Ok this is just me crying over chapter 75 still but like. Instead of in the anime, where hide’s point seems to be that instead of letting kaneki sacrifice anything more he’d be the one to give his life up and such, and save kaneki, in the anime tbh he just really wanted to be with kaneki right then?? and like ouch but understanding that in the manga he wasn’t just planning on dying and leaving kaneki to deal with it afterward he wanted to go on and continue to try to help the guy no matter the shit he had to go through, no matter if the dude just like forgot that he existed for two years and all- LIKE UH CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW HIDE DOESN’T EVEN EXPECT ANY APOLOGY? like kaneki’s like “OH MY GOD I’M SUCH A TERRIBLE PERSON” and hide’s like lmao nah it’s cool i’m thriving- that his big motto was “live” rather than “peace out motherfuckers it’s been fun”. Cause. Fucking. Ishida. Can’t kill off characters well but like at least he made keeping this one alive justified. 

The D e t a i l s: Ok well I feel like this is something everyone knows but the anime is missing a lot of really,,, crunchy details that the manga throws in there, like, well, kaneki’s fucking,,, bones thing, and other assorted details, g o d like those are missable if you want to never understand half the memes but also like,,, sometimes you just gotta read that shit. It also like, makes more sense when you do but sometimes it’s just stupid things that aren’t important but are fucking hilarious.

The Flavor: In general I’d say the greatest difference between the anime and the manga is the general flavor of the thing, the vibe in the manga is a lot, to be frank, darker and grosser and bloodier than the anime, which is a lot more focused on being pretty and Tragic than “HOLY SHIT WTF” but like. That’s valid. With that comes it being a lot more, real, and although the art may not be as polished as the anime’s, sometimes that’s exactly what you need, and the really gritty sketchy shit that’s in the manga sometimes is exactly what it’s supposed to be for the manga. (in the anime, i’d say that the colored and polished style fits it better, so we’re good there.) It’s a lot more real, in the manga, when the anime hesitates to “go there” a lot (and well, sometimes that’s welcome, but sometimes it’s like y o u  g u y s  c o m e  o n  r e a l l y maybe i DID want to see that did you ever think of that)

So like, to sum it up i’d just like to say it’s more detailed, sharper and darker and is simply So Much. There is just More Content

The Case for Root A

ON THE OTHER HAND, (buckle up fuckers)

Depth of Emotion (that Ishida was too much of a pissbaby for): God like you know what I mean if you read the last post, we spent a whole episode on these gay fucks in root A, with backstory and dreams and drawn out suspense and emotion and GUYS LOOK AT THEM NO REALLY OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS whereas hide’s limelight in the manga is a whole... two pages, oh whoopee, and that’s mostly due to the fact of ishida putting himself in a spot of “oh fuck goddamn if i drew that in i’d get flagged for gay porn” but that’s his own fault, so he downplays the whole scene and really keeps it in the dark, whereas in this anime it’s understandably a lot less,,, like that, but how it plays out here is simply... really nice and makes you cry and shit, whereas in the manga I’d go “oh god oh damn oh fuck” *laughs my ass off because i really can’t take this seriously*. You get just... more here.

To elaborate on this, in the anime, as a gay fucking bastard, I can get practically an endless amount of content from episode twelve, and endlessly stew over all Those Things about it, every hard hitting line, the expressions, the music making it even sadder, the ways the VAs say the words, the cinematic beauty of the blood dripping on the floor and like how it’s supposed to make you think it’s kaneki’s, GOD I COULD FUCKING GO ON, but if we want to get that in the manga... 

we get three incredibly basic lines, a blackout, and then a “QUICK LET’S MOVE ON TO SOMETHING ELSE BEFORE ANYONE NOTICES THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT HAHA”

So if we want to have more, we need to write it. (sadly) None of it is ever played out canonically so like,,, all we can do is infer and make shit up. It’s like, I am a writer so like that’s my whole job but I really would rather have more content, and have the content that’s there get to be emotional instead of *blank face* “this is plot that is happening, sadly” but like maybe it’s just bc i’m gay

Really Fucking Beautiful (aesthetically as well as story-wise): This kind of just goes hand in hand with the depth of emotion bit, and I think it can’t really compared to the manga here because I’m gay so I see pretty colors and cry so the anime is understandably appealing for me, but I’m also talking emotionally, yeah. There’s a lot of plotlines and implications of the story that are really well played out, I always love to watch the original because it does a very good job handling a lot of the harder topics and stuff that makes the whole thing worthwhile- like the whole point you’re supposed to see that the ghouls and humans are both just as monstrous when you break it down, that there are good and bad people on both sides, everyone just wants to live and feel good in their own life and perspective, everyone has reasons that justify their behaviour in their mind, sometimes you just can’t win no matter what, all that... they’re all really important messages and make the whole story, and they were handled much more delicately and with more expertise in the anime. 

It’s hard to pin down, but I feel like the manga was just based more on Fight Scenes Characters OoH Fake Science and kind of just gave kaneki infinite power ups after Trying Harder no offense, obviously those things were there and they were still very good in the manga it’s just sometimes they were cheapened a lot by ishida really not keeping track of what he’s trying to say with his story and sacrificing it a lot for “BUT WHAT IF KANEKI’S HAIR AND IDEALS CHANGED AGAIN” instead of making it a whole cohesive work. (and yes, I am VERY aware of your “well aCtuAlLy the hair represents his sanity” thing i know i know and i’m about to rip it to fucking shreds so)

Understandable Character Development And Staying True To It: Which brings me to this point, character development. This was another thing that was just... handled with more expertise in the anime, whoever was in charge of it. Mostly this has to do with Kaneki, since like, no offense but he’s the only one who ever gets much character development other than like, juuzou (asmr you only get character development if your hair color changes) oh and i guess there’s tsukiyama but he’s someone who shouldn’t have gotten character development. Touka gets character development only before re for some reason, and like tbh that’s kind of it. I do think Juuzou’s character development was valid, because well... it made sense? I complained about it before because I was like “well he just turns into spicy L” but i’ve since changed my opinion, he’s best boy. But Kaneki? They went way overboard with him in the manga, and generally? Calm tf down ishida.

Breaking it down, one of the main things that most of the tried and true manga stans seem to hate about the anime the most is Kaneki going over to Aogiri in root A. Since they’re much more acclimated to the manga, they don’t understand why he would do that (quoting a particular ‘probably made sense in the manga!’ yes i know that whole thing was poking fun at the show and i felt it lmao) and they just pin it to “ahaha he has now become Edgy for the fans ehehe time to make fun of him” and TO BE FAIR YOU’D BE COMPLETELY RIGHT. I love to make fun of Kaneki when he does his edgy bitch thing because that’s what he is. A basic edgy bitch who is just,,, such a main character. But like. He does actually have his reasons despite popular opinion and to be honest I think they’re a bit more valid than in the manga, where he’s just like “well I’ve been tortured, that was not pleasant and i kinda did a bad thing, let’s go back to anteiku but i’m just gonna Try Harder To Fight this time”. I can understand that, but like, it seems like in the manga every Character Development of kaneki is some form of “i will now be stronger” except for the singular “I will now be a different person” which, well, we’ll get to that. 

In the anime though, even if it seems like more of a basic edgy bitch move, it’s like?? It makes perfect sense to me, and to be honest more than the manga does? Obviously he doesn’t wanna be best bros with Aogiri, he realizes they’re all bad people who have done really terrible things, but the fact is he now sees himself as the same thing, he now understands their motives because in his mind he is also now Bad TM. His whole character development of being tortured was that peace wasn’t an option no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn’t live being a pacifist and the world was forcing him to give the “i am the only one that understands! we need to stop fighting!” bullshit up because there was no way to achieve it. He realized if he kept himself the way he was more people he loved would be hurt like they already had because he couldn’t, so he doesn’t just Decide To Become Stronger, he gives up his humanity. And that includes basically letting himself defend his own actions and try to do “the right thing”. 

Him then joining aogiri makes sense because well. They’re the people who are the strongest, who have the power, who are the same as he sees himself. He still wants to protect the people he loves, he just also realizes he can’t do it by working with them since he now understands that their more peaceful ways will by definition get them fucking killed. His understanding is flawed, of course. He’s not really right. But this is his understanding and from that it makes perfect sense for him to join up with aogiri and try to still do as much as possible from that standpoint, realizing that most likely the people he’s trying to protect will hate him for it. I think that makes sense to me, what do you not understand about it? (I also understand that may make some people mad because he’d Doing Bad Things but I point to you he’s so soft, remember when he was really nice to naki when he was literally the one who killed the guy naki was crying about? remember when he was doing a raid and he saw that guy hiding and he never mentioned it? remember like the seventy times he Cried TM, yeah he’s problematic obviously but if you want problematic I’ll point you to a certain fucking black reaper. Shironeki has nothing on that asshole.)

I think what Kaneki did in the manga was fine, but in general the anime (again) had more depth of understanding and emotion versus a steady Try Harder Get Stronger shonen deal, which, well, fair, but like, nah. Continuing why I think the anime dealt it better is the ending of A, which was a lot more well rounded then *kaneki gets stabbed and then there’s a lot of random plot shit going on in the background*. Here Kaneki then got to round out the end of his character development by realizing slowly through the second half of this season, him becoming a kakuja and then basically deciding like, not to

((kakuja kaneki was dealt with again different in the anime and manga because he basically stopped trying to use it in the anime bc he realized it was a bad fucking idea but this goes along with the ‘his character development of “i’m gonna do bad things for good reasons” --> “actually no wait that was a bad idea” was actually done in root A instead of being dragged out into :re and it’s appropriate for its own medium and the messages it’s trying to get across so manga loyalists hate it’ but we digress))

So in root A we got to see him actually develop and realize himself through the second half of the season starting with cochlea, his interactions with Amon, and ultimately through Hide, that he’d been doing the wrong thing by becoming more monstrous/fighting harder because what he did was ended up forgetting the most important thing, *smiles in gay* HIDE.(well, his humanity. yeah. i cite the terrible opening for root A with the fun ‘the hands taking off kaneki’s mask are hide’s’ bit.) He then remembered again why he wanted so bad to stop the war between humans and ghouls, he wanted to be able to live in peace and not have to be a monster- something that was not dealt with in the manga (though for understandable reasons of We Need To Fuck With Him In Re More, they then didn’t deliver on creating something like that later so I take this.)

That’s most of the difference between the original manga and anime, but I’d also like to discuss (briefly, I’ve already yelled about them) the ridiculous amount of hurdles ishida went through to fuck with kaneki in the manga, Of course there is the fact that well, the slower transition of his character does make some more sense for the manga because if you take :re into consideration, his eight billion character changes are more tolerable when they haven’t like, already happened before in the manga (just the anime). It makes more sense there for Haise to be tormented by past kaneki telling him He’s Too Weak because in the manga he hasn’t already had that development prior to “dying”, and he lost his memories still believing he had to be strong even if he did bad things, whereas in the anime it doesn’t track because at the end like i just said he kind of gives up his ghoulhood on purpose because he realizes that joining aogiri and fighting and shit was really wrong because, hide. So I can see why those character decisions were not made in the original when planning for :re, but... the fact remains that those previous decisions do not make up for how absolutely weak :re’s game ended up being with kaneki. 

So tldr this entire section, All the manga’s defense of how they handled Kaneki’s development is basically void because all those choices were buildup for development in :re which ishida then COMPLETELY fell down on. So the alternative is better.

And now comes my yelling about how exactly Ishida fucked it up: hair colors and kaneki’s 80 kanekis. If black is supposed to represent sane and white is supposed to represent insane or, whatever, i dunno, who tf thought black reaper kaneki was sane? Who tf would think kaneki in the end isn’t? I haven’t looked into this really, and I’d really love it if someone explained it to me the way ishida was going for bc I do not understand it. Like that tracks with Juuzou, and with Kaneki up to Haise Original, but they don’t really make a cohesive sense seeing as after Haise’s hair color changed again that whole deal kind of goes to shit. Not to mention... I just... they completely failed to make those character changes actually part of the story, I’m mostly complaining about black reaper haise, none of him makes any sense. What’s his deal? He wants to protect who he loves? Tracks with the ghouls but fun fact he abandoned his kids? He actually cared for them? What then, he wants to be the strongest as possible? Sure but then?? Why?? I don’t understand his motives at all.

We also didn’t get to see him get his memories back either, which I was actually very much looking forward to, it just,,, like all of a sudden he’s talking with eto about yoshimura and i’m like bruh when tf did that happen? It’s bad, and although chapter 74-76 is super valid, and his change back into white hair kaneki makes sense, I also have the complaint about how haise basically disappeared just like he was worried he would. I think that was bad and I’ve said that already, it doesn’t make sense, he just literally throws those entire two years away to go back to the way he was before he was with the CCG and just forgets everything he’s wanted for the last few years? Fiction logic test fucking failed, and you’ve also broken my heart. Love Haise. You got rid of him. I love kaneki too but like. Why don’t they just. Like. Merge. He is one whole complex person, not one and an imposter, god. 

This is a big negative for re and the manga, so automatically a positive for root A where I simply Do Not Have To Deal With That Bullshit and the character development actually makes sense. I can understand the decisions in the original manga could have set up for good development in :re, but they completely failed to deliver.

root a didn’t fast forward to re at the end god damn let us process this shit first before you try to connect it to something else: The thing with this point is that it’s really difficult to separate the original manga from the continuing story in :re because the thing intertwines so much and immediately moves us forward with a ton of plot points for the next part of the story before we’re done with this climax and the end of this story. Sometimes that’s ok and I can see doing that from an author’s perspective because you want people to continue reading your story instead of taking that as the end but it’s really annoying on a reader’s end, because I’m picky and I want to be able to just be able to enjoy my original canon without it like, metaphorically touching :re on a plate. It’s something that I don’t even do with my own longer stories, like for example I have like a trilogy of >100k fics that like, well i’m technically not done with them but like. 

People really like the first one because it’s more focused on a more popular ship and basic elements people like about the thing, and then by the second book it moves on to talk more about the plot and lore and brings in more secondary characters. And so I knew that a lot of the readers of the first one wouldn’t want to have to deal with a lot of the “oh well stuff is happening elsewhere that will effect stuff later!!!” random plot shit that none of my readers actually cared about. So I kept it to wrapping up the points of the first book and then leaving the introduction of new characters and plot for the people who actually wanted to read it. Ishida didn’t do that, and of course it’s within his right to like?? Want to promote the next series but I’d have enjoyed it more if we ended it at kaneki’s “death” and wrapping up the deals with the rest of the characters instead of quickly shoving in the beginning of seventy more plotlines before the book ends. Like honey I simply do not have the reading comprehension for that. In the anime we get something that... makes sense.

In the anime, however, it’s quite the opposite, for example the reveals like Eto=owl=takatsuki sen were pushed before that and they saved episode twelve for, well, the end bit. Like what was actually the ending. There were detriments to this I had to say (LIKE GUYS I GET IT HE’S CARRYING HIDE HE’S CARRYING HIM I GET IT YOU���VE BEEN DOING IT FOR HALF THE EPISODE NOW OK I UNDERSTAND CAN WE MOVE ON) But like, I prefer the concept of a simple idea with as much emotion squeezed out of it as possible to a ton of confusing and contradicting ideas that are touched on for a second before moving on. So the *cries for half an hour* ending was much more appealing to me, and I can keep that separate in my head from any of the ideas that :re creates, letting me pretend it doesnt exist and imagine that’s the end and there’s nothing else to worry about. If we want to move forward and hear more, then we can, but it isn’t necessary like it is with the manga.

No Bad Takes that are hard to pry apart from good plot and characters:This is basically the downsides of the new characters, which is well, if I had to make a whole ~keep reading~ post about how problematic everything in re was that does have to count as a downside. I love the new characters, but they also come intertwined with a thousand really bad takes on like, everything, and of course I can ignore it and just act as though they were written in like, to be perfectly honest, a non transphobic way, it’s a real downside when the original anime was pretty pain-free in the way of their takes on their characters. They fucked everyone up in re and I will not elaborate, we’ve talked about this, it’s just the anime, and which i mean season 1 and root A, don’t really have any bad takes I need to try to get rid of, it’s surprisingly something I have little complaint about at all and I ALWAYS have complaints.

Hide!!!!: Obviously, you can tell that a lot of my opinions are going to be hide based because he’s the only thing I ever think about. But we have to take into account just how... hide???? This goes a lot into the depth of emotion bit but it also offers the other side of the argument for Hide’s part in the :re manga, which well. Was mostly chapter 75 if we’re going to be perfectly honest here. He doesn’t get any other limelight. Even in the chapter where Kaneki meets him again he gets a whole what, three pages? In the manga, he has an extremely valid deal about basically, living, keeping going no matter what, and that is a fitting part for the manga, considering the rest of the points there ride more on Keep Fighting instead of Think About Your Emotions And Morals, but honestly chapter 75 was really valid. So why do I still think the anime’s version where he like (ok I don’t know about the re anime we’ve discussed this, i don’t even know how they choose to explain that) he like, dies in kaneki’s arms is better overall? Again, I would have totally accepted that deal if it was made a part of the story because it made me cry, it was super valid, and if they’d continued in that way I would have agreed with it completely over that. But the fact is again that they failed to deliver, and Hide got largely ignored, suffered so much with so little outcome. There was so much buildup and it was incredibly valid, but when the time came for them to meet again and basically show... why it was important that Hide lived in the end? 

They didn’t. They straight up didn’t. Kaneki’s like “oh sorry bro... glad you’re alive and all...” *goes off and fights* and like? Honestly? @everlastingspiral is right, if that’s all they’re gonna do with him what’s the point of keeping him alive? I love every single panel of him and I wouldn’t have read re if he didn’t, but hide gets absolutely NO payoff. For letting kaneki literally vore his entire mouth off, leaving him disfigured and unable to talk, then kind of disappearing for two years and doing seemingly nothing but trying to help kaneki even though he’d forgotten the guy existed, risks his life like a thousand fucking times, eventually gets back to him and the dude’s running a fucking anti-human organization, helps him like Not Be A Volitile Pile Of Flesh Anymore and then what should have been a very important moment of them meeting again gets completely overshadowed by touka and random plot shit and more fights and they barely interact, they don’t even hug or anything, they barely talk, and at the end hide is still there but to be honest he’s gotten absolutely no thanks for all he did and ishida acts at the end as though he’s done very well with hide and gives him a tiny bit at the end throwing in a tragic backstory for fun (which hot take he really didn’t fucking need on top of it all) and... there’s no real hint that Kaneki is better off with Hide there, even though there should be. In 75, in his dream, kaneki is sobbing and crying and all like i’m so lonely without you but when they actually meet each other again? “yo” “hey” “uh sorry about,,, the thing,,, you know” “nah man it’s ok” “let me talk about myself for a bit” “yes you always do do you want to hear what I’ve been up to” “not really” “that’s fine i’m only here to support you”

...So you can understand why I’ve gone a bit sour on that. If that’s all you’re going to give him? Hot take? Let him die. Hide deserves better. (and i will deliver that in writing, but for the purposes of canon.)

In the anime, however (not counting re again... although he still gets the short end of the stick just in the original manga too compared to the anime) he’s properly dealt with! he gets his proper limelight and he gets acknowledged for what he’s done thusfar in the story, which is already so much. Kaneki then realizes that, but it’s already too late (or it isn’t, and they like negotiate with the ccg and then they get to live happily ever after) either way he gets appreciated and he gets hurt, but it’s properly acknowledged. And after all that, after saving kaneki and getting him to the cafe and doing it all while bleeding the fuck out, he gets to spend that time with kaneki and die in kaneki’s arms. And frankly? That’s all I think he’s ever needed. It’s really poetic and pretty and brings kaneki’s character around full circle, and even if it’s overly sappy, cliche, drawn out... he gets the attention he’s due and he gets a fucking break. He wanted to show Kaneki he wanted to do something for him and save him instead of the other way around, but then HE GOT ACKNOWLEDGED FOR THAT, instead of just well, tirelessly working towards it forever and having to be content to be a background character with practically no value to Kaneki anymore.

Keeps The Same Vibe: The big thing about this is that with the manga and with re, shit just goes all over the place, and I feel like I’ve amply showed that already through this essay or whatever this is. Again about the consistency and the professionalism, It’s a concise story that makes more sense than the manga while also being simply neater and more deep, making sure all the points, themes and messages work together and make sense to create a cohesive deal even if it’s not as long. (the manga is like ishida had a TON of good ideas for an essay but then fleshed out the thing ten minutes before deadline and managed to completely lose what his original thesis was even if the thing was 10 pages long.) Basically. yeah. That kind of sums it up, my last point concerns the ending.

Not Cheap Ending: If you want to hear my take about how absolutely terrible re’s ending was, check out my The Many Sins Of Tokyo Ghoul :Re post, and we’ve discussed how the original’s manga ending was bad and well not really an ending, it just leaves you unfulfilled and takes you into “well I guess I have to start a whole nother sequel series ig...” but root A like? Actually ends it? If a reader didn’t know that there was any content after that, they could pretty much infer that hide’s death or almost death whatever you inferred out of that ending (again we’re ignoring re) allowed Kaneki to finish his character development and realize they needed to stop the war, which basically tracks with what’s going on in everyone else’s perspective- eto’s problem with the world because of what happened with everything, is basically like, all of aogiri, juuzou and shinohara, amon and akira and kaneki and they can realize all they have to do is just sit down and fucking stop it because none of them want to be fighting, hide is the catalyst for that because the CCG can see how Kaneki cares for him? And it’s so open ended that you could just like literally believe that and there’d be no way for that canon to tell you otherwise, or you could go onto re and whatever if you wanted to. I think that’s the best thing. 

In conclusion, both have valid points, and in general I’d say that the manga goes better with :re and the anime is better as a stand alone but if I had to choose overall, this particular anime is better (taking into account only seasons 1 and 2), for mostly the reasons of favoring a simpler story taken with much more care and depth versus a more complex story with many, MANY imperfect elements, and I am aware I will get shot on sight for this opinion. So sue me.

[ryttu3k]

Already finished Coteries of New York, so on to Shadows of New York! I’ve seen the first bit in an LP, at least, but the bulk of the story will be new. This will have two playthroughs, one for each ending, since at least it has them XD First up - the ‘good’ ending!

Oh dang I like the music.

Julia is a bit on the edgy/cynical side XD

Yeah, she’s got a shit deal :-\ And what’s worse is that it’s all planned out.

Interesting note - at Lodestar, there were shadowy figures in the background, but you could rationalise it as people on the other side of the windows. On the train, you only see the shadowy features, and it’s otherwise empty, so no obvious figures casting them...

I guess if you choose the ‘don’t shoot’ option, Julia gets drained and it’s an early game over?

God that Embrace scene is intense. I got goosebumps!

Spirits, huh? Oh yeah, Obtenebration became Oblivion and is now connected with necromancy, IIRC?

I’m glad she had a good few nights XD;;

Valerie Duval, she was... the scourge in CoNY hunting down the Red Hook killer?

Nice to meet you, ‘Katherine Wiese’ XD

Cool ponytail, Qadir! I really dig the relationship between him and Julia, it’s fun. ‘sup Aisling, how’s Agathon? A blood hunt, really? Y O U. Okay yeah probably better for Julia’s long-term survival for Arturo to ignore her XD;; Samira’s so pretty. Ooh this guy is Hope’s sire, yeah?

“You wanted to hear about which member of New York City's Camarilla I dislike the most?"

"Yes?"

"Too bad. They're all my dear colleagues, and I deeply respect every single one of them."

"Sure you do. Wouldn't want to blurt out something that could lock you out of Mr Vanderweyden's legal services, would you, you ass-kisser?"

"I do expect to find myself in need of a good defense attorney when my broke, incompetent, and foul-mouthed assistant finally pushes me over the edge."

THEMST.

Benoit hi!! “Got any news about Sophie Langley?” *sharp intake of breath* Benoit backstory, that’s rad. I wonder if it’ll be uncovered in-game? Like we know Arturo is still around, Panhard is still around. Presumably Adelaide Davis is still around. Callihan... well, I know what happens to him. I think Torque ditches the scene before Sophie dies?

Father Leonard seems like a good sort. I wonder what his deal is?

Dakota is adorable. I’m going to do the ‘good’ end first even though I know it’ll make me feel horrible, but dangit, the ‘bad’ end is totally going to be my canon.

...Vin Diesel? XD

DING DONG THE DOUCHE IS DEAD. ...Deader than usual, I mean.

jfc Panhard that is pretentious as hell. Both the party description and the costume, actually XD Qadir’s mask is kind of funky. Oh my god Arturo you are a Toreador is that the best you can come up with?! Nice horns, Aisling.

...Thought, given their clans, Samira/Aisling could be interesting as hell.

Man, Arturo and Panhard must be pissed off XD Unless they’ve already picked their replacement stooge?

And here’s where the plot starts! Hey, isn’t that the priest’s house? Ohh, they’re meant to be meeting with Mia. I guess they’re just reusing assets.

“It’s a list of four names. ‘D’Angelo. Hope. Agathon. Tamika.’“ *SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH* Okay, that could be the list Sophie gave the fledgling. Which one did Callihan get it from?

Oh criminy Dakota don’t tell me you’re into that Q-Anon shit XD;; Ooh okay that makes more sense. Neat.

Ahhh man I was hoping to get a lead and instead Julia has to punish this poor fuck XD;; Yeesh. Okay, Bunny as a Reporter it is, then.

Almost run over by a limo, huh? *chinstroke*

Oooh this is the lead to Hope! Yeah, I’d say she has a connection with a Montgomery XD Wonder if she did end up eating her? Huh, contact used LeakyGutSyndrome... didn’t Hope end up having to retire that one, or was it the other one? Let’s just... Dominate this guy. Sorry dude it’s for your own good.

Agathon’s missing? :( Damn, he’s like one of the only decent Tremere. Oho, a diary! Oh sweetheart :( Oh, Silvia died :( Damn, interesting past, though... and a reference to CoNY again.

Fucking shadows, I literally glanced over my shoulder.

S C H E M E S. And yeah, looks like I’m on my way to the ‘good’ end :-\

Oh shit, Adelaide or.... whatshisname, Kaiser’s dude? Oooh man who to meet first... Kaiser’s dude. Oh. That was a bit anticlimactic XD

On to see Hope at Double Spiral. I think this is one of those choices that leads to one of the endings, so what’s more ruthless and Camarilla... busting in it is.

Nastya isn’t having a good night, is she XD;; Also Hope’s suit is badass.

...huh. Sounds like she’s actually managed to get shit sorted decently XD

Interesting... the coterie members were a list of heroes for hire that multiple people had, including Sophie. Well, that widens the scope a bit! Anonymous information broker, shall I assume that’s Kaiser? OH. No, it’s her sire!

“The story going around is, he left me alone and I hate his guts. Well, at least half of that is true.” Which half, though...

Aww man I wish I had saved some of those websites! I miss SciFiVine...

You know, I’m not 100% sure Carter’s the murderer (my main suspect is Arturo at this point tbh) but damn, the bit about Stern’s show kinda makes me want to slap him anyway XD;;

Queer Catholic blues, huh :-\

“Haven’t you noticed what’s going on in the news? People are going absolutely insane about this virus, cancelling trips and orders and --” Ahh. We’re in that 2020 XD;;

Okay the scene with the kid meeting his girlfriend was cute but then spooky time?? jfc was that the Abyss?!

Ooooh did she just find Tamika solely by accident? Thanks, Abyss XD I love how Julia’s first response is ‘shit, she’s hot’. And she took out a whole SI squad herself? Nice. Calebros mention! Huh, so the SI are maintaining the status quo... they became an issue because the Camarilla tried to sic them on the Anarchs and Sabbat and it backfired, maybe it actually succeeded here?

Ooh, a history with Torque. Neat. Also not sure with the art, but are those tattoos on Tamika’s arm, or fur? I mean, Gangrel beast marks and all.

Sorry Torque I’m just trying to get the ‘good’ end :(

Mention of the fledgling! Officially ‘disappeared’, that leaves it fairly ambiguous at this point.

Oof. The Circulatory System are... not cool. And yeah Julia’s just been called tf out, I do look forward to this scene in the ‘bad’ end XD;;

COVID strikes back. The Big Beat Burger is closed :( Charlie is sweet, at least! I hope his mom is okay.

Well that rat bit was weird. Hi D’Angelo! Oh my god blood doll rats? Drunk blood doll rats?! Still a damn good detective, though, that’s good shit. On to Kaiser and some answers! ...Yeah, okay, he’s a prime suspect too.

Kaiser, you are a deeply unpleasant person :-\

...good to know pepper spray still works. And, uh, probably satisfying to beat him up XD;; And yeah, there’s the last choice for the ‘good’ ending. Sorry dude.

...huh. Okay, I was at least partially right XD;; Oh Qadir, not you too :-\

Well that’s a bit... weird of Dakota, yes.

lmao oh Benoit you absolute mess. Religion as A E S T H E T I C XD I have a theory he’s from Michael’s line and I also quite sincerely believe that Michael would take one look at him and bitchslap him into the next millennium. He’s a Path follower, isn’t he?

Father Leonard is okay. I wonder who the ‘friend’ is?

This is very Agatha Christie, revealing the killer in the midst, except I have the horrible feeling Qadir’s going to go with ‘it was suicide’ and not ‘it was everyone’.

Denouement! Before it ends, Julia’s traits:

Loyal only to myself

Glass half-empty

A little abuse of power never hurt nobody

You can’t be a writer and not lie

The ends justify the means (duh)

Honestly she may have just blackmailed her way into power, set up Carter to take the fall, and sent poor Dakota to final death, but the drama was impeccable XD Good luck not ending up in the Abyss, Julia!

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader  (Chapter Summary- At a party, Keanu and Y/n meet for the first time and here, more than ever, first impressions count.)  Warnings- Age-gap, sexual insinuations (Releases on Wednesdays)

Chapter 1

Y/n never understood it, how she could manage to feel so alone in a crowd so big. Even with friends, the center of attention, just as she had been for so much of her life; the girl who everyone liked, who everyone wanted to be. The offspring of a socialite and the president of a company that ran the world’s fastest growing hotel and resort chain, rubbing elbows with the best of almost every industry. She came from a long line of old money, the finest of everything at her fingertips, being raised to be as influential as her parents, attending the parties, the fashion shows, taking the vacations. Y/n should have been happy, it was the optimum of the American dream and she hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. It was merely the luck of birth. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t, not really. Empty, maybe; she always had a hard time finding the same joy her parents had. 

Things had gotten a little better after Y/n had returned from college, re-integrating into the life, but to say that she was truly happy would still be a reach. Sure, her empty laughs weren’t as hollow and her persistent frown had turned into a line, usually painted in deep red, but that was about it, at the end of the night, when everyone left their house, Y/n still just as lonely as she was when they were there. 

“The guest list this time is insane,” someone said beside her, her cousin, just about five years older; Jillian. They usually found each at events like that, sticking together, with Jillian typically being the one to pull Y/n into crazy escapades that otherwise weren’t allowed.

Summoning a wide grin that she hoped would reflect pride, Y/n turned to Jillian, who looked much like herself. If their families weren’t so famous, if everyone didn’t know them, people might mistake them for sisters. A beautiful pair, who had been as genetically blessed as they were in every other way, had grown up extremely close, their families’ kinship intertwined; their fathers were brothers and their mothers were sisters, because after all, money was usually only ever attracted to money. At least, that was what they had learned. “It is,” Y/n nodded, “My mom met some people in Paris a few months ago, when she was there for fashion week. Some of the models brought their boyfriends.”

“Ohhh,” Jillian sang, “They must be the hot guys holding the purses. You think their open to infidelity?”

“What about Robert?” Y/n laughed quietly, for real that time. Robert was Jillian’s fiancée, but if they lived in nineteenth century, he might have been called her betrothed, with their relationship coming from family politics rather than love. He was a handsome man, probably in his early thirties, though his snotty demeanor and constant scowl had added another five years to his age. Robert’s family, like their own had descended from riches, and he was set to inherit millions in addition to a chain of companies. His still new relationship with Jillian, which had been an arranged one, was what their parents liked to call a “good match” and if Y/n didn’t start looking soon, she might be half of the next one. 

“What about him?” Jillian scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Rob usually has a stick so far up his ass that he’s blinded to everything else. Besides, he’s terrible in bed. We tried once and he kept licking my cheek.”

“That’s....really fucking weird,” Y/n cringed, walking arm in arm with Jillian around the edges of the room as they surveyed the crowd, or rather, its selection of men. Looking around, one might have thought that money could by looks; most of the people there, especially the ones around their age were gorgeous; from models to movie stars along with other, pretentious looking faces filled the Y/n’s home. Some lingered in the grand foyer while several others had gathered in the dining room and in the living room on the other side. “He’s hot,” Y/n pointed out a man near one of the bars, holding a wine glass, talking with an older couple. 

Jillian hummed in agreement, “He is,” she giggled, “And look at his hands, that means he has a big dick, right?”

Y/n shrugged, “I guess, but I thought it was shoe size,” she frowned, in all actuality, stumped on the issue.

“I don’t know. But at this point, it doesn’t matter, I just need to get laid,” Jillian grabbed Y/n’s hand, their fingers lacing as they placed their wine glasses on the table, “Come on,” she pulled her along towards their prey.

Keanu stood near a set of stairs, caught in conversation with people he didn’t even know. He didn’t know why he had accepted the invitation, maybe it was because when his manager had gotten the call, his publicist had insisted it wasn’t an invitation he could reject. They were too much of a prominent family, not going might have seemed like a snub which would only mean months of bad press. 

So, there he was, faking smiles and pretending to like everyone. Keanu had only been there for about an hour, and he had yet to meet the hosts but already he could tell he wouldn’t like them. Who threw black tie parties in the middle of he week without any foreseeable cause anyway? Worse yet, their house screamed ‘pretentious snobs’; reflecting the highest levels of French luxury. Walls lined with art from internationally famed artists framed shiny marble floors which in turn surrounded a grand staircase with a glittering chandelier hanging above. Two hallways stretched into a seemingly never-ending distance and the rooms on either side of the foyer were enormous, decked with imported furniture and cream and gold embellishments. It was the kind of place that made people scared to sit anywhere, that looked as if it belonged in a magazine or on display. There was no personality, no one thing that might reminded the guests that it was a family’s home.

Keanu couldn’t wait to get home, and hopefully, never get invited to another one of their parties ever again. With a heavy sigh, he wiggled his way out of yet another polite conversation, “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, already stepping away, “I’m gonna head to the bar.” His leave was greeted with stiff nods, polite smiles and empty promises that they would all talk soon. 

Keanu journeyed to the bar, carefully avoiding any other interaction; he didn’t think he could stand anymore eye-rolling conversation without some sort of intoxicating buffer. 

As Y/n scurried to follow Jillian her hand had eventually slipped out of her cousin’s. Gigging too much to pay attention to her surroundings, she ran straight into someone, “Oh my god,” she gasped, barely evading their spilt drink; her mother might have had a heart attack if Y/n ruined her brand new dress, it had been a gift from the designer himself. For a minute, she watched as the whiskey made a pool near the edges of the navy blue silk and Y/n even had to lift her dress a little to spare it. Thankfully though, the glass hadn’t fallen too, else that might have been worse. With her eyes still cast to the floor, she was given the opportunity, Y/n was given the opportunity to look at the other party’s shoes; a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they were more suited to hiking as oppsed to attending elaborate parties in Beverly Hills, “I’m so sorry about that,” Y/n mumbled, her eyes travelling up, settling on his face. She almost had to stifle a gasp, never in a million years would she expect to see him at one of her parents’ parties, it didn’t seem like his style. Then again, she didn’t know him, not personally. Longish dark hair framed a handsome face, ending just above broad shoulders and his trimmed beard peppered with hints of grey handsomely complimented chocolate eyes. You’d have to be living under a rock to have never heard of him. Keanu Reeves.

He smiled at her warily, finding it a little cute that she stood several inches below him, “It’s fine,” he waved her off, “Maybe I’ve had too much anyway.”

Y/n chuckled quietly, shaking her head, “If you’re not leaving drunk, then I can assure you; you haven’t.”

“Is that so?” Keanu cocked a curious eyebrow, “What makes you say that?” Even as he spoke to her, Keanu found that the girl before him seemed oddly familiar, like he had seen her before. She was beautiful too, the kind of gorgeous that didn’t go unnoticed, still, he couldn’t quite place her face.

“Well,” she began, not in the slightest bit star-struck or phased that she was in the company of one of the world’s most famous movie stars- Y/n had had her her fair share of famous meets, “That’s what these parties are for. There’s propbaly more booze than there is water here tonight, and there are three pools in this place, so if you aren’t getting drunk, it’s all a waste.”

“You don’t seem drunk,” Keanu shot back, his handsome features taking on an interested smirk.

Y/n chortled, rolling her eyes, “Not yet.”

At that, Keanu scoffed; for a girl probably no more than twenty five, she sure seemed to have some fire in her. For a minute, they both just stood there, drinking each other in, and when he could barely hold her challenging stare for any longer, Keanu offered his hand, “I’m-”

“I know who you are Mr. Movie Star,” Y/n took his hand, her own easily dwarfed by his, giving it a slow, firm shake. It took a beat, but Y/n finally relented, ready to give up her own name when she was rudely interrupted by Jillian ‘rounding back towards them.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as she looked between them and Y/n reclaimed her hand, “You’re mom’s looking for you. She’s in the living room.”

Y/n sighed reluctantly, “Alright, to be continued?” She glanced to Keanu, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure,” he obliged, watching carefully as she and the other woman, who looked much like her, they must have been sisters, he thought as they disappeared into the sea of people.

”Mom?” Y/n called as Jillian deserted her in search of more male entertainment.

“Honey!” Her mother returned cheerily, her father holding out an arm, pulling Y/n into a sideways hug, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve heard,” Y/n responded coolly, “What for?”

“Why else?” Her father was in a jovial mood, a sign that the alcohol had already shaken of his usual seriousness, “Our guests need to meet the future president of Warren Enterprises!” He explained, as if it were already plainly obvious, “Come on” with one arm draped loosely over her shoulder and the other secured around her mother’s waist, Y/n’s, father led them to and up the first landing of the stair case.

Loudly, he cleared his throat and clinked his glass with a spoon someone from the wait staff had provide. Y/n’s mother stood close to his side, smiling warm and proud, her hands circling his middle. Y/n’s scanned the crowd, for some reason, stopping when they locked with those of a familiar celebrity. From where she stood, she could almost see his mouth ‘o’ with recognition and she had to bite back a sly smile. When he had almost everyone’s attention,  her father began, “Goodnight ladies and gentlemen and thank you for taking the time to join us tonight. Most of you know probably know my family and I, but for those of you who don’t; I’m Michael Warren and beside me, is my beautiful wife, who’s way out of my league; Heather Warren,” Y/n’s mother blushed, lightly slapping her husband’s chest. Nearly thirty years of marriage and they were still every bit it love, depending on the day, Y/n would either find it extremely sweet or nauseatingly annoying. After he had quickly kissed her cheek, Michael continued, “And finally, we have the apple of my eye, our greatest achievement and the future president of the Warren chain of companies; Y/n Warren, my daughter,” at that, the crowd erupted in a round of polite applauses. When they died down he kept going, “In a few years, I know that Y/n will lead the Deliciae hotels, along with all our other endeavors  towards greater excellence, as she has done with everything else.”

Michael raised his glass and Y/n nodded in thanks, trying to ignore the bubbling anxiety that usually came with the thought of having to take her father’s place one day. As an only child, it was obvious that she’d be the one to do it, it was a fact that she had been sure of since she was twelve, but it never made knowing  easier. Sure, she had gotten a degree from an ivy league school, graduating at the top of her class, she was being trained for it everyday, shadowing her father since her return from Philadelphia a few months back, but still, Y/n didn’t think there was enough education or training in the world that could ready her for running a multi-billion dollar company. “To Y/n,” the words broke Y/n out of her thoughts and she forced herself to smile, whispering a quiet thanks as everyone rose their glasses

Not long after, everyone dispersed again, the quiet hum of chatter all around filled the house once again. Excusing herself from the company of her parents, with shaking, nervous breaths, Y/n decided that she needed some air and a drink. Collecting a glass of champagne from one of the trays being carried around by a waiter, she hustled towards the nearest patio door at the side of the dining room. Waiting until she had burst through the wide screen doors, cool air hitting her like a much needed slap in the face before her breathing grew heavy and ragged. As the panic from in the troubling thoughts grew in her chest, she fought burning tears, trying desperately not to sob right then and there.

“Are you okay?” A familiar male voice asked, coming from the side.

Y/n almost jumped at his question, turning wide eyed to find Keanu coming out from a dark patch near the bushes, tossing a cigarette to the cobble stoned ground, putting it out with the toe of his boot. Quickly, she turned away, downing the contents of her glass and swiping under her eyes, “Yeah,” she nodded stiffly, her voice breaking just a little, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he commented casually, stuffing his hand into his pockets as he stepped closer, “That’s a lot of pressure for a.....”

“Twenty-three,” Y/n provided her age with a huff, sniffling, embarrassed that Keanu had caught her on the verge of tears.

“For a twenty-three year old. That’s what’s bothering you, right?” He smiled sympathetically and Y/n’s face fell a little further, admitting he was right. Keanu rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling a little ridiculous for checking her out when they had first met. She was just a kid, way too young to be worrying about keeping a business of that size successful and worse, too be befriending a man his age. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/n scoffed a laugh that didn’t really have any humor behind it, “No.” Casting her gaze towards the awning land that spanned about a mile before it was blocked off by a high wall, she discarded her empty glass on the near by outdoor table. “I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I guess, I always knew that I’d have to do it one day. I mean, they aren’t gonna be around forever, but just knowing, thinking about it.....it’s horrifying. I’ve never even planned a birthday party or a family dinner I can’t run a company.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Keanu shook his shoulders, going to stand next to her, sure to leave an arm’s length between them, “Maybe you’re gonna suck. You could fuck it up, run the whole thing into bankruptcy, lose all your family’s money. You could do so terribly that all people will associate with you is failure.”

Y/n’s jaw slacked and her eyes widened with horror, “Well that’s not helping,” she scoffed, her lips quivering ever so slightly.

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s also what you’re telling yourself. That you can’t do it. And you’re right to think it, because it is a real possibility. But you know what else is a possibility?” Keanu folded his arms, turning to face her.

When he didn’t offer anything further, Y/n loosely mirrored his stance, tilting her head, “What?”

“That you kick ass and you become one of the best presidents that your family’s company has ever seen,” when Y/n finally smiled at the positive thought, Keanu did too, pleased with himself that he had seemingly managed to help her mood. Then he continued, that time a little lighter, “Or you know, you at the very least, manage to keep it afloat.”

Y/n huffed a quiet laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder, “A plus advice,” she complimented as she grinned a little wider, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but I don’t give advice,” he brushed off.

“Ohh?” Y/n raised her brows, curious, “So what was that?”

Keanu shrugged uneventfully, “Thoughts,” once again, he returned his gaze to the far off wall.

“Well whatever you call it, thank you,” Y/n said once again and they fell into comfortable silence.

For a while, they just stood there, but eventually, Keanu abruptly announced, “You know, I don't think we’ve been formerly introduced. Keanu Reeves,” he held out his hand.

Biting back a smile, Y/n once again took Keanu’s hand, marveling in how they could be soft and calloused at the same time, “Y/n Warren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Keanu beamed, “I knew that you looked familiar.”

“Yeah? Y/n giggled, her hold on his hand steady, “Do you know me from that time I got drunk in Bali on Spring break or that ridiculous family of the year article on my parents?”

“Both good references,” Keanu agreed, finally putting together all the places where he had gotten a glace at her name or a peek of her picture somewhere on the internet, “But it was actually on that Time’s piece on top 20 heirs of the decade. If I remember correctly; you liked double chocolate ice-cream and your first car was a red BMW for your eighteenth birthday”

“Good memory,” Y/n giggled, her eyes sparkling, “But it was actually a Mercedes for my sixteenth birthday.”

Keanu nodded wistfully, rubbing his fingers through his beard, “That’s.....just as fancy. Mine was a Volvo,” his tone was light and teasing, highly unlike the annoyance she’d get from people who never saw past the money.

Y/n joined his quiet laugher, sighing as it died down. “What are you doing here anyway? No offense, but you’re not the kind of guy that I expected to see at one of these things.”

“And what kind of guys do you usually expect to see?” Keanu probed, admittedly interested in what Y/n meant.

“Arrogant pricks,” she offered bluntly, “But you,” she squinted dramatically, “You don’t seem arrogant, or like a prick.”

“Thanks?” Keanu chuckled, “I stayed at one of dad’s hotels a couple months ago and we met. It was probably for just a couple minutes, but I got then invitation about two weeks ago and my publicist basically said that I had no choice in the whole thing. So,” he gestured widely with outstretched arms, “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Y/n mirrored, blushing for a reason that she couldn’t point out. It usually took a lot to make her blush, but something about Keanu made it easy, or maybe it was the alcohol. 

“So you were forced,” Y/n mused, “I can totally relate.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Keanu chortled, trying to ignore how much more beautiful Y/n seemed now that she was smiling. 

Y/n snorted in a way that her mother might have deemed ‘unbecoming’, “You think I wanted to spend my Wednesday night talking about proposals and mergers? And worse yet, how available everyone’s son is,” Y/n’s eyes rolled at just the thought of all the conversations she had had that night, about how much time she had spent running around with Jillian dodging anyone with a single son her age.

Keanu’s head fell back in laughter and Y/n thought, that for a man old enough to be a father, she was immensely glad that he wasn’t, considering how attractive he was. Rugged handsomeness; Y/n had seen the movies and the pictures, Keanu had aged like expensive whiskey, if only she could have a taste. “People have been trying to set you up?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Minus the pony show, it kind of felt like a county fair.” Their laughter eventually became reduced to twined smiles and as the space between them lessened, “I’m not interested their type though.”

“Their type?” Keanu’s brows furrowed, “What’s their type?” He licked his lips, looking down at her close to his chest, as much as he had resisted it, Keanu had drawn closer to her. God, his mind whispered as their close proximity clouded his thoughts, she’s so beautiful, a doll wrapped up in fine silk. 

“Boys,” her voice had grown hoarse, in a throaty whisper, “I don’t like boys, they’re so.....immature and inexperienced.”

Keanu hummed in a agreement, “Sounds like you need a man.”

“It does, doesn’t it? A man with experience, who knows what he’s doing,” as she spoke, Keanu’s hand went to her waist, running the side of her torso before going around her, settling on the small of her back.

“Aren’t you something?” Keanu chuckled lowly, Y/n a little closer, “And here I was thinking you were a good girl.”

Y/n gaze darkened and she smiled suggestively, “Is that what you want me to be?”

All the alarms in his head had started to go off by then. She’s too young, half of his mind insisted, but every other part of him pushed him to submit, to kiss her and then some. Y/n looked so delectable, already in his arms, pressed to him. Keanu could feel her heat through the barrier of their clothes and the inviting view of her cleavage aided by the low cut of a dress that didn’t allow for a bra wasn’t really helping either. “Fuck no,” he breathed, his hand sliding a bit lower, cupping her backside. Keanu would have liked to think, that by all counts, he was a pretty decent guy. The kind that followed the rules and didn’t typically grab a girl’s ass an hour after meeting her, but Y/n was so enthralling that she was reminding him that under the right, or rather; the wrong circumstances, he could be anything but decent.

Licking her lips one last time, Y/n’s arms circled Keanu’s neck and without another word, he leaned down, his lips hovering a bare centimeter away from hers. It was a hair away from happening, and Y/n knew that she wasn’t ready for it to end there. She could feel his breath on her face and she cocked her head to the side to get a better angle, closing her eyes as she did. 

“I have terrible timing, don’t I?” And just like that, they sprang apart, both sucking in nervous breaths. Y/n’s hand went to clutch her chest, ignoring the sinking feeling she got as the moment got further and further away. 

“Jill?” Y/n groaned, disappointed. 

“Sorry,” she cringed, “You two were in the middle of something. My bad,” Jillian held up her hands defensively, “I swear I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded and when Jillian didn’t go on, she gestured with her hands, Well, what is it?”

“Oh yeah! Um, they need you inside.....it’s urgent,” for another minute, Jillian lingered in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them, “Well, I’ll give you two a minute and meet you inside. Okay? Okay, I’m going now,” she waved awkwardly.

Once again nervous, Keanu stuttered, “You should....”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded hurriedly, “I need to.....get......I’ve gotta go,” she shook her head, scurrying off.

With a heavy sigh, Keanu ran his hands though his hair. Half of him was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to at the very least kiss her, while the other was relived that he hadn’t, the former being a little more overwhelming. Turning on his heel, he was trying to clear his head, when he heard the clicking of heels behind him, “For the record, you know where I live, and I’ll be here tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

“Alone?” He offered a intrigued smile.

“Completely,” Y/n winked, once again hurrying off. At her final exit, Keanu scoffed, still smiling, she really was something, and he could already tell that Y/n was up to no good. 

[souvercine]

hey y’all ! i’m jia and i’m super excited for opening; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk !

tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but xan’s basic stats and a proper wc page will be up soon as i just got home from grocery shopping and we open in an hour as of typing this, the theme as a whole will get a refresh eventually and i’ll be posting a little tracklist for her playlist later ! and if tumblr ims are as much of a nuisance for you as they can be for me, you can add me on d*scord at genuinely sick of this shit#2030 if you’d like to plot ! anyways, without further ado:

( samantha logan , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . xanthe lowe ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ when they go high, she goes lowe ! xan spotted leaving a gala with her former friend’s ex, after last week’s reportedly tense exchange between the girls ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently merciless and imperious . but i’ve heard they’re also conspicuous and astute ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous socialite ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that redacted , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan !

tw: drug mention

when i tell you that i have so many muse posts i’m holding back on for this bitch —

which, btw, will all slowly see the light of day soon enough bc god knows i can’t articulate my muses’ personalities as well as i’d like so that shit makes up for it fdgslk

her parents’ eldest child together, xanthe’s also the oldest out of her and her siblings

also, never call her xanthe. friend or otherwise, don’t take the risk dklgsjdlk

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant and her mother being an entrepreneur with a love for art ( so much so that her two partners after separating from xan’s dad were artists themselves sdlkgj )

thus she split her time between toronto and manhattan even before her parents’ divorce, she merely spent more time jetting back and forth for special occasions and vacations compared to when her parents were still together

mind you, she was probably still in the single digits when that became a new normal for the brat

basically could’ve been a main character on gossip girl with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even sgdlkf

drk how to elaborate on that, aside from stressing that from her teen years onward she’s presented her own take of a rich bitch, and is a socialite/fashion week regular type if i were to describe where she stands rn

i think a good mix of references would be nicky hilton meets the delevingne sisters meets blair waldorf and sabrina pemberton’s lovechild

she attended an ivy league at the behest of her father so he had at least one child who could take a senior position in his company simply to keep it in the family

.. before he realized what a Mistake™ it would be to put that responsibility on xan and now has her slightly older cousin as a backup instead GDSLFJKS but nonetheless !

isn’t the most studious person, but she somehow wound up graduating with a major in communications and a marketing minor

she reasoned that, with her reputation in the gta and nyc, she’d need the bit of knowledge in how to clean up her messes. even if she wasn’t the one who had that responsibility

though.. the entire time has been spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

as of now, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties wherever she might be at a given time, staying in the good graces of the media as a budding, fun yet classy heiress — despite doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club

uhhh ik i had something else to add but a quick break for dinner messed that up, rip LKGFSJD

personality and shit

her little blurb on my indie is: refined party girl still set in her ways with her future left uncompromised; detached and pretentious, she soaks up the attention that continues to roll in

which. we’ve basically been over already lkdfsg but still

if i were to use a label to describe her, she’d be the sovereign

she’s messy as hell, but puts on the façade of a poised woman who has some fun because she knows it bodes well

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful

big superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

probably jets back and forth between nyc and the gta as it’s her version of normal, so ig she hates the environment if it means not having things go her way !

non-committal as all hell and will abandon girl code if she drops you fgkljfs

.. fr, she’ll fuck an ex-friend’s ex if she technically saw them first, so being spiteful and resolving some past attraction ?? right up her alley !

hence the choice of headline gdfslkj

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect her image and won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus to do so/in retaliation if they screw her over

which happens to mean that her family is to be protected as well. fuck with any of her sisters ?? you’re done ! try to call out one of her brothers on twitter ? she’ll quote it with a single clown emoji as a warning

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away ksfdg )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two that she made in either of her main hubs or through events she attended when she was young, whether they’re still friends or not for x reasons can be discussed of course

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made in the last few years

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

it should go without saying that they are all relatively wealthy or well-connected kids here, but that doesn’t mean that someone who’s using her for their fifteen seconds of fame, or just to get some perks out of their friendship, is necessarily a write-off — not that she cares too much about fake friends, face value hype and knowing they need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since age two, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

[yuhoht-t]

Please enjoy this rant that I wrote instead of my homework:

In order to weather this crisis, artists in the United States have focused on how to receive funding in a time when very little is being done for everyone. Im fucking pissed off mate. Like, I hate the goddamn modern art scene. Like you’re all such pretentious bastards. Just get a fucking real job and post on instagram like the rest of us. I don’t care if Your Art is performance based or what, literally just make a tiktok dumbass. If you’re at the mercy of a shit government that doesn’t care about you or anyone else besides its own lardtasic ass then you’ll be just as well off at the mercy of the Algorithm. Accept that the internet rules us all and get your art stolen like the absolute chads who’ve already been weathering this shit-storm that is the modern day by adapting to the deteriorating environment. And if that seriously doesn’t work by god just e-beg. Everyone does it. 

FUCK.

Besides. If you were a real artist you would listen to what’s happening in the real world and make some goddamn art about it. Right? Now piss off. 

((sometimes. art is stupid and i hate it. for reasons other than art-block or a bad day. i really especially hate contemporary art, from gallery bullshit to internet pandering, it’s all ridiculous because these people make it so. obviously the arts deserve more funding and credit than they’re given, but sometimes i also want to slap everyone involved))

[dontshootmespence]

An Artist In His Own Mind

Summary: Every artist is a genius in his own mind.

Words: 2,900

Warnings: Talk of murder.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my unsub square. 

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.” – Jackson Pollock

He needed silence to work.

Finally, the pleas that rang through the air subsided, leaving him with peace and quiet to think. Moving quickly was essential - before the bodies became too stiff to work with. They were the perfect specimens for his first piece.

After propping her up onto the chair with her palms upward, he wiped the blood off her neck: a clean canvas. White cloth draped around her neck and body, though it took longer than he expected to get the material to sit just right. Thankfully, he at least partly situated the boy into the position he needed. If he hadn’t there would’ve been much more damage getting him situated into the woman’s arms. It left him more time to clean the boy off and ensure a perfect finished work of art.

They lived alone and had little contact with others in the neighborhood. No one would come looking for a while. Due to the boy’s slightly contorted position it took a while to get his clothes off, but once they’d been removed, he draped the excess cloth hanging from the woman’s body over his lap.

Stepping back, he admired his work. Like any good artist, he could see areas he’d like to improve, but unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. There was just one final touch. He grabbed a screwdriver from the woman’s basement and pried open the can of paint – SW 7588, Show Stopper. With every jostle of the screwdriver against the lid of the paint can, he grew more and more angry, impatience boiling inside him, the desire to perfect his piece growing exponentially.

Stirring the paint ensured it was smooth and ready for the canvas. The crimson stared back at him. Carefully, he lifted the can above his work, steadily pouring the medium out until it was gone.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled out the Polaroid, capturing his first completed work.

                                                             ---

Morgan walked into the bullpen with sand still scratching at the corners of his eyes. Every heartbeat said coffee. Apparently, Spencer already beat him there. “Late night, kid?” He laughed. He was pouring so much sugar into his coffee, he would swear a little mountain peak was going to breakthrough the top of the steaming liquid.

Grumbling, Spencer nodded. “So late.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer smirked, glancing toward Morgan quickly before looking away. God, he wanted to go home.

“Woah, woah,” he said, stepping in front of the nearly comatose doctor. “That kinda late night?”

Spencer began walking back toward his desk, whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since Y/N,” Morgan stated, catching up to his evasive friend. “I always thought it was a mistake breaking up with her. You back together?”

“I’ll never tell,” he repeated on a laugh.

Before they could return to their desks and Morgan could pester Spencer just a little bit more, Hotch stepped out of his office and began marching toward the round table room. “Guys, we’ve got a case.”

“It didn’t come through me?” JJ mentioned.

Hotch shook his head. “No, it came directly to me. A friend from New York got out of the city and began working in Cazenovia upstate. He’s got a weird one.”

“How weird?” Rossi asked.

“Even we’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily sighed heavily. “When does it end?”

It doesn’t, she thought.

                                                             ---

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked.

Emily motioned toward the elevator. “She’s just on her way up. I’ll catch her up once we’re all briefed.”

Nodding, Hotch clicked the button on the remote. “In Cazenovia, there have been three people murdered via a single stab wound to the neck.”

“And they’re connected?” Morgan queried. “How do we know?”

When Hotch clicked the remote, their mouths collectively dropped, eyes alight with a confusion that was hard to come by given their line of work.

“What the hell?” Emily leaned forward in her chair trying to make some sense of the pictures in front of them. “They’ve been posed.”

“And have paint splattered on them.”

“Even though the victims aren’t connected in any way that the local PD can find, they were all killed with a knife. The unique signature is why we were called in.” Hotch passed copies of the files out to each member of the team. “With a signature unique as this and these kills only a week apart, there’s no doubt this unsub is going to strike again soon. We’ll go over victimology on the plane. Wheels up in 30.”

                                                               ---

Despite the sun shining, the jet always felt solemn, like it knew it was a harbinger of bad things to come. “Alright, so what do we know about the victims?” Hotch asked Garcia, her bright and shining face the only light they’d see for at least the next few days.

“The first victims were a mother and son, Linda and Brian Tucker, 40 and 15 years old, found a week ago like this.” She brought up the pictures from the crime scene and flinched. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she’d never get used to it. “The second victim, found yesterday, was 33-year old Matthew Feldman.”

He was posed in a chair and redressed in a green pea coat and long black pants that were slightly too baggy for his slight frame. His face was bandaged, a white covering wrapped around his ears and tied on the top of his head. And he was doused in orange paint. Garcia’s fingers glided across the keyboard like a seagull over the waves. “I’m checking everything they could’ve possibly had in common. Churches, schools, work places, dry cleaners, nothing. These three aren’t connected. At least as far as I can see.”

“Alright, let’s move away from victimology for the time being,” Hotch said. “What do the crime scene photos tell us about the killer?”

Emily noted the cleanliness of the bodies apart from the paint. “With stab wounds to the neck, they should be drenched in blood, but they aren’t. The area around them is, but they aren’t, like they were wiped off.”

“So they’re clean,” Rossi replied, “But the paint is messy. It could’ve been painted on for more control, but it seems like it was poured.”

Spencer stared at the screen, eyes scanning over the poses on display. “The bodies are intricately posed and cleaned. They’re what matter to him. The bodies are the compulsion, the paint is the signature.”

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“They’re works of art,” he said. “See the mother and son? She’s sitting with the boy in her lap, her hands palm up. What does that remind you of?”

An art lover himself, Rossi silently chastised himself for not realizing what the crime scene resembled sooner. “The Pieta. The sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus after his crucifixion…and the man…it’s Van Gogh’s self-portrait after returning from the hospital after having cut off his ear.”

“So this guy thinks himself an artist and is picking victims at random,” Morgan grumbled. “Lovely. We need to get to Cazenovia yesterday.”

                                                             ---

After checking in with Sheriff Meyer, who’d called Hotch in first place, Spencer and Rossi headed to the latest crime scene, leaving JJ, Hotch, Emily and Morgan to liaise with the authorities and try and nail down a profile. “Alright, an artist like this has to be connected to the world in some way,” Morgan insisted. “Maybe he’s an art student, a local artist, something.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s gotta be more than that. If he was successful in any way, wouldn’t the ‘art’ in question be completely perfect? Pristine? The paint is messy. Why?”

“Maybe a rejected artist then,” he replied. “Someone who got denied viewership in a gallery or turned away from a prestigious art school. Color could be part of why he was turned down, so when it comes to the paint he’s disorganized.”

Before anyone could alert Garcia, the sheriff walked in, forlorn. “We’ve got another one.”

                                                             ---

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Emily asked.

Spencer crouched near the man’s body, his torso wrapped in a similar pea coat to the last victim and a captain’s hat, yellowed with age – all topped with yellow paint. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Another Van Gogh piece. It seems a pattern is forming. Both pieces are very melancholic. Could be a reflection of our unsub.”

Morgan reached his gloved hand into the man’s pocket. “46 year old Andrew Warner. Lemme call Garcia.”

“You’ve reached the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle of Quantico, how may I assist thee?”

“What can you give me on an Andrew Warner?”

“Andrew Warner, 1109 Nighthawk Lane, Syracuse, NY. He’s the operator of a local art gallery in Auburn called Light’s Meaning…sounds a little pretentious if you ask me.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“I’m waiting on it, sugar.” 

“Seems like our unsub is starting to get a little closer to his true targets. How much you wanna bet our guy was rejected by Andrew Warner?”

“Less than a day in between kills,” Emily interjected. “He’s devolving fast. We need to give the profile.”

                                                             ---

As the officers piled into the station’s bullpen, the team gathered before them. JJ took a step forward and asked for everyone’s attention. “Listen closely. This unsub is devolving fast and this profile is going to be the best way to catch him.”

“Alright, we’re looking for a white male between the ages of 20 and 30 whose been rejected from art school or a showing at a gallery,” Emily projected toward the murmuring crowd. No matter how many times they gave a profile to an innumerable amount of officers and detectives, there were always a few skeptics.

Leaning against the back wall, Spencer spoke. “He’s an injustice collector of sorts and feels that he’s been wronged. For right now, his victims are random, but they’re surrogates for the people who rejected him.”

“He’s devolving fast,” Hotch said. “Even though the crime scenes are still organized, the bodies are still being cleaned and the paint is still his signature, he’s killing more quickly with less and less time between kills.”

Morgan insisted. “That’s why we need all of you involved in the search for our unsub. The quicker we can pin down who he is, where he was rejected from and who wronged him, the more people we’ll be able to save. We need to get ahead of this guy.”

“And one more thing,” Emily added. “Given the likelihood that this is a student who’s been rejected, and the time of year, October. It’s likely the unsub was rejected months ago and there’s a secondary stressor that kick-started the killing spree. However, we can’t rule out that this is someone rejected from a gallery. Just something to keep in mind.”

                                                               ---

He could feel the breeze brush by him as he hurriedly ran downstairs, barreling through anything that might be in his way. The FBI was in town and he still had work to do, but he’d have to move his schedule forward.

On the table sat a newspaper clipping: “Administrator Gavin P. Hall promoted to President at Tisch.”

                                                             ---

Garcia had this innate ability to shine in the face of darkness. Something the rest of the team envied her for. She slid across the floor of her office, the wheels of her chair carrying her gracefully though she somehow managed to bump into her computer desk. “Okay, my pretties, I have been doing a lot of digging and I mean a lot. My hands are dirty and it’s caked under my fingernails kind of dirty. Now, I know the locals have been going door to door searching for anyone that fits the profile and has been rejected from a gallery, so I decided to look into people in the greater New York area that have been rejected from art school and boy do I have a list for you.”

“Send it over, baby girl.”

She feigned a gasp. “Mon ami, you don’t think that happened 30 seconds ago?”

“Garcia, can you narrow this list down?” Spencer asked. “We think there’s another more recent stressor that sparked the killing spree.”

“I’m gonna need something specific to narrow it down by,” she said sadly. “I mean I am an all powerful super genius hacker chick, but I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”

Rossi tapped his fingers against the desk. “Okay, okay, the third and fourth victims were both depicted like Van Gogh’s works, right? Why wasn’t the first one? The mother and son?”

“Okay, so the mother and son has to mean something,” Hotch admitted.

Spencer pushed back from the table. “With an unsub so purposeful, the bodies, the way they’re cleaned and positioned, the paints. It all means something, so a mother and a son. Garcia, have any of the suspects lost their mother recently.”

With a few quick swipes of the keys, Garcia had a list of five names. “Only one of them has lost their mother in the last week and a half though?” She said. “Trenton Price, and his address is now on your phones. Also, out of the five finalists, he’s the only one to be rejected from Tisch – one of the premiere art schools in the country.”

They all pushed back from the table, intent clear. “Alright, Reid, you, me and Emily will head to Price’s address. Rossi, you, Morgan and JJ head to Tisch, interview anyone that was involved in Price’s rejection.”

                                                             ---

It would take hours for Spencer, Emily and Hotch to catch up with them, but at least they could give them a heads up. “Morgan, it’s Reid. We went to the address and he wasn’t there, but his cellphone went on and Garcia triangulated the call-“

“Lemme guess, he’s at Tisch.”

“Yup. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid.”

Rossi stepped on the gas, sirens blaring. “We’ll be there in five.”

“You sure about that?” JJ grimaced, hand grasping the handle above the window like her life depended on it. “We’re in the middle of New York City.”

“And I grew up on Long Island, I got this.”

In less than five minutes, Rossi screeched the car to a halt and they ran in, guns at the ready. Students ran down the hallways and down the stairs toward any exit they could find. “Where? Where are they?” JJ yelled.

“In the president’s office! Second floor!” She screamed, the clacking of her heels dissipating within the seconds.

They ran up the stairs, hearts racing while students ran passed, whispers of the ensuing sanity floating by their ears. “Trenton Price,” Morgan screamed, “Put your weapon down!”

“No! They have to pay! I’ve worked all my life for this and they just shut me down! Like the pretentious bastards they are!”

In his grasp, Gavin Hall squirmed but the knife inched closer and closer to his throat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rossi stepped in front of Morgan and JJ, taking the lead though none of them had vests on. They never expected him to be so desperate so soon. “Trenton, don’t do anything you’re gonna regret,” he pleaded. “If you kill Hall here, you’ll take away his ability to make things right. Give you the opportunities you deserve.”

JJ snaked around the back of Rossi and trained her gun on Price, hoping for a chance to get a shot off.

“Yea, right! What d’you think I’m stupid?”

Nodding slightly, Rossi encouraged the terrified Hall to ‘make amends.’ Rossi prompted him. “Your mother was your biggest fan, wasn’t she? Encouraged your artistic abilities?”

“Yes, she always knew I’d be an artist, and now I am,” he breathed, a tear falling down the side of his cheek. “But then they rejected me. Told me I was an amateur! That my choice of medium was basic and pedantic. Do you know how many skilled artists specialized in charcoal? Robert Longo, William Kentridge, Dan Pyle, Joel Daniel Phillips! And these assholes tell me I’m arcane and talentless?”

“You’re not,” Hall said, putting together the pieces of Price’s mental state. “I was wrong about you. About your work.

“Liar!” He lifted his arm above his head. A crack resounded throughout the room and he fell to the floor, groaning.

JJ ran up to him and kicked the knife away, holstering her gun before turning him over and cuffing him. “You okay?” She asked Hall.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I-“

“You got this?” Morgan asked.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m good, get him to the medic.”

Price screamed at the top of his lungs through the hallways, telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be the next great artist. “Please,” JJ replied. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

                                                              ---

“So, kid,” Morgan said with a smile. “You gotta tell me about the other night. What happened with Y/N?” 

Emily’s eyes lit up and she practically jumped into the seat next to him. “Wait, you two back together?”

He shook his head but he wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “As soon as we get back, I am going home and going to bed.”

“With Y/N?”

“I’m not telling,” he smirked.

[wellship]

Hello hi I just wanted to say I am absolutely here for Leah and Haley being girlfriends... hippie artist and pretty fashion girl??? Match made in heaven. Thank you. My crops are watered.

LISTEN…….. You have hereby given me permission to wall-of-text about why I love this ship so much lmao…

I already started off loving Haley because she’s IMO the best bachelorette in the game. I love not only how she grows as a character (compared to some of the others who can feel stagnant, even though I love them all too) but how her “growth” doesn’t mean that she sacrifices her personality completely.She was the first villager I ever romanced playing SDV because I was curious to see how she would be written and I was so, so pleasantly surprised. It’s so easy and common for characters like Haley to either stay as a shallow caricature of a “mean, girly girl” forever as a punching-bag for the writers’ projections, OR for her to do a complete 180 as if being girly, or interested in fashion, or not academic are bad traits to be “fixed” in order for the character to become likeable - especially since this was essentially a first-person dating sim, which often plays into the fantasy where a mean girl is turned into a totally pacified wifey-type by the (usually male) PC. I was fully expecting and bracing for Haley to go from being a caricature of a “mall brat” Mean Girl to being a caricature of an “I’m not like other girls” Cool Girl (or worse, “I’m so glad I Grew Up and realised all I need in my life is my hubby!”, but I wasn’t quite getting that vibe from SDV).

But that didn’t happen. Major props to CA for creating a character who DID grow and learn to appreciate things outside of her little bubble without feeling the need to abandon/criticise the things she used to like. She learns that shopping/makeup/boys (wink) etc. aren’t the only important things in her life, and she expands her horizons, but those things are still important to her. As someone who’s also interested in fashion and makeup it was refreshing to see those hobbies still portrayed in a positive light as opposed to something she had to “move past”.

So. Anyway. That’s why I love Haley so much and why I particularly like a narrative of her discovering she’s a wlw (thank you Stardew Valley for watering MY crops by giving everyone canon bi~ reads) as it ties in with her growing and maturing as a person.

And so when I looked at the roster of girls in Stardew Valley I felt like Leah was the best one to complement her character in a relationship:

Haley’s biggest obstacle in her life right now is that she’s very sheltered and, as a result, a little spoiled. Her parents are globe-trotting and her older sister has been left to look after her. The age gap between the sisters doesn’t seem to be that big and Emily isn’t very confrontational at the best of times, so I think she just took the path of least resistance, which was to do everything herself rather than argue with Haley who still sees her as a peer and not an authority figure.Leah, conversely, has had to become extremely independent and self-sufficient, very recently. Her narrative plot line about leaving an (if not abusive, then at least implied to be toxic/unhealthy) relationship and a position where she was “comfortable” but unhappy is very fresh and it’s exactly where Haley needs to be. Leah is in a prime position to, basically, give Haley a kick up the rear and tell her to get her act together, but without it coming off as too sanctimonious or parental since Leah is still going through it and learning herself. Two young adults navigating their way through adulthood and pulling each other along rather than one grabbing the other by the hand and “fixing” them.

The flipside of this is that Leah is in her position through choice, which she was privileged to be able to make. She CHOSE to leave behind a life in the big city and a stable career to pursue the aesthetic of living in a little country cabin and making art all day. Haley wants the opposite, but can’t make it happen. Haley would KILL to be able to pack up her life and move to the city to pursue her dreams - Fashion? Photography? Fashion photography? - but she can’t. She’s sheltered because she has everything provided for her in Pelican Town, but that doesn’t translate to having the same opportunities for forward momentum as Leah. Her parents aren’t implied to be very supportive of her dreams, so they’re not going to fund a move for her, and we constantly see that there are limited employment opportunities in Pelican Town unless she wants to work for minimum wage at Joja. So she’s kind of stuck. Narratively, we’re supposed to see Leah’s desire to move from the city to the country as a positive story arc (because it mirrors the player’s) while we’re supposed to see Haley’s desire to move from the country to the city as somehow being shallow or consumerist, and I think Leah herself would fall into the trap of thinking that way, which would be eye-opening for her.When you look at it, their narratives mirror each other. It’s easy to say that Haley is spoiled and out of touch with the “real world”, but Leah is also out of touch with reality in that not everyone can do what she did. I like Leah a lot and I’m not saying her life or her decisions were easy - and she definitely does seem to be genuinely “roughing it” and struggling for money when we meet her in-game - but she still got there by choice and she still does have a safety net of sorts, since it’s implied she could probably get re-hired in whatever lucrative field she worked in before moving. Haley doesn’t have that - her “safety net” of her parents’ house and her sister only works to support her as long as she stays put.I can see this being a really delicious and rewarding narrative point between them as they started to get to know each other, because I think they would probably HATE each other at first, lol. Leah would think Haley was childish and represented everything she disliked about “fake” city living while Haley would think Leah was pretentious and ungrateful.

Also I definitely love that hippie girl/mall girl contrast BUT please consider - Haley is also an artist and I think they’d both “get” each other on that level. Nobody in town considers Haley an artist. Leah is a “real” artist, a fine artist and a sculptor. Elliott is a “real” artist by way of being an author. Emily is a “real” artist for her sewing and… y’know… general aura. Those are defining aspects of their character. But to the other people in town, and even to the player, art is not one of Haley’s notable features. Her photography is just a throwaway idea. She’s the shallow, frilly, pink, bubblegum-scented boy-crazy “girly girl” who just also happens to take photos sometimes.But photography is serious TO HALEY. It’s pretty much the only thing she does around town other than wandering aimlessly. She has some pretty impressive equipment and she even builds a dark room for herself, either implicitly converting it from a walk-in wardrobe (which demonstrates how she sees her own priorities, regardless of how others see her) OR she builds it from scratch, which is even more dedicated. I think Leah is the best person in town to recognise that Haley is also an artist who’s dedicated to her craft and probably the only person to really encourage her to pursue it, to tell her that it’s worthwhile and not just some silly hobby. Leah would be able to see a lot of her own internal struggles over art in Haley, about whether it was “good enough”.

Conversely if there’s one thing Haley has which Leah lacks, it’s confidence. Leah is full of self-doubt about her art, her life choices, etc. whereas Haley’s main issue is apathy; once she finds something she’s actually passionate about, she’s very self-assured. I think once they broke the ice and started to become friends, if Leah expressed even a smidgen of self-doubt Haley would shut it down with very over-the-top but sincere pep talks.

I also just think their personalities contrast well, lol. Haley is extremely blunt but she’s not really trying to be rude, it’s just that the things she say often come from a sheltered perspective (i.e. “appearance is important to me” -> “[my concept of] appearance is important to everyone” -> “I should tell people if they’re doing Appearance wrong”). Leah on the other hand is very casual and polite but also hard to offend. She’s mostly content to let the odd comment roll off her back, but as we’ve seen with Kel, she’s also not afraid to tell people off when they’re being inconsiderate, which is what Haley needs - someone who won’t ditch her for putting her foot in her mouth, like most would/do, but also someone who won’t just enable her to stay sheltered.

Also in the context of this being a wlw ship/narrative, I think Haley would need a partner who was comfortable in their own sexuality since Haley (and her thematic counterpart Alex) are both extremely stuck in compulsive heterosexuality and sort of need a partner who… isn’t? Or else they’d just get sucked into a “will-they-won’t-they” vortex for a million years where neither of them know how to make the first move. Leah is the only bachelor(ette) who by default has any canonical LGBTQ relationship before the farmer, and that energy just translates well for Haley, IMO. I think if Haley found out Leah was a wlw then it would force Haley to reconsider her assumptions about her own sexuality.

Leah would go absolutely googoo gaga over Haley IMO and it’s just fun to picture her at the start of their interactions being like “god dammit she annoys me so much but DAMB .. .. .. girl pretty”

I doubt anyone read all of this but I HAD FUN and I’m really really glad to see such a positive response to that art!! I would love it if more people started shipping and making content for them 👀

[thewrongexecution]

thinkin’ ‘bout final fantasy

I go by Not The Author for exactly the reason that I ain’t no expert on any given work of fiction, but I do like to make connections what make me seem smart: an illusion, haphazardly crafted by incident accident and supplemented by precocious pretentiousness. All the same, here are some fun thoughts I had that you might also enjoy!

I do have a point, that I do get to. I feel like I should say that ahead of time, all things considered. Like, I can appreciate if you can’t appreciate a shaggy dog story? But there is a point to all this.

...Eventually.

Spoiler Warning:

Final Fantasies 1, 6, 7, 7R, 13 and 15

Content Warning:

Discussion of death

Cussin’

Length warning:

5621 words

13 sections

16 digressions

Let’s dig in.

- - - - -

Final Fantasy 1 was not my first Final Fantasy experience, but I think it was the first I ever played by myself? The remaster for the GBA, came bundled with FF2 on the same cart, which I played briefly but did not complete and do not remember, except that it had Cid.

FF1 doesn’t have a Cid, but I really loved the narrative anyway, straightforward as it was, because it was very specifically about spitting in the face of an uncaring god who would doom the world for a laugh. Take these chains that bind us to darkness and, though we be forgot to history, strangle with them that selfsame darkness to bring an end to its tyranny.

((it is a terrible curse, to love time travel. so many grand expectations, so few ever met. play ghost trick, chrono trigger, radiant historia, majora’s mask, outer wilds. have you any recs yourself, lemme know! I digress.

((I digress a lot, as I may have mentioned. they’ll be noted in parenthetical, like this.))

This is the foundation upon which Final Fantasy is built, and while any student of architecture could tell you of many and varied perfectly valid construction techniques, it resonates. Grappling with an immutable past to course-correct an uncaring future is, too, an apt description of personal growth; a theme as universal as being alive. And I, as an impressionable youth, ate that shit up.

((I assume I was young, at any rate. my love for time travel, be it era-spanning or moment-stretching, is, I suspect, not entirely coincidental to my terrible temporal memory.))

And that was the tale of the studio, too. Final Fantasy was so titled because, the story goes, the developers knew they would shutter if it didn’t make bank. Staring your imminent demise in the face, knowing your fate is doom, and giving it your all, all the same.

And then they made another twelve, plus two-and-a-half MMOs, and god knows how many mobile games and spin-offs, and now the Fantasy is that there could ever be a Final one. so say I: life parodies art.

((the half-an-MMO is FF14 1.0, which no longer exists and is a fascinating tale, a rally against bleak futures all its own. I’ll [link] Noclip’s three-part documentary covering the developer’s side of things, because that’s the one I’ve seen. there’s plenty other material to hunt down, though, if you wanna.))

- - - - -

Final Fantasy VII is a game about fate, too. Particularly Death, that most ultimate of fates. Tragic, to be sure; preventable, or at least delayable, in many cases; necessary, at times, for the growth of something new.

Unrelenting. Unstoppable. Inescapable.

Death, and the fights against it, take many forms. There are the fascist death squads that hunt down your ragtag band and any dissent against their cruel masters, but these will only truly stop by cutting off the hydra’s head and building an entirely new society; eight dudes and their dog, faced with a corporate private military, can survive but never win. There are such disasters as do slay that hydra, be they natural or man-made. There’s the space alien and the apocalypse it ushers. There’s literal illness and injury, physical or otherwise. There are the deaths of loved ones, friends and family, that lead to some subtler deaths within those that survive them. The deaths of relationships, by neglect or abandonment. The ideological deaths we inflict on ourselves, accepting ever-growing lesser evils in the name of some impossible ideal.

Every day, the person we were becomes the person we are, and soon, the person we are will give way to someone new, and this, too, is a sort of death. In this sense, we tally Cloud’s deaths at least five: failure to become a Soldier and rebirth in shame, the massacre of Nibelheim and rebirth in grief, arrival at Midgar and rebirth in delusion, his cratering at the Crater and rebirth in nihilism, and his death and rebirth in the Lifestream of Mideel.

((you could prolly hunt down another two if you wanna be cheeky, but I lack the knowledge, motive and patience. frankly, this whole thing is to create a leading line of logic and probably isn’t, uh. academically ethical? or whatever the term is. I’m not necessarily wrong, but I’m definitely scuttling nuance. oh well!))

Now, I say “rebirth,” because that’s how deaths of identity more-or-less work. There’s usually some new identity waiting in the wings to take over. And rebirth is itself a notable theme, inasmuch as it is one outcome of death. But death is oft more final than that, and what people do in its imminence and wake is key here, too. Wutai’s collapse into an insular tourist trap. Avalanche’s vengeful fervor, in general and post-plate drop. Bugenhagen trying to pass his knowledge on to Red. The whole party’s ongoing post-traumatic depressive episodes.

Ultimately, death is the inescapable fate of all things. It’s what we do, in light of that, that makes us who we are.

- - - - -

Final Fantasies 13 and 15 are the only modern Final Fantasies I’ve beaten, and I bring them up because both deal very prominently with fate and death, and as Square’s most recent mainline FF titles, Remake can’t exist without comparison to them. Here’s what I remember:

Final Fantasy 13 was a game I enjoyed. The stagger system mixed up my casual FF tradition of Get The Big Numbers by putting a prominent UI element onscreen that says You Can’t Get The Big Numbers Unless The Bar Is Full. Suddenly there’s a natural-but-enforced ebb and flow to combat built in, where you gotta juggle chip damage, survival, and crowd control while keeping resources enough to burst down a staggered foe, but maintain situational awareness to swap back into survival mode if you’re not gonna down your enemy, all in something close to real-time. Very obviously a direct precursor to the combat of Remake. I didn’t realize the depth of it, but it was still super fun.

People at the time didn’t like the linearity of the game and, I can see that in retrospect? I think it’s closer to, there weren’t breakpoints, there wasn’t variety. It was cutscenes, combat, and the stretches of land between them; the only real thing for the brain to get a workout on was the combat, and eating only one kinda food is gonna make that food taste bland.

((I didn’t mind, but I like idle games, and, also probably had depression around then. Take that how you will.))

The story, though, I loved. You got your uncaring gods forcing mortals to do their increasingly-impossible bidding, cursing them to agonized unlife if they take too long, and with blissful, beautiful death if they succeed. It sucks! And here you have a ragtag band of incidental idiots trying to rebel against a system that, actually, wants them to? Like that’s the plan? Have mortals kill god and summon the devil to destroy all life, because god, doesn’t.... like life anymore?

((The lore gets more than a little impenetrable, and I remember bouncing off it a couple times. The throughline of God Sucks And Makes Zombies was good though.))

The biblical parallels are obvious, and if they weren’t, the final boss’ design will clue you in, god that’s a good design. hang on I can add pictures and already tossed a spoiler warning, here, look at this:

(per the Final Fantasy Fandom Wiki [X])

That’s literally The Holy Trinity But A Sword The Size Of A Building. It’s perfect.

Anyway, I love this game, because the heroes win, which is what God wants, so in winning, they lose, as was fated to be, right? Fuck All That, say the lesbians from space australia, as they turn into satan and, as satan, stop God’s shitty metal moon from crashing into space australia and destroying all life.

((this awakened something in me, though, as is becoming a theme, I wasn’t aware of it at the time. actually hold up I’m gonna rewatch that sequence.

((yeah okay wow on review that was aggressively cheesy and had a whole bunch of weird emotional whiplash that just leaves a super-bad aftertaste. I don’t really like it as an experience, but big bazonga lesbian satan with arms for hair is still a look-and-a-half.))

The whole thing is not entirely unlike if meteor was also Midgar, and there’s more than a few points where I went, hang on, are they trying to evoke 7 here? “Lightning” is ex-military and bad at emotions, Sazh is a black dad w/ guns and emotional trauma and I love him, quirky pink healer girl who might be an alien is here, the game starts on a train and leads into a robot bug fight; obviously it’s not one-to-one but the connections are there for a brain like mine to make, and only more prominent for the fact that FF7 was the more satisfying game.

((I cannot speak to 13-2 or -3; 13-2 was fun up until the enemies were abruptly 30 levels higher than me, more or less a mandate by the game for me to do all the side content, which I was not on-board with. I skipped 13-3 entirely, especially when I learned the whole game is on a timer. did not and do not need that stress in my life.))

- - - - -

But okay, FF13 was “too linear” and wasn’t doing super great. Enter Final Fantasy Versus 13, by which I mean enter Final Fantasy 15 actually, we don’t need any more of this 13 crap. And once again, I enjoyed it! ...Right up until it was bad.

Final Fantasy 15 was not a finished game, and we know this for certain now, because all its DLC was to make it a finished game. At the time, though, there was uncomfortable and inconsistent story pacing, only one playable character, relatively sparse combat mechanics... but it was open-world, and hey, that’s what you wanted, right? open, non-linear environments? I picked it up because, Teleporting Swordsman With a Motorcycle Sword. I am of simple pleasures, and those are they.

Of the little I remember, one point that’s stuck with me is the sequence following the Leviathan fight. See, we’ve been talking about fate and destiny and how Final Fantasy likes to spite them. Here in 15, our main man Noctis doesn’t want the destiny he’s been burdened with, to Become The King and Save The World from the Coming Darkness, or whatever. He’d really rather be doing, anything else? like hanging out with his buddies or actually getting married or, I dunno, grieving the death of his father. Nope! You don’t get to do that. Go find the ghost armaments of your dead ancestors so you can ~saaave the wooorld!~ I would have been in college around then, so, eminently relatable.

Now, on this journey, you meet a guy called Ardyn. He’s the sort of character that was built as an attack on me personally: sleazy, charming, possessing airs of casual familiarity with people he’s never met, kinda helps you out in tight spots, and also, by the way, vizier to the empire that killed your dad and wants you and your friends dead too. But not in the “secret good guy” way, he just likes fucking with you! he’s perfect.

Right up until the Leviathan fight.

See, Lunafreya, your betrothed--

((I’m so mad about this stupid, stupid garbage. I love Lunafreya on principle, but the game doesn’t bother to give her screentime. you only ever hear about her incidentally, which can be cool if you then meet the character and get to compare/contrast what you’ve heard, but the initial release only has her show up for this one chapter, and your party doesn’t really get to interact with her that much.))

Your betrothed is here and she’s some symbol of the peoples’ hope, right? she’s got light magic or something, and can actually commune with the gods. the gods are on your side, but you can’t actually understand a word they say, but she can, and that’s sick as hell. anyway.

You lose the fight against Leviathan, because you’re a shitty emo teen who doesn’t know how to use your ghost swords, and she got beat up earlier when Levi got all pissy at being summoned. And then Ardyn shows up in his magitek dropship.

Now earlier, Ardyn had Luna as his captive, completely at his mercy, and right now, he who would be king of kings, destined to save the world from darkness, is clutching at rock in a hurricane, beaten, wounded and dying.

Of the two, which do you think he stabs to death?

if you thought, “the protagonist, which will allow him to win, and subvert Final Fantasy’s themes of defying fate by having the villain be the one to do it, forcing everyone else to scramble for some alternate solution and deal with the fallout,” congratulations! You win disappointment, because that idea’s cool as hell and they didn’t. fucking. Do it.

((Ardyn, before this, had given me major Kefka vibes, and thinking on it now, the world descending into darkness in the 15 we never had could have played with even deeper parallels to FF6... but I never played 6, and that FF15 doesn’t exist, so... I’ll leave that analysis to better scholars.))

now, with the benefit of hindsight, that was never going to happen. too long in development hell, game had to ship, had no time or budget for mid-game upheaval. but at the time? made me lose any interest I had in Ardyn, made me mad at the developers for passing up on fulfilling the themes their series had explored in past, made me almost stop playing the game. I’m still mad about it for crying out loud!

((thinking about it gets me tensed up, coiled, with that sort of full-body thrum that’s best conveyed with letters that jitter around. best I can do here is bold italics, but it doesn’t have the right energy. it’s a fleeting feeling, but when it’s here? god. given the men that wrote this scene I would fight all of them and win.

((inhale...

((exhale...

((and move on.))

We, the player, never really meet Luna, so there’s no real... impact, no substance to it. It’s sad, but impersonal. villain kills damsel to inflict manpain on hero. that’s it. we’ve seen this song and dance before.

But kill Noctis? The character the player’s been controlling all this time, who they know intimately? Now it’s personal. Now your party members’ grief is a mirror to your own. And now you get to play as Luna, maybe? give the game time to flesh her out, have her bond with your old companions over their shared grief, and maybe use her connections and public speaking skills to rally the people of the world, in a perhaps-vain attempt to resist the oncoming darkness, while simultaneously using that public-facingness to drive her to hide her own fear and hopelessness...? That’s a complex character ripe for drama and tragedy right there! And then her, at the head of a story about people coming together to solve a global calamity themselves, rather than await their appointed savior?

Even then, but especially now... You can see the appeal, right?

- - - - -

Lemme step back and zoom out for a moment, because there’s one more kind of Fate to discuss before I finalize my thesis. Yes, I promise, there is a point besides being mad at FF15, this is still ultimately about Remake. Bear with me a little longer.

See, Remake’s premise is that it’s not quite FF7, but that itself is predicated on Remake being essentially FF7. Certain things must be in the Remake series, or it will cease to be the Final Fantasy 7 Remake series. The developers have gone on record saying as much, that they’ll still cover the thrust of the original, and that makes a lot of sense from a development standpoint. Building on an existing framework saves loads of time, and lets them focus on details as they have in Remake.

((I think they've already set up an in-universe justification for this, too. The party may have defeated the Whispers at Midgar, but the Whispers are the will of the planet. The only way to truly defeat them would be to defeat the planet itself, which: kind of the goal of the villains!

((a bit ironic, because the villains are the Whispers’ means to keep manipulating events. Remake backends a very large portion of the plot, and I don’t think Rufus seeing the Whispers is a throwaway detail. The party chases Sephiroth by chasing Shinra in the original, so even if the party has shaken free of the direct influence of the Whispers, manipulating Shinra should in turn manipulate the party.

((on top of which, Rufus prizes power, and the power to change or control fate-- something both the party and Sephiroth have seized-- would be as enticing as anything.))

But this begs the question: How much of Final Fantasy 7 is necessary before it stops being Final Fantasy 7? Do you need all nine characters? The Weapons? Rideable chocobo? Breedable chocobo? What about locations? Can you drop the Gold Saucer? or Mount Condor? or Mideel? How many minigames am I holding up? These are necessary questions, but so is this:

“Would a one-to-one recreation of the original game have the same emotional impact as when it released, twenty-three years ago?”

- - - - -

Now, the phrase “emotional impact” is necessarily kind of nebulous and subjective, so lemme dig into that a little bit.

The first significant chunk of the original FF7 takes place entirely in Midgar, which is one huge city. Every screen is densely packed; movement is typically constrained to narrow corridors and industrial crawlspaces. The whole world is deeply claustrophobic and visually hostile, by design.

This is FF7 for the first few hours, before a motorcycle chase deposits you outside city limits, and then... you hit the world map, and everything changes. The world is rendered in three whole dimensions, now! (Then, a technological marvel in its own right.) There’s a sky! There’s a horizon! Grass, mountains, the ocean!

Boundless, terrifying freedom.

From a mechanical standpoint, there’s only one real destination, an A-to-B with random encounters before a small enclosure with an inn and shops, no real change from what you’ve already been doing. But the mood? Everything’s fresh and new, now. Everything’s an unknown.

So, how do we do that again, two-and-a-half decades on?

Let’s say, something like this: Remake 2 starts with Cloud and Sephiroth en route to Nibelheim. For new players, this provides immediate intrigue: why are these mortal enemies hanging out in a truck? how did they get here, where are they going? For veterans, it’s familiar: oh, we’re in the flashback sequence.

For both, it provides mechanical familiarity. We just finished last game hanging out in Midgar, a bunch of town squares with shops and cutscenes connected to hazardous corridors. Well, Nibelheim’s a town with shops and cutscenes, connected to a monster-filled anthill and capped with a reactor. We know this. We’ve done this. We can do this again.

And when the flashback ends, we’re in Kalm. Another town, maybe with sidequests this time; Midgar looming in the distant skybox as a reminder of how far we’ve come.

And then you leave Kalm, and the camera zooms out, and out, and out...

Remake is essentially 7, and you can’t have the impact of 7′s world map reveal if Remake isn’t functionally open-world too. Square has plenty of experience with open environments, however successful their more recent attempts have been; I’m confident that the have the ability, at least, to craft an expansive world that feels appropriate to FF7.

((I’d like to take a moment here to talk about FF14, which mixes both compact twisty dungeons and wide-open overworld zones, and is necessarily wildly successful to still be operating as an MMO... but though I have played it briefly, I don’t claim knowledge sufficient to go in-depth. The point is, Square not only can make a game like that, they have, and are, and apparently possess non-zero competency. I have worries, but I’m not worried, if that makes sense.))

So, can you recreate a given kind of emotional impact? Yeah!

Can scenes from the original Final Fantasy 7 be rendered into a new context, more-or-less as they were? Absolutely!

Would a one-to-one recreation of the original game have the same emotional impact as when it released, twenty-three years ago?

- - - - -

Aerith dies.

If you opened this post and didn’t know that, well. There were spoiler warnings up at the top, the game’s more than two decades old, and the spoiler itself is basically a piece of pop-culture, up there with space dad and wizard killer. There’re probably plenty of people who know next-to-nothing about Final Fantasy 7 except that Aerith dies.

Everyone knows because, at the time, it was so big a thing. This was a title that Square hyped to heaven and back to push JRPGs into mainstream western markets, and it worked. And this was before major death was so common and arbitrary as it is today; even now, Game of Thrones and its ilk are a relative rarity. The death of a protagonist or love interest wasn’t a new thing for games, or any media really, but usually you knew it was coming, or it served some purpose. Aerith’s death was sudden, arbitrary, you’re almost immediately thrown into a boss fight so you don’t even have time to process it right away, and it’s the first stone in an avalanche of other pointless arbitrary tragedy. It’s an obvious narrative setup for the endgame confrontation with Sephiroth; instead, Cloud has a breakdown, Meteor happens, and now there’s an entire Disk 2.

Fandom has always been fandom, even before the continuous immediacy of the modern internet, but... people wrote letters to Square, and got sad on message boards. There’s an entire subset of forum signatures, back when those were a thing, that you could sort as “people fucked up over Aerith dying.” And again, this was the world. Not just Japan, or Asia, but everyone.

((Or, everyone with the finances to have a PS2 and/or an internet connection. Gaming as a pastime remains way expensive, whether played or watched. But you know how it is.))

And that’s the problem with answering that question.

See, FF7 is a lot of things, but for better or worse, it is defined by Aerith’s death. It’s one of many factors, but you can’t... leave it out, right? or it wouldn’t be FF7 anymore.

Aerith dies in FF7, and everyone knows it.

- - - - -

But Remake has promised, repeatedly, that things will be different this time. Everyone is coming together to defy fate, and Cloud in particular is here to keep Aerith from dying. Bodyguard jokes aside, Cloud repeatedly has flashbacks (flashforwards?) to Aerith’s death and the events leading to it. When he meets her in the church, when they cross into Sector 6, twice in the final battle. Hell, the very first time they meet, Sephiroth taunts him about not being able to save her. Even from a metatextual standpoint, since everyone knows Aerith dies, that’s like, The Most Obvious Fate To Change.

If, after all that, Aerith still dies? It’s not just tragedy, at that point. That’s the developers, actively lying to the player about their intent in making this game series. That’s frustrating, and immersion-breaking, and when said death is likely to still have one or more entire sequels to come after? maybe not great for sales! I know I didn’t bother buying the complete edition of FF15; I couldn’t bring myself to care enough about a game that set up this cool possibility, and then just, failed to deliver on every count.

And, Remake is being made for two audiences. I’ve said “everybody knows Aerith dies,” but that’s not really true, is it? It’s been 23 years, after all. Remake could well be someone’s very first Final Fantasy experience. That’s why they’ve been telegraphing Aerith’s death so hard. Not everyone knows, but at least everyone can guess. Is it fair, then, to this new audience, with potentially no knowledge or understanding of the legacy of this flashy new action game, to foreshadow tragedy in the future, have everyone come together to say, We’re Going To Stop This, and then... not? Is that good writing? Is that satisfying? When this is a multi-game and potentially multi-console investment of time and money, is this, as a newcomer, a story you’d want to keep playing?

And then on top of that, it’s 2020.

I don’t mean that in the current-year-fallacy, “we’re better than this now” kind of way. Rather, the way I felt about Final Fantasy 15 is even more relevant now. People, in real life, are realizing that the powers-that-be are failing them, have failed them, have been failing them for far longer than twenty-three years. The people that already knew that are actually showing up for each other, to spite what felt and feels like inescapable fate and finding that, together, they might just be able to ruin God’s day.

Game development is, of course, its own whole beast, and projects in motion tend to stay in motion; deviating from a plan takes time and money that Square may be unwilling to spend. But, under current world circumstances: is making a game where the hero sets out to save one specific person from their fated death, and following that with a game where that one specific person dies anyway, aside from everything else, a good business decision?

- - - - -

So... Aerith, shouldn’t die, right...? But, FF7 requires Meteor, and so requires the Temple of the Ancients and the Black Materia. And, Meteor can only be stopped by Holy, so FF7 requires the Forgotten City.

FF7 is a tragedy. FF7 demands blood.

...Hey, actually, hold that thought. How come Cloud can remember Aerith dying in the first place? He’s not from the future, right? He’s got a connection to Sephiroth, who is from the future... and Sephiroth can manipulate his memories...? but, why would Sephiroth let him, or make him, remember that?

Hey, how come Zack is alive, but like, in the “narrative scope” sense? Wouldn’t his presence circumvent Cloud’s delusions about the Nibelheim incident?

Hey, how come Cloud had multiple big climactic Sephiroth confrontations at what’s essentially the end of the prologue, including one that mirrors the very end of the original FF7? Shouldn’t that still come at, like, you know. the end?

Hey, how come--

- - - - -

Remake has these... Callbacks? Refrains? Like my favorite, when Sephiroth throws a train-- you know, The Fate Metaphor-- at Cloud, who absolutely shreds the thing. Or, for a more direct example:

And it frequently uses these to show that people are changing, that things can change. You know, the whole Running Theme the game has going on.

Sephiroth gets a refrain, too.

At the start of the game (give or take a reactor), in his first real appearance, Sephiroth philosophizes at Cloud, makes sure Cloud hates him, and tells Cloud what he wants.

At the end of the game, in his last appearance, Sephiroth philosophizes at Cloud, tells Cloud what he wants, and makes sure Cloud hates him.

Structurally, these encounters more-or-less bookend the game; thematically, it doesn’t exactly indicate change. Barret may or may not have come around on Cloud, and his admission that Cloud is important to him after all is, itself, important. Cloud, on the other hand, was always going to defy Sephiroth. He stands resolute, now, ready to fight rather than flee, but apathy was never on the table.

Now, Sephiroth’s whole Thing is psychologically manipulating Cloud to get what he wants, and as part of that, what Sephiroth wants is usually not what he says he wants.

All throughout the original FF7, Sephiroth riled up Cloud so that Cloud would pursue and defy him, culminating first in the Black Materia incident, and then again in the Forgotten City. None of the Sephiroth clones could survive the trip through the Northern Crater, so Sephiroth had to lure Cloud, with the Black Materia, to him, and then also convince Cloud to give up the Black Materia of his own accord. Mind control, memory manipulation and illusions were involved, but if Sephiroth could maintain those indefinitely, he probably just. Would have done that instead. Way easier,

The point is, in Remake, in addition to all the intermittent retraumitization sprinkled throughout the game, Sephiroth goes out of his way twice to directly ask Cloud, “hey, you hate me, right?” And, as part of that question, he tells Cloud, “this is what I want.” And Cloud? He hates Sephiroth, and will do his damnedest to keep Sephiroth from getting what he wants.

So. What does Sephiroth... say he wants?

- - - - -

One last aside before we cap off: This post would not exist without the valiant efforts of one Maximilian_dood. His devotion to the series kept myself and many others engaged and excited and, frankly, hopeful, in the leadup to the release of Remake, and his correlations between the rest of the FF7 series and Remake were enlightening and entertaining.

and had he not the gall to identify defying fate as a device to make aerith’s death more tragic, I would never have been angry enough to write this.

((I know, I know. Gaming and streaming and lit analysis are all hard individually, and I don’t begrudge losing one for the other two. And it was a first playthrough! I might have seen these lines sooner than some, but collating all this info was certainly not instantaneous. And Square can be hack writers at times-- see again my rant on FF15-- so even then, I can’t discount the possibility.

((but, still.

((Really?))

So, while I would like to believe that I have, by now, made my thesis on Remake’s narrative direction abundantly clear, here it is spelled out anyway:

- - - - -

At the bottom of the Forgotten City, at the shrine on the pillar in the lake, Cloud will find Aerith, who believes her fate immutable.

Sephiroth will descend, and Cloud will sacrifice himself, that Aerith should live.

This is Sephiroth’s plan.

- - - - -

Hey, thanks for reading this far! With my conversational tone and rambling tendencies, I’d have preferred to make this an audio post or, god forbid, a video essay, but I got a keyboard, and that’ll have to do. Diction is important to me, as the capitalization, italics and use of punctuation may have clued you in on, so... maybe you’ll get a dramatic reading sometime in the future? but, don’t bet on it.

Feel free to riddle me with questions, or point out inconsistencies with this big ol’ thing! I’m not exactly an expert, and I’m sure I glossed over, heavily paraphrased, completely forgot, intentionally ignored and/or aggressively misrepresented some stuff, but I love learning and teaching esoteric bullshit about The Vijigams. On that note, anything that sounds like it should be sourced is sourced from “I heard about it on social media or in a stream or youtube video one time, but if I actually had to hunt it down this whole thing would never see the light of day, and it has already been like three months,” which isn’t to excuse my lack of due diligence, but I do, lack diligence, so, tough.

Oh! but the Remake screens all come from [here]. Don’t care much for that splash screen, but, I Get It, so, whatever.

There were some other things I wanted to touch on but couldn’t really find a spot for. FF7 Remake as a metaphor for its own development, for example. Or, some of The Possibilities, like how Cloud’s death could very literally haunt Aerith, or how Remake sets up a more fleshed-out Midgar revisit that Cloud’s death specifically would make infinitely sadder.

On that note, if it was not yet obvious, I love speculation, and if they do go this direction, it’ll probably be their justification to go completely... off the rails? Remake only has to be FF7 until it doesn’t, after all. If there’s some wilder implications youall see for like... I dunno, a Jenova more fully-regenerated from also having Cloud’s cells back, getting into proper Kaiju-on-Kaiju battles with the Weapons, or anything like that? Feed me your brain juice, etc.

And, once more, for the road: this is interpretation; subjective, opinionated, and very much in denial of any kind of author-ity. Nor is this a claim on how things should be, or an assertion that this would be good or bad. Everything ultimately rests on Square's narrative design team and, we’ve touched on them already.

((but, for your consideration: I’m smart, and right))

Here’s hoping, whatever happens, we get the game we deserve.

thanks for coming to my ted talk, have a great day