#Plus. heres max who she just finds fascinating and wants to learn more and more about and who in an aching way reminds her of callum someti

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Dragon!Maggie/Princess Evie and Prince Max my beloved

the concept has my heart, has no backing in canon, and i don't care

He's her treasure hiss go away insert cat growling noises

[talewind-arts]

Hi I'm Aromantic and struggle to comprehend subtle and complex romances. So here's what I like about the simple, squishy, sappy, DoD romances!

-Clay/Peril

Clay grew up being told he was a monster, just like Peril. He sees a part of himself he has seen nowhere else in her and believes deeply that she is good, just as he believes he and everyone else is good.

Meanwhile Peril is 2 inches from his face staring and blushing and bubbling over the one dragon who was sincerely, openly, and unabashedly kind and genuine in a way nobody else could. Also he is the first person to be able to touch her, literally and figuratively and it's fucking hilarious any time the DoD shows they all know and he doesn't.

-Tsunami/Riptide

Two people whose lives have been out of their control since forever. They understand each other in ways only people who have had to learn how to flail around in the dark can.

Plus Riptide being in the Talons of Peace and Tsunami being royalty/the seawing egg is so juicy. Tsunami is, to no fault of her own, the cataclysm for everything about Riptide's life. Riptide is a member of the organization that Tsunami hates more than anyone, far more than the other at best resentful DoD. Their empathy and crushes for one another must be held at bay. Both are extremely loyal and have their own duties, and at the same time care too much for the other to enact those duties in a way that would directly bring harm.

It's a perfect display of the complex morals of Tsunami's character/book.

-Glory/Deathbringer

(I'm in the camp that scavenger logic does not apply to dragon age cause I love these two and its fiction, I do not condone pedophilia nor do I think it applies here. If you disagree that's totally OK, but if you feel the need to debate, I'd honestly rather it be about the actual psychology of the relationships so that I may learn more about this rather alien concept)

It's so fucking cool that after Glory's parental figures tried to kill her, she meets an assassin meant to do the same, who even though it is his job, actively and vocally tries not to kill her. AND THEN he becomes her bodyguard, making sure she never gets killed. It's SO GOOD.

Anyhow much like Glory, Deathbringer grew up an outsider. He is a healthy, continent bound, silly Nightwing, as unheard of as a fierce, serious, sarcastic Rainwing. Deathbringer says it himself, Glory fascinates him, I think he sees himself in her a lot, which is a uniquely new feeling for someone who broke free of the Nightwing’s trademark ‘all for the plan, none for the self’ mentality. At the other end, Glory's life is/was very unstable, and she constantly grapples with self worth and feeling like she doesn't belong. Having someone who constantly gives her affirmations (clearly crushes on/is attracted to her, finds her deeply funny and interesting, believes strongly in her choices) is so important for her. She needs someone who will worship the ground she walks on just as much as Deathbringer needs someone who can step on him who knows what it's like to be on the outside looking in.

-Starflight/Fatespeaker

(FYI I haven't done much thinking on these two yet, this may be subject to change)

All Fatespeaker ever wanted was friends. Heck, she actively lies to herself that she has friends in the false dragonets, who instead take any chance they get to berate and annoy her. Like all the false dragonets, Fatespeaker is a deliciously fascinating warping of Starflight. Both groups poke fun at their annoying Nightwing nerds, but only the DoD care enough to prompt Starflight to infodump, and they only tease him because they know he could dish it back. This was the life Fatespeaker thought she led, so of course Starflight piqued her interest. He is everything she wants to be.

Meanwhile, Starflight as we all know is totally into bubbly and hopeful personalities. In fact, his book is entirely started by him having some of that hope himself. Fatespeaker is hopefulness to the MAX. Starflight needs to be around her, to ground himself with that hope and kindness and reckless abandon, to keep his mind from racing. Just as Fatespeaker needs to learn what healthy relationships are from Starflight and those around him. They ground each other in ways they wish others could, in ways they have been searching for their whole lives, and even if they don't end up together (They will cause it's a sappy book but I headcanon it going either way)

So those are my thoughts. Please share your own if you have them, and keep in mind I'm Aromantic so if I missed any subtext…woops! Maybe add it onto this post so I can learn? Thanks for reading!

[cl-babydew]

Another Camp Camp one, and this is a long one: Name the Top 5 things that you like or love about *each* kid from the main trio (Max, Neil, Nikki) and the performing trio (Preston, Nerris, Harrison).

Okay, here we go! XD

Max:

1.) I love how real he is. You know? Like, he may be negative all the time, but most of those times, he isn’t wrong. The world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and he’s always there to point that out. Which to me, keeps the campers a bit more grounded. Someone has to do it.

2.) The fact that he can be compassionate in his own ways! X3 Like, he doesn’t want to show that he’s protecting you, or caring for you, so he just keeps up the act he has, while still trying his best to sneakily be there for you and watch out for you. It’s like a sibling thing, “No one can call them that, except me!” I love that a lot! XD It’s cute!

3.) His relationship with the others! I really love seeing him interact with the campers, and counselors! XD It’s always fun! Plus, he tends to learn from many of them, even tho he’ll never admit that! X3

4.) The fact that he’s saved the camp more times then Space Kid can count!! XD The boy literally states that he hates the place!! He’s tried to get rid of it, or run away!! But obviously failed each time! Tho the one time he doesn’t do anything, the camp gets sold!! But yet, all he wants is to save it!! He saved the camp!! If it wasn’t for him, it wouldn’t still be up and running!! Gosh he’s grown so much, and it shows!! The camp’s basically became his home! We all know there’s something with his parents, so I always wonder if he ever were to escape, where would he go? We all know if he had the choice, he’d never go back to his original home. So where? I think now, more then anything, he’d definitely call the camp, home. JUST ADOPT HIM ALREADY, DAVID!!

5.) THE FACT THAT HE LOVES DOGS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER ABOUT HIM! XD AHHH I LOVEEEE!!! If you put him in front of a screen, playing dog videos, he’d most likely spend hours on end watching them!! XD We found one way to occupy him! XD Someone needs to get this boy a dog, stat! XD

Neil:

1.) Neil is a crazy sciencist and I love it! XD This boy does some crazy things!! He’s only what? 10?! For someone to be that age, and be that smart!! It’s crazy!! And I love that about him!! The poor boy just wanted his Science Camp! XD I’m glad he’s at Camp Campbell tho! Definitely wouldn’t be the same without him! XD

2.) The way he reacts when talking to someone he likes, is precious!! XD He’s a stuttering mess, and I couldn’t ask for more!! Not gonna lie, I really did like him and Erin!! X3

3.) HIS NOODLE ARMS!! XD IT’S GREAT!!!! Just, YES! XD👏

4.) This may sound werid, but the fact that he’s shy to use the bathroom when others are nearby, etc. is precious! XD Plus, I can relate! I mean, who couldn’t tho? XD

5.) Sometimes, he’s the sane one of the group, and sometimes he just really isn’t. And that’s okay! XD I love the fact that he tends to have his own crazy moments! He may be logical at one point, and then the next, he’s trying to steal Space Kids blood for an experiment! XD Poor Space Kid!

I just— I can’t! 🤣

Nikki:

1.) I love how hyper she is, to the point she’d probably have to be kept on a leash of some sort! XD I wouldn’t be surprised if that already happened off screen, or soon will in an ep! She just has so much energy!! XD Idk where she gets it from, but it’s impressive!

2.) Her love for her friends is very admirable!! Like for instance, even tho she felt hurt by Max teaming with another group, she was still happy that he “found someone that makes him smile”, even if that wasn’t exactly the case! XD In my opinion, I think she’s the bow holding that trio together!! One more thing, “You know what else I love about Christmas? You guys.” X3 I love her so much!

3.) I love the fact that she hangs out with everyone!! Not just her trio, but she hangs out with all the other campers!! As we’ve seen in New Adventure!! Not only that group, but she’s hung around Harrison, being fascinated by his magic!! She’s just so out there, and it’s such a good thing to see!

4.) She’s pretty innocent, unlike the others! XD We’ve seen this many times! XD I love the scene with David tho!! XD “Did you...” snickers, “hold hands?” XD She’s so precious!! XD

5.) I love how dominant and tomboyish she is! XD I’m so happy she isn’t anything like the other girls from the other camp!! She’s herself, and not trying to impress anyone, or fit in!! She also knows how to stand her ground, she doesn’t need anyone to rescue her from her problems! XD She can handle them. Well, sometimes anyway! XD

Max’s face makes me melt! X,3

Preston:

1.) The fact that he’s a theater kid, is amazing! XD Bless the creators for creating him and adding him to that camp!! Granted, not all theater kids are the same, not as overdramatic as he can be, but most of us can relate to him! XD I hope that we have more episodes with him and his plays!! Hopefully they’re able to reference to some more popular musicals!!! XD That’d be so cool to see!!!! He’s already referred to The Phantom Of The Opera, and Les Miserables!!

2.) I love how overdramatic he can be! XD Also, his shouting tho!!!!! I kinda wonder if he does that becuz he’s so use to yelling at his grandma so she can hear him? I still find it funny how he tends to randomly do it at times! XD

3.) All he wants is for people to enjoy his shows! XD Sadly, not everyone tends to pay attention, and when they do, they aren’t even sure on what’s going on. Tbh tho, some plays/musicals are really confusing, or make no sense! XD I hope one day he’s able to achieve his dreams, and make it to broadway!

4.) I love how presistant and determined he is to entertain others!! Especially in the season 4 episode! He was trying so hard for the campers! He wanted to keep up the laughter and smiles! Deep down, all he wants is for others to appreciate his work, like many of us, so he tries to be satisfied with that one thing, tho we see it was getting tough. He wanted them to appreciate all his work, not just one joke he made. All of it. He’s put so much work into the others, and he wants that acknowledgement! It’s understandable by many of us! When you work so hard on something, but it doesn’t get that acknowledge, yet that other project that you didn’t even try on, got it! It’s nice to know that project got it, but it makes the progress you made, feel like it wasn’t worth it, or feel like it wasn’t progress at all. Okay, maybe I should get back on track! XD The point is, that’s most likely how he’s feeling! This just makes his character more understandable. (Maybe I just look too deep into things? XD)

5.) All in all, he’s a pretty funny character!! I just really enjoy seeing him on screen! I really hope we get more of him in future episodes!

Nerris:

1.) I love loveeee LOVEEE her design!! Like, the first moment I met her, I just fell in love with her character design!!!! Her hair style is incredible, especially on her!! She has plastic adorable elf ears!! X3 FRECKLESSSSS!!! JUST FRECKLESSS!!!!! Her skin color just makes her blue eyes pop (especially in fanart)!! She’s so so pretty!! Not to mention her outfit is precious! X3

2.) Her lisp that she gets from her braces is so so dang cute!!!! XD Ahh I love it!! I love it so much!! She’s just so adorable!

3.) She can be feisty and I really enjoy that! XD Poor Harrison always being the one she picks on tho! We all know why tho! X3

4.) I just love the fact that she tends to spit out random facts and references to larping, even tho I never exactly understand anything! XD Her imagination is great! Not that all the others’ isn’t ether! XD

5.) She’s such a fun character! I would love it if we could have more of her!! And even if she can be a tad rude at times, she can be just as kind and caring, like with Ered!!! Gosh I hope we get more of her!!! XD

And finally,

Harrison:

1.) He’s an awkward dork, and I love him! XD I love how one minute he can be totally confident in what he’s doing, and the next be completely awkward!! I think most of the time, Nerris is the reason for his akwardness, even tho he can sometimes fight back! XD

2.) The fact that his magic is actually real, is something I wasn’t expecting, but I loved! XD It’s crazy!! It’s also sad for many reasons!! This poor boy is seriously going through a lot mentally, and not to forget, physically! Someone plz help him?!

3.) He’s so interesting!!!!! I want more of him!!! A lot more!! There’s so many interesting things to learn about him, and those few episodes that focused on him only led to tons more questions!! GAHHHH I REALLY HOPE WE GET MORE!! XD

4.) Like Nerris, though not as loved, his outfit is pretty cute! X3 I especially love his little top hat and gloves!! Those are nice touches!

5.) At first, I didn’t really care for the way his voice sounded. It seemed at first that the VA wasn’t doing a good job. Though I have to admit, it’s totally grown on me, and I’ve grown to love it as the episodes progressed!! I learned that it wasn’t the VA at all, but how the character was! It really fits Harrison!

Thanks for the ask!! XD This was fun!!

Sorry it took me a while to finish tho!!!

One main thing though, WE NEED A PREFORMING TRIO EPISODE! AT LEAST ONE?!!!!! 🙈 Gosh I want it so bad!

[unintentionalgenius]

ok @ongreenergrasses tagged me in this and like, I’m here for it. No one actually follows me anymore unless they want to hear my opinions so leggo!

List 10 different female faves from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people! no particular order bc they’re different fandoms and also i have this weird complex around ranking people

1. Brienne of Tarth (ASOIAF) - perfect. flawless. not here for femininity all the better a character for it. Living her truth. Inspirational. A badass and has great comedic timing. What more could you ask for? No I do not know what happened to her in the last season of GOT.

2. Miranda Barlow (Black Sails) - a female character with a complex inner life??? I mean, Black Sails has so many to choose from, but I really think she’s interesting for her role as someone who was loved by two people who were the absolute love of each other’s life, and also (bonus) Max in her relationship with Ann and Jack is perhaps a foil or set up for a comparison between the two triads (and when did we last get two triads in a piece of media, with their own complexities??). Plus! She spends a lot of time being a character in her own right aside from her role as an oppositional force and erstwhile conscience for Flint.

3. Leia Organa (Star Wars) - Leia is a fucking badass and also a really interesting character! especially in the most recent trilogy, even if they fumbled the ending. She gets her happily ever after and then we see her later and honestly, in most of the ways that matter, she failed!!! Her happily-ever-after fell apart. How wild is that! But she is not A Failure she’s just a human who tried and learned that she couldn’t fix everything, but damn, she was going to keep on trying.

4. Tara Knowles (Sons of Anarchy) - this is Not a Great Show but it has the bones of a great show. Tara is such an interesting character and she’s SO angry and it’s beautiful. She has all this furious energy pent-up inside of her and also no matter what she does, she’s always a little bit of an outsider. She is both from Charming and not of Charming, because she could have gotten out. Who amongst us didn’t have a toxic teen relationship? Relatable. Incredibly morally ambiguous and I love it.

5. Rose Tyler - honestly I will fight anyone who says even one (1) bad thing about Rose. She is brave, and clever, and working class (even poor) and written in such a way that you cannot ignore this fact about her! She is not posh, she didn’t go to uni, she’s utterly ordinary and absolutely unique and worthy of love and who among us didn’t need to hear that in high school, amirite? 

6. Lydia Martin - I never try to write Lydia in Teen Wolf fic because even fictionally she intimidates me. Teen media when I was a kid would have never had a smart, popular, attractive math genius who simply got to be a character. She’s not nice and that’s ok! I also stopped watching teen wolf a long time ago so if some shit went down with her character later on we will just Ignore It. 

7. Basira Hussain (The Magnus Archives) - I love her. I love every woman in this entire show and there are so many to choose from, but Basira gets to make the most glorious mistakes, as a character, and has moments of incredible hypocrisy that I find fascinating. And she’s in love with Daisy Tonner and the way that love manifests for them both is ALSO so interesting. All cops are bastards and Basira does not even dispute that characterization, if anything she leans in.

8. Angharad "Harry" Crewe (The Blue Sword) - is there a Blue Sword fandom? There is now, I’m making it happen. This girl is who I literally modeled myself after as a kid. She’s a little tomboyish, a little weird, not quite conventionally attractive, and she gets magic??? and she’s funny? and she does what she feels is right even if it means her maybe-boyfriend will break up with her, or banish her? It’s a story about finding home with a people you never knew were yours and like Maybe There Is Some Resonance With My Life or whatever but man, she’s also just an excellent character. 

9. Mickle/Queen Augusta (The Westmark Trilogy) - once again I have to ask, is there a Westmark Trilogy fandom or am I inventing it? She honestly had the best of both worlds; raised as a princess, lost her memory and got to go gallivanting around, leads a whole-ass rebellion, falls in love with a pretty writer (slash potential war criminal??? he definitely has Grade School-Appropriate Trauma™️) who fought for her and then they’re also pro-democracy? I love it. I love her. I love how much they care about each other and also about justice and Doing The Right Thing for The People.

10. Furiosa (Mad Max Fury Road) - This movie was about Furiosa, first of all. (also as an aside? the visual language and storytelling was unparalleled.) This is an incredible character and I love her evolution over the course of the film. We get to see so many ways to be a woman and I love that! She has such trauma and she holds it in her own way - not the way we might be conditioned by media to think of. She is an action hero that usually only boys or unrealistically pretty girls get to be, but she’s not conventionally pretty while she’s doing it. Beyond just her physical heroism and bravery, though, she saves the wives and acts as emotional support, a first-level deprogramming, and how often do we get to see that kind of salvation playing out at multiple levels and then they get to save her in return? I’m crying now

I don’t think I even know 10 people on this hell site anymore but @ragequilt you have to have some opinions about this right???? Any other mutuals are more than welcome to pretend I tagged you if you want to do this thing

[zodiyack]

Billy Hargrove VS The World

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU (See note!)

Warnings: 7 exes that would love to kill Billy, violence, swearing, soft!Billy, I guess two sexual references since it’s Billy we’re talking about, smut mention but no smut, making out, SPOLIERS!, and cheesy pirate Patel

Words: 4947

Note: This is a Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU because I love that movie and it would be interesting to write an AU involving that. Also this is a multiple part story due to all 7 exes and the battles. One ex per post! (maybe) I’m sorry for the unoriginal title lmao

By the way, yes. There is dialogue from the movie. That is in and going to be in this miniseries. As I said, I love this movie and I think most of the dialogue was funny, plus it is semi important to the story. And the exes are the same people from the movie. Sorry if you don’t like that.

o/o/y/f/c = One of Your Favorite Color(s)

Bold = Words From The Movie (that appear on the screen, if you’ve watched it, then you know what I’m talking about)

Italics with apostrophes = Billy’s thoughts (and Matthew’s thoughts but only once)

Italic = Used for a few different things, mainly enthusiasm/emphasis on words

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

link to the soundtrack on youtube ‘cause why not (a few will be in here I guess)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 and 6. Part 7.

“Look.”

Tommy pointed to the new girl. Finally, some fresh meat for Billy. Or Tommy, whichever one thought of her first. Billy finally grew bored of the girls at school, he waited for one that was newer. Fresher. Cuter.

There she was. Her unnatural o/o/y/f/c hair sat on her shoulders. Roller-blades on her feet, her torso clothed in a shirt covered with a hoodie and another jacket. Her bag hung by her side, headphone strings leaving it and connecting to the headphones on her head. She didn’t look like most girls. Billy had seen most of them, and none had looked as breathtaking nor interesting as her. Before either teens could walk over to her, a boy around their age walked in front of them. She was gone when he moved.

“Weird...”

“I hear she’ll be at Tina’s party tonight.” Carol noticed the boy’s fascination with the new kid, sharing it. “We should go, it’ll give you the chance to learn more about her, Billy.”

“We’ll see.” He brushed off his thoughts about the odd girl, her choice of hair color and clothing, and her headphones that caused her mental absence from the world. Billy turned and walked away, continuing with the rest of his day.

. . .

Billy was stopped by Tina. She asked him how the party was going and if he needed anything.

“Hey Tina, you know everyone, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She let out a small laugh. Billy didn’t know whether it was fake or genuine.

“Do you know this one girl with hair...” He grabbed a pen the same color as the new girl’s hair color, quickly drawing a horrible doodle of the girl’s hair. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s Y/n L/n.” Tina took a sip of her drink, “Someone said she was gonna be here tonight actually.”

Billy’s hand that held the drawing went down quickly, his head snapping to the side and his eyes searching for Y/n. “What?”

“Oh Billy, you got the hots for her or something? I’ve gotta tell you though, I hear she’s a little hardcore-” Tina had looked down mid-sentence and when she looked back up Billy was gone. She turned her head with confusion.

Meanwhile, Billy was now walking through the crowd in search of his unique looking crush. His eyes and head shifted when he couldn’t see her, switching from left and right with each step he took. He didn’t blink, afraid that he’d miss her if he did. After many turns of his head and movements of his eyes, he finally spotted her. His hand clenched the red solo cup, squeezing it until it was crumpled and disfigured.

He slid along the wall, stopping when his body was right next to hers. He faced her, his body turned slightly so that she knew she had his full attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She turned her head to him for a second, facing forwards again and replying with, “Nothing.” before taking a sip from her cup.

“Hey you know swimming?”

“I know of it.” She took another sip, still not facing him.

He rambled on about the breast stroke and how he could teach her. Billy took notice of her silence, looking up to see that she was facing him with no emotion visible. 

“That’s amazing.” Her reply was just as her face was; emotionless and dull.

“Uhm...” He looked down. No girl could make Billy nervous. By now, he’d have them a blushing mess, begging for him to do whatever he’d like. So now that the new girl, on the first day she’d ever met him, just somehow managed to make him regret every word he said, he thought he’d gone soft. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion and another emotion Billy couldn’t quite think of. However, it was enough to make him regret speaking once more. “I’ll leave you alone forever now...”

“Thanks.”

And Then

He Stalked Her

Until She

Left

The Party

“Dude!”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around.

“What?”

“She’s totally real!”

“Who?”

“Y/n L/n.” His gaze went elsewhere. Billy then speeded off to find Tina. “Dude!” She made a face at Billy’s sudden approach, but let him speak. “What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

“All I know is that she’s (ethnicity).”

His sudden dramatic and demanding of knowledge persona swapped to dreamy, just as it had when he said her name to Tommy. “(ethnicity)...”

“Why don’t you go talk to Sandra and Monique, they know more about her.” Tina’s head nodded to two blond women laughing in a doorway. Billy rushed to them.

“Lady-dudes. What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

Sandra spoke up first, “I heard she has a boyfriend.” Monique confirmed her knowledge, “Mhm, yes. Left him back in New York.”

Billy felt a bit annoyed, but still wanted to know more. “Yeah yeah yeah...What else?”

He asked other people, earning all kinds of different responses.

“I heard she kicks all kinds of ass.”

“She’s on...another level!”

“She has men dying at her feet!”

“She’s got some battle scars dude.”

“What about Y/n L/n?!” Robin asked, semi full of annoyance for her old friend.

“You know her? Tell me now.”

“She just moved here, got a job at the mall, comes into my work.”

“Does she really?” His tone was dreamy again.

A girl put her arm around Robin, “didn’t you say she just broke up with someone?”

“Did she really?”

“They had uh...huge fight or whatever?”

“Did they really?”

Robin slapped the other girl’s arm off of her. “Yes! But I didn’t want Billy to know that, Kate!”

“Yeah...I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“Billy, I forbid you from hitting on Y/n! Even if you haven’t had a real girlfriend in over a year or whatever.”

Billy’s daydreaming halted to a stop. He let out a scoff and turned away.

“Hey, woah woah woah, my man Billy’s got all kinds of girls...he’s totally getting with an older girl sometime, right?” Tommy couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, as usual.

“Getting with an older girl or multiple girls is not having a real girlfriend.”

“She’s got a point.” Kate wrapped her arm around Robin again.

“I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?”

Robin slapped away Kate again. “I don’t want you scaring off one of my old friends now that she’s in town, Billy. We all know you’re a lady-killer-wannabe-jerky-jerk.”

“That’s completely untrue.”

“That time with Lisa?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“That time with Holly?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“That time you dumped Faith for-”

“Okay me and Faith are all good now, right?” He turned to where the girl Robin had mentioned stood. Her cup was in her hands and her face was blank with wide eyes. She looked traumatized. Billy turned back to Robin.

“Whatever! Y/n’s just out of your league, let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m not even sure she had a big break up. She keeps mentioning some guy named Gideon.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“FORGET IT BILLY!”

. . .

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know, it’s a letter for you dumbass. Read it.”

Billy grunted and took the letter from his father, tearing it open and allowing his eyes to scan the page slowly. He mumbled the words as he read them. It was only Max and him in the room, so it couldn’t do much harm. “Dear Mr. Hargrove, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Matthew Patel and blah blah blah blah...fair warning, mono e mono, 7 evil blah blah... This is... This is... This is-”

Max grew annoyed with her older brother. “What?!?”

“This is borrrinnnggg. Get rid of thisss.” He threw the letter into the recycling and walked up the stairs to his room. “Hey Max?” For once, he didn’t care about being an ass to the redheaded girl. He had a plan, and he needed her as an excuse to leave the house.

“What is it?”

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“For real?” Of course, he couldn’t tell her. “Let me get my wallet and I’ll meet you in the car!”

. . .

“Hello. Robin tells me you ordered this ice cream but left before she could give it to you, so here.” The ice cream that she handed him was indeed abandoned when he heard Steve say that Y/n was in the mall and would be hanging around Scoops soon. “You gonna take it? Ooor-”

“Hi, I was thinking about asking you out but then I realized how stupid that would be...so do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Um no, that’s okay. You can just pay for this, alright?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? We met at the party the other day.”

“Were you the swim guy?”

“Nooooooooo, not even. That was some total ass...I was the...other guy.”

“You know you need to take this and pay for it?”

“But if I do, you’ll leave.”

“Yeah. It’s how it works.”

“Okay well maybe, do you wanna hang out sometime? Get to know each other? You’re the new kid on the block...right, I’ve lived here...for a while so there are reasons...for you to hang out with me.”

A short pause was shared between the two. Y/n’s eyes glanced up to Billy’s with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know why he felt desperate, but this girl was making him feel different.

“You want me to hang out with you?”

“Um...” He looked down shyly, but quickly looked back up to her face. “Yeah, if that’s cool...” His tough demeanor seemed to flee whenever she was present.

“If I say yes, will you take and pay for your damn ice cream?”

He snatched the ice cream from her and tossed it over his shoulder and into the garbage can behind him effortlessly, taking out the money needed and handing it to her. “So yeah, eight o’clock?”

So Yeah ( . . . )

“Why’re you just standing there?”

“Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” Y/n turned to Billy, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Billy didn’t know whether she looked offended or confused.

“Oh...I’m sorry, I just assumed you were too cool to be here on time...” In other words, he assumed she was like him. If you were at Tina’s party, then you were bound to be somewhat of a “cool kid” or a rebel or anything remotely relating to popularity. Then again, Tina loved handing out invites.

“Well. You assumed wrong.”

They walked in the chilly weather. Small talk slowly formed and they tried their best to get to know each other just as Billy had suggested. His nervousness didn’t leave him around her, and he was glad that no one else from school was there to see him make a fool of himself. ‘You’re just gonna get lucky and then leave her like the rest of them.’ No matter how many times he told himself that, he was too interested in Y/n. His felt something he wasn’t sure he had ever actually felt.

“So, how’d you end up in Hawkins?” Crap. He wasn’t even sure he could get to like him. Let alone be his snack of the week.

“Just needed to escape I guess...”

“Oh yeah.” He knew exactly how she felt. Or at least what he thought she meant by it.

“I got this job here and Gideon always said Hawkins was one of the cool places, so.”

Now Billy felt the need to ask the question that had been bugging him since Robin brought it up. “Is Gideon...your boyfriend?” It had been bothering him and filling him with a small amount of disappointment and worry.

“He’s...a friend.” Her gaze strayed away.

“Was he your boyfriend?”

She looked hurt. Hurt and uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I don’t get into that right now?” Y/n turned and walked to the swing set in front of them.

“Uh- it’s so not interesting to me...” 

Y/n kept walking, Billy joining her and attempting to not bother her any more than he had already done. She took notice and initiated conversation so that he wouldn’t feel as awkward and guilty, “What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“Between what and what?” She moved in front of the swing and sat down as Billy started talking. He did the same but his movements were still shy and cautious.

“Well my last job was...a long story, filled with sighs.”

“I know plenty of those.” Billy took the opportunity to check on Y/n. His face slowly looked over to hers, which was looking up and admiring the sky.

“Is that why you left New York?” 

She looked in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows and nodding, “Pretty much. Just time to head somewhere a little more chilled.”

A cold breeze swept past the two. It was incredible timing.

“Well it’s certainly chilled here!” The wind gave Billy the perfect opportunity to try and lift the mood. A smile rested on his face, his joke seemed like one of the funniest things in the world seeing as Y/n had that same smile.

“Yeah...”

“It’s chilled as in cold...” Oh no. ‘Why the fuck am I so awkward?”

“Yeah.” ‘Oh dear god she noticed.’

The two decided to swing a bit more. With the conversation at a pause, that was honestly probably needed, Y/n and Billy swung their legs back and forth. competition started. They both tried to see who could go higher, Y/n won and smiled slightly while Billy smiled and chuckled with accepting defeat.

After they finished their fun, Billy and Y/n hopped off the swings for a finale. They continued their conversation afterwards, light droplets of rain mixed with small snowflakes falling over their heads.

“It’s ridiculous. Isn’t it like September?”

“No...but it doesn’t snow much in Indiana...ya know, I can barely see you?” His leather jacket was suddenly not projecting as much warmth as he normally would have anticipated. “This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.”

“I think ‘Act Of God’ is a pretty decent excuse for a lousy date.”

Billy stopped in his tracks. A sneaky signature smirk crept onto his face and his usual attitude made an appearance. “So this a date, eh?”

She stopped as well and turned. “Did I say date?” He nodded. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue.”

“Anyway, nights not over yet...” She turned back to where they were originally facing, “and there’s a thingy over here somewhere.”

“Thingy?”

Once again, she turned her head towards him. “A door.” She turned it back, yet again, but this time there was a door in front of them. Odd. She nodded her head over to it in a beckoning way. “Come on.”

Billy took her hand and was dragged by her over to the mysterious door.

Y/n Come Closer ( . . . )

Y/n took off her shoes and looked up at Billy. He sat at her dining room table, staring at her with awe and adoration. Y/n broke the silence and walked over to her cupboard. “What kind of tea do you want?”

He didn’t know why he took his jacket off. His arms were cradling themselves as one would when they were cold. And he was cold. “There’s more than one kind?”

She opened the cupboard. “We have,” she inhaled. “Blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry caramel, vanilla walnut, constant comment annnnnd...earl gray.”

When her sentence was finished, Y/n turned to face a wide eyed Billy. “Did you make some of those up?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box, “I think I’ll have sleepytime.”

“That sounds good to me...”

She made the tea and set it on the table. Billy’s position didn’t go unnoticed by her, “Want me to get you a blanket?” Her eyebrows were raised with amusement.

“That would actually be...awesome.”

Y/n walked away into her room. A few minutes passed. More minutes. Billy was almost done with his tea. He wondered where she went. He wondered why she was taking so long. Billy decided to go into her room and check on her, making a grunt-like wheeze.

Facing her closet, she was taking off her shirt. Upon hearing him, she turned and raised her arms. “Dude I’m changing.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he just walked in on her while he bra was the only thing covering her chest. 

Billy let out a small, “Ah, sorry!” and covered his eyes. “I’m just cold...”

“Here. That help?”

“Yeah...that’s very warm...What is that?” His hands slowly left his face. “Oh- kaaay...” Y/n was standing right in front of him with a cheeky grin on her lips. He leaned in and kissed her. It was finally happening. Their lips danced together, it felt like they had rehearsed the dance for so long yet in reality they were very new to each other.

The make out session with Y/n was all it took to break Billy. He was in love and he couldn’t deny it. As their passion turned rough and intense, he thought of how happy he felt and how he wouldn’t normally feel that with a girl.

They finally pulled away. Billy’s arms were around Y/n and one of her hands was on his shoulder, her arms laying loosely, and her other was clutching his side under his arm.

“Were you just gonna...bring the blanket from your bed?”

“I guess...” Her voice was soft, unlike her previous dead tone. Billy managed to shatter her “hardcore” exterior with a simple make out session. Or so he thought, if you asked anyone what they thought, they’d say Y/n managed to break him within their first conversation and then decided to let him in after touching her lips to his.

“Maybe we should...both get under it...since we’re both so cold...”

“What about our tea?”

Of course. The tea. Billy didn’t give a fuck about the tea. “I can...not have tea.”

The night went on with passion and...lust. They stripped down to their underwear and continued making out on Y/n’s bed. At some point they got under the blankets and Y/n leaned over Billy to continue their rough kissing. When it was “just about to get good”, Y/n pulled away from Billy.

“I changed my mind.”

“...changed it from what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Hargrove.” She moved over beside Billy, laying on his arm and snuggling into his side. “Not right now.”

Another, “Oooh- kay?” escaped Billy’s mouth. As usual, he didn’t know if he should feel hurt, angered or just plain okay with it. He longed for Y/n. She was his addiction, better than any drug. In his mind, he made the exception; feel bad about it later, stay with her for now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in this weather or anything, you can sleep in my bed. And I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.” At least he had a chance.

“This is...nice. Just this...” He was referencing their semi-cuddling forms. “It’s been like, a really long time so I think I needed this...whatever it is so...thank you.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek, “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his arms around her when she wrapped one of her arms around his neck.

. . .

Billy and his basketball team were just having some harmless fun. It was a game, and school was out for the day. No one could do anything bad, right? Wrong.

Read to show off, Billy brought the new girl to the gym. Max was dragged along since Billy was her ride home. He and his team were horribly distracted by the pretty girl now known as Billy’s first official girlfriend. Scowls and mean looks were given to Y/n by the other girls at school, purely out of jealousy. This morning, Y/n was walked down the hall of Hawkins’ high under Billy’s arm, wolf whistles and more sounded around them.

A weird looking guy stormed into the room, “MR. HARGROVE. IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL. CONSIDER OUR FIGHT,” Y/n looked horrified. She was pale and breathing unsteadily. The guy who had announced himself to be Matthew moved his head slightly, nodding his hair out of his face. “BEGUN!”

He ran at Billy. ‘What is this kid on?’ Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. “What did I do...?” His voice was slow. He really was moving in slow motion. “What do I do...” Matthew launched himself into the air with his fist raised. He aimed himself to punch at Billy.

Tommy gripped the shoulders of the boys next to him, leaning forward and yelling with entertainment. “Fight!”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched. He threw the basket ball to the side and shifted to a fighting stance. He blocked Matthew’s punch with his arm and reversed their roles. He swung his fist at Matthew’s face, somehow knocking him to the side of the room. Tommy, Max and Y/n’s eyes widened, as well as everyone else’s in the room.

Matthew still refused to give up. He jumped in front of Billy, “Alright! Alright...”

Max yelled from the bleachers. “Watch out!” They all turned to her. “It’s that one guy.”

“Ha!” Matthew smiled mischievously and ran at Billy again. Sadly, some people just don’t learn from their mistakes. Billy threw an uppercut to Matthews chin, sending him flying to the back of the room. Billy got in some extra punches while Matthew was still down. The two landed in front of each other, most of the people in the gym now gathered around them.

Matthew blew dust off his shoulders and turned to Billy before laughing a laugh that could’ve been mistaken for a villain’s. They started to circle each other, Mathew taking a step to the left and Billy taking a step to the right, “Well well well...you’re quite the opponent.” His neck moved left and then moved back to the right after each syllable when he said, “Hargrove.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name,” he swung his right arm up into the air, his left clenched in a fist that met his collar bone. “is Matthew Patel! And I’m Y/n’s FIRST,” Matthew lifted his pointer finger on his left hand and moved his arm to the side. He moved his fingers so that his pinky, ring and middle fingers were out, his thumb and pointer finger touching so that the tips were smooshed together. He turned back to Billy, “evil ex boyfriend.” His shoulders moved up and down one at a time when he said boyfriend. When his hand went down, he let out a growl.

“Her what?” Everyone’s heads turned to Y/n.

She turned to Max and the other people on the right of her. Y/n nervously smiled, “Anyone need a drink?”

A fight initiated between the two boys, fists and feet being used. The grunts coming from both males were loud. Surely, at least one of them would have bruises after this.

Max made a face of massive confusion, looking around for any clues of the situation. Her older brother kept fighting the abnormal kid. After a few more swings, Billy, again, realized how confusing this really was. He wanted to ask beforehand, but this Matthew guy was really determined to teach Billy a lesson.

“Wait!” He held out his hand in a stopping motion. “We’re fighting over Y/n?” He personally had no problem with it, but the “Evil Ex” thing was getting to his head.

Matthew lowered his fist slightly, “didn’t you get my letter explaining the situation?”

“I skimmed it...”

Max squeezed her eyes shut and clicked her tongue. “Mm mm.” She shook her head with her disconfirming noise.

Matthew only seemed to grow madder. “You will pay for your INSOLENCE!” He threw kick after kick after kick, all of which were blocked by Billy. The anger fueled him to the point where Billy could only do few attacks with little time. Just as Billy was gaining the upper hand, Matthew socked him square in the face with both fists, then his right foot with a jump spinning kick.

The people in the crowd behind Billy caught him when he fell backwards from the attack, pushing him forwards and urging him to continue with the fight. Matthew backed up one foot at a time and did weird dance, finishing it off with pulling his coat forward a bit so the dust came off of it and tilting his left foot upwards.

“Hey.” Max leaned forward, gaining the attention of two boys as well as everyone else in the gym. “What’s up with his outfit?”

“Yeah. Is he a pirate?” Laughter flooded the room at Tommy’s observation.

Billy was also curious. “Are you a pirate?” He asked Matthew in a simple and genuinely asking way. Unfortunately, Matthew looked caught off guard and offended.

“Pirates are in this year!” He wasn’t shouting, but he said it with a sassy and upset tone. “Gah!” This time he did shout. His fist was aimed at Billy, and his feet were already moving forward.

More attacks were made. Billy finally did have the upper hand. After Matthew tried to hit Billy’s face again, Billy caught his arms and held them to his chest. His eyes and head turned to Y/n. He was pissed off now. “You really went out with this guy?”

Everyone faced Y/n now. “Yeah.” She stood up and leaned forward, “In the 5th grade.”

Silence. Billy looked around, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he spoke up again, “And?”

She sighed. “It was football season and for some reason, all the little jocks wanted me. Matthew was the only nonwhite nonjock boy in town, so the two of us joined forces and we took 'em all down. We brawled and scrapped, fought for hours. Nothing could beat Matthew’s mystical powers. We only kissed once. After a week and a half, I told him to hit the showers.”

Matthew was full of rage. His furrowed eyebrows and reddened skin could do nothing but confirm that statement.

“Dude wait- mystical powers?” Billy was confused. Unluckily for him, Matthew took advantage of his distracted state and broke free from his grip. Music started playing in the background. Matthew pushed Billy and turned to Y/n, holding out his pointer finger and pointing at her. The veins on his forehead were bulging.

“You’ll pay for this,” He paused for a second. Y/n was visibly afraid. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was was ajar. Matthew finished his sentence with a slight raspy sound to his voice, “L/n.” He swiftly turned to Billy and started dancing and singing. It’s a cringey dance and song to say the least.

“If you want to fight me,”

Max made the same confused face as she had previously. “What!?” She knew it was dumb to pick a fight with Billy, but to sing and dance while doing so? And to get her exes together so they could fight Billy? Were they that dumb?

“Hah! You’re not the brightest.

You won’t know what hit you,

in the sligh-igh-ightest.”

He made sounds with his mouth, floating into the air. Black and white colored girls, kind of like those old animations on tv, were summoned around him. They looked like someone wanted to make demon girls but was a perverted guy who loves hipsters.

“This guy’s good-” One of the basketball team members spoke. He too was wide eyed and confused as fuck.

“Me and my fireballs,

my demon hipster chicks!”

Looks like he was right about hipsters.

“Tell ‘em Matty.” They had a seductive-like voice. With a closer look, Billy could see that their eyes were like snakes. Their teeth were sharp too.

“I’m talking thee talk,

‘Cause I know I’m slick!” He winked before his weird demons spoke again.

“S-L-ICK.”

“Fireball-balls!” He threw the fireball at Billy, who thankfully dodged it in time. Gasps were heard around the room. At least it wasn’t just Billy seeing this shit. “Take this sucker out!” More flames erupted from his hands, shooting at Billy again.

“We’ll show him

What we’re all about!”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Billy finished off his sentence by throwing the now broken ring from the hoop at Matthew like a frizzbe. It hit him in the head and caused him to flip backwards a bit. His demons disappeared and it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

‘This is impossible. How can this be?’

Somehow, Billy heard and responded to Matthew’s thoughts with his own, ‘Open your eyes. Maybe you’ll see.’ He jumped at Matthew and returned the punch that had formerly knocked him back into the crowd.

Though, something strange happened this time. When Billy’s fist made contact with Matthew’s skin, he slowly fell a bit, but when he hit the ground, his body turned into 9 quarters. Everyone except for Tommy, Max, Carol, Billy and Y/n continued acting normal. The difference with them and the 5 others were that they had no memory of this “Matthew Patel” or of any fight. The damage in the gym was restored, but still. The 5 of them knew what happened and didn’t know quite yet that no one else did.

“Sweet! Coins!”

“Coins that’re mine, shortstack.” Billy took the remains of Matthew from the poor kid holding them. He walked outside, following the other 4 to discuss what just happened.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Considerate (Woozi/Jihoon Lee)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, AU, Supernatural, Suggestive, Slice of Life, Romance ☁

Word Count: 2,287 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Woozi ☁

World: Seventeen ☁

Prompt: “Can you move your coffin? It’s not very considerate of you just to leave it here! This is a high traffic area in the house!” from this prompt list.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You had always been fascinated with the supernatural, always dreaming of vampires and fairies, witches and dragons. Fantasy was your genre – you read it, watched it, played it. Anything you could get your hands on, you collected it. Growing up, you even believed that such creatures truly existed, hidden from humanity. Your parents didn’t approve and shut you down the second you started talking about the supernatural. Because of this, it became your guilty pleasure, hidden from everyone you knew.

While your parents thought you were studying, you were reading fanfiction about vampires, your favorite supernatural creature. Being forced to hide your fascination, you soon became obsessed with the idea of proving to your parents that they did exist.

Rather than attending college, you chose to get a job and focus on researching the supernatural, looking for any clues that hinted at the realism of vampirism. Finally, you found a local bar simply called ‘Darkness’. According to the information about the bar, it was a hangout for vampire fanatics and some even claimed that they had met real vampires there.

Your hopes weren’t high, but you knew that you had to at least check it out. Saturday night, you dressed up in all black and headed out to the bar. It was packed with people dressed in black and red, some wearing contacts and fake vampire teeth. This was the dark side of the vampire community – those that believed they were actual vampires.

You scratched your cheek as you pushed through the crowd, heading for the bar.

The bartender looked up at you with piercing eyes and you felt goosebumps crawling up your skin. It was like he was looking into your soul. He shook his head to get his pink hair out of his eyes before addressing you. “What will you have?” His voice was suave, the words flowing like silk from his pink lips.

Without a second thought, you blurted out, “You.”

He smirked, “Not on the menu.”

You realized what you had said and felt your cheeks grow warm. You cleared your throat, looking away from his gaze. “Do you uh, have Pepsi max?”

“Coming right up,”

When he walked to the other end of the counter, you felt like you could breathe again. How did such a gorgeous person even exist? You didn’t understand. Plus you had made a complete fool out of yourself in front of him.

You felt a body next to you and glanced over, seeing a blonde boy sitting next to you. He was dressed like Dracula, complete with slicked-back hair and fake teeth. He grinned at you, proudly showing off the fake teeth. “Hello, darling~”

Your nose wrinkled – he sounded like a complete sleaze. Still, your parents had always taught you to be polite. “Hello,”

“Do you have a significant other, my darling~?” He tried to purr, but it just sounded like a car engine struggling to start.

“She does,” Came a sharp voice as a glass of soda was set down roughly in front of you. The bartender was glaring at the blonde with such intensity, you thought he might catch on fire. “Get lost, Davius.”

Davius hissed at him, “Mind your own business, Woozi. This has nothing to do with you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Considering she belongs to me, it has everything to do with me.”

Hearing those words fall from his lips made your heart start racing and he snapped his eyes to yours. Could he hear it? Was it really that loud? You swallowed hard, wanting desperately to look away, but his gaze had you trapped.

With a loud huff, the blonde stormed away from the bar.

“You should be careful who you talk to,” He scolded, breaking his gaze to wipe down the bar.

“I was just being nice…” You muttered, sipping the drink.

“These people take ‘being nice’ as consent to get close to you. They’re freaks.”

“If you hate them so much, then why do you work here?”

He hummed, “Who knows.”

“You’re weird,” you blurted out again, tilting your head to the side.

He scoffed in amusement. “Says the person who wanted the bartender they just met.”

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “Shut up,” was the only comeback you could manage.

He folded his arms on the bar, looking at you curiously. “Why are you in a place like this?”

“I’m looking for a vampire.” You stated, confidently. He didn’t look at you like you were crazy, as so many others had, he just looked curious.

“Do you have a vampire fetish?”

“Wh-What? No! It’s nothing like that!”

“Calm down, I was kidding.” His laughter made you feel dizzy. Why was this guy having such an impact on you?

You pouted, folding your arms over your chest. “I know vampires exist out there somewhere, and I’m going to prove it!”

“To whom?”

“My parents! They always treated me like I was mental just because I believed that the supernatural actually exists. Everyone fears what they don’t understand!”

“If vampires exist, they are dangerous to humans. Is it really so irrational that people fear the thought?”

You gently rubbed the condensation off the glass with your finger. “I feel like vampires would be a lot like humans. There will be some bad eggs that only want to bring chaos, but there will also be those that just want to live their life. If you made me choose between a human or a vampire, I’d choose a vampire hands down.”

His expression did not change, but you could see the surprise lingering in his dark eyes. “You’re quite the strange one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not strange, I’m awesome!” You grinned, making him laugh again. It was intoxicating. If you had to listen to it for the rest of your life, you’d be in heaven.

Over the next four months, you visited that bar every weekend to hang out with Woozi and chat with him while he tended the bar. Davius had tried a few more times to get your attention, but you made it clear that you had no interest in him. Woozi, however, was a completely different story. You wanted to get closer to him, to learn everything about him.

Still, no matter how much you talked, you could feel this wall around him preventing you from getting too close. It was frustrating as hell trying to climb over it only to fall. You felt as if he wasn’t opening up to you at all, meanwhile you were pouring your heart out to him every time you spoke. Were you chasing after someone you had no chance with?

After four months, you decided to make your feelings clear to him and find out if you actually were wasting your time.

You approached the bar, feeling nervous but determined. He smiled at you, “The usual?”

“Actually… can we talk?”

“We talk every day,”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we talk in private?”

His brow furrowed, wondering why your attitude had changed. He nodded his head and motioned for you to follow him into the back of the building. The sound of the booming music could still be heard, but it was stifled by the thick walls.

You fidgeted with your hands, wondering how you should word what you wanted to say.

Sensing your nervousness, he gently took your hands into his. His cold skin felt good against your clammy palms. “What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked him dead in the eye. “I like you, Woozi. A lot. But I feel like you don’t feel the same… I want to know how you feel.”

He frowned, gently running his thumb over the back of your hand. “Y/N… I’ll be honest with you because you deserve that much. I love you so much. Seeing you every weekend is the highlight of my week. You’re so beautiful and funny, and I want nothing more than to slam you against this wall and make you mine.”

The confession had you blushing like crazy.

He sighed, pulling you into a tight hug. His face nuzzled into your neck and he inhaled deeply, his voice low and husky. “I’m dangerous, Y/N.”

With your chest pressed against his own, you finally pieced it together, feeling like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. You took a shaky breath, “You’re a vampire.”

His body tensed as he pulled back to look you in the eye. “I am. How many times have I dreamed of throwing you against the bar and drinking from you? Your blood smells heavenly, and I can’t guarantee I can control myself forever.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed out, hands tightening around his shirt.

“What are you saying?” His brow furrowed.

“You can drink from me… if you want.”

“If I get a taste of you, you will be mine for life. Is that really a commitment you’re willing to make?”

You nodded, not even having to consider it. You wanted him, you wanted to spend every day of your life with him.

No longer able to control himself, he tilted your head to the side before sinking his fangs into your flesh. You felt a sharp pain, but it quickly subsided, leaving behind a dull sting. His arms wrapped tight around your body as he drank from you. It was erotic for both of you, making you both moan at the sensations you were experiencing.

Woozi pulled back before he drank too much, licking the blood from his pink lips. The action had you biting your own before he claimed them, kissing you deeply. You both poured out your emotions into the kiss – the love, the want, the longing. You could feel them all so clearly.

He pulled back, his lips ghosting over yours. “You should rest for the rest of the day. I don’t want you fainting.”

You pouted, running your hand through his soft hair. “I’d rather take the chance so I can spend more time with you.”

He chuckled, pecking your forehead. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be seeing me a lot more now.”

You protested, but Woozi wouldn’t budge and you eventually caved, allowing him to walk you home. He made sure that you went to bed before he returned to work. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep, his scent still lingering on your clothes.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

The sun streamed through the crack in the curtains and you stirred, yawning loudly as you forced yourself out of the bed, having the strong urge to pee. You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you stepped out the bedroom. The bathroom was directly in front of your room so it was easy to get there in your half-asleep state.

At least, it always had been before.

With a squeak, your foot tripped over something hard and you went tumbling forward onto the bathroom tile, groaning in pain as your chin took the brunt of the fall.

You heard shuffling behind you and you looked over your shoulder through watery eyes. You blinked several times, rubbing at your eyes. Were you dreaming?“

Woozi frowned at you, stifling a yawn. “Why are you on the floor, baby?”

“Is that a coffin?!” You cried out, pointing at him accusingly.

“It is,” he looked at you like you were the crazy one. “After all of the vampire legends and lore you’ve studied, you didn’t know that vampires sleep in coffins?”

“Of course I knew that!” You scowled, holding your chin. “But why the hell is it in the hallway in front of the bathroom door?!”

“It’s the only place in your apartment that doesn’t see sunlight.” He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s not very considerate of you to just leave it here! This is a high traffic area in the apartment!”

He rolled his eyes, “And where do you propose I move it to?”

“I’ll buy some blackout curtains for the bedroom, okay?”

He hummed as he stepped out of the wooden coffin, kneeling down in front of you. While he was examining your red chin, your eyes were straying across his toned body. Why, oh why, did he have to be in a tight t-shirt and boxers?

“Woozi?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Why do your boxers have cartoon bats on them?”

He quickly looked away, covering half his face. If he could blush, he would definitely be as red as a cherry at that moment. He mumbled something, but you couldn’t hear him under his hand so you asked him to repeat himself. “It was a gift from my mother, okay!”

You giggled, “That’s so cute!”

“Vampires are not cute.”

You went to pinch his cheek and he scowled, grabbing your wrist in a strong, yet gentle grasp. As swift as the wind, he had you pinned to the bathroom floor, his eyes clouded as he leaned down.

You breathed in deep when his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I’ll make sure that when you think of me, cute is not the word that comes to mind.” You groaned when his knee found itself between your legs.

“Woozi~” You whined, ruffling his hair. “As hot as this is, I really gotta pee.”

His body started to shake with silent laughter as he rolled off of you. “What a mood killer.”

“I’m sorry, humans can’t control their bladders, sir.” You stood up, shooing him out of the bathroom. “You better move that coffin before I come out!”

He pecked your lips, tugging gently on your bottom lip. “Yes, baby~”

You closed the door, resting your back against it as your hand rested over your racing heart. You had definitely done something right in your life to be this lucky.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[spyder-m]

Love Games

ao3 / ff.net 

Summary:  On a particularly grueling trip through Mementos, the Phantom Thieves play a few rounds of "Never Have I Ever" to fend off boredom. In doing so, they learn more about their leader and advisor than they had anticipated. Shumako.

.

Ann's eyes carefully scanned the bleak expanse that was Mementos, low-level shadows scurrying away from the blare of headlights.

Blue irises strained as they adjusted to the darkness of the subway, not wanting the target to disappear from her sight.

"I spy with my little eye… something that's brown and grey-"

"Railroad tracks," Futaba answered, not even bothering to look up from her laptop.

"Wow, Oracle. You got it on the first try! How did you know?"

"Are you for real?!" Ryuji exclaimed; the outburst startling a quietly sketching Yusuke beside him. "There's only like three things down here you coulda possibly been lookin' at. Urgh! This game sucks!

Delving this far into the depths made for a long and arduous trip.

Though Morgana's bus form was fairly spacious, with the seven of them packed in together; and a lack of proper air-conditioning; it was becoming a little stifling.

Some of the more fiery members of the group were beginning to get on each other's nerves.

Beyond the occasional pit-stop to stretch their legs, fighting off shadows and scouring out the different nooks of Mementos for treasures or potential targets, served as their only reprieve.

Even Makoto couldn't find too much of a distraction in the drive. Each level was beginning to look eerily similar, and Futaba's persona could usually map out a clear path through to the next exit. Save for swerving to avoid the odd shadow, it didn't require much concentration. Her muscles were already settling unconsciously into a rhythm.

Still, she had been able to find comfort in the silent form of Joker beside her. It was remarkable how well he could read her and ease the tension she felt with a gentle smile or supporting touch of his hand. The calm washing over her like a healing spell.

He was measured in the affectionate gestures, not wanting to attract the attention of their passengers; currently seeking out other ways to pass the time.

"Alright, fine. Let's hear you suggest something then, Skull." Ann huffed, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms.

Blinking, the blond scratched his head in thought; not having expected her to turn to him for a suggestion.

"Well, uh... there's that game Westerners always play in movies." He offered. "Y'know, the one where they hold up their fingers and say something they've never done before."

"Isn't that a drinking game?" Makoto's glare lifted, catching the others in the rear-view mirror. "I'll remind you we're all underage and in a car."

"It don't have to be." Ryuji waved his arms, not wanting to incur the wrath of the team's advisor. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

Despite some initial skepticism, the crew supposed that Ryuji's suggestion might not actually be such a bad idea.

The founding members of the Phantom Thieves had been together for several months now and felt pretty tightly knit. The exposure to one another's pasts, their most guarded secrets and inner selves only helped to shift their relationship towards something much more intimate.

Still, between time in the Metaverse, strategy meetings, studying for exams, and part-time jobs, they didn't get many opportunities to spend time together as friends.

They were still a lot of things they didn't know about each other as people.

Haru was their newest member and didn't seem to have many friends outside of their immediate circle. Futaba was still coming out of her shell and sharing secrets among friends could help to continue building her social skills. Yusuke… Well, Yusuke was an enigma. For as long as they'd known him, there was still a lot they hadn't quite figured out.

Even Makoto; though having acclimated well with the team and into her advisory role; was still striving to more learn about her peers.

These were the kind of games kids their age would normally play at parties; a luxury their unique extra-curricular activities as the Phantom Thieves often deprived them of.

It could be a great opportunity for them to get to know each other better.

"Ooo, I'll start!" Futaba called, her hand shooting up. "Never have I ever… gone on a trip to Hawaii!"

"Wha- Oracle! That's not fair!"

"Mwehehehe…" The youngest member cackled. "Well, I had to get one up on you guys. Never underestimate the original Medjed."

"Well, alright. That's one finger down for... Everyone except Oracle. Alright, Noir. It's your turn."

"Oh. Well, let me see." Haru pondered. "Never have I ever... Tried the 6,000 yen Dark Ivory coffee at the Wilton Hotel."

The engine rumbled amidst the dip in conversation, the teens looking between one another with blank expressions.

"Uh, Noir?" Ann eventually broke the silence. "Clearly none of us have done that before. Now you have to lower a finger. You're supposed try to try and get us out."

"Oh, I could never do that. You're all my friends."

"But that's the point of the game!" Ryuji's voice rose again. "You're gonna lose at this rate!"

"Moving on." Ren interrupted, his lips sliding into a smirk. "Never have I ever eaten so much fatty tuna that I made myself sick."

"What?!" The Mona-bus vibrated as an indignant mewl reverberated throughout. "Why are you singling me out, Joker? I'm not playing. I don't even have fingers!"

"We can keep track. That's one down for Mona."

"Hmph. Fine, but I'm going next."

"Whatever. Do your worst."

"Never have I ever… called a Maid Service before."

"You damn cat!" Ryuji exclaimed, thumping the side of the car. "I thought we agreed to keep quiet about that."

"You called a Maid Service?" Ann side-eyed Ryuji, a shudder crawling up the base of his spine.

"Well, uh…" Anxious, Ryuji glance darted around the inside of the car, desperate for a lifeline. "Hey! I- I'm not the only one who's guilty here. Right, leader?"

Swallowing, Ren begrudgingly lowered a finger.

"What?!"

"A maid's services? Hmm, how fascinating. I wonder if they would be willing to serve as the model for my next piece?"

"Dude, it's 5,000 yen a visit. Like you'd be able to afford that."

"Also, I thought you agreed; no more nude paintings!"

"Anyway! Uh… Panther; you're up next."

"Oh, me? Hm, well... Never have I ever… dated before."

To the surprise of no one in the group, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba each kept the fingers up, while Haru lowered a finger. However, given the circumstances surrounding her and her fiancé, the Thieves were happy not to ask for any more details. What piqued their curiosity more so, was when Makoto and Ren both each lowered a finger.

"Wait… What?!"

"Dude! You mean you were out scorin' hotties and didn't think to tell me?!"

"Well, Joker has had an entire life outside of Tokyo that we are not privy to…"

"Plus, his charm stats are like… maxed out."

"Right. Still, I really wasn't expecting that from you, Queen."

"W- well, there is someone… That I'm seeing."

The car jolted, almost swerving off of the tracks and into the station's wall, as Ann pulled herself over the front seat.

"What?!"

"Panther, please! Stay in your seat."

"Oops. Sorry!" Ann flushed, returning to her spot in the middle row. "I just can't believe you'd keep something like that from me."

"W- well, we both agreed to keep things... discreet."

"Perhaps we should move on from this topic for the time being," Yusuke suggested. "It seems to be getting Panther rather excited."

"Right." Joker nodded. "Well, Queen; it's your turn."

Makoto paused, one hand slipping from the steering wheel to touch her chin.

There was much she had not experienced before finding the Phantom Thieves, things that many would see as a normal part of life for a typical, Japanese teenager. If she were being tactical, there were likely several answers she could give that would get most of the others out.

Still, recently she had been fortunate to gain friends who brought more of simple pleasures into her life. In particular, it was thanks to the young man seated across from her that she had been able to broaden her horizons.

Though, thinking on it; as she caught Joker in her peripheral vision; Makoto realised, with a flush, there were still things she wished to learn.

"Never have I ever... kissed someone before."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute." Ryuji interjected. "You're with a guy but you haven't even swapped spit yet?"

"Skull." Ann sighed, her nose wrinkling at the boy's crude description.

"N- no, it's fine, really." Makoto countered, lifting her hands from the wheel briefly. "It's all still very new to me. I think he's just been holding back on my account. I just wish there was a way I could let him know that I want it as much as I think he does."

"Aw, don't worry, Queen!" Futaba encouraged. "I'm sure he'll come to his senses."

"Yeah! Any guy would be lucky to be with you."

"Anyway, looks like Joker and Noir are the only ones who lowered their fingers. No surprises there."

"Actually," Joker cleared his throat, and raised his hand, showing that his total was still at seven.

"Okay, now I'm confused."

"What else is new?"

A pained meow rang from the car as Ryuji's bat struck the inside wall.

Makoto flushed as she felt Joker's gaze cover her; the stark white of his mask accentuating his eyes, drawing her to them. She bit her lip, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel.

"I suppose you could say I was... holding back."

"I- is that, so?" Makoto answered, trying to keep her eyes focused ahead, away from Ren's longing stare.

She had hoped that in keeping her answers curt and concentrating on the road ahead the conversation would shift, the rest of the Thieves carrying on with their game. Yet, their interest had seemingly turned towards their leader, as he watched her with a fond smile.

"Queen, pull over here." Joker instructed abruptly; his tone sharp.

Makoto slowed the vehicle to stop, suspecting that Joker had spotted a target.

She immediately ripped off her seatbelt and moved to open the door, more than willing to steer the focus away from their conversation.

However, at the flash of red covering her own gloved hand and ceasing her movement, she turned, catching Joker's mask with a puzzled expression.

Having readied herself for battle, Makoto's normally sharp reflexes had been prepared to react the moment something grasped at her. Though, her guard slipped as Joker's fingers caught her the jaw.

Their masks clinked together as he pulled her face towards his own; the breath that ripped involuntarily from her throat was caught by the soft pressure of his lips.

Her first kiss.

The scent of coffee still lingered on his breath, likely remnants from his breakfast at Leblanc. The bitter taste warmed her chest, striking and familiar.

Now unimpeded by her seatbelt, Makoto fell deeper into Ren's embrace, her hands lifting to catch in the thick clumps of his hair.

It was surprisingly soft.

Spurred on by the sensation of Makoto kissing back, Ren trailed his hands down to the swell of her hips, appreciating how her suit clung to them. Makoto's eyes bulged in surprise as she was pulled into Joker's lap, though she didn't break from his lips, her arms surrounding him.

With that daring gesture, it struck her that she was sharing her first kiss not with Ren, but Joker; an experience distinct from what she had anticipated. It hadn't been a shy, chaste caress that had caught her; a moment their relationship had steadily being building towards; but something bolder, more extravagant.

The gesture, in a sense, reflected how they had entered each other's lives, how they had awoken to their true selves in the Metaverse; abruptly and explosively. How everything strange and otherworldly suddenly began to make sense, as if it had been there, waiting, all along.

There was something captivating about the suave, cocky persona Ren assumed in the Metaverse. Seeing those soft, shy smiles of his break into confident grins; his dark, mysterious eyes, shining and proud. The way he remained strong and collected for the rest of his team, even during their most tense battles.

That he was forward enough to make the first move; where in the real world he may have hesitated; closing the distance between them like this, his lips flickering into a familiar smirk as they caressed against her own.

It was... sexy.

The magic dissipated as Makoto became conscious of the eyes boring into her, sliding up her spine like cold digits as she recalled, abruptly, that they weren't alone. Gasping, Makoto slipped from Joker's arms, glancing mortified, towards their friends.

Ann's hands had lifted to cover her mouth, barely containing the bright smile lighting her features. There was a sheen in her wide, starry eyes. Haru had moved up beside her, hands similarly cradled together.

"Oh, how romantic."

With a smirk, Futaba had, reflexively, pulled out her smartphone; a pout settling across her features when she remembered the camera function was useless in the Metaverse.

Beside her, Yusuke was rifling through the back of the car, eventually producing a canvas and a selection of brushes, frantically setting them up.

"You two, hold your positions! I must capture this!"

"Inari!? When did you bring that with you? And also, why?"

Ryuji watched on in curious silence, his brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his head.

"Huh? Skull? What's up?"

"So, like... Do they have to drop a finger now, or what?"

[salamandrinanana]

Two weeks into quarantine

Well, plus 3 days now. Took me a bit of time to get on my laptop without anyone looking over my shoulder constantly. 

Quarantine started for me with not physically being able to leave the house for a few days. I never expected those planned “few days” to turn into two weeks, but then on day 2 it was announced that all universities were going to close the next day, which was quite a shock to me. I didn’t expext for things to change that quickly and I don’t know how long things will stay this way. Here’s a bit about how those two weeks have been, who knows how many will follow:

- I’ve been outside for 2 hours max. in these two weeks. Felt oddly reassuring to see that my town hasn’t changed at all. First time out was on day 8 or 9.

- Stayed awake for 39 hours at the beginning of it all. Not fun. And not by choice. I was in too much pain to relax. Got myself dosed up on ibuprofen and slept for 12 hours straight.

- I had exactly one online class. I hated it. Felt really weird and I kept losing focus. Also: group discussions don’t work when you’re thrown in a seperate chatroom thing and your random group members are all afraid of turning on their mic so nothing ends up happening.

- Apart from that online class I haven’t done shit for uni. Can’t focus at home with my brother working in his bedroom a.k.a. constantly calling people and my mother watching TV downstairs when she isn’t at work.

- I’m now in week 1 of 3 of what was supposed to be my official exam period with midterms and shit. I’ve got 3 exams that are going on as normal, because I had to do those at home anyway and there’s one that’s going to be changed a bit so you can do it at home. We’re only going to get 2 hours for that though, normal time for the exam, which absolutely sucks. For the others I have 2 weeks.

- I actually started writing a story. Me. Writing. Never thought I’d get to that point. Progress is really slow, I’m only 2.5k words in and there are lots of details I’m still unsure about and I have no idea wtf is supposed to happen in it yet, but hey I’m writing. It’s about a girl discovering she has superpowers. It’s terrible. She finds out when she tries to kill herself about 500 words in. Yikes why is my brain like this. Oh right because I’m an idiot and my childhood wish of being able to fly has come back to haunt me and I’m telling myself to never try to commit suicide. Writing this is a bit of a weird way of doing it though.

- I also tried digital drawing on this Autodesk SketchBook app. I sort of finished my drawing and it kind of looks how I wanted it to, but I am never going to try that again. Three days of endless fucking pain and getting cramps in my fingers.

- My random obsession with the Chernobyl disaster is back. I’ve spent a lot of time on YouTube watching “stalkers” illegally entering the exclusion zone and staying there for a few days. Fascinating stuff. Would never dare to go there myself.

- I went back to one of those game sites for children that I used to spend hours on as a kid. Because fuck it. (Logical combo of course: Chernobyl and dress-up games; that shit happened on the same day.)

- Looks like I haven’t lost my ability to recognise a Depeche Mode song in 0.4s in the SongPop app.

I’m also pretty good at recognising Neubauten, though they’re kinda hard to find in the game.

- Witnessed Blixa Bargeld making broccoli soup. Possibly the best hour in the whole of these two weeks. He danced!!! 

- Got a phone call from my university's study abroad coordinator. Was told that none of the universities I wanted to go to (Glasgow, Brighton and Manchester) were possible for me. Which is a rare thing, that none of your choices work out; of course that shit happens to me, I seem to be a magnet for bad luck! I somehow managed to keep it together while on the phone, but I was ready to scream or cry. Not sure which. Both have not happened yet but still possible. Now I'm looking into the other options she gave me. Will probably end up going to Leeds. If it's even possible to go anywhere by that time with this whole corona bullshit situation. Well, at least I haven't been rejected...

- Ready to kill my mother and brother because they will never understand how goddamn terrified I am of phone calls. They always think I'm stupid and exaggerating, while they haven't felt my heart pounding in my chest whenever my phone rings. I'm always scared of not knowing what to say. When it's an unknown number it's even worse, having absolutely no idea of what to expect.

- Finally watching series 7 of Endeavour on a Belgian TV channel. 

And, last but not least:

- The VHS Tapes Adventure

I found a big shopping bag full of VHS tapes and dragged out the old VCR. Six of the tapes contained footage of tiny ass kid me and my brother, who’s two years older than me.

I had never seen these tapes before, so it was a bit overwhelming. I had no idea we had footage that actually included sound! All the stuff I had seen before was made with a crappy camera with no sound.

I saw myself when I was less than a day old. I saw myself walk at 10 months. I heard myself slowly learning how to talk. I saw myself in one of those typical “child tries something new to drink and is totally amazed by it” moments, drinking coca cola and immediately demanding more. I saw my now dead grandmother, holding me, playing with me, and I heard her voice again. I cried.

God, it was so overwhelming; and it was weird to actually use a VCR again, last time I did that was over 10 years ago. I had one fuck-up though followed by a bit of a panic attack. I think the VHS went in at a slightly wrong angle, there was lots of noise and then it came out with some tape sticking out of it. God I was terrified, I had never experienced that before and we don’t have backups of any of that childhood footage. I ran to my mum and cried like a baby. She fixed it and was not really worried.

Also, I was left slightly pissed off. I witnessed all of my brother’s birthday parties, starting with his first, but the only birthday party I saw that was for me was when I turned four. Also, there’s a lot more footage of my brother in general. And I know it’s completely stupid, and I get that it was different with my brother because he was the first child, but it still makes me feel bad. 

.

.

.

I know there probably won’t be anyone reading this, or getting this far, and I know all of this is not relevant to you even in the slightest, but it feels good to write stuff and share it somewhere at least in the knowledge that someone out there might read this and possibly care? We're in a weird situation right now and I don't really have anyone to talk to. I only speak to other students (I don't really dare to call them friends - we just sort of talk when we see each other but not really outside of that) when I see them in person, so I have not been in contact with them at all these past weeks. This is the only place where I can share stuff now, also because this is the only social media account none of my family are aware of. And it’s really good to have something away from them so that I don’t have to feel embarrassed.

[oosteven-universe]

Heartbeat #2

Heartbeat #2 Boom! Studios 2019 By Maria Llovet Lettered by Andworld Design Translated by Andrea Rosenberg     After witnessing a murder, Eva now possesses a terrible secret—Donatien, the most popular boy in school enjoys the taste of blood…and is willing to kill for it. Eva knows she should turn him in but can't help her attraction to Donatien. Even though she knows he is a murderer—or perhaps because of it—Eva wants him.     Jiminy Cricket Lady this is fabulous! I have no idea why I am in love with this but I am and seeing how Eva processes this whole thing is one of the absolute best character studies around. Alright so throughout the issue we see the history Eva has with Amber and in all honesty if I were her I wouldn't have said a damn thing anyway. After all that bitch got what she deserved and having been bullied all through school trust me when I know precisely how she feels at being the centre of cruelty on this level. Still she's a young woman and guilt, hormones and what she felt for Amber's brother Max all play factors in her decisions.     This is being told brilliantly. The story & plot development we see in how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is laid out beautifully. Seeing this from the perspective of a girl who is literally an outsider, scholarship not coming from money, is handled in such a way that we empathise with her so much. The character development we see is marvellous and with each issue, yes we're only at two, so far we see more and more revealed and watch the characters grow and evolve through their experiences. The pacing is solid, strong and as it guides us through the pages with it's twists and turns help create such a nice ebb & flow to the book. It is like getting swept up in some romance novel only it's darker and centred around death and confused feelings & emotions.     So while I emphasise with Eva there are times I question her sanity. Yes she is a lost soul adrift in a world she does not understand and while those around her apparently live charmed lives, her perception and not the reality but then this is her story, confuse her even more. There is something dark and mysterious happening here and is she blossoming into a darker version of life or will she find herself lost in a world of darkness without being able to find the light? It mesmerises you and draws you in while engaging your mind so that you drift off-script and try to wrap your head around a myriad of hypotheses.     The interiors here are stunningly gorgeous. The attention to detail is mindbogglingly good as they bring the attention to detail front and centre. With structures like the temple, I am not sure what that really is so we'll go with that, with the stained glass sigh it's true beauty. The characters and their faces, facial expressions and body language continue to further the characterisation in ways words alone cannot do. The backgrounds are utilised perfectly as they enhance the moments and work within the composition in the panels to bring out depth perception, scale and an overall size and scope to the story. Plus the detail in places like the wallpaper, flooring, the flowers and those chocolate bars I mean damn. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show such a masterful eye for storytelling. The colour work as well is simply gorgeous. The hues and tones within the colours creating the shading, highlights and shadows just capture the eye and imagination that sweep you up into and along the story. ​     There is no denying the awe, wonder and romanticism in these pages. The dreams, ideas and ideology of a young confused woman who sees the inherent danger as something romantic to strive for is unusual but no less fascinating. Maria shows off so much skill, talent and ability within these pages and with this she says I am here, I am a force to be reckoned with and I am not going anywhere. This is the outside the box storytelling that the world needs.

[apparitionism]

Sound 7

I haven’t done any public-facing work on this in some time, but I’m still very much in the middle of writing a sequel to Soon. Here’s a piece of it. When last we checked in on our intrepid Russian translator and her beloved violinist (and child), it was 1963, and they were finding their shared life in New York rewarding in many ways, while difficult to negotiate in others—which, I must say, describes my own feelings about this project. Writing is sometimes like pushing an overloaded sled in the weight room: if you can budge it a yard, that’s a victory. This maybe moves Sound along less than a foot, but even so. (No links to the other parts of Sound, or to Soon, but the former are findable here on Tumblr and the latter is both here and, in improved version, on AO3.)

Sound 7

1964

The device is crafted to appear innocuous.

It hides inside a dictating machine, a Philips, the newest model. The machine works just fine, both while concealing the device and not, and Myka has to learn to use it; she has to commit to it, so that its presence in her possession will appear natural. She finds that she likes recording her thoughts this way, though she’s embarrassed by how awful she sounds when she plays it back; even at normal speed, her voice is pitched higher than she ever imagined. Has she heard herself like this before? She’s listened to so many people’s speaking voices on tape—Russian-speaking voices, back in those days—but never her own.

Christina is fascinated by the Philips and begs to dismantle it. Helena wrinkles her nose at its sound quality: she complains of a high hiss and tells Myka she can find her a far better piece of equipment if she is committed to making notes in this way.

Myka has kept from Helena the real reason she has taken up dictation.

She tries a fast translation of a page of the text she’s working on now, Bryusov’s “V zerkale”—“In the Mirror”—by reading Cyrillic on the page, then speaking it in English into the machine. It’s difficult to keep from simply reading the Russian aloud, so she imagines it spoken in someone else’s voice, leaving her to translate simultaneously, UN-style. She tries Helena’s voice... too distracting. Her grandfather’s and grandmother’s are too familiar, and thus untranslatable. Lullabies. Max? He has a lovely voice, but the problem with imagining him speaking is that she senses him also whispering his own translation right along with himself, and that’s no help. She settles on a departmental colleague, a native Russian speaker whom she knows not well but well enough; his quiet, measured tones turn out to be Goldilocks-correct. “He” reads her the Bryusov story, and she tells it to the machine: “I have loved mirrors from my very earliest years...”

She’d been baffled when Abigail first handed her the machine and explained what it contained, for she couldn’t imagine she knew anyone Abigail would possibly have an interest in bugging. Myka doesn’t have that kind of access, and she certainly doesn’t have the expertise needed to secure this thing in place and make sure it works. Or the nerve, she tells herself, but while that might have been true in the past, she isn’t sure it’s true now. She feels a certainty in herself when she goes to Russia now. This reason, this deal she’s made, it defines her. It’s a mission, a discipline. Like Helena practicing her violin, though Myka doesn’t know what the honing of her nerve is preparing her for. What her performance will be.

“You aren’t planting it,” Abigail had told her. “And anyway it’s just a piece. You’re passing it along.”

Myka’s flicker of disappointment at this news frightened her.

She practices taking the Philips apart, removing the device, hiding it on her person, and putting the recorder back together again: quickly, silently. It’s useful to need to keep this activity from Christina, though equating Christina with KGB, even in this little way, makes Myka morally queasy.

Myka knows KGB officers listen to the hotel rooms that she and other foreigners stay in; she knows her movements are tracked; she knows that everyone to whom she speaks might be an informer. She doesn’t know how much time she’ll have when the moment comes to hand over the equipment, and she doesn’t know where it will happen.

“Why can’t I just carry it on me?” she asks Abigail. “The thing itself?”

“This is safer. Trust me.” The don’t ask why wall in Abigail’s voice: whatever she knows about what might happen to Myka—arrest, search, worse?—Myka will need not to know it’s coming. Abigail has told her in the past that an expression of genuine surprise is difficult to fake, and similarly hard for other humans to dismiss.

“Oh,” Abigail also says, offhand but not, “you may run into someone you know. Don’t react.”

Be surprised; don’t be surprised.

****

The session is intended to produce a simple demo.

Helena is in the hallway just outside the booth when she hears the sound engineer take a call. She is about to leave for the day; she has just checked in, on that very telephone, with her booking service, but nothing other than the brief rehearsal she just attended is scheduled—not a surprise, here on this relatively quiet Saturday morning.

“Hey, H.G.!” the engineer calls to her. “Want some more practice?”

She takes the phone from him. The bleary voice of Ben Cone, in whose booth she had lately sat while he produced a song that swiftly hit number three in the nation, tells her that he is supposed to be putting together a demo, but his hangover is too fierce; can she fill in? He knows she knows what to do, he says, and anyway, it’s just a demo. Everybody should be there in a half hour or so, bye. Oh, but she’ll have to find her own singer; his passed out only a couple hours ago, still sleeping it off. In no shape, you know?

She thinks of Rudy Lewis: “I’m your man for demo vocals,” he’d told her, years ago. “Don’t you call nobody else.” His sugar voice. She would have called him; he would have done it. Cruel of fate to hand her this chance, so short a time after... well. She should not dwell on that, not now.

But then she does think about it, when the song’s writer, who shows up to play piano on the track—where’s Ben; hung over; no surprise—hands her the music.

The song is titled “I’ll Pass.” “It’s simple,” he says. “Just a ‘thanks a lot but no thanks’ lyric.”

Helena can’t discern his real intent here, for the lyric strikes her as... multilayered. The verses suggest that the singer’s beloved finds the singer inadequate, inappropriate, in response to which, the singer says in the refrain, “I’ll pass, baby; I’ll pass.” A rejection? Or a sincere, bleak promise to show a different self to the world? Rudy would have sung it with the full range of meanings right there to be heard. But it isn’t Helena’s job to care about the meanings. It’s her job to produce a demo.

She is to do it with this songwriter-pianist, plus a guitarist, a drummer, a bassist... and a young saxophonist. Helena tries to send the latter home, but he says he needs the money. He says also that he would be happy to play anything she wants, if saxophones aren’t her bag, so she hands him a triangle from a box of orphan percussion and regrets to inform that the middle eight will not belong to him after all. He looks at the triangle, looks at her, pronounces this the screwiest session he’s ever seen—how many can he possibly have seen?—and then starts asking about when to ring, when to muffle, how much shimmer, and is there a brass beater anywhere in this studio because everybody knows the sound from stainless is too cold. (Helena takes his name and his number and files them away for the future.)

The musicians run through loose takes, tight takes; Helena likes the loose takes, despite the songwriter hitting an off note or several. It’s just a demo, and the looser renditions give a better sense of the song’s potential. She considers sitting down with them in the studio to add her violin, but there’s no string arrangement, and inventing one, even something simple, would begin to define the song. The demo should suggest no strictures, just a loose sense of what this melody and lyric could become.

She tries calling a few vocalists, but—again no surprise for a Saturday—she can’t find anyone, and no singer she knows well is in the building, so she asks each of the musicians to try a few bars. The guitarist wins the brief talent competition, with a soar of a tenor that Helena can’t believe hasn’t been put on record before. (She is filing him away too.) He says nobody ever asked, that he only ever sang in church—but he never goes to church anymore, which vexes his mama. Further, he notes, “I can’t sing and play at the same time,” and while Helena is outwardly expressing sympathy for his mother, she is also worrying about her ability, even with experienced engineering help, to lay in a vocal right on such a spare arrangement.

Can the now-trianglist take over the guitar part? “No strings, sorry,” he says, and doesn’t that just fit the day.

And indeed it isn’t quite right, in the end, the way the vocal lies against the music. But Helena rationalizes it, intellectualizes it—it’s trying to pass as a right part of the track. “I’ll pass, baby”? Some can. But: for only so long. The length of a pop song, perhaps.

“I was thinking about Rudy today,” she tells Christina when she finally arrives home, far later than she’d imagined, after the lengthy mixdown. “It’s just a demo,” the engineer had complained. “How rough would you be on me if it was a real track?” Which had made Helena think of Phil, but that association, and its implications, were too much for an already overloaded day.

Christina’s reaction to Rudy’s name is a quiet “oh.”

****

It had been an unremarkable day in late May, and Helena and the rest of the musicians who had assembled for a Drifters session were waiting, smoking, and growing a little irritated, for they all had additional bookings, and the more sweet time the singers and production took to arrive, the more likely the musicians were to be late for those other sessions.

Irritation turned to blank incredulity when Bert Berns, who was to produce, and the other men walked in, for Bert said, with no preliminaries, “Rudy died last night.” He added, “Overdose.”

They recorded four tracks that session. Helena could not have said, afterward, what any of them were, save the final one, a song that had been intended for Rudy to sing: a ballad called “I Don’t Want to Go On Without You.” Charlie sang it instead... that he could do so said something about professionalism, or shock, or both of them together.

Who, hearing any of those tracks on the radio, would discern that they were documents of grief? They would seem like the simple pop songs they were, and was that an obscenity, or was it just an extreme version of the work that pop music was designed to do?

“How do I tell Christina?” Helena asked Myka. “What do I tell her?”

“I don’t know—I don’t know anything. My only thought is ‘the truth.’” Myka said this as if it really was the only thought she had right then, the only thought she knew how to think about anything.

But Myka was right, so the truth was what Helena told Christina: Rudy took too many drugs, and he died. Christina asked why, and Helena thought she was asking a medical question, about what the body could and couldn’t tolerate. “No,” Christina clarified. “Why did he want to?”

Helena did try not to lie to Christina. Shield her, but not lie to her. So she said, “I think”—because she did not, in fact, know—“I think it was because he thought the world had no good place for him. He wanted a place, yet there was no place. I think that at times he wanted to let himself forget all of that. All of what surrounded him.”

Christina said a weary, “Misinformed beliefs,” and Helena could answer only with “That’s right.”

Helena had assumed she would attend the funeral alone, but Christina asked to go, then asked if Myka would go too. But Myka said, “That’s not a picture we should make.” At this, Christina nodded, and Helena could not hold back a small internal push of pride at that knowing assent. While Christina took great satisfaction in being far more American than Helena herself was, she was persistently British in her understanding of appearances.

They went out to buy her a black dress.

“Is it for a very special occasion?” the saleslady asked, because Christina was unsatisfied with the first three she tried.

“Yes and no,” Christina told her. Helena felt the push of pride again. She looked at Myka, who wore a “what is she becoming?” face, and Helena wanted to take her hand and echo “I don’t know—I don’t know anything,” then follow that with “But isn’t it miraculous that we’ll both find out?”

That miracle meant Helena would not need to find her consolation in a needle.

The night after the service, she would have been desperate to hold any woman in the dark, but instead she was lucky enough to hold the woman she loved. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Myka said in that dark, the same words she’d said to Christina in her new black dress, afterward. She’d also said, to Christina, “How was it?”

Christina hadn’t cried at the service, but rather sat, eyes wide, holding Helena’s hand. She hadn’t even spoken until just now, and Helena was certain that only to Myka would she have broken her silence: “They said nice things about him,” Christina responded. Then she’d leaned against Myka, as if to reassure, as if Myka were the one in need of comfort, and said, “Not the right nice things.”

****

Tonight, late at night, Myka clearly expects Helena to be pleased, both about having been asked to produce the track, and about having done it. Instead, Helena says a bitter, “It’s just a demo,” and she doesn’t quite cry about Rudy, how he was not there but should have been, why he was not there to sing a song he should have sung.

“Nothing you do is just anything,” Myka says, kissing the corners of Helena’s almost-wet eyes.

“It was the work of just one afternoon,” Helena says, trying to shake off the sadness, yet also irrationally resentful of how Myka makes her want to shake off the sadness. “I’ll be surprised if I or anyone hears of it again.”

****

Myka’s handoff is easy. Like this: A week into her two-week stay, her two weeks of lecturing and researching, she is reading in Moscow University’s library. She is heavily supervised, of course, and she has already been told that she will be gaining no access to certain authors’ work: “Sorry, not available.” (The “to you” is implied.) The librarians are happy to hand her as many issues of Novy Mir as she wants, however, particularly since she is able to show them that she herself, Myka Bering, translator of many Russian works, was mentioned in a commentary written by its editor, Alexander Tvardovsky, in 1960. She does not point out to them that Novy Mir publishes several of those authors who are considered forbidden.

It is so easy: they do not want her to take notes, so she says, “May I use my dictating machine?” It is such a novelty that all the librarians must come and look at it, speak into it, hear snippets of their own voices. After all that, how can they say no? Myka promises to be quiet with it, but there is really no need. The library is libraryesque only in that books are on offer.

So easy: when a man approaches the table and points at the machine, her first thought is that he, like the librarians, wants to acquaint himself with the dictating technology. Instead he says the correct code word, and Myka answers him in kind. She demonstrates the Philips for him, and he thanks her. He then sits at a table of his own, not far from hers, and proceeds to ignore her completely.

She asks to visit the ladies room, which is of course in an isolated location, and she is given one of “the girls”—women who fetch books from the stacks for the mostly male scholars—as an ostensible guide. Ostensible because no American can be left to roam unattended, yet this particular girl wants only to go outdoors and smoke cigarettes. She doesn’t care in the slightest about Myka, who may be American but is just a woman, and old besides. So Myka goes into the washroom, calmly disassembles the Philips, removes the device, and puts it in the pocket of her suit jacket. She then just as calmly reassembles the machine, collects her watcher (who exhibits far more care in putting out her half-smoked cigarette, to save for later, than for her Myka-watching task), goes back to the reading room, reads and dictates for another hour, then goes to the man at his table. “I forgot to show you,” she says, “that the machine plays back at two speeds.” She hands him the machine and the device at the same time, listens to her own voice weirdly manipulated, and then it is done.

An hour more she reads and dictates, then she prepares to depart. The librarians, and Myka’s heedless escort who likes to smoke outdoors, wave her goodbye. She feels no need to look over her shoulder.

The summertime sidewalks of 1964 Moscow are full and bright. The weather is fine, just right for the young women to wear sundresses, for the young men to sport shirtsleeves. Their conversations are animated. They direct their eyes high, up at billboards, particularly film advertisements, and Myka tries not to read too much into the title of one: Den’ schast’ya, Day of Happiness. A girl in a lime-green shift pulls at the hand of her male companion and directs his attention to an elaborate wooden model train in a shop window; they both laugh. The train cars’ colors are washed out, too long exposed to light in that window, no buyers. While such a sight would have been sad in New York, here, for the young and sundressed and laughing, Myka infers that it’s a mark of all they believe they are leaving behind. The faded past; who needs it?

On these same sidewalks, though, as if they have been imported from that faded past, an older generation walks heavier. Silent. They dress as if they must wear all they own or lose it, no matter the weather. They find no distraction in advertisements, and they don’t bother with window displays. The past is always there; why be reminded?

Myka tries to remind herself, and keep in the front of her mind, that she has more in common with those who walk with weight. She is doing dangerous work. She will become careless if she forgets about risk and consequences. But a sharp lightness has come to attend her time in Russia... she keeps secrets all the time, no matter where she is, but the secret she keeps here, while she is here, is distinct: the threat of its revelation accrues to her and no one else.

The most salient secret she keeps at home is vastly different, in that its discovery would damage Myka, but reverberations from that discovery would very likely destroy Helena and Christina.

Walking down a summertime sidewalk of Moscow, responsible only for her own safety, affords Myka a guilty freedom. That such freedom should be one through which she is constantly followed and watched and listened to should be ironic, but instead it seems like part of a mistaken-identity comedy, one in which Russians have been told to follow and watch and listen to Myka Bering, but they are following and watching and listening to a person who feels free, and that cannot possibly be Myka Bering, so they are following and watching and listening to the wrong person after all. Who do they think she is?

Who does she think she is?

Her final event in Russia, a week later, is a reception for all the university’s visiting American scholars. Myka is one of only three lecturers who have come for these two-weeks; several more have spent the entire now-concluding summer term here in exchange for some Soviets who are probably at similar receptions on U.S. campuses. Different hors d’oeuvres, same receptions. More than a few are scientists, which helps to explain the heavy presence of people at this party who are clearly not academics. Myka meets several American diplomats, most of whom are probably straightforwardly State; some, though, must be CIA under official cover. Similarly, there are some actual Soviet diplomatic eminences, but also, plenty of KGB making their power known.

Myka finds herself chatting with two junior diplomats—or “diplomats”—one American whose name she did not quite catch, and one Russian, his name Nikolai. Nikolai will no doubt be reporting back to his superiors everything about his American interlocutors, regardless, but in this conversation he is just a young man, dark with a softness about his mouth. “What is happening in New York?” he asks her, and his English is all right, nearly full-speed, but she tells him he should feel free to speak Russian with her.

“Want practice,” he demurs. But he flashes her a small smile as he does so. In that soft mouth, his teeth are wolf-white. Nikolai has never skipped out to smoke, outdoors or anywhere else. He is clean.

The American glimpses someone across the room and makes a “come here” motion. Myka looks over to see who is approaching... and she understands why Abigail told her not to react. “Professor Bering,” the American says, “and Nikolai, I’d like to introduce you to Joseph Holden, the famous Olympic wrestler.”

Joseph has received the same instructions Myka has; he shakes her hand and says “A pleasure, professor.” Then he shakes hands with Nikolai. The clean Russian shows his wolf teeth again, more widely.

Myka does not know anything about this, whatever “this” might be. Her fizz of ire at Abigail for not being forthcoming is probably inappropriate and definitely fruitless in this moment, but she feels it. She looks at Joseph, who always seems to make easy situations less so, and she directs that fizz at him, too.

Myka and Joseph have one moment together during which they are unobserved, or at least less closely attended to. “Why are you here?” she asks him, because she can’t stop herself.

He laughs. “Oh, I’m finding Moscow really something,” he says, his voice fully corn-fed, but that is not the end of it. Quick, quiet, he adds, “I’m bait.”

Myka has no time or space to get more from him. Nikolai reappears, and Joseph turns back to him, his charm wide, open.

The burden of risk.

****

Myka returns home from her two weeks in Russia to find... difference. Her own blood is colder, because it always is after Russia, but also because she doesn’t know the contours of the operation she brushed past. She’ll find out soon enough—she won’t let Abigail fail to read her in, not on this—but she is still shivering.

Helena, meanwhile, is hot: her demo version of “I’ll Pass” is charting.

She’d had no idea, she tells Myka, that the demo was being cut for Lester Sill—he’d been Phil’s partner at Philles Records, but their relationship had soured. “As it would,” Helena said, and Myka recognized that little curl of lip. Sill was now at Colpix, hungry for talent... Helena had been told that when the demo was played for him, he’d listened through, then stood up and walked out of his office. “We’re done,” he’d said as he left. “Release it. It’s a hit.” Helena admits to Myka that she imagines—worries?—that all he had heard was some vestige of Phil’s style, some oddity that Helena had unknowingly reproduced. That that was what caught his ear.

“It’s just one hit,” Helena says, as if in apology, and Myka can’t understand why she isn’t thrilled to have done—on her first try!—exactly what she has always intended to do. Then Helena says, “It was an accident.” This gives Myka clarity: Helena doesn’t know how to make it happen again.

After any time in Russia, Myka is always a bit more Russian than she was before. Which is not to say that she will ever understand or feel with fullness what it is to be Russian... but some not-quite-Russian lives inside her, some unschooled child of all these: her grandfather, her grandmother, all the voices she has heard on tapes, all the words on the pages she has translated, KGB, dissidents, victims, perpetrators, even young girls in sundresses. They all wrestle for pride of place within her. Those real Russians never explain themselves, never step up and tell her, never sit her down and bleed into her bones. But those Russians, and even the not-quite-one who doesn’t fill her skin, they all know: there are no accidents.

TBC

[therealkn]

David’s Resolution - Day 9

Day 9 (January 9, 2019)

Dark City (1998)

“Hey, you happen to know the way to Shell Beach?”

A man wakes up in a bathtub in a dingy apartment. He has no memory of who he is, where is he, or how he got there. Soon after he wakes up, the phone rings and he picks up, receiving a message telling him to flee before a group of people start coming after him. The man, as he leaves, learns that he is apparently “John Murdoch”, and he may or may not be a serial killer targeting prostitutes. And in his search for answers, he’ll come across a variety of interesting characters - a woman who says she’s his wife, a detective who think he’s the killer, a doctor who may or may not be trustworthy - while also questioning the reality he lives in and what the truth is.

Yep. Another movie I don’t want to go into details on regarding the plot because of spoilers. And trust me, you don’t want to spoil this movie for yourself. Go in as blind as you can. ...With that said, time to gush about this movie because this is a big favorite movie. Easily a top 10 favorite.

You know what, let’s get this out of the way. Yes, Dark City has quite a few similarities to The Matrix, even though The Matrix came out a year later. Similar themes of identity, distorting reality and such are in both films, plus lots of people in leather. although how they present themselves are very different. While the Wachowskis explored philosophical and religious themes in their cyberpunk action movie, writer/director Alex Proyas was more into telling an interesting and compelling mystery within a unique world influenced by film noir and German expressionism. Don’t get me wrong, both films are great, but if you feel The Matrix is too pretentious for you, then you may like Dark City more.

You know what both films do have that can’t be disputed? Rad-as-fuck visual design. The titular city is very dark and almost a character in itself, creating a sense of isolation, paranoia and confusion that good expressionism always invokes. It feels familiar and at the same time alien, even more when you The design feels reminiscent of Batman: The Animated Series in that it goes for a “timeless” setting that mixes modern and old settings and ideas. Actually, in a way, it does kind of feel like a comic book, as the city owes not only to classic film like Fritz Lang’s M, but also to the depiction of Gotham City in Tim Burton’s Batman, and the way the story unfolds and how scenes are framed and shot looks like comic book panels come to life. The world of this movie and the ideas present in it are absolutely fascinating, such as the concept of how memories work in this city and how tuning works and the nature of the overseers of this world.

The cast of the movie is great. On the human side, Rufus Sewell is excellent as John Murdoch, the man desperate to understand who he really is and what the hell is going on. Kiefer Sutherland’s Dr. Schreber is a hobbling, Peter Lorre-esque character whose motives are cloudy and whose allegiance is questionable... is he on the level, or is there something more sinister about him? You’ll have to watch to find out. Jennifer Connelly’s performance as John’s wife and a singer is intriguing, though it’s irritating that the theatrical cut overdubbed her singing voice. (The director’s cut rectifies this by giving us her original voice, which is pretty good.) And William Hurt’s Frank Bumstead, the police inspector investigating the murders and by extension John, comes off like a world-weary veteran similar to Morgan Freeman in Seven, who himself slowly realizes that the ramblings that both John and a former detective are saying may have some merit...

Then you get to the “Strangers”, the mysterious trenchcoated people in white who seemingly run the city, literally reshaping it however they seem fit. They act like a race based around Riff Raff from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which is fitting since not only did Alex Proyas base the Strangers on Riff Raff, but Riff Raff himself - Richard O’Brien - plays the lead Stranger character, Mr. Hand, a sinister figure tasked with hunting down John however he can. Also, all of the Strangers going by “Mr. (whatever)”, combined with the way they speak, reminded me of the henchmen from Diamonds Are Forever (or, alternately, think those two lifeguards from Codename: Kids Next Door.)

Also, Bruce Spence is in it, who to me is in the category of “hey, it’s that guy!” actors. He’s been in plenty of films: he’s the Gyro Captain in Mad Max 2 (a.k.a. The Road Warrior to us Americans), a similar character in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, the Trainman in The Matrix Revolutions, one of the sharks in Finding Nemo, an alien in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith who helped Obi-Wan on Utapau, and the Mouth of Sauron in the extended edition of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. He’s a cool guy and I like seeing him in things, and I just wanted to point it out. He’s Mr. Wall in this film, by the way, the tall Stranger who ended up- wait, what was I on about again?

Oh yeah, Strangers. The Strangers are sinister motherfuckers who run the city, using a psychic power called “tuning” to play The Sims: The Real Game, literally reshaping the city and giving people different identities and memories as they see fit. Why? They have their reasons. And their leader, known as Mr. Book (Ian Richardson), organizes a mass tuning every 12 hours where they put all the humans to sleep so they can screw with the city however they will before waking everyone up. The full extent of how this goes is disturbing and creepy, and you will see for yourself how creepy it is. But in a way, it reminds me of one of my favorite anime, The Big O, in that both stories took place in cities seemingly isolated from the world, use heavy noir elements, feature a mixture of old and new in their designs, and which explore memories and loss of memory as central themes.

Actually, a thought I had on the movie was that one could read it as some metaphor or symbolism or whatever about making movies and having people play different roles in stories and etc., but #1, that could be me reading too deep into something and #2, I can’t go into further detail without spoilers.

I’ll mention that this movie had an interesting release. It barely broke even in the box office, and some critics liked it while others had more lukewarm reactions. But there was one person in particular who absolutely loved the movie, and it was none other than Roger Ebert. “Love” is a strong word, and it applies to his glowing review of the film, but it goes further than that: he called it the best film of 1998, he put it on his list of “Great Movies” in 2005, he would use the film in his teaching about movies, and he contributed audio commentary for both versions of the film on its DVD release. This doesn’t really have anything to do with the review, but I find it interesting to mention. And it’s why I mentioned Roger Ebert in the “Next time” message for this review that makes sense only to the guy who writes this. (Boy, two bits of rambling...)

This movie does have a director’s cut, and while the theatrical cut is still a great film, the director’s cut is even better. What’s most interesting is that it not only changes scenes from the theatrical cut and adds some more scenes to make the film feel even more fleshed out, it also makes minor changes that apply to the entire film. The theatrical cut has largely blue and grey coloring that gives the film a colder and more detached feeling, while the director’s cut uses more yellows and greens, which I feel gives it a more disorienting and sickening feeling, like there’s something just underneath that doesn’t sit well and could represent how John sees the world. The effects used for John’s tuning are also tweaked: the theatrical cut’s effects looked a lot like when Mr. Freeze fired his freeze gun in Batman & Robin, while the director’s cut uses more subtle effects. Point goes to the director’s cut there. But really, you should watch both versions. I watched the theatrical cut first, even with that opening monologue (which I feel isn’t really a big spoiler since you learn what it mentions pretty early in the movie, plus, does it really spoil anything that major?) and it’s still good.

You know how people say they instantly love a movie the first time they see it? That’s this movie for me. I highly recommend it. If you like The Big O, film noir, expressionism, mystery thrillers, or just want something like The Matrix without perceived intellectual posturing, then here you go. Everyone go see this movie, it’s great.

Next time: Four people, one camera, and a lot of neuroses.

[livia-lerynn]

30 Days of Fic, Plus the Ones I Was Too Damn Tired: The 28th Day

I never said they were gonna be sequential, but dayum, this one is late.

Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7ByeIcjAvk7BzN4WgrC7f0?si=M-ORnYu7QjOc4J_YI5_MAg 

“Everybody ready?” Dag asks as she squeezes Cheedo’s hand.  A whispered murmur of agreement rises from the group.  “Then make sure I’m doing this right.”  

“Just flip the switch,” says Furiosa.

Max nods behind her.  He shuffles then switches his hands to different pockets as if he’s unsure what to do with them.  He’s as close to Furiosa as she lets anyone, and he seems painfully aware.  She doesn’t.

“And put the record on the player?” Cheedo asks slowly, trying to make sure she has all the steps set.  

“Nah, Coma should play,” says Dag.

Furiosa sits in a folding chair like she used to back when she was the Vault’s guard.  “He would like that.”

“And they’ll hear you all the way at the Bulletfarm,” Dag shouts as she slaps Coma on the back.  

Max leans forward, his hand on Furiosa’s shoulder.  “Further.”

“But what song?” asks Cheedo.  “It’s gotta be a good one.”  They’ve been pouring over the War Boys’ record collection and Max’s box of cartridges every night ever since they first found them.  Cheedo knows the perfect recordings, but the right song for Coma to play has her stumped.  

The older Vuvalini exchange whispers and cryptic rhythms.  “All You Need Is Love?”  “Nah, too hokey.”  “Get What You Give?” “How does that one go?”  

Ace shuffles in his seat.  “I’ve got one.”

The others stare for a moment before Dag says, “Go on, out with it.”

Ace leans over Coma as he hums <em>Mm-Mm-Mm, Mmm-mm.</em>.  Then he drums a rhythm on Coma’s shoulder that elicits enthusiastic nods of approval.  “Coma knows it.”

Dag’s eyes dart from face to face.  “And again, everybody ready?”

She hardly waits for an answer before flicking the main switch.  At first nothing happens, but then a single pop of static announces that they just have a near perfect signal.  Dag takes a deep breath as she squeezes Cheedo’s palm with one hand and  lifts the handset with the other.

“Good evening, Wasteland.  You are listening to…” Dag pauses to grin and shake off some nervous energy… “Radio Free Citadel.  I’m your host bringing you songs of Before and After.”  

The others give Dag nods of encouragement.  Yes, she’s saying all the right things.  Yes, she really does sound like radio people did.

“This one comes from our own Doof Corps here at the Citadel.  This is no recording, mates.”

“It comes to you live,” one of the Vuvalini feeds her, and she repeats.  

Then Dag passes the handset to Ace who flashes a signal to Coma.  The rooftop garden erupts into music.  Then a screech of <em>Eeeeeee</em> sends everyone covering their ears until Max runs the radio set up further from the corps who play on, undeterred.

Ace takes a breathe, closes his eyes, and sings, “The heart is a bloom, shoots up from the stoney ground.”

Dag practically dives into Cheedo’s chest as she squeals with excitement.  Cheedo has to squeal too though she manages to keep hers a bit more muffled.  Everything is just so overwhelmingly, impossibly good.  “You did great,” she assures Dag.  “We all did.”   This is the culmination of days and days of work, from sourcing the radio parts to learning to operate them, but it’s more.  <em>Free</em> isn’t just something people say in the names of radio stations, although the Vuvalini insist it is that as well, it’s a truth and a promise.  

“Do you think anyone’s listening?” Dag asks.

The Corps plays on.  “You thought that you found a friend, to take you out of this place, someone you could lend a hand in return for grace.”

Cheedo nods as she pictures a family huddled around a box with a hand crank like the kind Max first showed them.  She imagines everyone taking a turn with the cranks until their hands tire, and someone else takes over.  It’s like a family from a storybook, a mom and a dad, two kids, and a baby who doesn’t get to turn the crank but is fascinated by the motion.  “Someone’s gotta be.”

“You’re on the road, but you’ve got no destination…”

Dag agreed, “And even if they don’t find us tonight, there will be other nights.”

“And when we go on trade runs,” Cheedo offers.

“Yeah.”  Dag grins.  “We’ll advertise.  Have Max talk us up at Bartertown too.”

“It’s a Beautiful Day.  Don’t let it get away.  It’s a beautiful day….”

“Do you think the signal goes that far?” Cheedo asks even though she doesn’t expect Dag to know any better than she does.  For both of them the radio might as well be magic.

“It will.  You saw Furiosa with that antenna.”  Dag holds a finger to her forehead and shifts it like a fly’s antenna.  “She’s not satisfied.  She wants it better.”

Cheedo’s gaze drifts to Furiosa who looks lost in thought on her usual chair.  Max is still behind her if not so close as he was before.  He’s got that twitchiness about him they all sometimes get but Max most of all.  It’s almost like he doesn’t know how to just relax and listen to music.  

“Touch me.  Take me to that other place.  Teach me.  I know I’m not a hopeless case...”

The next time Cheedo looks up, Max and Furiosa are both gone, snuck off somewhere.  

“What you don’t have, you don’t need it now…”

As the song ends, Cheedo preps the record player for the song she’s chosen.  Her hands shake as she slides the black disc from its sheath of thick but crumbling paper.  She takes care not to further damage the paper; it’s com along way to reach this time, this place, like they all have.  None of them are the same as when they started out, why should this bit of paper be any different?  

Cheedo and Dag exchange Max’s thumb sign before Dag announces, “Our Doof Corps is gonna take a break, but no worries, we’re gonna fill this After night with the voices of Before, long before our oldest old was born.” Cheedo holds her breath as she lowers the delicate arm onto the record.  The needle skips over a groove, until ancient voice demand, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T...”

“Yessiree mates,” Dag continues.  “Listen to those Before Women.”  She sets the handset down beside the record player and then wraps her arms around Cheedo. “We have a show.  We have a show.”

[pixiealtaira]

I would like to learn more about...

Pairing: None. Kurt-centric slice of life. Probably not Rachel friendly, I just see it as being her but others might see it as more unfriendly.

Rachel hovered over Kurt as he filled out the class schedule for his first semester at NYADA.   He’d already been placed in the dance class and vocal class and workshop time, he now needed to flesh out the rest of the semester with classes that he could take that weren’t the second half of topics and didn’t require a class as a prerequisite.

“I’ll have to take First year Drama and script analysis over the summer.  Madame Tibideaux said if I went both summer sessions I could take those classes and the rest of first year voice and dance. I can only take a max 10 credits during summer sessions, and that is that right there.  I could get in speech and maybe the math general requirement now though.  With Modern Musical Theater and that Exploration of Dramatic arts course I would have a good start. That would probably be about max credit wise anyway.”

“You aren’t going home to Lima in the summer?”  Rachel asked quietly.

“No, I have to catch up so I can be on course by next year. My college fund is not unlimited.  And at NYADA all it is going to cover is tuition.”

“But Kurt…”

“Sorry, Rachel.  It wouldn’t hurt you to stay here.  You could find a job and see if you could get permission to audition.”

Rachel scoffed.  “I already plan to audition whenever something I might want comes up.  I told Madame Tibideaux that as well.  She can’t actually stop me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Did you ever consider the recommendation for no auditioning until you are given the go ahead might be there for a reason?”  Kurt asked.

“And I know the reason. It is so that they have less competition.  Rumor has it most the teachers at NYADA do at least one professional show a year.  They just keep the students down so they don’t outshine the teachers.” Rachel said and Kurt could tell she was serious.

“Anyway,” Kurt continued, interrupting what he knew would end up a huge rant if he let Rachel get into it. ”I need to go in and test my musical theory foundation and piano skills for placement in those classes, but those are each just one credit a piece. But taking the classes will have to wait till fall.  Then in fall I can take English Comp and World History.  That is six credits and a good chunk of my generals out of the way. Hmm…so let’s see…Dance is four credits, vocal and workshop is four credits...and six more.  That is fourteen, plus musical theory and piano…so 16.   Hmm, if I add projection, which is one credit and History of Theater in America, which is three, I’ll still be under 21, which is the max without getting all sorts of permissions and such.”

“But, we won’t share any classes.” Rachel said.

“Aren’t you taking the English class?”  Kurt asked.

Rachel snorted.  “I need to focus, Kurt.  My dads came with me and helped set up my first year schedule. I have dance, vocal class and workshop, a private lesson, and first year acting with emphasis on musical theater. WE think 12 credits are enough and will allow my focus to be properly pointed to where I can show the most star power. They advised sticking as close to that as possible for the next year as well.”

“What about script analysis and your generals and oh…the rest?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Attention won’t be focused on me in those classes, Kurt.  And if I can’t keep the focus I won’t get the roles I deserve.  I need to be seen. I am certain I’ll be able to get them covered without having to actually take them.”

“And here I thought the purpose of NYADA was to learn all about musical theater and become better prepared for a career in the industry.” Kurt said.

“By being seen at what you shine at.” Rachel answered.

Kurt snorted and went about filling out a schedule in which what he wanted to take didn’t overlap.

Rachel grumbled and muttered under her breath about letting her set his schedule up, but he plugged along and got his classes set up like he wanted.  He briefly wondered what she was going to do when she wasn’t let into certain classes next year due to prerequisites not being taken.

Rachel forgot her complaints about his schedule by the time they started classes anyway, except when he wasn’t home to fix her food when she wanted him to.

She whined about him taking summer courses again when it was close to summer.  She had wanted him to follow her to the theater while they started putting together Fanny so he could do all her running for her, like make her coffee or feed her lines when she forgot them.

“Sorry,” Kurt told her the third time she demanded he not take the summer courses. “Not only do I have my NYADA courses but I managed to get into a class recommended at Vogue.com. I’m taking a photography course being offered by one of the photographers who does the regular magazine photos.  It is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Why?”

“Because I was offered the chance when I asked her why she made a choice she made while setting up one of the shoots that showcased the summer scarves we had a small write up on. Thea had a spot open in this class and told me she’d love me to fill it since I was asking questions that had substance.”

Rachel looked at him as if he were speaking a different language.  “I mean why would you take a photography class?  That has nothing to do with starring on Broadway.  What a waste of time!  If I were you, I’d use the time you spend there doing something useful…like auditioning.” Rachel said with a sneer.

“I already told you, I will wait to audition until I have something to put down on paper and have more classes under my belt.”

“You’re going to wait for permission aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Kurt replied. “Anyway, Photography is fascinating. I have such a great deal of respect for most of the photographers who I’ve met and this is simply the opportunity of a lifetime.  She even set up a photography basics course for me to take before I go to her classes.  I can’t wait. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever use it professionally, but if I can create with it for my own enjoyment and also learn what makes a great photo for different purposes for use with vogue.com it will be worth every moment.”

Rachel was of course fine with Kurt taking photos when they ended up being able to be used for her portfolio.

Blaine didn’t get into New York until three days before NYADA started back up again…Sam in tow, so Kurt didn’t have to hear ‘why are you taking’ whatever it was that seemed silly for him to take to whoever was complaining (as Santana joined in for Fall semester complaining) from Blaine at least.  This was good because Rachel and Santana were annoying and loud enough to keep Kurt on edge. He was already stressed because he was having to rearrange what he’d tried to put in before…but his yr. two vocals class and intermediate dance class interfered with his previous set up. Rachel had wanted him to just drop what he’d had to pull out of all together but instead he just switched courses.   He’d tested out of musical theory thankfully, because it was one that didn’t fit any longer, and he’d managed to keep projection and history of theater, but Eng. comp and world history were moved to online courses which had a full year to finish and so didn’t count into his credit count and his piano course had had to be postponed.  On Santana’s and Rachel’s list to complain about were the screenwriting class, choral for chorus, world literature and sight singing.  Rachel also tossed fits over the online courses…because they took away time from Kurt following her off to Callbacks and watching her sing and cheering her on. Or rather watching her and Blaine sing and cheering them on, since Blaine was ‘allowed’ to sing with Rachel and while he was out with Rachel, whereas Kurt was just supposed to sit and cheer for her.  Kurt loved having online homework to do as an excuse to stay home personally…a year of just sitting and waiting for her to ‘allow’ him to play as well was enough.

“Look,” Kurt finally snapped.  “After world lit, I have five more general courses to take.  I might plan on being a star someday, but sight reading music and being part of a chorus are just good skills to be able to bring to the game.  And honestly, you two…how can you scoff at screenwriting?  To make your own script? The power of writing, of being the creator of a whole show? How can you not see the appeal?”

“But Kurt, those classes will take away from your voice courses and dance and acting classes! Where is your focus and pin pointed passion!” Rachel yelled.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “The same place it has been since I got here.  NYADA is a place to learn all about the theater profession…not just singing.   The more I know, the more I have to bring to the table when I go out to audition. Those credits listed on a CV matter, Rachel.  The more I participate throughout the school, in a variety of areas, the more professionals in the school I meet and hopefully the more letters of recommendation I can bring with me.  Not everyone gets handed their dream role right off the bat like you did.  The rest of us will have to fight our way into a role.”

“I had to fight for my role, Kurt.” Rachel snarled.

“No, you really didn’t Rachel.”  Kurt said. “Talk to other people who have gone to open call auditions.  You got lucky and went to auditions on an appointment system because your casting director for the show had been suffering from migraines and decided a traditional open call wouldn’t be an option.  Did you think that was normal?  How auditions are generally held here?”

Rachel shrugged.  “I didn’t think about it.  Why would I?”

Kurt rolled his eyes.

“I have no idea why you might think about how things are generally done in the profession you are going into.”  Kurt sneered.

“Besides, I’m going to be famous now and they will always have me audition privately and first for any role I want from now on.”  Rachel added…completely seriously.

Kurt finalized his schedule and resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall…or strangle Rachel.

Unfortunately, Blaine was around to join in the complaints when Kurt signed up for his Spring Semester classes for his second year.  Blaine complained about Mime and Movement the most, although he complained about the Kurt taking such a full load to begin with.  Rachel complained about Stage Combat. Santana scoffed at Shakespeare and his Health and Wellness class.   He was also taking the next parts of his second year vocal and workshop, dance, piano fundamentals, and half his 2yr acting course. Needless to say after all the complaining he was highly surprised to see Blaine in Mime and Movement, let alone his second year vocal and workshop and acting class . In fact, the only two classes Blaine wasn’t in were Kurt’s dance class and his Health and Wellness course.  Blaine complained about Kurt’s course choices all semester long.

Kurt hid when he signed up for classes during the next summer.  Not that it mattered.  There was no one left to whine and complain at him about his choices at all.  Not even Dani and Elliot.  Not that Kurt blamed them.  Between Santana being around and being horrid to Dani after that relationship didn’t work and Rachel’s treatment of the both after she was not included in the remake of the band and Blaine screeching at Elliot and then treating him like he was garbage from then on out, Kurt couldn’t fault them for being driven away…on good days.  On bad days Kurt couldn’t fault them for staying away from his toxic being.

His gloom lasted through the first session of summer classes.  He’d taken his biology /anatomy class with a lab, getting that science credit needed for the full BA, and ethics class and his first audition techniques class, as well as adding Intro to guitar and Songwriting basics. It was a full 10 credits, but it had knocked off two more general courses and some of the single credit courses he hadn’t fit in yet.   He did a summer acting workshop as well which wasn’t counted in his credits but Madame Tibideaux counted as the other half of his 2yr acting.   It stretched through both summer sessions and Kurt figured by the end of it he’d spent more time acting than if he’d taken the class.

His second summer session was filled with dance specifics.  Three credits of Tap and three credits of Ballet, then single credit ballroom technique and Jazz ensemble dance.  He asked and got permission to stretch his session to 11 credits and added Jazz Harmonies, Dialects and Cold Readings Techniques.

Cassandra July didn’t allow moping.  Kurt was in her class and in her presence every day of the week for several hours.

Cassandra July loved pointing out your personal issues. However, oddly enough, she made Blaine out to be the idiot of the tale…the one who flunked out because he was too much a pompous ass to do things in the proper order and proper manner, the idiot who threw his money around and tossed fits and demanded special treatment to get himself put into classes he wasn’t in any manner prepared for. She drug Rachel through the wringer, and Kurt could not fault her one bit.  She just growled at Kurt for letting their desertion drag him down instead of celebrating the freedom their absence afforded him.

Cassandra July pointed everything out loudly, in public.  Within a week, guys who he’d been as friendly as he was able to be with in Stage Combat and Mime class without Blaine flipping his lid were coming up to him and talking to him.  Elliot called and asked f Kurt wanted to hang out.  Dani called and invited herself over to the loft, to help him cleanse it of lingering bad vibes. Friends he’d made in Adam’s Apples who he hadn’t been able to talk to for over a year called out of the blue.

Thea asked if he wanted to take another photography class…or rather, it turned out, follow her around to shoots on weekends and learn how to work shoots and do quick edits on site. Isabelle got back from her stint in LA and involved him more within the social circles at vogue again and colluded with Ms. July to have Kurt practice his ballroom dance with people Isabelle found several times over the course of the session.  Kurt hadn’t even been aware the two knew each other well enough to interfere with his blues.

Isabelle and Dani also somehow got together and found him a good therapist.  (A bit of an unholy pairing which also led to several articles on Roller Derby styles…much to Kurt’s dismay.)

Elliot, Chase, and Dani were with him when he was trying to figure out the schedule for his third year of NYADA.  They looked over his shoulder as he registered his courses online.

“I thought this semester was work study?” Dani said.

“It’s the year actually, half is work study and the other half is ‘from script to stage’, which means costume and design, lighting and sound basics, make-up arts, set design and stage craft, and intro to directing.  They basically split the 3rd years into two groups and tell them which semester they are supposed to do which in.  My name was drawn for first semester for work study. At NYADA, if you don’t leave the city for work study, that simply means 4 credits of dance and four credits of vocal and workshop, 3 credits of generals and if your work study isn’t calculated to be at least six credit hours, then also the three credit screen and studio class on top of work study.  I’m signing up for the class just in case so IF I have to take it my spot is there. And I’m taking full advantage of the option of registering a full year 3rd year and getting my spots in spring semester solidified.  During your script to stage semester you have to have a vocal specialty class…I’m aiming for  harmonies, a dance specialty class…Ms. July suggested Irish Dance and Clogging essentials, and an acting specialty…I’m going with the improve class. To top off the bunch you need a three credit general in there, too.  I choose the arts appreciation course…it is mostly a lot of watching and attending and write-ups, which will be nice contrast to all the doing of that semester.”

“Are they trying to kill you third year?”  Chase asked.

Kurt laughed.  “Most those courses, like costume and lighting, are available to the non-musical theater students from the start for the most part, but we are pretty much kept out until our third year.  I think they set it up this way to give us musical theater brats an ego check.  Also, this forces some people to get involved in courses other than their vocals and dance and acting. Sadly, Rachel wasn’t the only one to have basically avoided courses that didn’t spot light her.  Others seem to look forward to this year with gleeful anticipation.”

“So…”Elliot said.

“So?” Kurt asked.

“So…what are you signing up for?” Elliot prompted.

“Oh!  So, Ms. July put me into acrobatic dance…more focus on leaps and tumbling and stuff, instead of her regular advanced dance course. She said it was because I have been doing dance during summers and have been ‘suitably committed’ to doing well in class, but Jules from Stage Combat last year said that third year regular advanced dance does a lot of Ballroom style dancing so I figure she moved me because I took ballroom already and have that cheer background that she’d like to torture me with. Then I have a vocal hour with Larson and a vocal hour with Tibideaux, and the two hour Tibideaux workshop. Larson is not happy, but he said if she doesn’t use me better this year she will not get me next semester at all and he will sign off for the extra credits next semester to have me for vocals and workshops to himself.   I’m taking History of the Cinema, with focus on Musicals, for my general elective course. If I get the work study project at the Old Actor’s home…it will be 7 to 8 credit hours and I will do the studio class in summer.  If I get the Children’s theater project instead it is six credits and I’ll have to talk to Tibideaux about the studio course.”

“Which work study project do you want most?” Dani asked.

“You know, I don’t really care.” Kurt said. “I would love to work at the home again. I love spending time with everyone there. But working with kids would be fun, too.  I just want either of those projects.  My third and fourth choices weren’t as fun sounding.”

“If you work with the kids, I want to tag along sometime.” Elliot said.  “I have always wanted to learn enough about how to put together a youth drama program and have it be successful enough to last several years. It would be a great chance to maybe pick some minds.”

“Are you totally looking forward to your second semester?” Chase asked.

Kurt smiled. “You know, I am.  I’ve been looking forward to these classes since I started NYADA.  I declared a musical theater major from the very start, which I wished I hadn’t after talking with Adam after just a few weeks, but it was too late really, otherwise I would have taken some of the classes during my very first semester.  I mean, costume design?  Who wouldn’t want to take that?”

“Well, I can’t wait for you to take them…I expect you to sneak some time on the machines in there to put together some costumes for the band!  I don’t have access to the costume shop anymore.” Elliot said.

Kurt laughed.  

“You know, maybe you could see if you can add any of what you learn in your dance courses into the band dancing, as well.” Dani added.  “I mean some leaps and jumps would be bound to get the girls all hot and bothered…and that is always good for future show turnouts.”

“Not to mention the men in the audience.” Chase added.

Kurt leaned back and looked at his friends, marveling at the difference it made when people truly wanted what was best for you and not just them.  Elliot ruffled his hair and made Kurt squeak.

“You finished?” Dani asked.

Kurt nodded. “I’ll get an email confirmation in the morning.”

“Then I suggest we party! I hear a club calling our names!” Dani shouted.

Kurt smiled and stood up, heading straight for the door. “First round of whatever we are drinking tonight is on me. I am feeling quite fabulous.”

The four friends headed out, a haze of laughter following them.

[spockandawe]

Top 5 reasons you like Windblade and Top 5 reasons you like Windscream (maybe Top 5 Transformers Pitch ship if you like but if not it ok)

OOOOH, all excellent questions!!!

Top 5 reasons I like Windblade

She doesn’t have the war background to give her societal context, just like Tailgate and Nautica don’t, but she’s so fascinating, because she’s put herself right in the middle of a political minefield

AND she went into this hornet’s nest (and stayed there, almost completely alone) because she thought it was the right thing to do

Plus oh my goodness the whole thing with not wanting to depose Starscream and trying to work with him, even while disagreeing him on a philosophical level? And even while he’s being… Starscream? It’s so rare to see a character in here who willingly dives into that kind of compromise instead of having to be fenced into it, and her doing this with Starscream despite how difficult he makes it, just. I love her so much.

Ahhhhh, that balance of idealism (and the sort of construction-focused ambition that goes with her flavor of idealism) against the way people keep trying to tie her down or cage her, and how she manages to hold onto her ideals even while the world is beating on her. I’d say ‘that moment in TAAO 12′, but… everything in TAAO 12. From saving Starscream to helping forge him fresh to what she says to vigilem about the spark burning away ‘everything that isn’t true’ (that’s so conditional, I choose to believe he isn’t 100% gone. brain ghost titans are too good to waste).

And she’s so good. She’s so persistently kind and sweet, and she’s so naturally caring, but without it devolving into any sort of boring caretaker stereotype. She’s just so good-hearted and I adore her. I don’t know if I could dislike her.

(frivolous sixth reason: she is gorgeous)

Top 5 reasons I like windscream

Let’s lead off with that frivolous sixth reason this time: they are two gorgeous mechs who look gorgeous together, and even have complementary color schemes. It’s meant to be (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) Also, FEMDOM.

Then, let’s see. The way they disagree very strongly on like… the fundamentals of how to approach a task. Politics is the easy one, but tbh… almost any task. They often share end goals, but so much about them is so incredibly different, and it makes for an electric dynamic. They constantly disagree, but they orbit each other so naturally. I write mostly Windblade POV, but they’ve both got this massive undercurrent of fascination with the other one that neither of them wants to admit to themselves or out loud (windblade’s a little more willing, just because she doesn’t see attachment as a vulnerability the way starscream does).

She’s so young and innocent and inexperienced (even though she’s gaining experience very quickly), and he’s older than the war and incredibly cynical/paranoid/burned out. Neither of those positions are sustainable. But if it makes sense, like… it’s hard to see the weak spots in your OWN position, it’s easier to see them for other people. They’re perfect complements for each other, once they manage to actually listen. In a political sense, but also on a more personal, emotional level.

She doesn’t have that war background that most of the cast has. So many people have so many reasons not to trust/like Starscream. Which is, y’know. Justified. From both sides. And even if he’s genuinely trying to build something of himself PAST the war now, there are really not many people who will give him a fair shake. Windblade isn’t totally ignorant of his history or anything, I’m sure, but not living it herself makes it a little easier to look at Starscream and trust him to not be that same person with those same priorities.

They are both so petty and ridiculous when they’re annoyed, oh my goodness. I don’t know what it is, but these two, just. It flows so naturally. They’re both competent adults doing difficult jobs and doing them pretty well, but stick them together and they’re acting about as mature as middle schoolers trying to provoke each other. It’s fun on its own, but it feels even nicer because 1) Starscream isn’t having his sharp edges filed off, but 2) having all the sharp edges be pointed in this ridiculous, petty direction takes so much genuine venom out of the thing, and makes some space for him to Do An Emotion (and to get somewhere without shooting himself twenty million times in the foot) (nobody does self-sabotage like starscream)

But then, that goodness I mentioned for Windblade up above? If I balance them right, she doesn’t take unjustified shit from him. She works loyally with him as a team, while also arguing the points she disagrees with. She feels lots of sympathy for what she can see of his current emotional state and the bits and pieces of what she gradually learns about his megatron-specific past. But she can do that without turning him into some broken bird she wants to heal. She’s going to be all bristly and protective over anyone who poses a threat, and she’ll try to prod him into eating more or going out for a flight, but she’s not going to flutter and simper over him either. And Starscream has someone who isn’t afraid to fite him, but doesn’t want to do him harm either, and who isn’t drastically changing their everything out of ~pity~ for him. It means a lot to him (secretly) that someone would ever EVER put themself in harm’s way to protect him, but oh my god you idiot you are a baby and have never been in a real fight, YOU get behind ME. The push-pull between them, I just… it makes me sigh the happiest sigh ever

And my top 5 pitch transformers ships! Oh man, this is going to be interesting to break out, because I don’t usually mentally filter on quadrant, I filter on character, or d/s dynamics maybe, trying to pick out all the pitch bits out of the mess is going to be a challenge.

Windblade/Starscream is a gimme after all that up above, so that doesn’t count for the list :P

Drift/Ratchet. I adore these two, and I really really really love the way they went from tense and sometimes hostile to the emotional support they’ve got now. But it doesn’t feel them if Drift isn’t teasing or prodding him. Vulnerability is good, but it’s not like… steady state Drift. Drift is silly and has a sense of humor and is friendly and good natured, and Ratchet is dour, and both of them naturally care a LOT. But they’re opposites in so many ways that I live to see them both quietly being prodprodprod with a curtain of not-exactly-hostility overlaying a whole lot of trust and affection.

Whirl/Cyclonus, although I tend towards a very pitchpale feeling with them instead of pure pitch. But Whirl is not good with soft and squishy emotions, so at least pretending it’s full-on pitch sits better with him. This is a case where there are just soooo many similarities between them, what with their wartime pasts, being lorge and exceptionally good at violence, having a very difficult time with friendly social connections. But also, MAN do they get off to a rough start XD But that bit in 47 where Cyclonus tells Whirl that he knew Whirl would tell him the truth, even if it hurt? And Whirl was brutally honest with him? Oh my god so pitchpale, I DIEEEED. And both of them are bad at communication, both of them are quietly full of moral injuries, both of them are really surprisingly pro-social when they’re put on the spot, and do a LOT to protect other people. I love love love them.

…….Prowl/Rewind. With Chromedome in the middle, but that’s the pitch piece. Not necessarily healthy, but SO EMOTIONALLY CHARGED, holy shit. I poked at this once in a fic (ending disastrously). But I also want to do a near-disaster that works out okay (the solution is to put Chromedome in the middle until the scene has momentum). Or Prowl/Fort Max, which is even more complicated, and may necessitate the addition of Red Alert and Cerebros as buffers between them.

Similarly, Starscream/Windblade/Knock Out, all pitch, with Breakdown on the side being completely made for companionable needling. Starscream and Windblade, I have already said a ridiculous number of words :P Knock Out and Windblade have all this potential to be fascinating to each other, because their cultures are so different, but Windblade was able to get a win in Velocitronian politics, and Knock Out is from a colony with a living, functional titan (one in almost a waking coma, but hey). And they’re both outspoken and open with their thoughts and he can be so petty the same way Starscream can, and it’s deliciously infuriating and she just– (but also, windblade and breakdown being sweet with each other, and exasperated and fond while starscream and knock out get distracted and ridiculous with each other).

And…. hmm hm hm. I don’t have much of a continuity in mind except to specify not IDW, because IDW OP is being an ass. But Starscream/OP. There’s something about Starscream and disillusionment with Megatron as a leader, plus fascination with Megatron’s opposite and parallel, but without dropping the established hostility with the autobots, and demanding as much out of Optimus as he would demand from Megatron, and just, so good. So hard to established without ‘to end this war you need to robot marry’ sorts of scenarios, but soooooo good. So like, in TFP, Optimus is so chill and placid, and Starscream is high-strung and emotional, and everything about them finding a stable orbit with each other is so fun. Or TFA, Starscream is old and cynical, Optimus is young and inexperienced (I sure do love that sort of ship :V), massively differing ideologies, experienced cynicism versus young, idealistic optimism, and a HUGE size difference because mmmm priorities. Lov this ship.

And there are others, where I either haven’t pinned down the words or don’t have a good scenario or justification, or just can’t say as much about them. Soundwave/OP, Soundwave/Starscream, Pyra Magna/OP, Elita One/OP, Pyra Magna/Elita One, Rung/Froid, Overlord/Tarn, Overlord/Megatron, Deathsaurus/Rodimus (shh sh sh it makes sense), Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, Arcee/Prowl, Arcee/Windblade, Elita One/Windblade. Hahaha, I’m trying to run through the cast by characters and see what I remember :P

Bumblebee/Starscream has pitch overtones, but Bumblebee is so much of a sweetheart and Starscream is being open because just a ghost amiright??? and he wobbles out of pitch pretty easily. TFP specifically is good for Knock Out/Bumblebee and Shockwave/Soundwave. Jazz/Starscream is another one that’s superficially pitch, except Jazz is being difficult and slippery and refusing to make a single real move into that quadrant. Some of these might jump into the list if I can get them written out in a story, but for the moment, I can’t quite words them.

[anxietyfuckingsucks-blog1]

Mod Sun

mod is a short form of modern and sun is always bright and brilliant but deady if too close

what does this say about his being and who he aspires to be? whatever and whoever this is, is positive and filled with glowing intentions

modern sun. a being who is young and in the current moment..lets face it were always young and time is nonexistent to me--still debating it though bc is anything ever truly nonexistent? anyway, i see an old soul and old friend through this. i am a child of everything. i find myself in everyone and find everyone in myself.

although i lean towards helping people in negative situations, my favorite are those who conquer and turn hardships into productivity. even people who have not had the same hardships as myself, or maybe less in general, and always remain so upbeat BLOW me out of the water. I aspire to be like them in that sense. through this ive made friends of all kinds.. one was a boy in high school who i became rather close with. I was an “outcast” and he played all sports possible which he somehow always succeeded in. He was widely known and was known usually for coming across as an asshole, and oh man, sometimes, he really was. We clashed heads and opinions lots, but our good times outweighed any disagreement by a landslide.

i remember the first time i saw him. i had my usual resting bitch face on and he looked at me, and i glared at him. he smiled and laughed and said “cheer up, buttercup!” and i responded with “dont tell me what to do”

he looked at me a little weird but throughout time we had classes together and passed each other in the hallways. he always took the time to say hello in an excited and energetic manner. 

it threw me off, but i was curious. i sat with him one day in class and complimented something that i cannot remember. friendship was not immediate, but hugs started becoming a once in a while thing, and by the time i hit senior year, they were daily. 

senior year gym class we had all year together. one day he forgot his clothes and i was like MAAAN WHAT THE FUCK WHO AM I GONNA TALK TO? um the answer was other people because i enjoyed everyone but he was my fave along with a girl from another class of mine

he didn’t react right away and shrugged and walked away. this was SO not like him so i gave him space, told him i was here when he was ready, and would observe him silently. being a wallflower is beautiful.

the next day we saw each other in gym and i offered a hug. i told him that one of the things i appreciated most about him was his energy and that although i understood he couldnt always have it, i missed it. he smiled and sighed and we sat down on a bench and was like “can i talk to you?” my face must have lit up and i was like “yes but quick run into the locker room and change back into normal clothes before the doors lock.” he was like uh, okay, but why? that kills your grade and youre a fucking bitch about getting grades

i laughed so hard and was like “because silly, if were gonna talk were gonna do it right. ill sacrifice my grade for you to feel like someone has their full attention on you.”

we both bolted and came back out. it was the first time we had more than 30 mins max to talk and have a full convo. through that convo, i realized he didnt have as much as i had preconceived him to. i realized that he hurt, his life wasn’t perfect. although he was talented he felt lonely and felt as if no one understood him. we spent our time sitting side by side outside and looking around, and planned a day together at our school’s ropes course. 

a few weeks later he “forgot” his clothes and asked me to “forget” mine. we went up to the ropes course that day with the class, but sat aside to talk. we laughed so hard we were in tears, everyone was looking at us oddly but we had not a care in the world.

later on we would revist that course together and jumped around and moved through it. i was not as agile as he, but i admired how he could do these things almost effortlessly...even though the course creaked and squeaked and felt like it could be a death trap. i also admired how he laughed at my failure and made rude jokes but would immediately come over to pick me up off the ground and then say “watch me” ..through trial and error i became slightly better and enjoyed that i was doing it more. i was less embarassed, more willing to do it without hesitation.

through this we bonded mentally and physically. i trusted him more. id let him pick me up during hugs which i NEVER did. we gave each other piggy back rides randomly because we felt like it. the image is funny..a “scene” kid with a face that was mainly stone and intimidating at first...on the back of a jock. i was always smiling in some way. whether he was running to give me a scare and i was screaming at him, or whether we did it with leisure, we were always smiling. sometimes hed carry me or my books while telling me about his life and deciding on whether or not he just wanted me to listen or offer advice as well.

we were always a funny image. two seemingly opposites who always found a way to attract. he started borrowing things from me, band shirts, brass knuckle necklaces. he told me how pretty i looked in more feminine clothes. we both loved who were were at heart, but enjoyed seeing the other one take on something more similar to the other person, even if it wasnt comfortable at first. 

we had an affectionate friendship, but at the same time, always kept our distances. we had interests in each other that allowed us to be fascinated with each other together and apart. we never went beyond a hug for three years i believe. i went my way, he went his. but if we came back in sight, we acknowledged each other. we talked outside of school here and there, but rarely ever hung out. 

through a gym conversation with him, he told me that sometimes he would go home and look up words in the dictionary to try to learn them so that he could come in to school and impress me. he told me that he felt intimidated by the flow of my words even though they always had a way to do whatever i wanted them to. he said i made him feel dumb. WHYYY the fuuuuck would he feel like this? just because i was a decent student didn’t mean that I couldnt enjoy someone who didn’t excell as much in something as i did. I brought my hands over my face and said through them something along the lines of “duuuude what the FUCK” and i removed my hands and said “i am so sorry, that is never my intention. you did not have to do that bc i love you for who you are and who you truly aspire to be” 

that was the first time i said i loved him where i could feel it. worlds collided and somehow meshed together. i realized that even intelligence and stupidity could find common grounds. and through that, he has taught me much. i am forever grateful for him and will carry him in life with me. 

of course he picked up on “i love you” and my immediate face of realization and shock afterwards. he smiled and questioned it as if he needed the extra reassurance. i made a face and he said “cheer up buttercup” i smiled, he hugged me, and we split our ways to enjoy our other friends in the class. 

although we both thought we were attractive, we did not go beyond that for three years. sometimes hed smack my ass but id turn right around and hit him back. cant tell you how many times in sports he would do something a little harder than i could handle. sometimes things would fly at me and hit me and hurt so bad that id turn around and immediately be red. this happened so often that I would drop whatever i was doing and walk at him and jump at him. id bring him to the ground sometimes. although i never seriously hurt this person physically, I learned how to approach him in a way that he understood not to fuck with me. and i knew that his intentions were never bad. the tennis balls that hit me so hard it left bruises, to the little things hed throw at me to get my attention, we grew. i took a class with him and another boy one time. this other boy spiked a volleyball to the head so hard that it knocked my friend out. i was red in the face immediately but held back my anger because my mothering instincts kicked in full swing. i helped him up, took him to the nurse, and talked to him after he had time to rest. a few days later, that same boy did the same thing to me. but it was different this time. it hit my face so hard (i was turned to the side and not paying attention, so my b i guess) that the whole class turned to look. i was extremely anxious with the attention on me. plus it looked like i was crying but really i was just trying to rub the sting off my face lol. but the boy did something he didnt do to my friend the other day, he laughed. my friend was immediately like man WHAT the fuck come on. he came to my side but by that time it was too late. the girl who was mainly quiet and to herself...5′2 walked up to one of the tallest and well known guys of our graduating class...and she let loose. I had a method in my anger, and when he laughed it off, i walked away. my words were out. what was said was over and done. what he took of it was on him and i knew i did what i could. much to my surprise that night the boy messaged me over facebook and apologized to me. he said he reflected on what i said. the next day in gym i approached him calmly with a small smile and told him that i appreaciated his words and that as long as he was not rude, we had no beef between us. he dated people i knew. i dated people he knew. we dated strangers to one or both of us. but we were always super protective over each other. what hurt him, hurt me. what hurt me, hurt him. 

i will never forget our first kiss and how incredibly awkward it was for both of us. it was worth the shot, but we felt nothing that lit a romantic fire. we trialed it twice, but acknowledged it didn’t come naturally to us. and that was okay. if it was meant to be, it would be. 

i will never forget graduation. i dressed up and looked very feminine. but at the same time, i was in all black and carried my unique style with me as well. we bumped into each other and both looked up and down. i realized how manly he looked and how proud i was of him and how excited i was to hear of his future trials, tribulations, and triumphs. we wished each other well on our way, and that was the last time i saw him until a year later.

a year after graduation we got into a convo. we talked about everything and planned a visit although he moved further away. one night he came to me crying and told me that he missed me so much and felt so lost again. told me that he missed high school because the highlight of his day was always seeing me. i could get him like no other no matter what without a single pass of judgement. that i was the only person he could think of that could do that.

although this is quite a compliment, i took it humbly. he was hysterical, it was late and my car wasn’t great. i asked for his address and told him to expect me within an hour and a half. i told my parents i was going to a girlfriend’s house and left.

When i pulled up to his place he was sitting in the rain on a rail outside. as soon as he saw my headlights he walked over and pulled me out of the car and hugged me and swallowed hard and deep and sighed. of course, we let go and he snapped at me BITCH YOUVE BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG...now lemme help you park your car its tricky here.

We went inside, he gave me a tour. We talked with his mom and brother and then went out back to sit on the porch. We caught up little by little, but talked mainly about what bothered us most. We smoked a little weed, made some food, went inside, i helped him clean, i watched him play videogames bc hes a huge nerd but its cute when someone is passionate about something that does no harm, so whatever. but as i started drifting off, he told me that i could take the bed and that he wasn’t sleeping for quite some time. the last thing i remember before falling asleep was warm lips on my forehead and the feel of a fan on me since he had no ac and the humidity and heat made us uncomfortable. 

i woke up that morning to make the drive home so i wouldnt be home too late. when i opened my eyes i realized he was passing out next to me and had put up a pillow wall between us and grabbed extra blankets so we could each have our own just in case. he looked over and i had a look on my face that he knew well. he chuckled and said “the truth? i wanted to be close to you without weirding you out or making you uncomfortable. i kept an eye on you while you slept. sometimes you shivered, so i grabbed blankets. sometimes you made a troubled face so id put my hand back and reach for your arm...ALSO WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU GET AN ARM TATT?!” 

I got up and told him to get comfortable but told him we could talk later, but that I was going to stay with him until he fell asleep. I changed my clothes, went to the bathroom, but always peeked back in. it wasn’t long before he was asleep. i wish i would have said something like “see you later, friend” instead of “bye”

he sleepily told me to text him when i got home so he knew i was safe. and like that, he was out.

we did talk later. but that was the last time that we had a hangout without troubles or worries...with our phones aside, where we were more free and less shackled. its been months. i miss my friend, but i will carry him with me forever. i trust in the fact that what will be, will be. i can miss him but acknowledge now is not the moment to be close. so i often follow thoughts such as “i miss my friend” with thoughts that are confident and true..such as “but he is strong and we have a bond that is unlike any other, we will come around” i say we because relationships are group efforts as much as your own. i believe that everything should aim to be 50/50. we will come around. we both have things in our life that made this moment less possible currently. but we will grow. we will learn. and one day, we will reconnect again in some way, shape, or form.

it was while listening to a mod sun playlist where i realized i could relate a song to several situations, and several situations to EVERY song. thank you my dear!:)

howlin at the moon thoughts

did it again last night, turned into an animal, wolf howl

it is my belief that animals and humans are much more connected than we currently understand as populations in whole

the wolf howl interested me because my spirit animal is a wolf and i have always found myself having qualities of my wolf, but also qualities about myself. A wolf represented me, but wasnt me?

animalistic behavior 

[santaprofit5-blog]

Our Favorite Feature Stories of 2018

[Photographs: Clay Williams, Vicky Wasik, Jennifer Burns Bright, Adam Kuban, Max Falkowitz]

For most of our readers, the feature stories on Serious Eats aren't the biggest draw—some who know us strictly for our recipes probably don't even realize we publish anything else. But when we looked back at all the features we produced this year, we were struck by both their number and their variety, and it was gratifying (especially for the feature editors among us!) to watch as the whole staff pored over the list and everyone rushed to call dibs on their favorites.

Granted, a "feature" on Serious Eats can mean a lot of very different things: a guide to a particular ingredient, or category of ingredient, or cuisine; an exploration of an odd American regional food or the history behind an iconic international one; an interview from our Obsessed series; a personal essay; a reported investigation of a segment of the food industry.

What we hope these all have in common is that readers will get from them not just what they were expecting when they clicked on the title, but more—we want our personal essays to be personal, but also teach something; we want our guides and other service-oriented pieces to be informative, but also buoyed by a strong voice and sense of humor.

Whatever category they fall into, the features described below are the ones that most resonated with the Serious Eats staff in 2018. We were fascinated by, among other things, the winding and sometimes bizarre history of soy milk in the US, the care and labor that go into making a traditional Japanese breakfast, the baking ingredients we absolutely needed to add to our (apparently understocked) pantries, and a glimpse into the mind of a veteran brewmaster. After you've read this list, we hope you'll find yourself similarly hooked.

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

If you know me, you know that I consider BraveTart to be nothing less than a bible. It's the first baking cookbook I've ever made multiple recipes from, and the only baking cookbook I've ever given as a gift. Every anecdote, brownie, cake, and homemade Oreo provides insight into Stella's soul and genius. And the more I learn, the more I want to learn, which is why I love this post about the pantry items Stella considers essential for baking. Knowing the exact ingredients she uses has definitely given my baking an edge, and when I combine those ingredients with her can't-fail recipes, I know I can achieve the very best version of everything I make. In Stella we trust! —Ariel Kanter, director of commerce strategy and editorial

The Baker's Pantry: All the Staples You Need to Make Amazing Desserts »

[Photograph: Clay Williams]

In the early years of Serious Eats' existence, pizza was a large part of the site's bread and butter, except that instead of bread and butter, it was bread and tomato sauce and cheese. The editors and writers of old SE covered 'za so exhaustively for so many years that, at a certain point, it felt like there wasn't much left to say. After you've written nearly every conceivable recipe, explored every significant pizza joint nationwide (plus thousands of pretty insignificant ones) in more passionate depth than any other publication could ever hope to, and basically written the book on the subject, what else is there?

That's largely why there's been so much less pizza coverage on SE in recent years—the archives speak for themselves. But that's also why it thrilled me to see pizza come roaring back in this great two-part series about pizza in one of its meccas, New York City. Written by Ed, with major assists from pizza experts Adam Kuban and Scott Wiener, the first part (linked below) catches us up to 2018 after several years of Serious Silence on pizza, while the second is a perfectly curated list of some of the very best places to grab a slice citywide. —Daniel Gritzer, managing culinary director

State of the Slice, Part 1 »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

This isn't exactly a typical feature story, but by the time I'd finished reading, I'd gained much more of an understanding of how to assemble a Japanese breakfast. Sho takes readers to his grandmother's breakfast table in Japan before breaking down the significance of the meal, one component at a time. His writing is funny and warm, and it makes you feel as if a close friend is standing by to assist when this breakfast turns out to be much more complicated than you'd anticipated. —Elazar Sontag, editorial assistant

How to Make a Japanese Breakfast »

[Photograph: Max Falkowitz]

Mezcal is hands down my favorite liquor—I just love the smoky layer it adds to any cocktail. Reading about how painstakingly difficult it is to produce and distill mezcal made me fall that much more in love with the spirit itself. Max takes us through the entire journey, from the agave plant to how mezcaleros capture the smokiness that I adore so much. This very thorough and admirable mezcal bible makes me want to hop on the next flight to Oaxaca. —Grace Chen, office manager and associate podcast producer

The Spirit of Mexico: A Guide to Mezcal »

[Photograph: Jennifer Burns Bright]

As much as I love oysters, my previous knowledge of them sadly didn't extend much beyond "they taste good and sometimes make pearls." Jennifer's article has changed that for me (or brought me out of my shell?). After reading the story of the Olympia oyster and the immense effort it takes to get them on your plate, I'm now deep-diving into the world of bivalves. Their history is fascinating, but I'm mostly grateful for their comeback, because it's now the oyster I look for on any raw-bar menu. —Joel Russo, video producer

This Small West Coast Oyster Is Making a Big Comeback »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

There is no argument that New York has one of the richest and most ethnically diverse food scenes in the world. This practical list makes global fare (hello, Cuban-Chinese!) accessible on a budget. I keep it bookmarked on my phone as a cheat sheet for casual nights out, when the answer to “Where do you want to eat?” is “I don’t know, but it’s gotta be good and cheap.” —Maggie Lee, UX designer

15 Under $15: Great Bites in NYC That Won't Break the Bank »

[Photograph: Chris Low]

The idea for Becky Selengut's entertaining and informative guide to the Pacific razor clam was originally hatched by Sho, who never met a mollusk he didn't like. But when I took editing responsibilities on it, it became my baby, and though it required a fair amount of coaxing into being—including coordinating a West Coast–based clamming/photography excursion, carried out at twilight, and waiting months on a shipment of live Pacific razor clams to our New York office so Daniel could test out Becky's shucking directions—it felt like a huge triumph when it was finally finished and published.

Okay, maybe my toil isn't enough of a reason for you to read this article, so here are a few real ones: To me, it represents a combination of practical guidance and instruction, "I didn't know that!" fun facts, and personal investment by the author that's ideal in a feature story. Reading it, you understand not only that Becky is an expert at gathering and cooking with these clams, but also that she loves this subject matter. Even if you'll never eat a Pacific razor in your life, it's a joy to read, especially when paired with Chris Low's lovely, moody photos of that evening clamming expedition in the PNW. —Miranda Kaplan, senior editor

Fat, Ugly, and Delicious: A Guide to the Pacific Razor Clam »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

In a totally different vein from the Pacific razor clam guide, Nadia Berenstein's story on soy milk's journey from a symbol of technological progress, to a health food for religious zealots and hippie environmentalists, to international success and semi-acceptance by the American mainstream, is a great, quirky ride. It's hard not to love a serious food history in which farting emerges as a major theme. —Miranda Kaplan, senior editor

A Brief History of Soy Milk, the Future Food of Yesterday »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

When Tabitha Blankenbiller pitched us a story about cooking from the American Girl doll cookbooks, I was immediately sold. One of my male counterparts, however, who grew up so far removed from the exorbitant price and captivating realism of the American Girl doll "experience" that he wasn't even sure what American Girl dolls were, was skeptical, to say the least.

I think it speaks volumes that we both wound up enthusiastic about the finished piece, which captures the peculiar zeitgeist of the American Girl doll generation with remarkable accuracy and a cutting humor. It's an irreverent bit of writing that will nonetheless resonate with anyone who has something to feel nostalgic and complicated about. I'll admit that the opportunity to spend a full day of my job building a teeny-tiny kitchen and grooming American Girl dolls for our epic photo shoot was something of a bonus. —Niki Achitoff-Gray, executive managing editor

The Great American Girl Doll Cook-Off »

[Photograph: Adam Kuban]

I really enjoyed Sho's Obsessed interview with Slice founder Adam Kuban. As a pizza-loving Serious Eater, I'm certainly the target audience for this interview, but beyond that, I find Adam's story admirable: He's turned his obsession into businesses, twice (and he's still working at it). —Paul Cline, VP of product

Obsessed: Slicemeister Adam Kuban Deep-Dishes on His Pizza Dreams »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

I am so happy that amaro has gone mainstream. It used to be really hard to find here in the States, but not anymore. This piece is a great introduction to the perfect digestif, and gives a good rundown of the big-name amari on the market. —Sasha Marx, senior culinary editor

Amari 101: Your Guide to Italy’s Essential Bittersweet Liqueurs »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

Sherry is one of those things folks are always trying to pair with dessert, but despite my background as a pastry chef, I don't know my way around sherry well enough to offer up any meaningful suggestions. Getting to know the various styles and sweetness levels was tremendously helpful in bettering my understanding of how to pair sherries with dessert in a way that will offer the best complement or contrast, rather than hitting all the sugar-sweet notes. —Stella Parks, pastry wizard

Sherry 101: An Introduction to the Hippest Old-Person Drink Around »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

My path to the discovery of good beer was similar to Garrett Oliver's, in that I drank swill all through college before a revelatory experience opened my eyes shortly thereafter. I became acquainted with the wider world of interesting beer while working as a server at Teresa's Next Door in Wayne, Pennsylvania (a 2018 James Beard Award semifinalist for Outstanding Bar Program). The restaurant had an exhaustive beer list, and I was forced (*ahem*) to taste every beer that rotated through the taps, discovering the complexities and nuance that defined the brewing world beyond Budweiser. Everyone at the restaurant, including me, owned a copy of Oliver's canonical The Brewmaster's Table to learn about styles of beer and how they pair with food.

So I was very excited when Sho's Obsessed interview with this great brewmaster popped up, and the read did not disappoint. The dude is smart as hell and really knows his craft. He speaks so well about the past, present, and future of brewing and his own personal experience, but you can tell he's also brimming with insightful commentary on much more. Oliver's keen mind makes for a fascinating profile—my favorite Obsessed interview of the year. Now, off to find the cut material... —Tim Aikens, front-end developer

Obsessed: Garrett Oliver on Brewing Better Beer »

[Photograph: Vicky Wasik]

A pretty well-known fact about me around the Serious Eats office is that I love pasta. It's even my spirit food in my masthead photo. Every single Italian recipe that Daniel has made has been photographed (and, most likely, devoured) by yours truly. This comprehensive list not only reminds me of all the tasty bowls of pasta I've eaten, but actually gives me the confidence that I can cook a lot of them on my own! —Vicky Wasik, visual director

The Essential Steps to Mastering Italian Cuisine »

[Illustration: Misha Zadeh]

I admire this piece by Porochista Khakpour immensely, and I feel very lucky for having had the opportunity to work with her. Khakpour is an accomplished novelist and memoirist—her most recent book, Sick, was published this year—and I could read her writing on any subject. While her Nowruz piece is nominally concerned with how meaningful the Persian New Year is for her, what I find so appealing about it is that it is ultimately about how being Iranian is an essential part of her American identity, which I believe is a particularly valuable bit of insight in light of the conversations taking place across the country about immigration. —Sho Spaeth, features editor

A Time of Plenty: Celebrating Nowruz in America »

[Illustration: Tram Nguyen]

I really love the way Mithila Phadke writes, not just about the food in this piece but in general. I think this piece illustrates the range of her voice, and how it can be used to talk about both weighty and light things. What I most like about this piece, though, is that while much of the focus is on her grandmother's cooking and, of course, on her loss, it also manages to deftly underscore how little is understood of the vast and varied cuisine of the Indian subcontinent, even (and especially!) by those who grew up there. I grew up in New Delhi, and I found it incredibly edifying; I hope you all do, too. —Sho Spaeth, features editor

Ajji's Cooking: Preserving an Unsung Cuisine »

[Video: Serious Eats Video]

D. Gritzer's guide to mortars and pestles has everything I like about our service-oriented features. First of all, it goes deep—way deep. Who knew how many kinds of mortars and pestles there were, from every corner of the world: Japanese, Mexican, Thai, and Mediterranean ones, just for starters? Plus, there's plenty of history in the post, all of it engagingly presented to the reader. Finally, Daniel explains in one word what a mortar and pestle does better than more modern inventions: it crushes. Just like Daniel's story does. —Ed Levine, founder

How to Pick the Best Mortar and Pestle »

[Photograph: Jai Williams]

Interest in Lao cuisine appears to be quietly but steadily building across the United States. If, like me, you're naturally curious about it, or if you suddenly find yourself seated before a Lao menu, whip out this fun primer so you can discern muu haeng from siin haeng and learn what goes best with jaew bong. —John Mattia, video editor

A Guide to the Essential Dishes of Laos »

[Illustration: Annelise Capossela]

As a reformed picky eater, I identified so strongly with Irina's story. There's a lot of flexing in food media about the babies of chefs and writers who will eat anything put in front of them because they're the kids of good eaters. But I find the image of Irina's son eating two mac and cheese sandwiches a lot more compelling than those overdone flexes: It speaks to discernment, judgment, and developing your tastes on your own time. —Kristina Bornholtz, social media editor

The Kid Is All Right: In Defense of Picky Eating »

This post may contain links to Amazon or other partners; your purchases via these links can benefit Serious Eats. Read more about our affiliate linking policy.

Source: https://www.seriouseats.com/roundups/favorite-features-2018