#although in that second attempt I actually was making great progress until the game fucking CRASHED AGAIN

[tumblezwei]

I got booted out of the game twice while getting my ass kicked by that IPC mech guard, so I think we're done gaming for the night.

So far I'm actually surprised at how involved this quest is?? I expected it to me a little more low-effort and act mainly as a venue to shuffle us to the pokemon-light event, but it's an actual decent follow-up story to Belabog that I'm super into.

Tho in order to progress I'm definitely gonna have to level up some things, and maybe finally put decent relics on my Tingyun.

[gunnerpalace]

It is Time to Kill The Common Understanding of the Dome of Las Noches Fight Once and for All

I’ve been thinking about @starrdustcrusader​‘s post making fun of BBS’s interpretation of Full Hollow Ichigo, and while it is very good and covers a lot, I felt that I had something further to add. Please go read that post first so you are on the same page.

I also invite you to go read chapter 350, The Lust 4, and the next few chapters as well.

Now, like I said, the post in question does a very good job of pointing out what’s happening here: Full Hollow Ichigo has less than zero concern for Uryuu or Orihime. He is not interested in protecting them whatsoever. Indeed, he directly attempts to kill Uryuu, with that attack being very likely to kill Orihime as well. It is only stopped by Ulquiorra’s intervention.

And why did Ichigo attack Uryuu? Because he was a threat.

When you are doing dispassionate threat analysis, whether that be tactical or strategic, when you are thinking with an essentially military mindset, motive stops really mattering, because it cannot be taken for granted. What matters is capability. What someone says their intentions are, or what their intentions seem to be, often matter less from this perspective than what they can do, or are doing.

What is Uryuu doing in this fight? He is interfering with Full Hollow Ichigo killing Ulquiorra. And that is Full Hollow Ichigo's only goal. Thus, Uryuu is an enemy and is also to be killed.

And so is Orihime (if “merely” as collateral damage).

It's that simple. This is again pointed out in the original post. In the same way that Ulquiorra earlier said to Ichigo that, "Killing you is synonymous with protecting Las Noches," killing Uryuu and Orihime at this point is synonymous with “protecting,” because they are in the way and are actively impeding the mission. (”Protecting” what? We’ll come back to that.)

I haven’t said anything new yet, now have I? So let’s get to that.

Here is Orihime demonstrating several flavors of hubris, and also completing failing to do anything to save Uryuu from his imminent demise. What do I mean? Well, let’s take apart her statements:

“Because I said that, Kurosaki-kun is trying to help me.” This is an assumption on her part, and it is wrong.

“I trained because I didn’t want to be a burden to him.” Mind you, she also says this in both the Xcution and TYBW arcs, and is a burden and fails in both as well (the infamous ”Why am I crying?” and “Her shield didn’t work” moments). This should have been a learning moment for her and it was not.

“I came here because I wanted to protect him.” There are other meta posts that detail the selfishness of Orihime’s actions in Hueco Mundo and in general. I would also like to point out that this was also her exact same logic in going to Soul Society. She didn’t learn anything from that experience either.

“So why? Why at the very end did I depend on him?” A great question. One that she never truthfully owns up to, given (2). But there was a reason Kisuke told her to stay out of the war. You may recall Rukia's statement to Orihime in chapter 228, Don't Look Back, that "In a battle, the ones who get in the way are not the ones that lack power, but the ones that lack resolve." She went on to say "Of all the battles in Soul Society, no one was a burden to anyone else. Not Ichigo, nor Sado, nor Ishida, and neither were you, Inoue. If any of you were less than who you are, I wouldn't be where I am today." This was very charitable of Rukia, because Orihime's contribution to her rescue was negligible and was, to reiterate, not why she was even there. Furthermore, Orihime didn't listen to her here either: she is once again demonstrating a lack of resolve, as she will continue to.

So Orihime doesn’t learn. Great. But maybe you’re thinking about (1). What do I mean she was wrong? I mean, doesn’t the manga confirm she’s right?

This is the crux of that argument. And this is also one of the cruxes of IchiHime as a whole. The thing is... it’s complete and utter bullshit.

This is the exact same scene in the original Japanese:

Now, I don’t speak or read Japanese very well at all. I’m still a novice at it. What I can do, however, is use optical character recognition and translation tools.

(よ)呼んでる - Yonderu - Calling

(よ)呼んでるんだ - Yonderunda - They’re calling

(き) 聞 こえる -  Kikoeru - I can hear

(た)立てよ - Tateyo - Stand up

(た)立 て - Tate - Stand

(おれ)俺が - Ore ga - I will

(おれ)俺が - Ore ga - I will

俺が護る - Ore ga mamoru - I will protect

(The parentheticals are furigana used as a pronunciation guide.)

Now do you see a single instance of “her” or “she” in this dialogue, particularly when it comes to the final line of “I will protect”? No, you don’t. Because it’s not there. It was never there until a biased translator inserted it into the dialogue. I’m not alone in this analysis, by the way.

Quite some time ago, @kodoku-no-maria​​ did a wonderful analysis about Ichigo’s instincts (”Mistranslations that Created the IH Fandom”) that also covered this (using anime quotes instead) and came to a similar conclusion. It’s a great post and you should read it. 

This isn’t the post she mentions in hers, but there is one done specifically of the manga by a deactivated account. You should read this post too. (This also notes other things, such as how Orihime says “Help, Kurosaki-kun!” and not “Help me, Kurosaki-kun!” so we can take it that the Mangastream / Mangareader English translation is just generally dodgy all around at this point. Which may well impact the points I made above about Orihime’s character; but I think given the events of the Xcution and TYBW arcs that it is evident she did not in fact learn anything, so I will stand by the basic thrust of them.)

Okay, so I’ve marshaled my evidence on the battle and provided corroborating analysis. (I have also reblogged all three of these posts because they’re good, although the links are to the original sources or as close to them as I could get.) 

Ichigo didn’t turn into Full Hollow Ichigo because of Orihime. She had nothing to really do with it. Great. So what?

Well, let’s now move on to my theory.

Now, you might be thinking that it is fairly obvious that all of those lines are Ichigo’s inner monologue. But I don’t think it’s so obvious. In fact, I would suggest to you that it is actually a dialogue.

On the second page, with the third panel, it suddenly zooms in to the wound in Ichigo’s torso. This notably later becomes Full Hollow Ichigo’s Hollow hole. You notice here the dialogue changes, from commands (e.g., “Stand”) to personal pronouns (e.g., “I”).

I would submit to you that the first three lines are Ichigo’s. But I don’t think the last five are. I think they belong to two other entities. Especially the last three. First, let me steal two of Maria’s highlighted panels to make a point:

So who is talking? It’s simple:

Do you really think it’s a coincidence that Zangetsu (Hollow Zangetsu) shows up wearing the exact same outfit as ‘Full Hollow Ichigo’ after Tensa Zangetsu gives a speech about how:

I don’t think so. Ichigo "fell into despair and halted [his] progress" and Zangetsu, as 'Full Hollow Ichigo' is "the "source of [his] despair." (This is the same despair that Rukia noticed when Ichigo came down from the top of the dome to confront Yammy.) As has been previously pointed out in the linked posts, we see this despair on the dome after Ulquiorra’s defeat in Ichigo’s attitude. Starrdust covered these, but let’s go over them again:

He’s doesn’t seem all that shocked or concerned here, to be honest.

He’s a lot more shocked at what he did to Uryuu.

But the thing that really gets him is that he’s gone and killed Ulquiorra. That’s his despair.

This is the first time he’s out and out killed somebody. (And yeah, Ulquiorra is dead because he had his bits vaporized with a cero, not purified.)

He finally has to learn this isn’t all fun and games, that you can’t turn everyone to your side and redeem them and be friends with them afterward, as he did with Ikkaku, Renji, Kenpachi, Byakuya, and even to an extent Dordoni and Grimmjow. This is exactly what Dordoni was warning him about. This is the lesson he will be forced to learn again after weakening Aizen long enough for Kisuke’s kidou to work on him.

And it is why later, his determination to “save everyone” in the Xcution arc by cutting Ginjou down and killing him (even if he turns into a Plus as revealed in TYBW, undermining the whole symbolic importance of the act) is a big deal for his character development, and one of the few redeeming aspects of that arc: it shows that Ichigo learned a lesson from this fight: sometimes to protect you have to kill.

And who taught him that lesson? Zangetsu.

Who was speaking in the 4th and 5th lines in that transformation sequence? My bet is “Zangetsu” (Quincy Zangetsu) or Tensa Zangetsu. And who was speaking in the 6th, 7th, and 8th lines? Zangetsu.

What was Zangetsu protecting? Ichigo. That’s his instinct. That’s all he cares about protecting, just like Tensa Zangetsu. He sure the fuck wasn’t protecting Orihime or Uryuu. And the mask of ‘Full Hollow Ichigo’ is there to protect those instincts. And the mindless rage of ‘Full Hollow Ichigo’ is Zangetsu’s rage at Ulquiorra for trying to kill Ichigo.

We of course know from much later, in TYBW, that zanpakutou spirits aren’t some separate entity from the wielder, but are the wielder (hence why we go from “The Blade and Me” to “The Blade IS Me”) which Ichigo will affirm in the reforging of his into the “two Zangetsus.” So this can ultimately be read as self-preservation instinct. These are the aspects of Ichigo that were willing to do what he himself consciously wouldn’t in order to stay alive.

(Also, Uryuu was an idiot and wrong to stop Zangetsu as Ulquiorra still clearly constituted a threat, so he frankly got what he deserved, if a bit harshly.)

In summary, not only did the fight above the dome in Las Noches not have anything to do with protecting Orihime, but it was entirely about Ichigo’s character development and relations with the personifications of his powers, and everyone has been reading it completely fucking wrong for years and years.

If you don’t know, now you know.

[sunnypogue]

post grad - part one (jj maybank x oc)

pairing: jj maybank x original character

synopsis: she’s your modern day college graduate: good at school, bad at the whole after-school thing. recent grad margo jean walker was told her whole life she was destined for greatness - straight a’s, top of her class, full ride to columbia - until she graduated. now, she’s hiding out in her grandmother’s outer banks estate, attempting to figure out what her “life plan after college” is supposed to look like. on her journey to self-realization, she finds herself enveloped in the life of jj maybank - a high school dropout, bumming with his childhood friends in a beat up shack on the coast. two people, one town, zero plan.

warnings: drinking/cursing - probably an eternal warning with my writing.

a/n: straight up haven’t written a thing in fandom in like, five years. jj maybank (a perfect character) has singlehandedly dragged me out of my fic writing slump - that’s one inspirational motherfucker.

part one brought to you by that one opening scene where jj was mowing a lawn shirtless. cinematic gold.

anyways, this is a classic “gifted girl is told she’s gifted her whole life and then she gets out of school and realizes she has no idea what the fuck she’s doing so she runs from her problems” meets her antithesis + his pals. there will definitely be some stronger warnings down the line, if you catch my drift. 

I’m also 1000% team “JJ’s name is short for John because it was too confusing having two John’s around so they compromised with JJ and John B” thanks.

pogues + kooks featured are all 21+. it’s called post grad for a reason, folks.

enjoy xx.

_______________________________________________

post grad

--

        “Margo, if you lay out any longer, you’ll freckle up. Your nose is completely covered!”

         Margo hummed, wriggling her body enough to face in the general direction of her grandmother’s voice. She blindly stuck a hand out from her chaise chair, slapping aimlessly until she felt the familiar bill of her worn baseball cap, before dropping it onto her face.

         “Is that better, Mimi?” Her voice, rough from disuse, was muffled from behind the cap.

         “Slightly. It would be nicer if it wasn’t that damn Yankees hat.”

         Margo grinned, hearing the exasperated amusement in her grandmother’s voice. Although a long time resident on the coast of North Carolina, her Mimi still carried a torch for her hometown Boston teams, often recounting fond memories of nosebleed seats at Fenway, or listening to Bruins games on the radio. She claimed one of the reasons she remained on the Outer Banks is that she couldn’t bear to show her face back in Boston, knowing her granddaughter was a Yankees fan.

         Margo couldn’t help but poke fun at her any chance she got.

         “Sorry Mimi. Would you rather I freckle?”

         Mimi peered over the rims of her cat-eye sunglasses, observing from a safe, shaded perch. “You know, neither of these things would be a problem if your mother hadn’t married your father. You’d be freckle-free and a Sox fan, without a doubt.”

         Margo ripped her cap off, squinting towards her grandmother. “My heart would always find their way back to the Yanks. And I think my freckles give me character!”

         Mimi pushed her sunglasses back up, glancing back down at the dog eared book in her lap. “You got the attitude from your father too.”

         Margo grinned, white teeth splitting across her warm face. “Now that’s a bald faced lie, Mimi. You know exactly who I got the attitude from.”

         A loud laugh burst from the older woman, setting her forgotten book to the side. “Yes, unfortunately I do. I was hoping I could pawn another one of your traits off to your father’s side, but I suppose I have no one else but myself to blame for your…,” She paused, looking for the proper words, “…quick wit.” She drawled, her muddled Boston accent blending with the Carolina.

         It was Margo’s turn to laugh, a similar burst to her grandmother. She swung her legs off the chaise chair, before standing and padding over to her grandmother’s shaded spot.

         “I think I got my affinity for gin & tonics from your side too.” Margo quipped, grabbing Mimi’s empty cup. “Refill?”

         Mimi sighed, glancing at the glass tumbler in her granddaughter’s hand. “I suppose. Lighter on the gin this time though, dear. You about knocked me out with that last one.”

         Margo laughed, turning towards the screen door that lead inside, “I got my heavy hand from you, too!”

         She could feel her grandmother’s eyes roll from behind her.

         Margo made her way to the wet bar, a familiar and friendly sight in her grandmother’s home. She quickly went through the motions of making two gin & tonics, mixing Hendricks with Fevertree, before topping with two limes – the only true way to enjoy a G&T. As she moved to retreat back to her sunny spot on the chaise, her stomach grumbled, reminding her it was time to eat something, or her heavy hand might knock her out too.

         She pivoted towards the kitchen, setting the tumblers down on the island before venturing into the walk-in pantry to grab a snack. As she exited the pantry, her peripherals caught something moving in her front yard, relatively unusual for a Saturday afternoon. She turned to face the floor to ceiling windows in the foyer, hands clutching an unopened back of pretzel sticks, before squinting to make out the figure on her Mimi’s front lawn.

         Outside her grandmother’s home, was a man, mowing the space rather methodically. He was tall and tan, and Margo could almost describe his shirtless upper half as glistening, like a bad paperback romance. The arm of his silver aviators were clenched between his teeth, as he pushed the mower through the thick grass, muscles flexing.

         The sound of crushed plastic startled Margo from her gaze. She swiped her forearm across her face almost instinctively, confirming she wasn’t actually salivating from watching the mystery landscaper at work. Tossing the now-crushed pretzel sticks to the counter, she quickly grabbed the melting drinks, and hustled outside to her grandmother.

         “Took you long enough, Margo Jean. I thought college would have made you more efficient in your cocktail-“

         “Mimi.” Margo interrupted, clutching a drink in each fist. “Mimi, who – who IS that outside your house?”

         “What?” Mimi startled, sitting up in her seat. “What do you mean who’s outside my house?”

         Margo sat next to her grandmother, passing her a drink. “The guy mowing your lawn – who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

         Margo watched as her grandmother sighed, settling back into her seat. “Oh, you mean John.” Her grandmother raised the cup to her lips, taking a long sip.

         “What do you mean, John?!” Margo squawked. “I’ve been living here for a month and I’ve never, ever seen him before!”

         Mimi peered over her sunglasses again, looking at her flustered granddaughter. “Darling, are you alright? You look flushed. Maybe you should stay out of the sun.”

         “I’m fine, Mimi. It just surprised me, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to see a random man in our front lawn.”

         Mimi hummed. “Honey, he’s harmless. He’s been helping me out for a couple years now – a local boy, from town. He’s usually here on Thursdays, while you’re at work.”

         “Oh.” Margo took a long sip of her drink, relaxing a bit. While she was partially worked up by how upsettingly attractive the landscaper was, she had to admit she was a bit frightened by the sight of a random man on her grandmother’s property. It had been just her and Mimi at the estate for the past month, and a new face was a bit shocking.

         “You know, I think he’s about your age. Sweet boy, always offering to help around the place after your grandfather passed.”

         Margo placed a comforting hand on Mimi’s arm, sensing the distress in her voice at the mention of her deceased husband. Mimi patted Margo’s hand briefly, before standing and clapping twice.

         “Come! Come on, this is a great opportunity.” Mimi flitted into the house.

         Margo scrambled to her feet. “What do you mean, a great opportunity?”

         “A great opportunity to meet some people your age. I know it hasn’t been easy, but John is just the nicest boy, and I think it’ll be good to have a familiar face other than mine on the island.”

         “No! Mimi, I don’t need more familiar faces.” Margo ran to catch her grandmothers’ thin arm, slowing her progression towards the front door. “Please, I know plenty of people here. I have you, and Jennifer, and Mr. Picard. That’s all I really need, for now.”

         Mimi pulled a face. “Sweetheart, I love you dearly, but that was a pathetic showing right there. You’re going to cite your boss and the neighborhood gate guard as your friends?”

         Margo matched her Mimi’s face, scrunching her nose. “Look, I never said they were close friends. But I know people! I know people. I don’t need more people.”

         “Nonsense. Now, come on, let me introduce you. Oh, don’t give me that face, Margo Jean, you won’t be betrothed to the guy after a simple introduction.” Mimi firmly grasped Margo’s hand, tugging her towards the front door. “Now, be nice. Don’t give him any of that New York attitude you love to display towards everyone in this town.”

         “Mimi, I thought we agreed my attitude came directly from you. Don’t blame my – hey!” Margo stumbled through the now-open front door, coming to a graceless stop on the first porch step.

         The mower came to a stop, with the still-shirtless operator turning towards the front door.

         “Mrs. S! Anything I can help you with?” The landscaper yelled from the far edge of the lawn.

         “Oh, no John, thank you! Do you mind coming over here for a second?” Mimi gripped Margo’s shoulders tightly, as she felt her granddaughter jerk away.

         “Jesus, Mimi, you didn’t even let me cover up.” Margo hissed, her eyes trained forward on the male ambling his way up the long path to the front door.

         “Oh stop, you two are practically matching with your outfits right now.” Mimi glanced at her granddaughter’s light blue swimsuit, before looking at John’s outfit, consisting of black shorts and a pair of ratty boots. “Even playing field.”

         Margo huffed, crossing her arms across her stomach. “This is not how I wanted to be –“

         “What’s up Mrs. S?” John asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps. His silver aviators were hooked into the waistband of his shorts. “Everything alright?”

         “Oh yes John, everything is fine. I just wanted to introduce you to my granddaughter.” Mimi squeezed Margo’s shoulders. “She’s in from New York and staying with me for a while.”

         John laughed, his sharp teeth settling into an attractive grin as he glanced at Margo. “And how the hell did you end up with a granddaughter from New York? She not going to let me put up the Sox flag for you this year?”

         Mimi snorted. “Margo’s a good girl, she would never deprive her grandmother of such a thing. We try to forgive her for her New Yorker-tendencies – she didn’t stand a chance with her father’s early indoctrination.”

         “You know, I am right here. Mind if I speak for myself?” Margo huffed.

         Mimi squeezed Margo’s shoulders again, continuing her conversation, “Anyways, John, this is Margo Jean. Margo Jean,” Mimi paused, gesturing to the boy. “This is John.”

         Margo stepped forward, shaking her shoulders out of her grandmother’s death grip before sticking her hand out. “Hi, John. Margo Jean Walker.”

         He grinned, grabbing her hand in his, joining the two for an uncomfortably sweaty handshake. “Margo Jean Walker. That’s a lot of name for one girl.”

         Margo released her grip, looking down her nose towards him. “Well you don’t have to call me all three. Margo works just fine.”

         His grin intensified, as he matched her stare. “Margo Jean Walker.” He repeated. “Alright. I’m JJ. No one around here calls me John. Well, except Mrs. S.”

         “It’s a nice name, John, I don’t see why all of you kids have to go by names that aren’t your given names. It makes things confusing for old biddies like myself.” Mimi looked at the pair in distain. “Margo’s always been Margo – the consistency is nice.”

         “Margo Jean Walker.” JJ hummed, eyes dancing over the girl. “Consistent New Yorker.”

         Margo and Mimi let out their matching laughs simultaneously. “Yeah, that’s it.” Margo giggled. “Consistent New Yorker.” She popped her hands on her hips, offering the boy a toothy smile, her eyes squinting. “Well, it was nice to meet you, JJ-not-John. Thanks for helping Mimi out. Saves me from having to figure out…that.” She gestured towards the idle mower.

         He followed her eyes, glancing back at the machine he left at the top of the lawn, mentally snorting at the thought of the bikini-clad girl pushing the mower across a half-acre of grass. “Yeah, it’s probably for the best that – oh.” He turned back as he spoke, just catching a glimpse of her cheeky bikini bottoms and long hair, as she slipped inside.

         Mimi tutted, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of her granddaughter. “Don’t mind her, she’s just bent-out-of-shape because of the move. She’ll warm up more, eventually.”

         JJ sighed, sliding his sunglasses back on. “No problem, Mrs. S. Need anything else done around here? Just about finished with your lawn.”

         Mimi patted her frosted blonde hair, quickly glancing over the state of her lawn. “Looks great, hon. Nothing else today, but I’m thinking of expanding my garden in the backyard.” She took a long sip of her drink, before continuing. “Are you available to take on a project this summer?”

         JJ faltered, thinking about the time constraints a project would have on his summer. He had to consider things – his friends, his surfing, his three other jobs. “Uh, well –“

         “I’d rather you take the job, John,” Mimi started. “I don’t particularly want strangers around my house, especially if my granddaughter’s going to be frying herself poolside all summer,” Mimi scoffed. “Her poor skin.”

         JJ paused, considering the pros of working in the company of Mrs. S’s leggy, bikini-clad granddaughter all summer. “I mean, that sounds –“

         The older woman shoved her cat-eye sunglasses into her hair, taking three steps down her porch to be eye level with the blonde, who remained stationary at the bottom of the stairs.

         “I’ll pay you double.”

         A tan hand flew out, forearm adorned with tattered bracelets, freckles and the occasional scar. “You’ve got it, Mrs. S.”

         Mimi smiled, primly shaking the boy’s hand. “Great. You’ll start next week, Saturday morning?”

         JJ suppressed a groan, trying not to think about the morning boat ride he’d undoubtably be missing out on. “Sure, sounds great. How long do you think it’ll –“

         “A couple weekends, maybe. I won’t hoard you the whole summer, John. God knows the other ladies in the neighborhood would riot.” Mimi grinned, patting his cheek. “And they already don’t like me very much, so let’s try to keep them on my good side, alright?”

         JJ exhaled, relieved he wasn’t signing his summer away. “Absolutely, Mrs. S, although I can’t think of a single reason why someone wouldn’t like you.” He finished, offering a shit-eating grin towards the older woman.

         She barked out a laugh, flapping a hand around as she turned to open the front door and grab her purse. She pulled a handful of bills out of her envelope wallet, pressing them into his palm. “Here, you kiss-ass. For today and a cash-advance for selling your soul to me for a couple weekends.” She grinned as his blue-eyes widened, staring at the money. “Now get out of here, enjoy the rest of your day.”

         JJ’s feet faltered, as he started walking towards the lawn mower, his head still looking back at the front door. “Th-thanks, Mrs. S! Yeah, I’ll see you next weekend. Thank you! Thanks!”

         Mimi smiled, wiggling her fingers at the boy as he rushed to put the mower away. “See you Saturday, John.”

[hawkinspostbite]

BURN THE WITCH - chapter two

Words: 3,793

MASTERLIST BURN THE WITCH

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

Jim had fucked up. In the scheme of things, this wasn’t a royally huge fuck-up; he’d definitely fucked up a lot during his lifetime, but as of that moment, it was pretty important.

It wasn’t the first time he had been late getting home, or broken a promise, he was sure that Anna was used to it by now, but he knew that El had yet to get used to his usual routine. He was never really good at honoring commitments, although, recently he had been trying to make a better habit of doing the opposite. It was turning out to be harder than anticipated.

They sky had grown dark by the time he had finished flagging the land at Eugene’s farm. Eugene and his son and grandchildren had gone back to the house for supper while it was still light out. But it wasn’t until that time, when it was already too late, when Jim had realized he screwed up.

He had made it across town in record time, pretty much breaking every local law in the process. He all but ran up the leaf-covered path to the tiny cabin he called home. He rapped on the door, giving the “secret knock” twice before sighing. “Hey, girls. Open up, alright. Look, I know I’m late… I’ve got candy here, I’ve got all the good stuff.”

No response.

He smacked the door with his palm, growing frustrated. “Please, will you open the door? I’m gonna freeze to death out here!”

Jim heard the locks click, and he rushed inside, closing the door behind him. He scanned the room. The television was out of place, the long cord stretching the length of the living room, and under the door of his daughter’s bedroom. He rolled his eyes, setting the plastic pumpkin filled with candy he had bribed from Eugene’s youngest grandson, down on the coffee table. “Girls, open up, would you? I got stuck somewhere and lost track of time. And I’m sorry.”

Silently, he wished the girls would open their door, but he also would one-hundred-percent understand if they didn’t. Anna had inherited her father’s attitude, as well as his stubbornness, work ethic, and knack for finding trouble. She was a tough nut to crack. She never backed down from a fight or an argument, never let people push her around, and if she had an opinion, she was certain it was heard. Yes, she was definitely his child. (And he secretly was thankful that she favored more after him than her mother because he wasn’t sure he could go through that experience all over again.)

“El, Anna, would you please open the door?”

No response. They were nothing if not consistent.

He sighed, turning around and plopping himself rather dramatically onto the couch. He sighed again, leaning forward to grab the pumpkin from the table. “Alright… I’m just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy. I’m gonna get fat… It’s very unhealthy to leave me out here.” In the process of his rant, he began to unwrap a Reese’s cup. “I could have a heart attack or something. But you know, do what you want.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicked the candy wrapper onto the floor, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He had no room to say anything. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting anything to do with him. He had crossed them for the last time (for the time being).

Jim sat in the living room, the muffled sound of the television coming from the girls’s room playing softly in the background of the silence, for quite awhile. After a few hours at least, he decided to stop his moping, for he would never win the game, especially when it was two against one, and turn in for the night.

He turned the lamps off, made sure all the locks on the door were locked, and retreated to his bedroom.

Jim awoke the next morning, slightly shocked to not find Anna on the couch. That’s where she was most mornings when he woke up, that or in the kitchen getting a head-start on breakfast. But today, she was neither place. She was clearly, as he learned the older she got, very good at holding grudges.

He got himself dressed, made two stacks of Eggos, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and broken-up pieces of Halloween candy, and then went to wake up the girls. “Rise and shine.” He knocked on the door. He had been trying to not enter without warning, or not enter at all, as a promise to work on giving them more privacy. Another hard habit to break.

Still no response.

He knew that Eleven practically woke with the sun, so there was no way she wasn’t awake. “So that’s it huh, still not talking?”

Silence, once again. “Alright. I guess I’m just gonna have to eat both of these triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on my own.”

He turned back towards the kitchen, and then he heard the door creak open behind him. “No Anna?” He asked, when he saw that only the younger of the two girls had appeared.

She shook her head, and followed him to the table, where there were, in fact, two triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on the table. “Anna, if you aren’t out here within the next thirty seconds, I’m eating your food.” He called.

Jim waited patiently, giving her a minute, rather than thirty seconds, and then began to cut into the first stack of waffles, sliding the second towards Eleven. “Alright then, your loss!” He called again. “Ya brat.” He mumbled.

“Brat?” Eleven asked, dipping her finger into the whipped cream.

He sighed. “Brat, “a badly-behaved child”. Anna would be a prime example. Now, dig in.” He had attempted to keep it as light-hearted as possible when Eleven was around. She had spent her whole life thus-far being terrified of everyone and everything and as hard as it would be, he was determined to make her feel safe. “Mmm! Mmm! It’s good right?”

Eleven raised her eyebrows at him as she bit into a piece of one of her waffles. “Oh, and you know the great thing about it, is that it’s only like eight-thousand calories.” He laughed at himself.

Eleven gave him a questioning look. His humor was often lost on her.

He turned to look, once again at the television cable that led into her room. “You visited him again last night?”

Eleven looked at the cable as well, then back at Hopper. “He says he needs me.” She said lowly, taking another bite of her breakfast.

“Want me to go check on him?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“I know that you miss him, alright. But it’s too dangerous. You’re the last thing he needs right now. You’re gonna see him, soon. And not just in that head of your’s, in real life- I feel like I’m making progress with these people.”

“Friends don’t lie.” Eleven said quietly.

He felt like she was looking into his soul.

“What?”

“You say “soon” on day twenty-one. You say “soon” on day two-hundred and five. You now say “soon” on day three-hundred and twenty-six-“

The way the conversation was going, it felt eerily familiar to the way most conversations with Anna went, from the ages of twelve to fifteen. It was like she had groomed Eleven to be able to handle this exact situation, exactly the way she would have at that age. “What is this, you’re counting the days like you’re some sort of prisoner?”

She ignored him. “When is soon?”

“Soon is when it’s not dangerous anymore.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“On day five-hundred?”

“I don’t know.”

“On day six-hundred?”

“I don’t know.” He had to stand his ground. He couldn’t loose his footing with this one.

“On day seven-hundred? Day eight-hundred?”

“I don’t know!”

“I need to see him!”

“I said, I don’t know!”

“Tell me!” Eleven shouted, nodding her head and sending both plates into his lap.

“Shit!” There was whipped cream and candy all down the front of his uniform. He jumped up, and quickly turned to look at the girls’s bedroom door. He had expected Anna to make an appearance after all the commotion, but she still didn’t.

“Friends don’t lie!” The girl stood up, challenging him, before storming across the room back into the bedroom, the door opening and closing with a wave of her hand.

“Shit!” He said again, as he began to clean up the mess his youngest child had made. Between cleaning up Eleven’s mess, and having the change his entire uniform, he was going to be late, that was inevitable.

“When I come home tonight, the T.V better be back out here, and you’d both had better loose your attitudes, or I’m gonna start cracking some skulls, you hear me?” He had shouted at the closed bedroom door on his way onto the porch.

Jim hadn’t actually meant he would physically crack their skulls, though he imagined that he had just scared El half-to-death with his figure of speech. Anna would know what he meant, and then explain it to the her.

On his short drive to work he began plotting his punishments for each child, had they not done what he said by that evening; For Anna, no going out on the weekend for at least a month, she would help volunteer at one of the pumpkin-patches or the library or something like that. And for El, he’d have to somehow disconnect the antenna for the television, because that was that girl’s vice.

As usual, he made quite the commotion upon arrival at the Hawkins police department, slamming doors, trying to lock repeat-offender Murray outside, roughly hanging his coat up, just a normal morning.

The first order of business was trying to track the pumpkin patch rot, on a map. “We found more out by Gilbert’s farm.” Powell said, leaning off the table he was sitting on to point to the general direction on the map.

Jim nodded, making an X on the map with his marker. ��Some real nasty stuff. It was sticky.” Callahan said.

“Alright, where else?” He turned to look at his fellow officers.

“That was it Chief.” Powell shrugged, looking down at the small piece of paper in his hand.

“That was it, or you got tired of looking?”

“It was getting dark.” Powell said, posing the statement more like a question.

“I mean, it was really dark.” Callahan backed him up.

“They’re called flashlights, you dipshits.” He snapped, turning back to examine the map.

“Oh, okay…” Callahan muttered. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Kid giving you problems, Chief?”

Hopper tuned out his co-workers, staring at the map. He tried to recognize a pattern in the rot locations, or at least some focus-point to where they could start an investigation. Suddenly, he ripped it off of the wall, pushing Callahan off the table, and laying it down flat for them to see overhead. He took a red marker, drawing three circles around the areas of the rot. At the center of the smallest circle, was Hawkins Lab.

Without a word, he grabbed the map, folding it and grabbing his coat. “Hey Chief, where are you going?” He ignored Powell’s question as Flo, not even looking up from her work, handed him the keys to his truck. “You want us to go back out there?”

Where was he going? He was going back to that fucking lab. That dreaded place, that, between the appointments he attended with Joyce for Will, “business” meetings, and general law check-ups, had basically become his second home.

Without a word, he was let through the gates, in the front doors, and straight up the stairs and into Dr. Owens’s office. “Sit down, I’ve gotta show you something.”

He slammed the map onto Owens desk, quickly explaining the story of the poisoned crops on various farms within the area. “Grass, crops, trees, everything in this area is either dead or dying. That’s a radius of over three miles. And it all leads back to here.” Jim pointed to the lab in the center circle on the map.

“See, these patterns here are really pretty. I like the design. It’s almost psychedelic.”

Owens was attempting to make a joke out of the situation. Hopper didn’t find it funny. “This is a joke to you, huh?”

“No, it’s not a joke, it’s just- I don’t understand what this has to do with me Chief.”

“Whatever’s happening is spreading from this place. From this lab.” Growing increasingly more agitated, Jim sat down in the office chair.

“That’s impossible. The last burn was two days ago. It’s contained.”

“What if there’s a leak?”

“A leak?” Owens scoffed.

“I don’t know, man! You’re the scientist!”

“Exactly.” Owens slid the map back towards Hopper. “And I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Convince me.” Jim challenged.

“Convince you?”

“Yeah, you and your egg-head friends, go out to every area on this map, you run your tests, or whatever the hell you do, and you see if anything comes up.”

Owens laughed. “Alright, so you’re giving me orders now? No.” He shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“I keep things nice and quiet for you. And you keep your shit out of my town, so I can keep my kid safe! That is the deal! I have done my part, now you do your’s. Convince me.” Hopper slid the map back towards Owens, before storming out of his office. “I’m gonna assume you’re following me!”

Hopper stood proudly as he watched Owens gather a team of his colleagues/employees, and pile them into hospital vans. They set out for Merrill’s farm, as it was the closest to the lab.

Owens stood with the chief as they watched men dressed head-to-toe in full hazmat suits, dig up chunks of soil, and take whole pumpkins for testing. “Well, you were right about these pumpkins. Some nasty stuff. And the smell, mother of God-“

“So what exactly do you think is going on here?” Jim asked.

“Well, I told you what I think.” Owens looked at him, catching his glare. “But, we’ll run the tests and see what comes up. In the meantime, I just need you to keep the area clear for us. Don’t think it’ll be more than a day or two.”

“What do you want me to tell people?”

Owens shrugged, turning to face him fully. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He patted him on the arm, before walking to his car, getting in it, and driving away.

“Hey, chief, you copy?” Powell’s voice on his walkie broke him from his trance.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember that Russian girl Murray was goin on about the other day?”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah, well now I’m thinking he’s not so crazy after all.” Powell finished.

Hopper’s voice quieted. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move.” He almost broke into a sprint as he raced to get to his truck, barely shutting the door before he was speeding to the location Powell said he and Callahan were at.

Once he arrived at the scene, he had the woman re-tell her story. “You don’t need to make a report on this, there wasn’t a crime committed.” He told Callahan as he walked towards the mother and daughter.

“It was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, short, curly brown hair, very soft-spoken. She had a grey shirt on, with jeans and a brown coat.”

“What did she say? Did she say anything to you?”

“She just asked where the school was. So I pointed her in that direction and by the time I turned around to look at her again, she was gone.”

“Did she do anything to hurt you, or scare you? Cause you any harm?”

“No. No, it just shocked me to see a girl alone in the woods in the middle of the day.”

“Thank you, thanks, my officers will handle it from here. Appreciate your time.” He didn’t need any more clues to tell him that El had left the house. He should’ve known it was coming sooner or later, but for her to be so careless, it was almost ridiculous.

He left the scene before Powell or Callahan could even say goodbye, and drove straight home.

That was it. She had pushed him right over the edge. The situation was not unfamiliar. He had spent many nights in the past two years sitting up, angrily waiting for Anna to return after she had snuck out. He began to wonder if these were things that all children did, or was it just his two, that somehow, although having entirely different childhoods, managed to put him through the exact same scenarios repeatedly.

When he got there, Anna’s car was parked in the same spot it always was, almost looking untouched. So at least he knew Angry-Thing-One was home. He didn’t even bother to go inside because he knew he would just break something out of frustration. And Anna would know he was home because she most likely heard him pacing back and forth on the porch.

Jim smoked four cigarettes in a row before he heard the sound of leaves crunching in the dark. As El came into view, she stopped, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before she began to walk towards the house. He outed his cigarette, silently preparing for the battle he was about to engage in.

She walked into the house, with not a word spoken. And he followed right after her, slamming the door in his wake. “Friends don’t lie, isn’t that your bullshit saying?” He whipped his hat off of his head, throwing it onto the couch. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He managed to step in front of her before she could open the door to her bedroom. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh? Where?” El removed her coat, silently walking to hang it on a hook on the coat rack. “Did you go to see Mike?”

“He didn’t see me.”

“Yeah, well that mother and her daughter did, and they called the cops.” He was still blocking the bedroom door. “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all?” He was met with silence. “Come on! I need you to think!”

“Nobody saw me!”

He began to pace, trying to direct her away from the bedroom door. She couldn’t keep retreating from their fights. Fights she had started. “You put us in danger. You realize that, right? You, me, Anna, we’re all in danger!”

“You promised I go.” Tears were now pooling in the young girl’s eyes. “And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!”

Once again, Jim had fully expected Anna to be out of her room by now, playing mediator and watching her young protege in action, but alas, not a peep of sound came from inside the room. “Yeah, nothing happens, and you stay safe!”

“You lie!”

“I don’t lie! I protect, and I feed, and I teach! And all I ask of you is three simple rules, three rules. And you know what? You can’t even do that!” It had now turned into a screaming match, and he wasn’t quite sure who would win.

He turned to walk into the kitchen and El smacked her fists onto the wall. “You’re grounded. You know what that means?” His planning from that morning were finally coming into fruition. “It means no Eggos-“ He opened the freezer, and grabbed the box of food, throwing it onto the floor. “And no T.V, for a week.”

He stormed over to the television, which was now back in it’s proper spot in the living room. He leaned over the back of it, attempting to unplug it from the wall, when an unseen force halted his hand. “Alright, knock it off, let go.” El was standing in front of her bedroom door, head bowed slightly, a stream of blood running from her nostril.

She shook her head.

He attempted to unplug the television again, but was stopped. “Okay, two weeks.” He tried to unplug it again. “Let go!”

Once again, she shook her head.

“A month.”

“No.” Eleven demanded.

“Well congratulations.” Jim turned back to the T.V. “You just graduated from no T.V for a month, to no T.V at all.” He caught her off-guard, unplugging the cord from the wall and quickly taking out his pocket-knife, cutting through it.

“No!” El shouted, rushing over to attempt and save her beloved television. She kept muttering “no” to herself as she tried to fix it.

Hopper took a moment to ground himself, reminding himself that he was not only dealing with a child, but a child with psionic abilities that had been spending an awful lot of time with his daughter. “You have got to understand that there are consequences to your actions.”

“You are like papa!” El turned to him angrily.

“Really, I’m like that psychotic son of a bitch?” He sighed, still trying to remind himself who he was dealing with. “Wow, okay. You wanna go back in that lab? One phone call, I can make that happen.”

“I hate you.” Tears were running down her cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not too crazy about you either. You know why, cause you’re a brat. Remember what that word means?” El was almost stunned by him. “You don’t? How about we look it up, B-R-A-T, brat.”

He tossed the book in the air, towards her, but with one swipe of her hand, it was suspended in mid-air. She flung it at him. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He began to walk towards her but she had now pushed the couch into his legs, almost knocking him over. “Hey, hey!”

El knocked over the book case outside of her and Anna’s bedroom. “Stop walking away from me!” She turned to walk towards her bedroom door, but her need for confrontation got the better of her and she stopped.

Tears were now running rampant down her cheeks. “You wanna go out in the world? You’d better grow up, grow the hell up!”

El’s hands were shaking, as she let out a monstrous shriek, every window in the cabin blew out, glass flying everywhere. Sobbing, she pushed past him and into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door all the way.

Furious, and not backing down from the fight, Jim followed her, slamming the door open.

And then he felt his heart sink.

Eleven was the only other person in the room.

So where the hell was Anna?

[whattaloser]

Why I’m a Leftist

I know I’m probably just some dude who reblogs cool stuff to most of my followers but I’ve got a nice long story/rant about my political beliefs here that I’ve been wanting to write for awhile

I am a leftist first and foremost because I value human life. Everyone matters. No person is inherently more important than another person. Everyone has inherent rights that should not be infringed. People who infringe on other’s rights are morally wrong to do so. In essence my leftism is based on doing what is right. Obviously everyone has their own opinion on what is right but what is vitally important is knowing why your moral code is right. This is why so many people become liberals or conservatives or otherwise rather than leftists. They simply do not know enough about how the world works. There are a lot of reasons they don’t know, not the least of which is intentional covering up history and preventing education. I don’t believe people who aren’t leftists are stupid, but I do believe leftists know more. It’s kinda fucked up but it’s the only way you can explain inconsistencies in other’s values.

My path to leftism was full of cringe. When i was 7 years old Al Gore was running against George Bush for president. I did not know enough to have a real opinion on it but I am happy to say that I wanted Al Gore to win. This thought was based on very little if any logical reason. I basically flipped a coin in my head I think. Or maybe there was some outside influence that I wasn’t aware of, like my older sister who I looked up to might have said she liked Al gore. Either way, from then on I was in favor of democrats and did not like George Bush. When 9/11 happened I remembered thinking how dumb it was that people lined up around the block to get gas. Even as a child I knew that some buildings going down wasn’t going to end the great nation of the United States. In general I thought the United States was a great country. I knew from movies and tv as well as elementary school history that the United States was the most powerful country in the world. 

I recall in Sixth grade my teacher mentioned she liked George Bush because he was against gay marriage. Somehow at the time my opinion was the opposite despite being raised Catholic. I believed in god until I graduated high school and suddenly my desire to be religious slipped away and so did my belief. I do not consider this a great loss. 

Sometime in middle school or early high school I had solidified my opinion that the war in Iraq and Afghanistan was pointless and George Bush was a bad president. I was heavily influenced by movies and somewhat by video games that had imparted plenty of anti-war messages. Talks with my dad about nuclear missiles, watching History channel shows about world war 2, and playing Metal Gear Solid which had explicit nuclear disarmament messages, all informed me on the horrors of war. This was not enough to make me totally anti-military. In high school I wanted to join the military because I thought it was an easy way to get life experience and eventually pay for college. I was attracted to the Marines because of how cool movies like The Rock and video games like Call of Duty made it seem to be a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. I was simultaneously against war, against veteran worship, and very pro-military. I was indoctrinated by years of government propaganda but also disillusioned by all forms of media including the book All Quiet on the Western Front which was about a soldier becoming disillusioned by witnessing horrors of war and the negative impact it had on everyone in his country. I spoke with a recruiter during my senior year and expressed my desire to be a Marine but I told him I wanted to wait a year after high school so I could get physically fit enough. The recruiter did not care that I was underweight and out of shape. He didn’t even care that I was very enthusiastic about joining, he was still putting on his best salesman demeanor which made me incredibly uneasy. The experience is supposed to pressure people into signing up on the spot, I think they even had forms for me to sign (i can’t really remember though) but I was not ready and was aware enough how I was being manipulated although not entirely cognizant. After that I no longer wanted to be in the military.

I also have to point out that I grew up in an unstable household. My parents were both loving but they were flawed and made mistakes and had problems. My dad was a typical Gen x man’s man. A little bit too emotionally repressed, but actually really good with kids when it came to play time and still is. He worked a lot because my mother couldn’t. My mother has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder as long as I can remember. Her medical bills related to her problems combined with other financially bad decisions by my parents caused my home life to be fraught. I lived in varying degrees of poverty until my parents separated and me and my siblings moved with my mother to her parents’ house away from my father. Prior to moving though, we endured great financial difficulty. We were unable to afford school lunches but could not apply for free or reduced lunches because technically my father made a lot of money, however it was all garnished for medical bills. My father always tells about how he bought a car that had hidden frame damage and when he attempted to sue the dealership for selling a bad car he lost and was garnished for that as well. Despite making over 25 dollars an hour in 1999, my father could not afford school lunches for three kids and couldn’t afford to pay the gas bill. Without going into too much more detail, life sucked and continued to suck until I graduated, at least financially. I still found plenty of joy and it wasn’t always that bad. We still found ways to have good things like video games and we could always rewatch old movies but there’s a lot of psychic weight that comes with being that poor as a child and I’m sure it affects me and my ability to empathize with others who in bad conditions. 

So i watched a lot of movies and documentaries, read a lot of books growing up, discovered internet forums at the age of 11, played video games, moved to a town that had a very large Hispanic population, and I even grew up poor. All of this life experience turned me into a very average liberal upon graduating high school. I was a very optimistic 18 year old. I thought science could save the world. If I was 18 today I would be an average redditor stereotype probably. The point here though is I still wasn’t a leftist. Only vaguely progressive and full of optimism. This is when I got sucked into the anti-feminist pipeline.

I can’t remember what exactly what I had going on in my life but I remember it was around the time of Gamergate. Everyone on the internet, celebrities, and pop culture were saying “if you believe in equality between genders you’re a feminist” an did not like that. And there was a ton of people online to tell me I was right in not liking that. They all said feminism was not necessary anymore because legally you couldn’t discriminate against women and I agreed. Gamergate made it worse for reasons too complicated to get into in this already long post but suffice it say I was “pro Gamergate.” This put me at odds with my closes friends who thought feminism was great and had no qualms with it, and were already embracing the idea of being a “social justice warrior.” Despite reading all kinds of anti-feminist think pieces and reveling in the discourse, I was still very progressive and liberal minded person. Still thought the military was bad, that black people were discriminated against etc. But so many aspects of anti-feminism were appealing to me as a white guy who tried their hardest to do what they’re told is right, had low self esteem, undiagnosed adhd and depression, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what feminism was. Two things got me out of anti-feminism though. The first and most important thing was having friends who were patient with me about it. I didn’t reveal how into anti-feminism I was because I was ashamed but they could sense it and pushed back when they could. The second thing that got me out of it was actually finding feminists online and reading what they had to say, staying away from poorly written clickbait articles that fueled misogynist tirades against feminism. After reading and learning from feminists it finally clicked. Our society is patriarchal and that affects how people interact with each other regardless of what is legal. Many of the complaints of anti-feminism talk about how men have it in society, so how can society be patriarchal. It’s because of patriarchy that men are put in bad positions. Some of the more self aware anti-feminists had retorts against these ideas but they were emotionally charged. There’s still some anti-feminists I have respect for because of how well prepared and logical they were when it came to disputing feminism. But when it came down to the fundamental tenants of feminsim all they could respond with was anger or outright denial of reality. (If you’re like I was and don’t understand how anyone can thing modern feminism is good please feel free to ask me more, I just can’t get into specifics in this long ass post) Anyways, once you understand patriarchy and how it affects an individuals actions then you can start seeing how other institutions and cultural norms can affect an individual. This is basically fundamentals of leftism. I’d say about 90% of my path to leftism was just naturally absorbing cultural and historical information through consumption of media. The most conservative people I know are people who haven’t read very many books or seen very many movies. I’m not saying watching Austin Powers at the age of 10 will make everyone a leftist but constantly recontextualizing the world by learning something new, even if you learned it from some dumb comedy movie, can give you better grounding in a shared reality.  Don’t know how to end this but I want to say when I was a teenager I thought “communism is good in theory but it doesn’t work in practice” and I had almost no historical basis for it other than the vague notion that USSR = bad despite having consumed a massive amount of media. None of it taught me what communism actually was, I didn’t know who Karl Marx was, and I had no clue why communism in the USSR failed. You can know a lot without knowing the truth so if you’re struggling with a loved one who is mind poisoned by conservative keep in mind that they know a lot but they’re missing something important to give clarity. 

This has been my Ted Talk

[echodrops]

*Slides in on a office chair* Now that you shared some of your HaaH headcanons for Shiro and Hunk, can you do Lance and Lotor?

Didn’t want to post these until I finally had some time to update them a bit and trim out spoilers, but I got a second last night, so here you are:

HaaH Lance and Lotor headcanons:

(Under the cut to save everyone’s dash)

First, a warning: Neither one of these characters’ backstories or plot event headcanons remotely line up with the show, one because I originally wrote most of this stuff around the time season 2-3 was being released and two, because I stopped watching Voltron after season 6 and have no intention of watching the rest of the show due to my dislike for the directions the writing took. I went back and updated some stuff, such as the names of some of Lance’s siblings, to more closely match what came later in the show… but for the rest… I’m just gonna do my own thing and pretend canon does not exist.

Lance:

- The literal definition of “rich as fuck.” When relaxations on economic policy were passed in Cuba that increased opportunities for private business, Lance’s grandfather made a solid deal for three massive sugar refineries. Today, artisanal coffee houses across the world utilize the sugar refined in Lance’s family’s factories.

- Grew up in a giant villa on the peninsula just outside the town of Varadero, on a sprawling property that included a long stretch of beachfront and individual bungalows for visiting family members and the family’s several live-in staff members.

- The whole family is incredibly down to earth despite this. Lance’s aunt and grandmother insist on having a hand in every family meal, Lance’s parents always make time to be involved in the children’s activities, and Lance was taught from a very young age never to take advantage of people, regardless of their position in the world.

- Lance is the baby of his immediate family by almost ten years. He was an accident that occurred after Lance’s mother believed she was too old to become pregnant. Of course his parents never treated Lance like an accident and loved him, but still, Lance has never been able to shake the idea that he wasn’t planned—and therefore he wasn’t wanted.

- He has four older siblings, two sisters and two brothers.

- All of Lance’s siblings are extremely successful in their careers. Lance’s oldest sibling, his sister Veronica, is a captain of the Cuban Navy and commands the impressive warship Audaz. Lance’s second oldest sibling, his brother Yuniel, is a decorated conservational ecologist working to protect Matanzas’ native forests. Lance’s third sibling, his brother, Marco, is a famous solo folk musician who made it big in Cuba. Rachel, Lance’s closest sibling, runs an immersion-based cultural heritage museum that preserves the rich and complicated history of Cuba and its people.

- In short—Lance grew up surrounded by the rampant success of his older siblings, watching as they excelled at everything they pursued—which just bred a greater and greater sense of insecurity in him, as he feared he would never be able to measure up.

- On Lance’s eighth birthday, in an attempt to cheer up his very depressed youngest son, Lance’s father dragged the family’s telescope down to the beach so that they could watch a space shuttle launching from the cape in Florida. At first Lance couldn’t work up the slightest interest, but when he finally saw the huge plume of the shuttle, arcing off into the unknown depths of space, he had a Moment™. Lance knew, right then and there, exactly what he was going to do with his life, something that none of his siblings had ever achieved: he was going to go into space and explore worlds unknown.

- Lance decided that he had, absolutely HAD, to go to Galaxy Garrison when he grew up. This part worried his parents, who pointed out that Garrison was not only in another country but also a solely English-speaking school and extremely competitive. Nonetheless, Lance was determined that he would not settle for anything less than the absolute best.

- Was totally that space obsessed kid. Still thinks Black Holes are the coolest thing in the universe. His parents bought so much “Astronaut” ice cream that they probably kept that entire industry afloat.

- Lance attended Garrison’s summer Astrocamp in Arizona when he was nine. Quickly made friends with his cabin-mate, Hyrum Tava. The nickname “Hunk” came about from a slip-up when Lance tried to compare his new friend to one of his favorite American cartoon characters, the Incredible Hulk.

- Even after leaving the Astrocamp, Lance and Hunk stayed close friends, exchanging frequent emails and phone calls, which helped Lance stay on top of memes popular trends back in the states.

- Shiro was Lance’s cabin leader at the Astrocamp, and his kindness and exciting stories about actually visiting space(!!) made a huge impression on Lance. Lance… may or may not have had a celebrity shrine to Shiro made of photos and news clippings taped to his wall for several years. Whatever, every kid does it and he took it down eventually, gosh!

- Identifies as bisexual, but has never successfully dated anyone, male or female. Due to several bad experiences and close calls, Lance doesn’t talk about his sexuality or express any attraction to men except around people he is extremely comfortable with. Hunk has known for years, of course. (In fact, it was Lance’s struggle with his feelings that helped Hunk develop strong sympathy for LGBT people, despite the fact that his religion is very against it.)

- Never had a real kiss. Might be just a tiny bit desperate to have a real first kiss.

- Also might buy a bit too much into the idea of needing to be stereotypically attractive to fit in. Although his nightly beauty regime is now a comforting routine, it originally stemmed from Lance being extremely self-conscious about his looks. He’s more comfortable about his body than he used to be, but he still frequently compares himself negatively against others; do you know what kind of hell it is to have to share a locker room with people like Shiro?

- Cries at the drop of a hat. Sad book? Sad movie? Abandoned kitten? Dropped something on his toe? Tears times ten thousand. Lance was never pressured by his family to “man up;” in fact, he was always encouraged to empathize, so Lance is extremely sensitive to others’ feelings. (He and Hunk are a great fit in this regard.) He can perceive even minute changes in people’s emotions and is always ready to cheer up people who are down.

- He can’t read Keith for crap though. Not really his fault. Keith’s a literal alien.

- Lance’s extreme empathy actually backfires on him. Because being sensitive to others is second nature to him, it’s often hard for Lance to remember that not everyone is as perceptive as he is. Lance has, many times, mistaken the other paladins’ obliviousness for indifference. Everyone on the ship cares deeply about Lance and would never want him to feel bad about himself—but not everyone on the ship is perceptive enough to notice when Lance’s insecurities are affecting him.

- Wasn’t put in the cargo pilot classes at Garrison because of his flight test scores—most green cadets have zero flight experience and all do pretty badly at first. Lance was placed in cargo class because he scored too high on a combat sensitivity test, indicating that he was a poor fit mentally for becoming a soldier. Fighting monstrous looking aliens is one thing, but Lance would have coped very, very badly if he’d ever been required to kill another human being.

- Struggled to fit in at Garrison. After the crushing disappointment of ending up in cargo class, Lance also dealt with a lot of people treating him like an outsider because he was an international student. “Why is someone from Cuba trying to join the U.S. military? Are you a spy?”

- Couple that with the complicated student visa process and how his status as an international student might affect his ability to take part in Garrison-sanctioned internships and cross-border activities, and Lance felt utterly alienated at Garrison in his first few months.

- May… or may not have done exactly what his parents taught him not to do by looking for a scapegoat to take out his frustrations on. Keith, the lone wolf, ace pilot pretty boy who was too cool to even talk to the rest of the cadets (really thought he was too good to even make eye contact with Lance, huh?!) was an obvious target. Keith had every single thing that Lance had ever wanted in his whole life—the combat class, the talent, the prestige, the respect, the effortless looks—and he didn’t even seem happy to have it!

- Lance had never hated anyone before in his entire life, but Lance hated Keith—Keith basically came to stand in for every obstacle in Lance’s way, every mocking insult thrown Lance’s way, every harsh reminder from the professors that he’d never even be close to good enough, never measure up when someone like that existed… Lance started to honestly believe that the only way he’d ever be able to achieve his entire life goal was if Keith was taken out of the picture—something that proved unfortunately true when Lance was bumped up to combat class the moment Keith went missing from Garrison.

- Lance never actually said any of this stuff to Keith’s face before Keith left Garrison (Lance dreaded his parents finding out he’d been rude), but he would shit-talk Keith to anyone who would listen, a bad habit that was reinforced by people actually accepting Lance more when he started gossiping and spreading rumors than when he’d just tried to be genuinely nice.

- Even though he’d like to repair his relationship with Keith now that they’re teammates, Lance has no idea how to do that after so much time has passed. He really has no clue how to treat Keith normally after building him up into such a bitter rival. It’s… a work in progress.

- A big fan of RPG games and roleplaying. Definitely gets the most in-character when it comes to Monsters and Mana. His favorite thing about meeting new cultures is discovering nifty space items that look like key items from video games. Used to play old school RPGs with his cousins every afternoon. Playing with Pidge is extremely nostalgic for him.

- Has a host of other hobbies that don’t get much use inspace but are nevertheless impressive: he can surf, dive, and was part of a traditional dance group all the up until he left for Garrison. He doesn’t tend to think much of his hobbies as they’re not exactly practical skills you need every day in a space war, but the other members of Team Voltron are quietly impressed whenever they’re reminded of the cool things Lance can do.

- Lance has the strongest bond with his lion of any of the paladins. His connection with Blue is so innate that he can actually activate Blue’s abilities from outside his lion.

- The first one of the paladins to transform his bayard and the only one whose bayard can take three forms. And no, none of the three is a sword because what was the point of that, even??? Lance can wield his standard blaster, a long rifle, and dual pistols. The strength of theshots from Lance’s bayard can be consciously controlled—his thoughts and intentions determine whether a shot has the strength to kill or merely stun.

- Lance’s incredible aim isn’t a natural talent. Actually he’s spent hours and hours in a shooting range he found in the castle, working on perfecting his shot. Just like the gladiator levels on the training deck, the targets in the range keep getting harder and harder, but Lance is progressing very well. No one but Coran knows that Lance has been training so hard with his bayard, since Lance desperately wants to pretend his skill is all natural and has sworn Coran to secrecy. Coran covers for him by pretending he’s sent Lance off on absurd cleaning missions all the time.

- Is 1000% Coran’s favorite of the paladins. Coran won’t even try to lie if asked. Although Coran has never expressed it out loud, he sees Lance as an example of the brave, kind-hearted son he would have hoped to raise—if his son had survived the war. (On Lance’s part, although he’s also never shared this, Coran reminds him very much of his beloved uncle, who passed away when Lance was very young, but whom he still remembers well and extremely fondly.)

- After his uncle passed away, Lance’s aunt moved in with Lance’s parents permanently, and Lance essentially helped to raise his two very young cousins, Nadia and Silvio. Lance does have very good experience with children—unfortunately for him, what human children respond well to doesn’t always work for Galra kids!        

Lotor:

- Has not spent 10,000 years kicking about the universe. We’re not doing that weird “If he’s immortal because of the rift creatures then how come his governess is still alive?” plot hole song and dance routine from the actual show. Lotor was born after the war decimated the Alteans 10,000 years ago, but due to Haggar’s condition (aka being, you know, dead), he was essentially unable to live on his own and was placed in cryostasis very shortly after being born.

- Roughly 20 years before the discovery of the Blue Lion on Earth, Haggar used advancements in quintessence manipulation technology to successfully revive the infant Lotor. But she didn’t wake him for no reason—she has a very specific intention for her son, a long endgame plan, of which Lotor and even Zarkon are currently unaware.

- We’re also not doing that dumb “How could Haggar—the only remotely Altean-looking being in all of Zarkon’s presence—possibly be my mother?” plot from the show either. Lotor is aware that Haggar is his mother, although he has never been able to infiltrate her research facilities and therefore has no idea how an Altean scientist ended up where she did, looking like she did, and siding with the Galra against her own people.

- Because his parents’ past and his own origins are such a mystery, Lotor is obsessed with learning the truth of the war, the Alteans, and every hidden secret from that time period, including Voltron and the mysterious “rift.” He devours any information he can get on this period of history, and especially on Alteans, voraciously.

- But even though he’ll take any pieces of information he can get, Lotor’s real favorite obsession is mythology. He’s a deep lover of folklore and fairytales, bestiaries and local legends, and more than one assassin has traded a good story in exchange for having his life spared. Lotor may or may not hunt for space cryptids in his spare time. However, no single legend occupies Lotor’s mind as much as the legend of the mythical realm of Oriande, home of the ancient Altean alchemists. As practical as he tries to appear, Lotor has never given up his deep-down childish wish to be the one who finds the promised land of Oriande and prove it is real. But when he thinks back… Where was it that he first heard about Oriande, again? Who told him…?

- That entire thing with the hidden Altean colonies is just… not going to happen. The writers were bad and they should feel bad. Although Lotor has looked, after 10,000 years and plenty of centuries of hiding any Altean connections, distinguishing those who still have Altean blood has become essentially impossible.

- Part of the reason Lotor has looked for Alteans is that he was born with a bizarre grab-bag of Altean instincts and abilities and no guidance on how to deal with them, because he’s certainly not going to reveal to Haggar that he has unexplained talents like precognition and the ability to speak to planets. Growing up with half of his bloodline extinct has been ROUGH on Lotor.

- Speaking of growing up… Even though he remains the crown prince on official record, Lotor took the first opportunity he could to leave his parents’ sphere of influence, and he has not physically been back to Galra Central Command in more than ten years.

- Lotor is effectively a universal wanderer. Aboard his personal ship the Urbanus (a Destroyer-class star cruiser which has been heavily modified and improved by Lotor himself), Lotor and his generals travel wherever they like, both within the Galra Empire and outside it, dodging Haggar’s frequent attempts to re-exert control over Lotor and even more frequent assassination and kidnapping attempts from Zarkon’s enemies.

- Although Lotor has a very specific goal in mind, progress on this goal has been slow and painstaking, and he’s often left waiting for the next bare bones clue to chase after; this has resulted in the young prince having an unfortunate abundance of free time, which is dangerous for everyone involved. In between progress on his mysterious life’s goal, Lotor and his generals frequently get into trouble with small planets, local governments, militaries both official and off-the-books, giant monsters, and at least two hundred museum curators. They may or may not be wanted for grave-robbing in 13 different star systems.

- Basically he’s space Indiana Jones, if Indiana Jones was still 20 and also purple and also not being paid enough to be a good guy.

- All that said, as much of a devil-may-care rogue as he’d like to be seen, Lotor did spend all of his childhood under the thumb of the empire’s brutal authoritarian dictators, and he is therefore every inch a crown prince; as befitting one of his stature, he speaks eight languages fluently, flawlessly matches his formal dress to the occasion, knows exactly which piece of silverware to use when, can engage in political battles of wits and diplomatic machinations with the best of them, and has been training in armed combat since he was three years old. Lotor’s impeccable manners and steely leadership ability were literally beaten into him, to the point that now, even among trusted allies, he sometimes finds it difficult to turn off his cold, calculated princely persona.

- Not that his generals really let him get away with that kind of thing for long. Only those who have lived with multiple older sisters can truly understand the constant state of teasing and mortifying blackmail that Lotor lives in. On official record, Lotor’s generals are a crack team of terrifying bodyguards; in practice, they’re more likely to be dragging Lotor for all he’s worth than rescuing him. They might keep up formal appearances in front of others, but they’re effectively a close-knit family behind the scenes.

- It’s not a coincidence that all of Lotor’s generals are women; besides generally being awful, most Galra men make Lotor uncomfortable. From a human standpoint, Lotor is ridiculously tall and powerful; but from a Galra standpoint, Lotor is a thin, unhealthy-looking thing whose stature doesn’t command authority or respect in the slightest. It’s exhausting feeling like you have to constantly prove yourself, so Lotor prefers to spend time with a group that doesn’t invite negative comparison.

- However, it should be noted that a Galra man having only female friends has completely different connotations than a human man having only female friends—Galra women are, on the whole, considered more aggressive, bloodthirsty, and over-bearing than Galra men, so any Galra man who would choose to surround himself with that many women must either be out of his mind or incredibly badass.

- When asked what it’s like to live with four beautiful women, Lotor is basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ personified. Despite living together for years, none of the generals are romantically interested in Lotor and he’s not romantically interested in any of them.

- Many people have incorrectly assumed that Lotor and Axca are a pair, but Lotor helped Axca escape from a slave colony and she will never let another man touch her in her life. Axca is extremely grateful and loyal to Lotor, but given that Axca was Lotor’s first real friend, he’s just as grateful to her.

- If you think I’m killing off Narti, you’re out of your mind.

- Despite the fact that Lotor does not feel connected to the Galra Empire or the Galra as a whole, he’s somewhat more traditional and more likely to conform to Galra social standards than he wants to admit (even to himself). He insists that he has no interest in upholding the classic values of the Galra or meeting their expectations for how a prince should behave—but in truth, it’s impossible to fully kill that deep-down desire to just fit in. When push comes to shove, Lotor always finds himself falling in line with the Galra’s oldest and most deeply ingrained beliefs.

- With Lance in the “has never had a real kiss” club. Is not with Lance in the “wants a real kiss” club. Lotor is actually uncomfortable with being touched by strangers (36 assassination attempts will do that to you) and doesn’t make real friends, let alone anything closer, remotely easily. Some people are open books; Lotor is that one book from Harry Potter that bites people’s fingers off when they try to open it. Once you’re in his inner-circle, he’ll let you hang all over him, but before that, the space bubble is ten feet in every direction.

- Doesn’t actually put any special effort into his appearance. He just Looks Like That™.

- In fact, he actually kind of hates that stupid cowlick hair that’s always in his face but no matter how many times he cuts it off or slicks it back, it just keeps falling right back in his eyes. He’s basically given up at this point.

- His sword’s name is Eris and it was actually forged in the heart of a dying star.

- Kova the space cat hates Lotor. Lotor hates Kova. It’s a mutually antagonistic relationship. Somehow though, Lotor never makes any effort to get rid of Kova and Kova never takes the opportunity to leave. No one else understands it either, especially since Lotor gets along great with basically every other animal he meets.

- He’s not a pacifist by any means, but he is painfully practical and knows that, on occasion, sparing the life of one’s enemy nets more gain than indiscriminately crushing opponents beneath his heel. More manipulative than outright aggressive, he’s easily capable of twisting even the worst of situations to his advantage. Has an unfortunate tendency to be overly cunning—sometimes the tricks and twists he comes up with are unnecessarily full of flourish just because he thinks manipulating people like pieces in a board game is extremely entertaining. Riddles and mind games are Lotor’s favorite—the more convoluted, the better.

- Although most people refer to him by the basic “Prince Lotor” (Lotori Ahn in Galra), Lotor’s full name and official title is Lotori Kir Ahnja Avel i’ya ne Daibazaal, His Royal Highness Prince Lotor of the First Star. As the emperors and empresses of the Galra are said to be physical representations of the goddess, the firstborn children of emperors/empresses are always called “the first star,” after the supposed first creation of the goddess.

- Extremely competitive, but mostly about weird things—like sure he’s going to win if you challenge him to a swordsmanship duel, but challenge him to a staring contest? Your eyes will rot out of your head before this boy will blink. Do not think he will let you beat him in a spelling bee. More than once the generals have had to drag him away from getting involved in the bizarre competitions of the alien cultures they come into contact with. He was 1000% ready to learn to knit eight-armed sweaters with Rikrik fur, thank you. Would totally take up pig-farming JUST to win an Earth state fair.

- Likes to collect interesting artifacts and trinkets of lost civilizations by force if necessary. His ship is basically a floating museum at this point. The generals are starting to worry that they’re going to have add a whole ‘nother deck for all the war prizes Lotor wins himself. Lotor’s gathering hobby extends to games too—he’s a big fan of games that involve sets of items, like Renni, the Galra collectible card game. Would 110% be that Magic the Gathering nerd back on earth.

- In terms of other interests, Lotor is the picture definition of a Renaissance man. Although he’s not a flawless genius savant in every field, he is wicked smart and has studied a vast array of subjects; he’s a capable engineer, a skilled mathematician, a deft philosopher, a good scientist, and extremely well-read, and he is not going tolet you forget any of those things at any point in time. Lotor is always going to be better than you, please just accept your fate.

- Art is… another story. He might be able to sketch detailed architectural blueprints without breaking a sweat but ask him to draw a dog and you’re going to be in for some trouble.

And that’s more than enough for now I think! XD

[themattress]

Pokemon Franchise Narrative Comparison

To this day, there have been only three other mediums that have run for as long as the core Pokemon game series has: the anime series, the Pokemon Adventures manga series, and the Trading Card Game. With the obvious exception of the TCG, these have all had narrative arcs within each passing generation, and I want to use this post to compare their quality.

GEN I Games: Red/Blue/Green/Yellow Anime: Original Series: Indigo League + Orange Islands (The Beginning) Manga: Red/Blue/Green Chapter, Yellow Chapter  

1st Place - Manga. The original R/B/G Chapter brings the world of the Game Boy games to life in stunning accuracy, while also its own spin on certain things and crafting a simple yet sophisticated coming-of-age narrative, with the Yellow Chapter being its Actionized Sequel that raises the stakes even higher and deepens everything within this manga series. Add to this clear influence from the anime and the fact that it’s the only Gen I product to feature the character of Green in it, and we have the definitive story for the franchise’s first generation.

2nd Place - Anime. While increasingly less faithful to the details of the games, the anime remained very faithful to the spirit of them while telling its own coming-of-age tale for Ash Ketchum in the Indigo League series, plus a “postgame scenario” equivalent with the Orange Islands series. The highlight of this story is definitely how it fleshes out the games’ main antagonists: Gary Oak, Team Rocket and Mewtwo, into interesting, memorable characters.

3rd Place - Games. The 8-bit adventure that started it all is incredibly bare-bones and basic: take the Pokemon League challenge, thwart the evil Team Rocket along the way, and if possible fill up that Pokedex with all 151 Pokemon (”Gotta Catch ‘Em All!”). As a story, it’s not very interesting, but as an excuse for gameplay it works marvelously and established a winning formula for the series, and to this day it’s still charming in its wholesome simplicity.

GEN II Games: Gold/Silver/Crystal Anime: Original Series: GS (Gold and Silver) Manga: Gold/Silver/Crystal Chapter

1st Place - Manga. It’s funny - in the first volume of the G/S/C Chapter, things seemed to be a definite downgrade from the Kanto-based arcs that came before in terms of artwork, characterization and narrative. But then the mysterious masked antagonist appears at the end, and from then on out things just keep escalating to such epic heights that it becomes the best Johto story in the franchise and arguably the best arc in the whole manga series! Practically everyone and everything from the previous two arcs end up joining up with the new elements and the series up to this point is brought to a satisfying, conclusive note. 

2nd Place - Games. While the League challenge and Pokedex narrative threads are basically the same as before, and the Team Rocket thread is actually weaker, this story also features a stronger regional setting, a stronger rival, and stronger characterization for side characters both old and new, especially in the special edition, Crystal, making it a welcome step-up.  

3rd Place - Anime. An attempt at a new narrative was notoriously abandoned early on, with Takeshi Shudo leaving the head writer position and the whole show devolving into formulaic Filler Hell. While the Johto League tournament that concluded the whole thing was good, there was barely a story to support getting there, and the main characters had all become Flanderized versions of their former selves by the end. Without question, the anime had jumped the shark. But Shudo did give us the best movie and an OVA that properly concluded Indigo League’s Mewtwo arc before he was through, so let’s not say it was a total waste.

GEN III Games: Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald, FireRed/LeafGreen Anime: Advanced Generation (Ruby and Sapphire) Manga: Ruby/Sapphire Chapter, FireRed/LeafGreen Chapter, Emerald Chapter

1st Place - Games. The first time that the games get first place, but only on the technicality that the other contenders are worse, since this really isn’t that big an improvement over the previous two generations’ game narratives. The biggest difference is that your character is the child of one of the Gym Leaders, and the evil team narrative thread (Team Aqua and/or Team Magma this time) builds to an epic high-stakes event that involves the Legendary Pokemon mascot of the game which will become a mainstay of the formula from now on. There is also the remakes of the original Gen I games, and aside from some small tweaks of improvement and a postgame scenario in an island archipelago (anime-inspired, perhaps?), the narrative is basically the same as it was before. Nothing outstanding, but serviceable. 

2nd Place - Manga. Talk about a mixed bag...the R/S Chapter started out with promise but ended up going to shit in its second half, the FR/LG Chapter was fantastic only to conclude with a bullshit last-minute cliffhanger, and the Emerald Chapter that connects the two arcs is just stereotypical, badly-written shonen crap with only a few good elements in it (plus some ironic enjoyment to be had in its batshit insane climax). On the whole, this was the weakest period that the manga series has ever had, despite Kusaka and Yamamoto’s best efforts.  

3rd Place - Anime. Beyond May and her character arc which, by some lucky fluke, came together wonderfully, the anime hadn’t improved that much from the Johto days. Hoenn was not done any justice (even the manga did a better job with it!), and the FRLG/Emerald composite for the filler arc afterward was just weird in spite of how entertaining half of it was. All in all, the anime hadn’t gotten a real narrative back. It was just going through the motions.

GEN IV Games: Diamond/Pearl/Platinum, HeartGold/SoulSilver Anime: Diamond & Pearl Manga: Diamond/Pearl Chapter, Platinum Chapter, HeartGold/SoulSilver Chapter

1st Place - Manga. Pokemon Adventures retakes its crown in this generation, with a phenomental two arcs in the Sinnoh region that are so linked that they essentially make up one whole story, and a brief, adequate arc in Johto that properly bridges the gap between those Sinnoh arcs and the Emerald arc before them. Whenever I think of Sinnoh, it’s the region portrayed in this manga that comes to mind, which is a testament to its high quality.

2nd Place - Games. One word can describe the narratives of these games: overcooked. There are a lot of good ingredients here that elevate the series’ storytelling to a new level, but way too many cooks who don’t have a unified idea of how to properly mix them together means that it becomes a muddled mess of mythology, philosophy and vague character motivations. This particularly pisses me off when it effects the otherwise solid Gen II remakes. However, the good elements are still good regardless, and as showcased by the following generation this was a necessary learning curve to get through, so it deserves some respect.

3rd Place - Anime. Ugh. Newly appointed head writer Atsuhiro Tomioka tries to have his cake and eat it too here, maintaining the anime’s banal filler formula while also attempting to tell a legitimate narrative, but he as just one man somehow manages to clutter up that narrative more than the several writers did for the games in this generation! It is an increasingly insufferable roller coaster of plot threads and supposed character arcs that are drawn out to the point of disinterest across four years, with you really feeling the disastrous pace when it takes a years’ worth of time between Ash winning his 7th badge and him winning his 8th. Combine this with the source material of the games being disrespected or cast aside perhaps worse than ever, and you get what I will always believe is the lowest point for the anime.  

GEN V Games: Black/White, Black 2/White 2 Anime: Best Wishes + Best Wishes Season 2 (Black and White) Manga: Black/White Chapter, Black 2/White 2 Chapter

1st Place - Games. With this generation, particularly with its first set of games, the learning curve undergone in Gen IV paid off. This is quite possibly the richest narrative in the whole game series in terms of plot, characterization and themes, and the peak of the traditional formula. Combined with stellar gameplay, it creates a high point that has yet to be matched.

2nd Place - Manga. The Black/White Chapter had a rough start, just copying the games’ plot almost to the letter but with the characterizations for the main characters truly being less than ideal (see what I did there?) However, once Black and White go their own separate ways the arc starts rapidly improving until it ends on a phenomenal high note that segues perfectly in the Black 2/White 2 arc that, like the Yellow arc, is an Actionized Sequel and, like the Platinum arc, is essentially the continuation and conclusion of the same story as in the previous arc. The only real mark against it is that it can be too fast-paced which only adds to the frustrating irony of the absolutely Hellish schedule slip it underwent (8 fucking years for an arc of just 24 chapters / 3 volumes to be completed! It’s never going to live that fact down!)

3rd Place - Anime. Kind of the reverse of the manga: had a great start being the best that the anime has been in a long time, only to get progressively weaker, with the third and final year being a trainwreck of checking off plot points in a mad rush to promote the upcoming Gen VI and pander to the whiny fanboys who’d been complaining about the loss of the formula and D/P-style story writing (yes, they actually liked those) plus the “soft reboot” aspect going on, particularly with Ash. However, much like the Gen IV games, the Gen V anime proved to be a necessary learning curve for the future and is a highly impactful series in that regard, so it deserves respect for that (although I hate that both a natural disaster and the B2/W2 games screwed up the originally planned Team Plasma arc! It’s never going to live that fact down!) 

GEN VI Games: X/Y, Omega Ruby/Alpha Sapphire Anime: XY + XY&Z Manga: X/Y Chapter, Omega Ruby/Alpha Sapphire Chapter

1st Place - Manga. I thoroughly dislike the story of the X/Y games and the Delta Episode of OR/AS, so imagine my surprise when Pokemon Adventures actually makes something good out of them (or, in the Delta Episode’s case, something tolerable at best). The X/Y Chapter is a delightful deconstruction of a lot of what’s in the games, turning what was light and fluffy and hollow into something dark and suspenseful and meaningful. And the OR/AS Chapter gets points for being the best that Ruby and Sapphire have ever been characterized, to the point where they’ve been officially Rescued from my Scrappy Heap (Emerald’s still lame tho).

2nd Place - Games. Like I said, I dislike the X/Y games’ narrative and the Delta Episode of OR/AS; I think they are the worst writing the game series has ever seen to date. But the main narrative of OR/AS - the actual remake of the Gen III games which features a lot of new and necessary improvements - is solid, and that’s enough to put the games at second place here.

3rd Place - Anime. Similarly, the one thing the anime series does really well - the Myth Arc, which includes the Team Flare storyline - is not enough to elevate it beyond third place, because the rest of the series’ narrative is just as lame as the X/Y games’, there’s not much benefit from OR/AS elements, and everything that it positions in its shameful fan-pandering utterly fails to deliver or add up to anything meaningful in the end. The Mega Evolution specials pretty clearly demonstrate that this should have been Alain’s show, not Ash’s.

GEN VII Games: Sun/Moon/Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon Anime: Sun & Moon Manga: Sun/Moon/Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon Chapter

1st Place - Games. The Gen V games have serious competition story-wise with the Gen VII games. Both S/M and US/UM are excellent, with things not done so well in one being done better in the other and vice-versa to the point where they compliment each other beautifully.

2nd Place - Anime. Miracle of miracles! For the first time since Gen I, the anime series gets its narrative in second place, with Daiki Tomiyasu and Aya Matsui completely reinventing it in a refreshingly fun and vibrant way. There are some missed opportunities here and there, but overall it’s a perfect adaptation of the Alola region and everything that makes it so great.

3rd Place - Manga. While this is still an arc of good quality that I like, it’s also perhaps the most disappointing since Ruby/Sapphire back in Gen III. After doing so well with Sinnoh, Unova and Kalos, one senses that Kusaka and Yamamoto struggled to adapt Alola to that same standard, and while the decision to keep US/UM as part of the same arc rather than be a separate one was wise, it’s during the US/UM half of the arc that things really start falling apart and the wasted potential of stuff that got set up earlier becomes overbearing. It doesn’t help that the leads are an unlikable hero with an interesting, relatable goal and a likable heroine with an uninteresting, unrelatable goal respectively. Let’s hope that the patchwork done in the volume releases fixes some of the problems so that I can like this arc even more.

GEN VIII Games: Sword/Shield Anime: New Series (Journeys) Manga: Sword/Shield Chapter

1st Place - Manga. As I recently stated, Kusaka and Yamamoto are back at their A-Game with this arc, taking advantage of all that was lacking in the games’ story and utilizing them in an interesting narrative that I can’t wait to further experience alongside our surrogate, Marvin.

2nd Place - Games. If the Gen IV games’ narrative was overcooked, then the narrative of the games four generations later is most definitely undercooked. It’s not the worst story - that’s still Gen VI - but it’s possibly the most disappointing since it’s so easy to see how it could have been better and you are left baffled as to why the writers didn’t go in that direction.

3rd Place - Anime. This series is highly enjoyable thanks to the continued leadership of Daiki Tomiyasu, but not only is there not as much of a narrative as there’s been in earlier shows, it isn’t even uniquely Gen VIII-based: taking place across all regions in the Pokemon World and taking influence from mobile games like Go (released in Gen VI) and Masters (released in Gen VII).  Add to that the unfortunate hiatus it’s now on and it can’t help but be placed last.

[amyscascadingtabs]

you’re all that i’ve been yearning for

bonus chapter to i’ve been waiting for you, told from amy’s perspective. 

read on ao3 here. 

Amy broke her right arm when she was six years old.

She still remembers the day in crystal-clear hypermnesia, recalling every bit of it from the way the sun had basked through her window when she woke up, to the way Luis had insisted she’d come with him and Julian to climb trees in the woods right by their house. She’d been reluctant, not at all itching to let go of her new child encyclopedia, but he’d teased her with a what, are you scared we’ll be better than you? and his implication had been all it took for her to both race him out of the house and win. Always eager to prove her toughness, she had let her older brothers guide her higher and higher in the tree while their parents busied themselves in the garden trying to solve a fight between the younger twins. Eventually, she had climbed higher than both of her older brothers, leaning her weight against a seemingly stable branch. Then she remembers falling.

It had taken twenty-seven minutes between the fall and the arrival of the ambulance. Amy knows because she counted them. She had gritted her teeth while she lay in the grass, never screaming until the ambulance personnel reached her and a man with cold fingers reached out to feel the place where her arm had grown swollen, and she had counted the seconds and minutes of ruthless, vehement pain to keep herself sane.

She used to believe the pain she’d felt in those twenty-seven minutes had been the worst pain she’d ever have to endure. No physical pain could ever be worse.

Three hours after getting the contraction-stimulating drip, Amy knows better. This pain right here, the one coursing through her body every two to three minutes making every muscle in her body want to tense, the one making her unable to do anything but breathe and groan and mumble muffled curses until it eases up, is the worst pain she’s ever felt. The broken arm from years ago is a gentle tickle in comparison.

“I want to go home,” she whispers when a particularly brutal contraction calms down and Jake, feeling her grip on his hand relax, hands her the glass of some strawberry-flavored sugary drink she’s drinking with a straw for some energy. “I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”

“Mm,” he hums, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. “Remember the goal picture? Next time we’re going home…”

“It’s with our baby sleeping in their car seat wearing their going home-outfit,” she fills in on reflex. “I know, I know. It’s all going to be worth it, I was made to be able to do this, other dumbass motivational crap - oh, fuck.”

“Another one?”

She groans a positive.

It’s not even a full minute in between them this time. The pain builds, concentrated to her lower back and stomach but shooting down into her pelvis for extra torture, and she falls back on her side in the hospital bed with a new string of curses. She’s squeezing her eyes shut, but gets a glimpse of Jake’s concerned expression before she closes them. She must be bruising the bones in his hand by now, but if she is, he’s not saying anything about it.

“You’re doing great,” he just whispers in her ear, and she wants to wheeze easy for you to say but doesn’t, trying to save her last remnants of energy.

There's not a lot of energy left after eighteen hours of this. The sleeplessness didn't bother her as much in the beginning, she was jittery with excitement, contractions were fairly short and she could breathe through them okay back then. Now, on the other hand, she's getting bitter.

It’s laughable, of course, that their kid is already displaying the mixed Santiago-Peralta genes by saying yeah, I’d like to come out early, but I’m going to take my sweet time with it, but Amy thinks she might just have found it funnier if she’d had any sleep in the last day and a half.

The pain eases again. For who knows how long, but it eases, and she draws a breath of relief and lets go of Jake's hand for a while, opening her eyes to see him massaging it with a focused expression.

“I’d say sorry about the hand,” she mumbles, “But I’m not.”

“Eh. Bones heal,” he says with a half-hearted grin. Amy shoots him a threatening look, and he quickly resumes a serious face. “Sorry. Hand’s unimportant. How are you feeling?”

“Like I hate this. The pain is getting worse and worse, I’m exhausted, and this isn’t even the end of it. I still have the worst part to go, and I still have to be awake and conscious for it.”

“Can I do anything else to help?”

“Hit me real hard in the head so I fall unconscious?”

“Yeah, I’m still not going to do that.”

“Then no.”

He snorts, giving her another sip of the strawberry drink.

In all fairness, Amy doesn't actually know what she would have done without Jake being there. He's being her biggest supporter, offering everything from encouragement to massages to distracting commentary on the birthing suite’s design choices, coaching her through deep breaths and making sure she's hydrated. She's grateful and appreciative, but she's also in way too much pain to let him have that satisfaction. Later - after - she’ll compliment him, but only when it no longer feels like she's having menstrual cramps on steroids radiating like a burning feeling from her core.

They're a minute long now, so she focuses on that thought - one minute, one minute, one minute - and tries to count the seconds again. She gets to sixty and takes a deep breath when the pain lets up.

Finally a break, she has time to think in the ten seconds before her body betrays her and a new wave follows right after the first one.

The pain level is even worse this time. For the first time in these eighteen hours, she can’t stop herself from crying out in pain - it’s all-encompassing and agonizing, and it’s terrible, terrible, terrible.

In the beginning, she was trying to distract herself with happy thoughts, the reasons she’s doing this, how it’s a limited time of pain for a lifetime of happiness. Now there’s no point in distracting anymore; all she can do is sink into pain, try to breathe, try not to scream again.

“You’re killing it,” she hears Jake tell her, and maybe she is, but it’s not what she feels like.

“Stop talking.”

“Ah-kay.”

Amy’s not sure how long it takes before this contraction subsides. She can’t count in her head anymore, can’t do anything but breathe and try to ignore the nausea that’s joined the pain now, because apparently, she wasn’t suffering enough as it was. She makes a mental note in her head when the pain finally ebbs to say a sincere fuck you to her mom, who insisted that birthing eight children had been a walk in the park and no more painful than a headache. Although it did make her go in with a positive attitude to the whole thing, Amy has never related less to a comparison.

She loses track of time after a while. There are more doubles as if her body is deciding she wasn’t suffering enough as long as she had the breaks to look forward too, and every now and then the wave repeats a third time just to throw her off her game. She tries new positions in a desperate attempt for a sliver of relief, tries standing and leaning and weird ways of sitting, but it all equals to the same burning, contracting pain which isn’t going anywhere.

Their midwife checks her somewhere in the midst of the torture. Amy prays to some heavenly power that she’s going to say seven or eight centimeters or something that means she’s actually making progress, but she says four, maybe five and Amy wants to give up. She tells her so, receiving the well-meaning advice that she could reconsider pain relief for a bit of a break, but she can’t give them an answer in the moment and is asked to press the button when she’s certain. For now, the midwife leaves and the pain continues.

“I love you,” Jake whispers when he finally sees her relax after a third repeated wave, ignoring the previously issued talking-ban. He’s drawing circles on her scalp with his fingers, though, and it feels really nice, so she forgives him. “This is getting worse, huh?”

“So much worse.”

“It’s your decision, but - are you sure you don’t want to rethink pain relief?” He asks with zero judgment, all genuine worry and care in his eyes, and she bites her lip when she still doesn’t know what answer to give him. “Since they’re suggesting it and all.”

Unmedicated as long as possible had been her plan, based mainly on what her mom had recommended to no end and also a long list of overly inspirational birth vlogs on YouTube. It had felt right, and badass, and like something she should be able to do, but after eighteen sleepless hours of pain and too little progress, she’s not as confident.

“I don’t know,” she whispers back. “Maybe.”

Jake nods, opening his mouth as if to say something, but he doesn’t have the time before yet another contraction hits and she clenches his hand so tight her nails must be leaving marks.

This one is worse again. It’s like they’re on a ladder, ascending in pain level for each one, and it feels like a miracle when she manages to wheeze a warning of I’m going to throw up just in time for Jake to hold a plastic bag to her chin, not commenting but simply holding her hair back.

Considering how momentous a day it should be in their lives, it certainly feels like one of the least romantic.

“Okay,” she breathes when the pain subsides. “You know what? I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“I am convinced you could do anything,” he corrects her. “But the point is you don’t have to. You could get that sweet, sweet pain relief, learn all about what it’s like to be on drugs, get some proper rest before you literally push a human out of you.”

“That does sound nice. I mean, not the last part, but the other points you made.”

“Seriously, Ames. You’ve been doing amazing,” he says with a kiss to her forehead. “But this is hard, and maybe it’s harder than you thought it would be. No one is going to judge you if you need some help or a bit of a break. You’re still going to have done it.”

“I read too many positive stories,” she sighs. “Not enough people warned me of this.”

“I mean, I think some did. Gina scared you pretty good.”

“Yeah, but I was confident, you know? I was convinced it wasn’t going to be that bad.” She has to pause the conversation for another contraction, feeling the irony. “Feels like I was wrong, huh?”

“Doesn’t matter whether you were wrong,” he says, rubbing his thumbs against one of her wrists. “Matters if you’re okay.”

“You promise you won’t think I’m less badass?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, feeling a morsel of relief even as she decides the words in her head. “Then I want the epidural.”

It’s a sting of a needle in her lower back, barely noticeable in comparison to everything else, and then five minutes later, there's blissful relief.

There’s still pressure, but not even in the proximity of what she felt just ten minutes earlier, and the relief of seeing a contraction happen on the monitors without feeling any pain herself is the best thing she’s felt so far today. A nurse plays their baby’s heartbeat for them for a while, assuring them everything’s looking great, and then they’re left alone to get some rest. Jake drapes a blanket over her when she starts to shiver, and before she even asks him to, he’s climbed up in the bed with her to hold her while she takes her well-deserved break.

The realization hits again when her mind is no longer occupied trying to survive the nightmarish pain; they’re meeting their baby today, and they’re meeting their baby soon. It’s a maximum of hours away before they’re parents for real, and it’s the craziest, best, and most nerve-wracking feeling.

She whispers this to Jake with a tearful smile, and he responds with a goofily excited grin on his own as he traces a heart all over the skin of her bump.

Today.

[velvetinewitch]

wips list

this functions as a key to all of my wips, including ones i don’t actively write but still work on occasionally. in case you didn’t know, all of my wips include: poc, LGBT+ characters, disabled and non-neurotypical characters, found families, usually fantasy elements because i love magic, and often a little romance (which is usually accompanied by found families or tragedy, but for my romance-repulsed friends, there are still stories with no romance!)

key: *: heavily connected stories >: stories taking place after the events of Faye and Fate (a very distant future)

Closest to Complete (in order... ish)

Painted Cards: a group of teenagers end up criminals after a magical goddess chooses them for greatness. instead of embarking on some epic adventure, they decide to save the world another way: through kindness and coffee. a story about a found family made up of unintentional criminals with trauma that they’ll learn to cope with. mostly written for myself, but also written for the people in my life who needed to see characters like them have a happy ending. a very hopeful, fantasy slice-of-life story.

*Faye and Fate: almost everything i write is exposition or a result of this 5 book series. Aralion Faye resets the timeline so often it all just blurs together. with each new on she creates, she watches the ones she loves die over and over again, as if it’s all a video game culminating up to that game over screen. things always start out so innocently, too; her memories never return until later, so for a while, she enjoys attending a magic school, falling in love, playing pranks, befriending her peers. by the end of the year, the world comes back to remind her that her happy ending is unachievable. between traitors, corruption, fires, and cliffs... this time has to be different. this time she’ll save everyone she loves. is overall a story about heroes of all types. love this series so much abhddvk. magic is based on skills/interests: art, writing, engineering, astronomy, directing, zoology, architecture, makeup art, etc

*Mortals Versus Morals: (this isn’t actually the title but it makes me laugh so it’s being used as the placeholder) Glen is 17, rich, sheltered, and possibly the most lawful good person ever. plot twist- there’s a prophecy predicting his (as well as 6 others’) involvement in the end of the world, and they aren’t on the good side. Glen struggles to balance saving the world from villains while trying not to become a villain himself. includes: road trips and bonding, scenes like the one where the aro-ace friend gets seduced by a nine-tailed fox who runs a Burger King, everyone educating Glen on cultures and respecting pronouns :) as well as the occasional choking angst that comes with a bunch of almost adults getting dragged into the business of gods. did i mention there are gods? there are gods. i do kill a love interest of a protag but then give them TWO romantic partners because i’m not a coward (i feel like the characters who lose a love interest end up in a poly relationship most often in my stories... as a sort of apology to them lmao). also Utah? basically stops existing at some point. magic is based off a deity someone worships, with worship comes borrowed magic. the characters themselves are basically just omnists? 

Beneath Our Skin: Sam and Ana don’t know each other. it’s by chance that they’re separated from their class during a field trip, and end of wandering straight into a portal to another world, one with magic. while searching for a way home, they accidentally make their own- in the meantime, they’re gonna find a magician who can give Sam a shapeshifting spell because Sam would really like to transition, even if it’s through magical means, please. written for me and my fake-brother, so lots of being platonically domestic and also sarcastic... this is in a really poetic writing style too.

House of Crabs: this is not the name it just makes me giggle so placeholder time! contemporary, no romance or fantasy or anything (although like one crime is committed but life is life that). here’s the old summary: Siera lives in the mansion of thirty year old Janelle, a woman who has the tendency to take in stray children, granting them shelter despite their tragic backstories or strange personalities. When one of the outcasts, Roy, is confronted by his biological brother, Roy is absolutely horrified by the concept of being dragged back to his transphobic family. The outcasts are dead set on protecting him, even if it requires breaking laws. But Roy's brother doesn't seem that content on harming Roy or bringing him home against his will. Instead, the boy seems more interested in coming out of the closet, hoping that his little brother and his new family can help him learn how to be his true flamboyant self. 

>Obligatory Superhero Stories (3 stories):  ----Lei is supposedly a civilian, until she arrests the man who ruined her life and accidentally ends up adopting his daughter, Hera. Hera coerces her into adopting her classmate Jason. the two get kidnapped. Lei gets annoyed by how useless she is in saving them, and becomes the first non-mutant superhero. in the meanwhile, the US Secretary of Powers, Victoria, is forced to monitor her progress for a court case deciding whether this is legal, and accidentally falls in love. Hera fucks with journalists and enjoys being politically smarter, Jason attempts to create a ground-breaking technology and blows up hundreds of phones, and Victoria never sleeps. literally. her superpower is just,,, no sleeping. ----Vessa becomes a superhero by accident. it involves art galleries, snow, and unlicensed doctors. now, she operates under an alias, the hero Froze (very creative, yes), alongside her trusted sidekicks. unbeknownst to Vessa, she has a history with the villain she’s fighting, and their teams may be more entangled outside of their aliases than first believed. basically, an enemies to family (and some lovers) story, involving a lot of morally grey shenanigans thanks to a corrupt society. ----there’s a villain on the lose, know as Heart-twist, with the ability to take someone’s darker emotions and intensify them. in reality, Sora is just a teenage girl, with four dear and near friends. it’s been a year since her sister’s boyfriend, a hero, prioritized glorious battle over rescue, and her sister died alone and afraid. Sora is just waiting to make him fall in love with her, so she can repay the favor.

>Paint Me a Picture: dystopian future! roughly 78% of the population is monochromatic, and can only see in shades of grey. it seems petty in plain sight, but jealousy has left the other 22% segregated, separated by a boundary and sinking in poverty. Pristaline is apart of the majority, privileged without even realizing it- her biggest concern is making herself a future in law. a car accident leaves her in a recover home near the boundary, where she accidentally meets Jackson, a color-seeing boy, who calls her eyes ‘blue.’ the encounter sparks a revolution. this is a sadder story- it ends with a girl, watercolor swatches, and a grave.

*Run From Wolves: Elayna is unfortunate enough to be a magic-born in the one kingdom that still prosecutes female magic-borns (to which she says, fuck their religion for saying women shouldn’t have magic). when she and her half-brother Shage are discovered, instead of being executed, Elayna is offered a position beside her brother in the kingdoms prestigious Goddess Guard. the offer comes with a price: they must swear allegiance to the king, and can do him no harm. luckily, a pretty spy from a neighboring kingdom offers Elayna a loophole. includes spirit animals, political intrigue, lesbians, murdering an asshole king, and a secret mystery involving immortality and wolves.

*Twin Kingdoms: there’s an island floating in the sky- two, now, split in half down the center. Melony and Serena have known about the conflict between their kingdoms, but they never really realized it’s intensity until Melony’s older brother close friend betrayed her and seized the throne for himself, pitting her kingdom against Serena’s and searching for war. Melony and Serena are able to escape together, living in disguise and biding their time before they can retake what belongs to them. has a really fun character who’s a villain (she’s the traitor brother’s little sister), gets stuck with an injury, is healed by a girl in an enemy village, and struggles to reaffirm her beliefs while vaguely falling in love. sighhhhhh i miss this series

*Where Shadows Bloom: written during the time of my life where i loved badass assassins becoming queens or princess... despite the trope being looked down upon, i hold this dear to my heart. basically, there’s a period of turmoil throughout the entire planet. on one end of the world, the queen is assassinated by a girl aiming to use her throne to destroy her noble parents, an underground group seeks to end slavery through magical battles and underhanded deals, and an orphan boy is made king. on the other side of the world, a second world war rages, pitting the Gold Alliance (good guys) against the Silver Alliance (bad guys). a princess goes undercover, venturing into a captured kingdom to spy on opposing forces. she’s taken in by an engineer/pilot who helps her stay in disguise as she uncovers the nefarious plot that involves the prosecution of an entire people. it all ties in together.

*Fateless: i really can’t get enough of magic and princesses, huh. ever wonder what Arthurian mythology would be like if it was in my world? Raine’s family has known tragedy after tragedy, from the death of her uncle, then aunt, her brother, and finally, her parents. fate has left her alive to inherit their throne when she comes of age. still, even she is cursed, wearing a ring that burns her with the pain of her people. she doesn’t wince anymore, not even when she watches another witch burn at the stake, and feels the flames crawl up her body, phantom but so, so real. when her kingdom falls, Raine and her most trusted knights are forced to flee into the woods. there, they find a tavern alongside a their road, run by a mysterious woman named Lancelin. there’s something familiar about the woman, something from Raine’s past, and something strange about the way that each of her customers leaves with healed minds and bodies. secretly-enemies to secretly-lovers! as common with me...

[artificialqueens]

Five People's Thoughts on Adore and Bianca: Laganja Estranja (2/5) (Biadore-ish) - doctor bitchcraftt

Yes gawd mawma, it’s finally time to hear from Laganja, okurrrr?  

1. Courtney Act

2. Laganja Estranja

3 & 4. Raja & Raven

5. Trixie Mattel

A/N: Laganja isn’t a character I’ve written before, and I wanted to avoid reducing her to a caricature of her own behavior by exploring the deep insecurities exposed by her Untucked outbursts and her version of calculated competition.  She’s the quintessential unreliable narrator, and I hope that comes through properly.

Xoxoxoxo, bitchcraftt

********

Laganja had been pleased to find Adore in her group for Drag Race, both as a friendly face and a known quantity: good, but not going to outshine her in the end (she didn’t even cinch).  They’d gotten on well before the show, and she couldn’t wait to kiki with her on camera.  More importantly, she wanted to find a moment to ask if she’d managed to stash anything for later since her nerves had been buzzing for hours already.

Striding into the workroom, she landed a perfect death drop that hopefully would capture the fans’ attention once the episode aired.

Sizing up the rest of the competition proved more challenging.  She almost immediately dismissed Vivacious (what the fuck was that on her head anyway?) and cautiously considered the likelihood that BenDeLaCreme would turn out to be playing the long game behind her sweet persona.  Laganja weighed the potential benefit of establishing Gia as an ally, felt a twinge of envy for April’s showy costume and Latin charm, and came up suspiciously neutral in her impression of Kelly Mantle.

After the photo shoot and gleefully celebrating her first win, she sat back and waited for the other queens to arrive, ignoring how much she really wanted to light up to calm her nerves.

Kelly hadn’t lasted long anyway.  One queen down, and six new bitches to add to the mix.

********

The first thing she noticed when the second group walked in was how much older Darienne and Courtney looked in person (although she had to begrudgingly admit that Courtney’s fishyness was impressive).  Courtney was pretty, but her makeup wasn’t drag-worthy.  As for Darienne, well, a queen who couldn’t wear high heels wasn’t a queen at all in her book.

Joslyn seemed genuinely nice, although probably not savvy enough to last long.  On the other hand, she would definitely make Laganja seem even more polished by comparison, so maybe she would be worth keeping around for a couple of weeks.

Trinity had faded into the background, and Laganja figured she would stay there.  Part of her empathized with the air of someone struggling with their own inner issues, but she couldn’t afford to play nice.  Trinity didn’t seem likely to pose a threat, and it was probably safe to leave her to her own devices.

Most of all though, the last two who came through the doors set off alarm bells in her head.  

Milk looked like a demented marionnette wrapped in organza, but the sheer outlandish energy coming off her might be a problem as the challenges progressed.  She also wondered if Milk had any dance background, watching her assured movement in and out of drag.  So far no one else seemed to be able to match her for flexibility and ability to tear up the floor, but she planned to keep an eye on the bearded wonder.

Last across the threshold and sporting neon eyeshadow that badly needed blending, Laganja recognized Bianca Del Rio.  The queen had to be pushing forty (Alyssa had mentioned her a few times, calling her ‘established in the business’), but her padding and wig line were flawless.  Beyond the packaging though, she recognized the sharp eyes of a fellow competitor.  Combined with her sharp tongue, Laganja might actually have some serious competition.

********

Scream Queens

After the first acting challenge, when Laganja found herself laughing along with Bianca’s cutting retort to Adore, she wondered if the other queen might actually not be as much of a problem as she’d anticipated.  If she was going to devote energy to taking down all of the girls verbally, then it was less to focus on everything else.  Adore rarely played well with other queens in her experience, so why should Drag Race be any different?  It meant that Laganja ought to have her undivided support, at least until she was sent home.  

Bianca didn’t appear concerned with playing to the camera outside of the challenge, nor did she make an effort to capture airtime in the workroom.  Moreover, she didn’t make any attempt to showcase her slender legs (nice, but not as nice as Laganja’s) to take attention away from her overdrawn face, which could only be a serious tactical error.  And while the old Hollywood glamour admittedly flattered her petite figure, it wasn’t edgy or exciting for someone who claimed to be a costume designer.  

The oversized rhinestoned collar was actually impressive.  Not as imaginative as her butterfly fascinator, but definitely interesting.  

Laganja had studied the looks on Bianca’s garment rack, and while a part of her coveted the craftsmanship (apparently Bianca made everything herself), her overriding impression was that the queen was stuck too far in the past.  People like Laganja, and Adore, were the new face of drag, outside of smoky clubs and bars.  

Also, the obsessive neatness and organized rows of identically styled wigs made her supremely uncomfortable.

********

Shade: The Rusical

In the Gold Bar, she struggled to contain her tears when a message from her parents played.  Everything was finally coming together, and she could picture the crown on display in Alyssa’s dance studio for everyone to know that Laganja Estranja of the Haus of Edwards was a true winner.

Sniffling, she turned her attention back to the other girls, waiting for their separate conversation to end so they could finish validating her experience.  It started out well, and even Bianca was complimentary towards her parents.  Who would have thought she had it in her?  (She was half convinced that Bianca spent every night off set thinking up ways to insult everyone else.)

And then, right as Laganja felt safe in relaxing just a little, Bianca cut across her moment with a joke.  It wasn’t the joke itself - she couldn’t care less what the bitter bitch thought of her - but then all of the other girls laughed and started another conversation without her.  Worse, they seemed to be laughing at her, which wasn’t fair at all.  The prickling sense of doubt came roaring back full force, and she couldn’t afford to let anyone see it, especially not here.    

How could they be so insensitive?

…how dare they?

“This was my moment!” she sobbed, not even hearing what was said after and barely conscious of the words coming out of her mouth.

This couldn’t be happening.

****      

Later, when she was calm again and Adore was disappointed in not winning the main challenge, Laganja found herself torn between annoyance on her behalf (Courtney Act was so *pitchy*) and being secretly relieved that one more episode was complete without the judges being drawn under Adore’s charming spell.  

The thing about Adore, was that her powerful voice wasn’t going to make up for her thrift store drag budget.  Her punk rock rebel schtick was only going to go so far, especially in comparison to queens with professionally made looks.  Laganja hated to think it, but Bianca Del Rio’s unclockable hairline next to Adore’s messy shake-and-go Party City closeouts was a point in her favor.

More importantly, she was relieved to unload her frustration at being dismissed on a friendly ear.  Adore might be a little slow, but she definitely stuck up for her friends.  Bianca wouldn’t catch her off-guard again, and not with Adore now aware of her awful behavior.      

********

Snatch Game

Laganja woke up feeling peaky and drained.  She panicked for a moment, thinking about the cameras catching her looking tired.  The only solution, as Alyssa had taught her, was to put on her biggest wig and blow the other bitches out of the water.  Digging in her suitcase, she located her pièce de résistance: a high braided turban that was sure to deflect from anyone noticing the bags under her eyes.

Her tactic seemed to be working, because the other queens were staring with impressed expressions as she showed off her flexibility for the camera.

Crisis averted.

Unsurprisingly, Bianca was the first one in full face and wig while the other queens were still baking and contouring.  She moved around the workroom purposefully, offering to help DeLa with her old lady face and brushing out Trinity’s wig.  When her black-clad form (why did Bianca suddenly look so tiny?) appeared behind Laganja in the mirror, she steeled herself for more negativity.

“Want me to help?”

Laganja blinked, certain that she’d heard wrong, and tried to continue.

Bianca watched her fumble with her highlight for a few seconds before holding out her hand.

“Give it to me, queen.”

Laganja froze, brush in midair and compact clenched in her other hand.

Rolling her eyes, Bianca made a ‘come here’ gesture before plucking both items out of her hands and tugging her shoulder until she turned around.  Gripping her chin gently, Bianca started moving with quick, precise strokes.

“It’s easier if you start near your hairline, and…"  The rest of what she said was lost as Laganja���s mind spun into overdrive.  There didn’t seem to be any ulterior motive, yet here she was helping her competition.

She zoned back in as Bianca set down the brush and highlighter, and nodded briskly.  

"Let me know if you want me to show you how to do it next time.”

As she walked away, Laganja could almost understand why Trinity and Adore seemed to love Bianca and talked about her being great.  Sometimes when the cameras weren’t rolling, she even felt a sense of camaraderie.  It never lasted long enough to convince her that it was real, because the moment filming started and her anxiety rocketed upwards, everything that came out of her mouth seemed to annoy the older queen.

****

She left the Snatch Game set nearly in tears.  Rachel Zoe was an easy part of her repertoire for her friends, but everything had felt so off today.    

It took a trip to the bathroom and a five-minute private mirror pep talk before Laganja felt ready to take on the Night of 1,000 RuPauls.  What she really needed was to get away from everyone and smoke, but that hadn’t been an option for weeks.  

Staring into her own eyes, she tongue popped for luck and resolved to slay it on the runway.

Bianca gave her a curious look when she breezed back into the workroom.

”Everything all right, queen?”

Laganja steadfastly ignored the attention.  

Halfway through gluing her lace down, she realized that Adore was no longer perched on the chair beside her.  Looking around the room, her heart dropped when she located her friend.

Instead of lingering at her station like usual to keep Laganja company and her mind off her nerves, Adore was off in the corner.  Off in the corner with Bianca, who had paused in the middle of piling hair on her head to lace her into a cincher.  Bianca’s cincher.  

Bafflingly, she was actually being nice to Adore and not sabotaging her, because as far as Laganja could tell, there wasn’t anything wrong with the garment and she had seemed genuinely concerned that Adore was comfortable and happy with the final product.

She didn’t understand Bianca at all.

****

The fragile sense of calm that she’d achieved on the main stage crumbled the moment Adore pointed at her and Gia as being in the bottom.

Hearing Adore laugh at DeLa’s naive question about Rachel Zoe hit like a bad death drop and for a moment Laganja couldn’t breathe.  

She scrabbled for something to defend herself with.  Bianca was an automatic target - after playing nice with her makeup, she had turned right around and messed with her in the Snatch Game.  Laganja wasn’t buying her “I hate everyone equally” excuse this time, not when she was obviously trying to come for her.

Looking across the lounge, she was overwhelmed by the sense of betrayal as Adore claimed that Bianca wasn’t singling her out for attack.  

It felt like the floor was slowly collapsing under her feet.  Not only had her friendship with Adore been far less of a stabilizing force than she’d expected, but Adore had actually joined forces with Bianca against her.  

It wasn’t the only thing, but that was the last heave it took to upend the cart of her control.

“Did you or did you not come for me today?” she snapped, hoping that someone else (Gia? Joslyn?) would stand up for her.  

“…hold up girl, I’m not trying to create a moment -“

Her heart pounded in her ears, and she badly wanted to grab the stupid pillow off of Bianca’s lap and throw it at Adore’s bitchface.  

“I’m not saying you came for me but I do feel a little shafted by you today.”

The words were spilling out and Laganja gave up trying to hold in all of her frustration and hurt.

”I don’t remember the exact comment you said, but earlier I do feel like you were saying -“

Her breathing was too shallow, but all she could see was Adore’s newly cinched waist.

“I don’t even know, but I felt a little hurt by you earlier,” she finished lamely, unable to articulate the pain and panic welling up in her chest.

She no longer recognized her rebellious good time party girl, always a few steps behind.  Adore wasn’t even trying to support her, just offering empty words as she she spent her time cozying up to Bianca.  While the person on the other side of the table looked like Adore and spoke in Adore’s voice, she might as well have been a stranger.  

Laganja shied away from Bianca’s touch on the way back into the hall.  Not five minutes after coming for her, Bianca had to be mocking her with her ‘advice’.  

She couldn’t trust anyone here, not anymore.

Why didn’t anyone else see what was going on?

********

Oh No She Better Don’t

“Miss Laganja Estranja. Next time you death drop, reverse that and drop dead.”

Adore’s read felt like a stab in the back and Laganja didn’t even bother to try to smile.  Everyone was laughing at her, Bianca’s cackle rising above the others.  

********

Glamazon by Colorevolution

Surveying the others, Laganja was certain that her black and white runway look would win the judges over - no one else had anything as edgy.  Even Adore was wearing a Forever 21 sweater and a miniskirt, but she could forgive her friend the look because their commercial had gone amazingly well.

Joslyn looked like an extra from a porn about magicians, and Courtney…well, that weird sparkly tuxedo thing was a look.  Courtney was blathering on about someone called Clause No Me (whoever that was), but it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing Dior, because her boy legs were on full display.  Not to mention, the giant pile of hair that DeLa was pinning up made her think of a butt plug.  Laganja was surprised that Darienne hadn’t made any catty comments about it given the palpable tension between them.  She started to move closer, but was distracted by the activity in Bianca’s alcove.

Still in pantyhose and corset with her skunk-striped hair, Bianca was helping Trinity zip herself in.  The domino dress was well-made, although she ought to be carrying drinks in Monte Carlo in it.  Laganja admitted she might even ask Trinity where it came from.

As for Miss Perfect herself, Laganja once again grudgingly had to give her credit for the ensemble as Bianca started to get dressed.  The enormous ball gown skirt seemed to materialize from nowhere in a cloud of tulle.  How the hell had she fit that in her duffels?  It wasn’t even creased, and it must have contained miles of crinoline.  Laganja had barely been able to close her five suitcases, but Bianca’s luggage all seemed to be under the maximum amount.  Not to mention, she’d only unpacked a bag and a half of wigs.

She started to pace anxiously, balance thrown off after the high of performing.  Her feet carried her to Adore’s table, hoping to mend their friendship, but once again Adore was busy talking to Bianca.

********

It wasn’t fair.  She had to keep her chin up, because the road to success was never easy, but it also shouldn’t have been this hard.  

She’d promised her parents and Alyssa that she’d bring home the crown.  Her parents seemed to finally be at peace with her drag, and it would be everything she’d ever wanted to validate following her dreams.

Laganja just had to hold on a little longer, prove to Ru that she deserved to be America’s next drag superstar.

********

Queens of Comedy

The comedy challenge was a disaster.  

After seeing Adore perform with shaky insecurity, Laganja’s confidence had risen.  All of the other girls were trying for a ten, but she was going to dial her personality up to one hundred.

Except instead of howling with laughter, the old people in the audience stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language.  She dug deep for the best jokes that never failed to entertain her usual crowd, but nothing worked.

Barely keeping her angry tears in check, she slumped back into her seat and watched the rest with a stony stare.

Witnessing Bianca Del Rio effortlessly work the audience was awful.  Every laugh she drew from them hit her like a punch to the stomach, reminding her of how inadequate her jokes had been.  

Worse, seeing Adore’s rapt attention made her physically ill.  Bianca was now the recipient of the same wondering smile that Adore used to give her when she performed.

Nothing made sense.

Without heels, Laganja towered over Bianca; she couldn’t understand how the queen could still make her feel insignificant without even saying a word.

She was sick to death of Bianca’s clever insults and her perfect white teeth.  She hated her stupid dimples and how her voice grew soft when she spoke to Adore.  

Adore was her friend, or at least she used to be.  If Bianca had to pick someone to be nice to, why did it have to be Adore?  

This was supposed to be her moment.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

8. Tell me lies a.k.a. the personal assistant, Occam’s razor and one more pool game (Part Two)

“Private McCready at your service!” I salute as she opens the door.

“Thanks Mike, you saved my life!” she exhales nervously and despite her words, she still seems to be in panic.

“And now get out of my way!” I push her aside and lift the guitar over my head like a baseball bat, ready to strike with it. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. You called me in a hysterical voice a few minutes ago ordering me to bring a guitar and not to ask anything. So I thought someone, maybe a rubber had broken into your room and I had to eliminate him using the guitar as a weapon. Or is it a phone stalker who threatens you with killing your family if you don’t sing him Edelweiss from The Sound of Music immediately?”

“Very funny, Mike. I need it because…I just need it.” she grabs the instrument in question out of my hands.

“Ha, you won’t get away with it so easily! I brought Stone’s guitar risking life and limb for you, I deserve more than…”

“What? Stone’s guitar?” she frowns disgusted and tries to tuck it back into my hands.

“What’s your problem? When I opened the case of mine, I noticed that one of the strings had broken. So I asked him to lend his one. Neither is it infected with plague nor with cholera and I didn’t tell him I was going to give it further to you so do you need it or not?” This domestic war of them has started annoying me, they act like pouting children.

“I do but… but what if he finds out I used it? He’s like a deerhound, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me…” she sighs in a softer voice.

“I can take care of myself, trust me, it remains our secret.” I wink as she finally accepts the guitar I handed her again.

“Thanks, bye, Mike…” she moves back into the small hallway and is about to close the door but I prevent it by stopping it with my foot.

“Hey, seriously… you don’t even tell me what you want to do with it, you just kick me out?” I ask insulted.

“I want to play it. Bye…” she makes one more attempt to get rid of me but this time I decide to be relentless and slip in closing the door quickly behind myself.

“I’m a lead guitarist, remember? Maybe I could even help you with whatever you’re going to do…”

“Okay…” she finally agrees and follows me defeated.

“Spill me!”

“Well… I have a few… musical ideas aaaand… I want to work on them but I reached a stage where I can’t make it out without a guitar.”

“Ah, songwriting? What’s the style? Do you write lyrics too? If you need a solo I can…”

“Hey, easy… I have only the melody of the vocal part more or less and I can hear parts of the accompaniment in my head too but I need to try it by actually playing it …”

“Then what are you waiting for? Play it!” I clap my hands impatiently.

“I need my notes…” she starts searching in her notebook until she rests at a page full of letter and number codes.

“That’s unbelievable… I mean, you do it exactly the other way around than us, our songs get written while strumming around and we only write down the chords afterwards… I mean Stone, Jeff and Ed, I’m not really a part of it…”

“Sometimes I do it that way too… it depends on my mood, I practiced harmonizing enough that I can write basic melodies with accompaniment without using any instrument, especially in classical musical styles. But as I’ve said this time…”

“You’re an alien. And I’m super envious. But let’s hear the song!” I cut her off excitedly. “Sorry, I mean… it’s interesting and all but I’m too curious to wait any longer.”

“It… it goes somehow like this…” she starts humming a simple melody, it’s meditative and yet progressive at the same time as the chords she’s playing get added to her voice. She stops playing at dissonant chords and corrects her notes but keeps humming. After the last notes she stares in front of herself lowering her head. Although I can’t see her face of her braids, guessing of her flaming ears I assume she’s reddened.

“I… I like it, it’s cool… really… hey… Earth to Jude!” I lower my head too forcing her to look at me. She finally reciprocates my smile and closes the notebook.

“Please don’t be too critical about my guitar skills, I’m just a lame self-taught player…”

“On one hand, you’re not lame, on the other hand, I can give you some advice if you want to…” “Really? That would be great. My first problem is my left wrist, I can’t find the optimal position…”

“I think you should…” As I lean closer I glance at her wristwatch. “Jesus, Judy, it’s already 6 p.m.!!!” I exclaim.

“And… what?” she furrows her eyebrows.

“Jeff is to show up at 6:30, isn’t he?”

“And…? We have thirty minutes until then so…” she insists with a clueless shrug fidgeting with the strings.

“You should prepare for your date. Try on clothes, do your makeup or do whatever girls usually do before dates…”

“It’s not a date and I…”

“Jude, believe or not it doesn’t depend on how you call it. He bought shaving foam, after shave and deodorant in large quantities and I know this because I was with him.”

Not that Jeff has problems with personal hygiene but buying a whole drug store isn’t typical of him.

“Shaving foam?” she repeats desperately.

“Exactly.” I nod. Okay, she’s finally started realizing what I’m talking about.

“Deodorant?” her face looks all the more miserable, if that’s possible at all.

“Yep. And he was even whistling all morning. So please go and wash your hair at least.”

“Hey, it’s not even grea…”

“Jude.”

“Okay, I’m going.” she drags herself towards the bathroom but suddenly turns back with a threatening expression as she notices me sneaking towards the door.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she orders pointing at me with her index finger.

“Jesus…” I sigh and sit back onto the bed.

And now? What the hell should I do? I’m sitting in someone else’s hotel room like a watchdog and I don’t even know why… I pick up her notebook from the nightstand, lean back carefully not to sink too deep into the pillow and begin to study her notes. Although I can’t understand much of them, I get lost in them for long minutes trying to figure out her concept. I start to the ringing of the phone on the nightstand, it’s set to a low volume so Judy can’t hear it over the sound of running water. Fuck… should I ignore or answer it? I have nothing to do with her private conversations but what if it’s important, what if something happened in her family or… Shit.

“Hello?”

“…”

“Hello? Who’s speaking? I mean, who’s not speaking?”

“Uh, uhm, sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number…” a young, female voice apologizes.

“No, I mean, here’s room number 116.”

“Sure? You’re definitely not Judith Camden or Karrie Keyes…”

“Uh, oh… I’m… I’m the… the personal assistant of Miss Camden, Mr…. Mr…” Shit, why is that I’m not able to improvise in problematic situations? I bend my neck in ninety degrees to be able to read anything from the book she left open on the bed. “Mr. Sforzato?” I utter finally although it rather sounds like I’m questioning since I’m not sure at all I pronounced the word correctly.

“Mr. Sforzato?” the woman on the other end of the phone lets out a short, melodic laughter. “That’s interesting, your voice is very familiar, I would swear I’ve heard it somewhere… would you keep talking, I wanna figure out… how long has my sister had a personal assistant, anyway?” she chats on playfully.

“Being in the showbusiness, she realized she needed someone who helped her with managing time. Staff members are also very busy, I’m responsible for her program schedule.”

“Hahaha, then please ask her if she has a few minutes for her sister?” Effie??? The KISS fanatic little sister? I need a few seconds to rearrange my thoughts although hearing that she’s smiling while she’s speaking doesn’t help much…

“Oh, Miss Camden? It’s a pleasure to meet… hear you but I’m afraid Miss Judy can’t come to the phone right now, she’s preparing her toilet for an evening invitation which may involve romantic elements too…”

“SO SHE’S HAVING A DATE WITH JEFF AMENT, IT’S TRUE THEN!!!” she screams suddenly in the phone. “I have to talk to her, Mike, it’s extremely important! Otherwise she’ll screw up everything!”

Yeah, that’s very likely to happen if she goes on like this…

“As I mentioned, my name is Mr. Sforzato and she’s truly washing her hair so…”

“Okay, then we skip to plan B. Did she leave her glasses in the room?”

“Why is that so important?”

“Did she or not?” the sweet voice has turned definitively into the yelling of a drill instructor.

“Yes, she did, they’re on the nightstand.” I mutter unwillingly.

“Hide them.”

“What? No, why would I…”

“I said hide them! Shesgotcontactlensesbutshestoolazythowearthemandsheshidingherstunningeyesallthetimesoyouhavetohelpplease!” she jabbers with one breath and I can hear that Judy begins to dry her hair in the meantime.

“You can’t be serious, I’m not gonna interfere with her…”

“Mike, you’ve probably noticed how awkward my sister can be with guys so I would really appreciate if you would help me prevent a possible disaster, plus, you would help your bandmate too, is that really such a huge ask?” she tries again in a mellower voice. Okay, mellow is a mild expression, I could listen to her reading even the phonebook for days… I try to think coherently and find out more counter arguments but Judy turns the hairdryer off and to my biggest surprise my instant reaction is to grab her glasses and put them under the pillow. I mutter a quiet “done” into the receiver and hang up placing it cautiosly back onto the phone device.

“I gave it up, it’s too late, I can’t dry my hair properly.” Judy storms out of the bathroom; her face is framed by her half-wet strands. This is the first time I’ve seen her wearing her hair down which is much longer than I thought.

“Do you see my glasses somewhere?” she circles neurotically in the room, groping the furniture.

“No, I don’t, didn’t you leave them in the bathroom?” I deadpan pretending to lean against the pillow again. I should work on my abs, I can’t hold myself in this fake position for long…

“No, I’m sure I left them somewhere here… Shit, I can’t go to an exhibition twinkling like a mole…” she keeps panicking.

“But you have contact lenses, don’t you?” I inquire casually or at least I’m trying to sound like that.

“Yes and I hate them but I don’t seem to have any other choice…” she hurries back in the bathroom and begins to rummage in her wash bag.

“I should leave, y’know, it would be awkward if Jeff found me in your room so…” I straighten up and fix the pillow to hide the temples of the glasses. “Just be cool, it’s just a date, Jeff is a great guy, you’ll have fun.” I send her an encouraging smile and wave at her before leaving, which she responds with a blind, mechanic copy of my move.

I have to wait for the elevator in the floor for a while. As it arrives and its door opens, I bump into the freshly shaved, grinning Jeff. Jesus, he’s wearing an ironed shirt.

“Wish me luck.” he reaches his fist towards me and I hit mine automatically against it. As he passes me by I can smell the fragrance chemtrail of male perfume he’s streaking on his way to Judy’s room. I sigh shaking my head but entering the elevator my thoughts wander back to the only thing which has been on my mind for long minutes: what should I do to get to hear that voice again?

***

“So you’re a real renaissance man, aren’t you?” I ask Jeff while we’re walking back to our hotel which isn’t near the gallery at all but feeling the mild, spring weather Jeff suggested not taking a cab. Normally, I would enjoy evening walks but since Beth informed me about Jeff’s possible intentions and Mike prevented me from ignoring them, I’ve been just panicking. Jeff’s friend, Zach is a really nice guy and – thank goodness – a great talker as well so I didn’t experience awkward silence at the exhibition for one single minute. And even when other guests stole him from us, I could use his photos as excuses for talking about anything but private topics. But now we’re all alone and damn, how come I was able to talk to him effortless until this morning and since we left the gallery I’ve felt like someone put a sixteen ton weigh on my chest? I had the feeling that Jeff told Zach why he had chosen me as his partner for this evening. Not that he dropped any hints about us but the way he looked at us… or was it only my usual paranoia? Stop overthinking everything…

“Hey, are you trying to say that my clothes aren’t fashionable anymore?” he snickers nudging me gently on the shoulder with that of his.

“Well, I didn’t mean it exactly that way but once you came up with it…” I grin and feel his fingers clenching my throat playfully and gently from behind. “Okay, okay, your clothes are cool, haute couture, really.” Nope, your hats are ridiculous but who am I to inform you about it?

“Oookay, I’ll spare your life.” his fingers release my neck reluctantly.

And the girl felt butterflies in her stomach… Nope, that’s a different story, the girl doesn’t feel anything except for cold sweat. We walk on silently for a while but I don’t like this silence as the only thing I can think about is asking myself again and again: what the hell I’m doing here with him?

“But seriously, A: you’re an athlete. You play basketball and you’re a skater guy.” I pick up the thread again overtalking the voices in my head. Anyway, he has an athletic body, right? Girls like guys with athletic body, right? But damn, I wish his calves weren’t so thick.

“And that doesn’t mean anything, I’m pretty sure that Leonardo da Vinci wasn’t familiar with either of them.” he keeps joking about my choice of words.

“You can’t be sure, he even tried to invent a tank…”

“… that is almost a skateboard?”

“Haha, I don’t let you distract me, B: you’re an artist. I saw you drawing a few times but when you mentioned art school, somehow my brain didn’t put the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle together…” I go on compulsively. He’s artistic, that means he’s sensitive, right? And sensitive guys are gentle and caring, right? But how can he draw with those sausage fingers?

“I studied graphic design but the program was canceled so I quit college and moved with my hardcore band to Seattle. But I didn’t give up making art stuff, luckily Ed has the same enthusiasm about creative projects as me… You know, before his arrival I felt like a lonely fighter, I couldn’t really share my ideas with Mike or Stone.”

“It’s understandable. Stone doesn’t seem to be a very artistic type.” I snort as I imagine him fighting clumsily with paper scissors while he’s trying to create doilies.

“Believe or not, he’s not a total jerk, he’s got emotions, he only refuses consistently to show them and can’t handle if someone does it either. You should have seen his face when Ed gave him one of the collages he made during his flight from San Diego to Seattle, he was like “Jesus, he’s an alien, we should send him back before it’s too late!”

We both burst out laughing. But his smile is nice, isn’t it? Manly. His nostrils are unrealistically wide, though. There was a picture of a Neanderthal in the history classroom of my former high school. But how did that come to mind? My brain is messing with me.

“But as we began to have more and more gigs, I suggested to Ed starting a newsletter for our friends and fans and he totally liked the idea, I could also count on him when I helped Cameron, you know, the guy who directed the movie in which we played… And if you remember the cover of Ten, in the background you can see the text “Pearl Jam” with huge letters… it was Ed and me who made those letters, we cut them out of planks and painted them… it was a challenge since Mike was chasing a cat around us, our first drummer, Dave was sleeping drunk in the corner and Stone… you know, he supported us spiritually.”

“Ah, so he basically did nothing apart from throwing in witty remarks…”

“Exactly, how did you figure it out?” Jeff laughs pretending astonishment.

“The guy is predictable. Anyway, C: you’re a musician. And not an average musician but also a songwriter.”

“…and…?”

“And? And??? Jesus, Jeff, maybe it’s not a big deal to you since you’re surrounded by talented bands all the time but being able to compose something new is a huge gift! A lot of musicians would kill if they could do it too, having good ears is one thing but songwriting… that’s another league.”

Ears. Gosh, I hate his earrings. Why can’t he be just a plain guy who wears denims with shirts or tees?

“I don’t know, it comes naturally to me, I’ve always written songs with all of my bands… Deranged Diction, Green River, Mother Love Bone…”

“Actually, I was at a Mother Love Bone show a few years ago.”

“Really? When? Where?” his face lights up of surprise.

“I don’t know, I totally forgot about it but Effie reminded me of it when I was pondering if I should call Karrie back. But I can clearly remember that I was pretty pissed off.”

“Hahaha, why? Did we suck that much?”

“No, I just didn’t want to go there at all. Effie was to meet her crush there and our parents probably suspected something because they allowed her to go only if I would go with her too. So you can imagine, she wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea and neither was I since I wanted to stay at home with my scores and practice, maybe feeling sorry for myself for five minutes every hour… Unwillingly, though, but I accompanied her.”

“And did you enjoy the show?”

“Honestly, I can’t remember much of it… Of course as Effie found her crush, she didn’t give a shit about me anymore and they spent the evening with making out so I was surprised it was her of us two who had remembered anything from it…”

“You should have chosen a guy for yourself too and made out with him.” he grins audaciously.

No, no way, Jeff Ament, I’m not going to talk about making out with you… I mean talk with you. About making out. Damn.

“I leaned against the wall and was fuming the whole evening. As for the gig, all I can remember is you singer…”

“Andy?”

“Yeah… and… uh, sorry for saying this but I thought he acted like a clown, I mean, talking to the people on the balcony in a concert venue where there isn’t any balcony?”

Yeah, Judy, you’re doing it great, insulting his dead friend is a perfect change of topic, keep it up…

“Hehe, yeah, a typical andyism, acting as if you were playing in a huge arena even if your only audience are the doormen of the bar…” he smiles in front of himself but a painful feature appears on his face at the same time.

“I was rude, sorry, I know you were friends and…” I gibber awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize, the fact he died doesn’t mean we can’t talk honestly about him. Anyway, when Stone came up with idea of playing with him, I was against it, I knew about his problems and his extravagant style was too much for me… But as I got to know him better I realized how warm-hearted and talented he was…”

“He was a real showman, right?”

“Absolutely…” he sinks back into his memories. Great. If you don’t want the guy to flirt with you, make him sad. Date tips for psychos, lesson one. But suddenly a faint fragment of that night flashes through my brain.

“And… and… you know what I can remember apart from Andy? An exceptionally distasteful leopard vest.” Jesus, what if it was him who was wearing it? Please tell me it wasn’t you, please tell me it wasn’t you…

“Oh yeah, it was Stone’s favorite piece of cloth at that time.” Phew. Thank goodness. What? Stone???

“At least you can blackmail him with the photos of him in that vest till the end of time…”

“Unfortunately it’s not that simple… he has pics of me wearing spandex leggings on stage so…” he snickers. “And to tell the truth, we were more familiar with the use of eyeliner than most girls.”

“Ugh.”

“Hey, it was in the eighties, I’m sure you made a few poor style choices too…” Should I tell him I bought this dress when I was fourteen?

“Effie tried makeups and hairstyles on me all the time but luckily I never crawled out of my cave so it is still you who takes the cake by having jumped on stage in leggings… Ah, where were we, C, right? D: Dancing?”

“It depends on what we call dancing. I took dance lessons in Big Sandy but I abandoned dancing to prevent my parents from going bankrupt due to the massive compensation they had to pay to the parents of the unlucky female victims… do you know how expensive a leg amputation is?”

Jesus, poor Mike.

“You can’t be that bad at dancing. You’re a musician, you have sense of rhythm… Singing?”

“I’m trying. I used to sing to my records while listening to them but my dad thought I was hiding a jackal in my room. Luckily my bands have always allowed me to sing the backup vocals…”

“They haven’t.” I smile mysteriously.

“What?” he asks back confused.

“As your future monitor engineer the first thing I had to learn was what the staff calls “the secret setup of Jeff’s mic.”.”

“…which means…?” he stops opposite me since in the meantime we’ve arrived back to the hotel.

“…switching it off and knock out everyone who tries to switch it back.”

“You’re not as innocent as I thought.” he smiles and the way his eyes are resting on my face makes me feel uncomfortable.

“It’s not my fault, the others told me to do so, this is the rule, I don’t want to be fired.” I play on, or at least I try to do it since despite his smile his gaze radiates some kind of confidence.

“But maybe asking out the monitor engineer could help change this rule.” he adds still staring at me. Come on, Jeff, blink finally. Blink!

“Hehe, I don’t know, Eric is the boss you know…” I babble and try to blow a strand out of my mouth since the light spring breeze started ruffling my hair.

“Soooo… we’re back. What’s next?” he asks stroking it gently away. His hands are warm and his touch is surprisingly pleasant, basketball freak bass players shouldn’t have such soft hands…“Do you want to take a walk in the park?”

In the park? But it’s dark… and there are benches there… benches are excellent for…” Alarm! ALARM!

“But we’ve been walking until now… and I’m a little bit tired and… “

Nope, I’m not, at all. Granny used to teach us that lying is a sin. But it’s only a tiny lie. It doesn’t matter.

“Or do you wanna grab some food and join the guys at the bar?” he points at a building on the other side of the street. Joining the guys after a date? What a great idea. Or what if we lay in front of a truck or jumped off a cliff?

“I’m… I’m not really hungry…” Honestly, I could eat a horse… Hey little liar… Joan Jett begins to sing treacherously in my head. Thanks Joan, this helps a lot. “My lips hurt, maybe my herpes is about to recur…” Hey little liar… I would swear I can hear Granny singing in the background, Joan, when did you hire her?

“Oh, that’s pretty inconvenient…”

“Yeah, I’ve struggled with it from time to time…” Actually, I’ve never had herpes… and I have no idea what I’m going to say when he notices tomorrow that nothing happened with my face… Hey little liar… Is this song really echoing in the street or it’s just a trick of my mind? “I can barely keep my eyes open, I think I’d rather hit the hay, tomorrow will be a looong day…”

“Yeah… but… if you don’t mind, I’d have a beer with the others… so… dream something nice.” he flashes a meaningful smile at me, strokes me on the shoulder and turns back to cross the street. I forget to answer as I stay standing in front the hotel. Okay, date checked. It could have been worse, right? And now? Jeff meets the guys and… I hope they won’t discuss it. Me. Guys don’t discuss emotional stuffs, right? Ugh. What’s the next step? Oh yeah, I should enter the building…

I walk across the lobby but before I could reach the elevator, suddenly I perk up. I hear smooth piano music and following the sound I find myself in the bar room of the hotel. Actually, a drink would be nice. God, I definitely need a drink.

[judeonthemove]

One Hundred And Nine Beds

We loved Ecuador so much we stayed an extra day. Although that's not strictly true, it sounds much better than: despite having a bulletproof plan for getting to the airport, arriving there four hours ahead of our flight, and sitting for two hours at what was initially promoted as the correct gate, we somehow conspired to miss our flight. We still have no idea when they changed the gate, why we didn't notice, or what on earth happened to their customer service announcements. Tiredness, relaxation and misplaced trust lulled us into false sense of security and we were rewarded with a monumental fuck up and no hint of an apology. There are few things you want to experience less at a foreign airport than the icicle stab in your guts of realising you are stuck in a territorial no-man's land, on the wrong side of a continent, facing a temporal and financial haemorrhage that you have to resolve in another language. There are the immediate practical problems to deal with of course, but also the wave of humiliation and self-recrimination. How on earth did we manage to make their mess into our problem? Staff members trooped us off around the airport getting our exit stamps annulled, and down to the basement where our rucksacks lay unceremoniously dumped by a door next to the tarmac. Just to underline our misdemeanours the narcotics police then proceeded to dismantle our bags. It was surreal and strangely violating to see your sorry pile of belongings through a stranger's eyes; that the backbone of your life for ten months is nothing but crap. Given that we weren't drug smugglers, we were allowed to proceed with our walk of shame back through security and baggage reclaim before facing the inevitable at the airline ticket desk. Mercifully the woman on duty had fluent English and quickly reassured us that for the bargain price of a lost day and $198 we could still get to Rio de Janeiro. Painful, but nothing like as wounding as I'd feared. There was nothing but a web address to consult about our complaints, and we were sent off into the night.

Reluctant to bankrupt ourselves further and urgently feeling in need of some control we found a nearby town on the map, jumped on a local bus, and hustled down a dark, desolate road in search of accommodation. Our hunch that anywhere that close to an airport would feature hostals was correct and we holed up for the night, spending our last few dollars on pizza and beer, and hurriedly trying to make contact with our hotel in Rio. It was a prime case of sod's law that having decided to blow the accommodation budget on our final lodgings (a whole £30 a night, woooooooh!), we wantonly discarded a night of our booking. So here we are, back at Quito airport, paranoidly sat below the departures board at our supposed gate. Three hours should do it today.

...

Shortly after dawn we were hurtling through the streets of Rio on a transfer bus, astonished at seeing a huge high rise city again. Rio was covered in simple black graffiti tags at street level and at impossible heights all over tower blocks, bridges, and industrial buildings. The city had the appearance of having been infected with a rash of kanji. Delivered just a block from our hotel, we weaved around encampments of rough sleepers. At six in the morning it was already hot, and the bracing smell of human waste and desperation competed with the tropical plants of the park. While we might have been late, at least we had a bed to sleep in and a home to go back to. The kindly night receptionist was waiting for us and pointed out that the breakfast buffet had just opened. A quality breakfast was one of our pre-requisites when deciding where to stay so there was quite a weight of expectation upon it. Still wired from the events of the previous thirty-six hours, and suffering from no sleep and another two hour forward time jump, we were a bit over-excitable. There was a lift, carpeted hallways, key-cards, and a great room with a massive bed and powerful, hot shower. It could have been the Ritz and not felt like a better treat. We fell on the breakfast buffet like vultures then passed out until the late afternoon.

Other than for references to the quality night life, ‘sketchy' was the main adjective we’d seen used in relation our new neighbourhood of Lapa. We divested ourselves of valuables and ventured out on a quest for orientation, dinner and some good old Brazilian beer. Finding ourselves in a sports bar we utilised our best pointing and smiling technique in the acquisition of some tea. Portuguese might look like Spanish, but it sounds like Hungarian and we were utterly clueless once more. After fuelling up, some more beer was in order and it just so happens that Rio is full of actual bars, not cafes that might serve beer, but beer emporia that might serve snacks. Yes the area was a bit moody in places, but not to the extent that you'd hide in your hotel, and there was more than a hint of promise for the weekend. We soaked it up for a while then headed back, detouring by the hotel roof to survey the scene. We were surprised to find the view dominated by a terrifying Mayan temple-style ziggurat in brutalist concrete. Behind the local aqueduct-cum-tourist tramline it lurked, gigantic and awful. A swift search revealed it was a cathedral, possibly the most dystopian fantasy cathedral ever.

Rio being a big city, we had to be modest with our expectations of what was achievable in a few days. We stayed local on the first morning, visiting the bohemian hillside neighbourhood of Santa Theresa via the tram. At the top was a theatre in a ruined colonial villa and an art gallery with marmosets in the garden. The views towards Sugar Loaf Mountain and Christ the Redeemer helped shape our itinerary for the remainder of the week. We picked around the twisty cobbled streets and managed not to punch the army of selfie-takers on the Selarón Stairs. The artist burned himself to death at the foot of his meticulously tiled staircase but this grisly fact seemed to be lost on the crowd as they posed and obstructed on the same spot. Once in possession of the right kind of ticket, we zipped off on the metro to check out Ipanema beach. James is very much a mogwai when it comes to beaches and should never be made wet or sandy, but once installed on a rented chair even he admitted it was an excellent place and suggested we should do some more beachiness. In my imagination, the beaches of Rio are full of impossibly beautiful people so it was encouraging to find all sorts present and enjoying themselves. Beach life is serious business, involving lots of team sports, sexy casual style, and alcohol. Enterprising stalls set up each day supplying chairs, parasols and drinks, and disappear again at sunset spirited away in VW campervans. Despite the breaking waves I managed a bit of a swim in the Atlantic and we chilled out as the sun went down. It was time to get formally acquainted with the caipirinha, Brazil's national drink. I suspect that caipirinha is viewed as some sort of human right in Brazil. It is ubiquitous, and invariably both the cheapest drink available and blindingly strong. It's also delicious of course, which set the tone for the remainder of the week.

Thursday saw us on the cable car up to Sugarloaf Mountain, for a spectacular view of the city and the incoming weather. On the way there we'd walked past the very swanky yacht club and therefore had a second chance to be envious, admiring the miniature yachts from above as they flew across the bay. The irony is there is no ‘January River' as Rio de Janeiro translates, the first Europeans to discover the place were mistaken. Guanabara Bay certainly looked like a mighty fine sailing ground though. We followed the short nature walk at the top and soon became enveloped in increasingly thick cloud. With the wind picking up and Rio now largely invisible, we descended once more. We pursued our plan to visit Copacabana but remained beach adjacent, supping caipirinhas and attempting to understand the rules of the foot/volley-ball hybrid game everyone plays. The sea did not look too safe for swimming, and as the sun went down it started to rain with a vengeance. Lightning pounded the sky above the mountains and ocean. Eventually we had to acknowledge it wasn't going to stop and had to make a run for it. Drenched, but still warm and cheerful we grabbed some food and called it a night. Across the road from our hotel, a mysterious festival was being set up.

We have breakfasted incrementally later as the week has progressed, which may or may not relate to the exponential increase in our alcohol consumption. Getting mobilised eventually on Friday morning, we went to investigate the intimidating cathedral. Like a reverse tardis it somehow seemed smaller on the inside. Smaller but still a vast open space with stained glass streaming down the walls from a glass cross in the roof. It was calm, cool and bold. Arriving at the modern art gallery by a rather leisurely midday was not a problem, as it emerged they only opened at midday, thus giving our tardiness the appearance of planning. Fully arted up we went for a wander round the waterfront and ran into what might have been some sort of naval graduation ceremony. Military bands in full uniform greeted dignitaries while bodyguards watched over the proceedings. We admired the architecture of one of Rio's newest museums but chose Coke and churros outside over going in. Our diabetes-baiting was rewarded with more rain so we trotted back to base for a disco nap as Rio geared up for Friday night.

When we re-emerged, Lapa had transformed itself into party central with innumerable samba bars featuring live bands. Off-licences doubled as bars, with crowds ranged across the pavements or sitting on the city's shared bicycles. Bar stalls crowded in the central reservation, and people with modified bikes and hand carts sold booze on the move. This was not the place for sobriety. While our ruined clothes made us look a bit down at heel inside the hotel, we fitted right in on the street. Urine, drains and cigarette smoke competed with frying snack food and the ever present zing of lime wedges. Groups of friends sang and danced in and around the bars, dodging traffic as the crowds swelled into the road. The mystery festival turned out to be a Christian music weekender. One couldn't help but feel they were fighting a losing battle. We lined our stomachs and got into the spirit of things at a restaurant before going on to a bar. The early hours found us under the aqueduct arches, clutching mind-bendingly strong, half-litre, 90p caipirinhas, and swaying to Christian rock in the rain.

Saturday was a slow start, followed by a restorative breakfast and post-breakfast sleep. We eventually hauled ourselves back up to Santa Theresa for a longer look around and a nice walk in the sunshine. After my ordering error in Baños I finally got stroganoff for my tea, and hoped this wouldn't be an ill-advised choice ahead of another night on the beers. We'd noticed protesters gathering earlier in the day, and many of them were partying in Lapa. Clearly it was something to do with next week's general election. The reported front-runner, representing the hard right, is currently recovering from being stabbed. These cheerful revellers were altogether more peaceful in their opposition to him, choosing stickers, glitter and dancing in the street as their weapons of choice. We steered clear of the cocktails but still made a poor attempt at getting a slightly earlier night. We looked up the hashtag of the campaign stickers and chanting, and discovered that #elenão meant #nothim, a cry of protest against misogyny, homophobia and racism.

Sunday, appropriately enough, involved a visit to Giant Jesus, or Christ the Redeemer as the statue is known to all but me. The figure watches over the city from high above and, while prominent, had seemed smaller than expected from the vantage points we'd had up to then. A Swiss-style train took us from the base of the mountain, up the steep, forested slopes to the undeniably enormous statue. All around the main platform, people lay prostrate at the feet of Christ. They weren't praying, or indeed even looking at the statue, but rather were all busily taking photos of each other; lying on the ground to get the same crucial shot from below. Arms outstretched, their backs to the statue, superimposing themselves over one of the modern wonders of the world. While the sights on the viewing decks were plain annoying, the views from them were superb, taking in the bay, mountains, city and beaches in 360°. We could have happily stayed up there for hours, but we'd promised ourselves a second crack at Copacabana and daylight hours were running short. Arriving on the bus, it was immediately apparent that some huge party was in full swing. The dual carriageway next to the beach was closed to traffic and full of floats and thousands of people. It was a powerful cross between a Pride parade and political rally. The tide was up and the sea so rough that lifeguards were patrolling on jet-skis and preventing people from swimming. My swim kit stayed in my bag and rather than sit on the beach as planned, we grabbed a drink and joined in. While it might not have been our election, it was a great opportunity to show solidarity. We picked a sound system we liked and danced alongside the slow moving lorry down the full length of Copacabana. We arrived several hours later hammered, starving and covered in glitter. Ending as we began in Santiago, our final dinner in this continent involved meat on chips, a South American staple. Clearly we couldn't just leave it there, as Sunday night samba was in full swing back in Lapa. Street-stall caipirinhas in hand we stood on the pavement admiring other people's dance moves and looking back on our trip. Our livers are quietly glad we are not staying longer.

We believe we have slept in one hundred and nine beds over the past ten months. This includes a bamboo stretcher in the forests of Laos, a tent in Thailand, wild campsites in an Australian van, and a boat down the Amazon. It does not account for all the overnight planes, trains and buses that we have variously enjoyed and endured. Thinking of it like this it seems incredible, yet here we are; it's the first of October and we're about to go home. Many of my clothes are about to go in the bin, together with the owl-patterned bag that has been slung across my body almost every day and is a veteran of our Japan our India trips before that. It's like discarding faithful friends. I have no idea what's coming next and am merrily avoiding thinking about it until we're home and the dust settles. As I lie here in Rio thinking of what a wonder, challenge and privilege it has been to do this, our tiny, huge earth rotates beneath me. We will soon be racing back across the Atlantic to the lovely Peels who will await us at Heathrow. For those of you who have managed to read this far, you’ve got through eighteen of these missives and who knows how many tens of thousands of words. Thank you for your interest, it's been lovely to have someone else to talk to.

[girlonfilmmovies]

Welcome to Friend Island: "Love Island US Season 3" and the Gaping Sores of America

So I foolishly thought that in the new year of 2021, the world would be in a better place than it was the previous year. After all, we were coming out of the "worst" of the most horrifying pandemic of the past century, a middling presidency that at that point served only a wealth of TV soundbites and less actual damage to the political system, and we were looking forward to a brighter future and a return to what some hoped would be "normal". The past was the past, and this was going to be a new moment.

Oh how naïve we all were.

As of this writing Covid-19 cases are hitting staggering new highs in the southern US, with Florida (of course) somehow hitting a record amount despite vaccines being easily available in the country for months. The death rates are at almost the same as last year. The middling disaster of the 45th president had one more trick up its sleeve, a firebomb brewing for dozens of years that went off in one of the most embarrassing fiascos of American political history. Misinformation has already implanted itself so thoroughly among half the country that people would rather die than admit they were wrong; the spread of such chaos being happily spat out through the algorithms of corporations only intent on raking in dollar signs. All the potential benefits that could have come from this once-in-a-lifetime moment are being briskly swept away: offices demanding their employees come back, no respect given to science and healthcare workers, the country's clearly weak infrastructure forced right back into action as if we didn't just see its gaping holes. The earth is dying and the people who actually have the resources do something about it instead have kickstarted a capitalist space race.

2021 has gone to show that old, toxic habits die hard.

Sigh.

Yeah, I watched Love Island again.

Despite my... let's say mixed feelings regarding last year's shitshow, I couldn't help but admit that it was the closest thing that I've had to appointment viewing TV that I've had in a long time. In an era of streaming and DVR boxes, it's a bit of an actual feat to get someone who works a fulltime job (especially one with erratic scheduling) to go out of their way to watch something the second it premieres. Love Island brings the family together, so they can engage in our favorite pastime: pointing and laughing at young, dumb, fame hungry cis-hets.

Plus, the second season had offered a fascinating glance at how to contend with a pandemic while also trying to stage a typical dumb reality show. The tropical island villa was swapped for a luxurious hotel rooftop in Las Vegas -- a literal ivory tower of ignorant hedonism looking down upon a plagued nation. You could feel the sexual tension of the hot, hyper-sexual adults forced without physical contact for months finally allowed to relieve themselves the only way they know how: toxic relationships. It was trying so hard to be an oasis in a desert yearning for frivolous content, but the façade was clearly visible to the point of satire. It was a wonderful thing to experience firsthand as what I originally thought as merely me dipping my toes into the genre.

Season 2 was the show that we deserved at the time, a funhouse mirror reflecting all the callous stupidity that had led us to this moment in world history. It attempted to offer a happy ending, a look towards the future: a black couple finally winning a reality show, a first for such a mainstream program (both of them actually kind of turned out to suck, but shhhh...).

It also allowed America to completely break the hearts of people while watching them fall apart live on TV. It was cruel, it was stupid, but most of all, it was fun as hell.

Season 3 is not about torturing the competitors. It's about torturing us.

In all fairness, there were a couple of lovely positive developments for the series this season. While still struggling with racial diversity a little bit, as evidenced by them casting only one very specific kind of black man like five times, strides are being taken elsewhere in the lane of body diversity. Alana makes her debut as literally the first woman on this show who isn't a size 0-2, looking absolutely gorgeous in every single shot.

The almost aggressively heteronormative nature of the show is slowly being shaken by a more openly queer cast than previously expected -- multiple bisexual/pansexual contestants participated, even though there wasn't any overtly queer romance shown (also almost all of them were women, with them describing their sexualities being confined to streaming exclusive episodes, which isn't... great). It's certainly a step in the right direction for a show that unceremoniously shuffled off the only queer member of the Season 2 cast overnight once the internet found his gay porn shoot. Ironically, they also ended up booting off the most openly queer member of this cast too, the purple haired proudly pansexual TikTok-er Leslie, but for the more legal reason of smuggling weed into the villa.

It's not terribly surprising that both Alana and Leslie garnered a lot of positive attention both inside and outside of the villa -- they stand out so much against the otherwise predictable casting that we've come to expect from this show and white American media in general. Alana is a woman with actual curves who looks stunningly gorgeous in comparison to the monotonous supermodel figures of everyone else. Leslie almost falls into a stereotype from the way she appears: dyed purple hair, tattooed all over, obviously queer, vaping weed constantly, exuding the kind of chaotic yet weirdly fun energy that only a former stripper can. Yet she obviously grabbed the attention of the contestants because while people like her abound in real life, in the fantasy land of reality TV she's an absolute rarity, a far cry from the sanitized beauty pageant-esque standards that they seem to pluck girls from. The men are still dumb, bland, boneheaded idiots in this show, but by offering some actual variety, they get to actually pursue people they aren't "traditionally" supposed to, while an outsider audience member like me gets to see women like herself be offered up for titillation in the same way "conventionally attractive" women are.

It's kind of cool, even if it is just playing into the icky sexualization of everyone, but hey...progress?

In an odd "two steps forward, one step back" kind of situation, the show has somewhat dialed down the outrageously toxic relationships of last year into a more relatively subdued level of toxicity. Gaslighting/cheating is at least kept to a relative low in this season compared to the nightmare that was last year, although this year's ratio depends on how much of that corresponds with sexy Columbian boy Will's obviously flimsy grasp of the intricacies of the English language. He continued to be plagued by the cliquey-ness of the cast until the very end but his genuinely sweet couple with Kyra still did enough to sneak into the final two.

The actual main problem this year was an almost unbearably long love triangle between Cash, Trina, and Cinco that refused to solve itself for nearly a month. Cash and Cinco perennially kept flip-flopping in their feelings for each other, bouncing between failed partnerships despite so obviously being into each other. Trina ended up roped in as Cinco's partner for a while, a constant victim of his own lack of courage to make up his damn mind. Cash, freshly single and in horny jail (aka Casa Amor), coupled up with the handsome and mysterious Charlie.

Now we need to discuss how bizarre Charlie as a cast member. Not only is he the only member who is, looks, and acts like an actual adult, but he also seems to show no adherence to the rules of reality TV: he's very relaxed and unassuming, seems genuinely uninterested in the "game" aspects of the show, and only perks up during rare moments of actual romantic potential. He's a fascinating spanner to throw into the machine of Love Island, and once Cinco was eliminated in the competition, Charlie had to sit there while Cash only continued to openly and aggressively pine for a man who isn't even her current partner. Proving once again to be an anomaly in the cast, he actually decided to do something about this: he unceremoniously dumped fan favorite Cash like a sack of bricks, sending her home while hooking up with the previously mentioned Alana. This smart decision was met derisively by viewers, despite him being the only person there who actually acted like a fucking adult for once. Ironically, this got him and Alana into the finals, where they finished in last place with the same trademark lack of enthusiasm that we've come to expect from him.

I suppose now we need to uncork the problem of the season and by extension the franchise as a whole. You might have read that previous situation and thought, "gee, a fan favorite got tossed aside while a guy that everyone hated ended up making it into the final four? That seems weird."

But by that point it really wasn't at all.

See, the problem with the voting is that you don't usually get to pick who goes; the audience only gets to pick who to prevent getting kicked. At that point, the audience control is out of our hands and now into the contestants', and if there's one thing we all learned in high school it's that cliques are very much a thing. The contestants seemed dead set on booting anybody who was new the second they had the chance, so many potentially exciting people were so quickly thrown out. Instead of the exciting potential we could have seen, we got a love triangle sucking anyone nearby into doom, with everyone else being a relatively stable couple or part of the Jeremy/Korey wishy-washy railway. Casa Amor was an absolute bust, with people making half-assed couplings despite still being in love with somebody else (it speaks a lot to the weakness of the Casa Amor men that Olivia literally preferred to come back single than with any of those planks of wood).

Part of the problem did rely on factors that nobody could control at all though. "Romance novel come to life" Slade seemed like a threat with his rugged handsomeness, twangy accent, and classic southern charm, but had to quickly leave due to ambiguous family troubles. Similarly, the nearly perfect Josh and Shannon, who seemed like an obvious shoo-in winner by virtue of being probably the only actual relationship on the show, had to depart in the middle of the night due to the tragic death of Josh's sister. Aforementioned chaotic pansexual Leslie was unceremoniously removed in the middle of the night once they had realized that her classic vape pen was actually full of weed, an especially tragic circumstance considering she basically had Cinco wrapped around her finger and was about to bring that love triangle crashing down (also tragic because she has gone on record saying that she was fully crushing on Genny while they were both in there, robbing us of any potential of a queer couple).

But part of the pain as always has to do with how the producers control everything no matter what: what we see, what we hear, who gets the villain edit and who gets the hero edit. It's why they seem to play Jeremy as dumb hot surfer bro instead of the actual funny and charming guy he is. It's why Trina was treated as a bitch and Cash as a woeful victim despite the roles more often than not lining up the other way around. And most embarrassingly, it's how the biggest joke couple of the show ended up winning it all.

Now, look at this picture right here: the poses, the awkward hand holding, the very strange smiles between those two. No, this is not a picture of two teenagers going to prom together who just met only five minutes ago and are taking pictures on their parents' front lawn; these two are the winners of season 3, the supposedly "strongest" couple on the show. This is Olivia and Korey.

Korey is a charming boyish sweetheart by way of an absolute fucking dumbass. He's sort of like last year's beloved and wonderfully stupid Carrington: a very sweet and nice teenager who seems to have "13 Going on 30"-ed his way into an adult body. He's childish in a way that's very cute and friendly but also woefully unattractive to anyone who's an adult. Just like Carrington, he notched up a staggering amount of dates with pretty much every single beautiful woman that came into the villa, all seemingly very interested in him. Carrington, for as dumb and childish as he is, could bag anyone because he was outrageously confident too. Korey on the other hand seems incapable of making any decision, following any girl who pays him the time of day like a little puppy, constantly looking up to her with his big puppy dog eyes. It's very telling that for all the dates he had, almost none of them actually went anywhere because it's just not that appealing to anyone. If you're looking to win, he's not someone who can scheme and play the game. If you're looking for love, he's not going to cut it because he can't seem to even understand the concept of romance. If you're looking for a friend, he's probably the best damn one you'll get in that villa -- but as constantly established by everyone, this show isn't called Friend Island.

Olivia is a bit of a thornier subject. She habitually couples up with people that you can kind of tell she's not at all into. She started the first half relatively unassuming and not particularly interested in the men that she was supposedly attracted to. But you could basically see her panties drop when Slade walked in, ready for him to pull her up into the saddle and ride away into the sunset. But his sudden departure only left her more empty, desperately grasping onto whatever random attraction she could. She went off to Casa Amor single and had the gall to come back without coupling up with any of them (although once again, they really dropped the ball with the men compared to the stunning Casa Amor women). And somehow in the midst of all this wishy washy mess, she finally settled on the one single man who she hadn't coupled up with and supposedly suddenly had feelings for: lonely, little Korey.

As a watcher of two seasons of this shit, I've seen a lot of fake relationships, but this one is just ridiculous. The chemistry is really nonexistent; she seems more annoyed or at best partially amused whenever he tries to say anything genuinely sweet to her. She reacts like how you would when a little kid tries to tell you they have a crush on you, an adult: you just kind of go, "aw, cute, thank you!" and walk away chuckling. It's genuinely comedic in how tragic it is, a boy who thinks he's finally found someone when all she's found is a trip to the bank.

And what did the editors do? They tried their very best to sell this as genuine, as actual romance. We know what romance is -- we basically saw it with Shannon and Josh, and to a lesser extent Will and Kyra. And yet they whipped out that expert level edit to say, "wow, look at these two lovebirds, huh?" It's ridiculous, especially since only in the final episode did they suddenly remember that Jeremy and the stunning Bailey (aka the combination of Gal Godot and Ashley Judd circa-2001) were an actual couple and even they looked more real than the winning couple.

Love Island is, if nothing else, a reflection of America.

It's an outdated tradition desperately grasping to what's left of the typical western idea of romance. No matter how many beauty pageant contestants they pick, men like women who aren't size 2s, or with natural hair/skin, or with family-friendly occupations. Women are probably tired of the big muscle bound hunks they usually put on here, the nearly identical men that they seem to cast every single season who have all the looks but zero of the confidence or personality.

It's an example of how our choices are an illusion, how our influence can be easily overwritten by those in charge. Votes that don't matter when they change the rules on the fly, ripping out the actual choice of the people in favor of letting them decide what stays and what goes.

It's a testament that even in the face of a viral pandemic that's quickly turning into part two, as the lives of millions are being further destroyed across the world, there will always be some asshole who has more than you and looks better than you, vacationing on a tropical island stolen from its people, ignorant of everything else that's happening around them.

Love Island hates everyone. It hates it's contestants. It hates the viewers. It hates change. It hates me.

But I do still kind of love it.

[ashcohens]

nikki and i love to have fun

ashley-Today at 12:06 AM

"is there another kind of pong?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. perking up as julian moved closer, ashley shot him a grin. "usually daniel's my partner, but i don't know where he is so i guess it's just you and me. and i'm not drunk, so we'll be fine." she insisted, despite being obviously intoxicated. "and even when i am drunk, i'm so good at pong, you don't know what you're getting yourself into." grabbing his hand, she pulled him away from the group towards the pong table.

julian-Today at 12:12 AM

“yeah, actually, there’s–” the smaller girl surprisingly had a lot of strength to her pull, enough to shut him up in a second. julian went along with her until they stopped at a beer pong table that was half set up. “okay,” he pulled his hand away from ashley and set his paper towels down on the floor at a leg of the table. looking back down at the girl, julian struggled for a second. “so, do we–it’s with ten, right? we start with ten cups?”

ashley-Today at 12:17 AM

making her way to the other side of the table, ashley quickly busied herself in setting up the cups. glancing up as she heard him speak, his question threw her off. "uh, maybe?" she counted the cups she had set up. "yeah, ten." placing her drink to the side and reaching for the ball, she realized that julian was completely sober. "wait, you need a drink! so when i make every shot you have something to drink. wait here. i'll grab you one." it didn't take long for her to flag down a brother she knew and steal a beer from him, returning to julian with a smile.

julian-Today at 12:23 AM

while ashley moved about in a whirlwind of motions, julian was stood at the edge of the table, almost entranced by her ability to get the ball rolling on the game. it was the only time he noticed how well she could put together something, given the right motivation. “thanks,” he said upon being handed the beer, wiping off the rim with the sleeve of his flannel. “just beer, though? don’t you play with shots?” he was setting himself up for disaster.

ashley-Today at 12:27 AM

"nah," she shook her head. "just take about a shot when i score. here," tossing the ball across the table, missing on purpose. "you can go first, you need the practice," she teased. julian didn't seem like he was in his element, and if there was one thing ashley was good at, it was party games, thanks to years of practice.

julian-Today at 12:31 AM

surprising himself, julian caught the ball as it bounced towards him. even though the game set up in front of him was hardly related to athletics, he was sure that it wouldn’t come naturally to him. but, he still gave it a shot, stepping into, what he assumed, was a beer pong players stance, and sent the ball flying. it bounced perfectly on the rim of a cup on the edge, and rolled away. “i’m just warming up,” he said, holding a hand out, trying to stifle his laughs.

ashley-Today at 12:34 AM

ashley raised her eyebrows, impressed with julian's first attempt. "not bad." catching the ball before it rolled off the table, she took a step back, watching her elbows and tossed the ball, sinking it in one of the cups. "drink up, vega!" she called out, smile growing.

julian-Today at 12:38 AM

"no way!” he called out, fishing the pingpong ball out of the cup. julian inspected it, attempting to make ashley laugh a little. “fine, that’s one for you,” as with one hand, julian rearranged the cups on his side. with the other, he took a swing of the beer. it was a lighter alcohol, not putting his throat in too much discomfort. setting the bottle down, julian got back into position. “watch this. dead center. it’s going straight in.” he pulled his hand back and let the little ball go.

ashley-Today at 12:42 AM

"i warned you, i'm so good at this," ashley said, raising her hands as if there wasn't anything she could do.  she clapped as he took the drink, glad he seemed to be having a good time so far. "no, i'm not gonna watch." covering her eyes as if not watching would stop the ball from going in. but it didn't and soon ashley was taking a drink before grabbing the ball. she gave it another toss, but this time it bounced off the rim and hit the table.

julian-Today at 12:47 AM

he tried to catch the ball before it got out of reach, but julian soon found himself scrambling to chase it through the room. “hold on! i’ve got it!” he called out back to ashley. finally, he popped back up, the ball in hand. “how fast does this normally go? am i doing good?” his question was basically answered as he threw the ball and completely missed the cup he was shooting for.

ashley-Today at 12:51 AM

"yeah, you're doing great," ashley insisted, but as the game progressed, he managed to prove her wrong. as she sunk the last cup, she glanced down at the ones she had left, and realized julian had only gotten four. she didn't want to say anything, because at least he had agreed to play with her, so she waited for him to finish drinking and say something else.

julian-Today at 12:54 AM

somewhere during the course of the game, julian had to run and find another beer, the one he started with quickly being finished. ashley sunk the ball in the final cup, as he expected, and although he lost, julian raised his arms above his head and cheered for her. "that was awesome!" he clapped his hands together loudly, and reached for the half-full beer bottle. "i should just finish this off, right?" he asked, slooshing the liquid around.

ashley-Today at 12:58 AM

"thank you," ashley beamed. "yeah, you totally should," she nodded, setting up the cups for whoever wanted to play next and then rounding the table to julian's side. draping an arm around his torso, she pulled him in for a sideways hug. "you put up a good fight." pausing, she remembered the six cups that still stood at the end of the game. "actually, no you didn't. but that's okay, you played soccer, you didn't need your hands for that."

julian -Today at 1:04 AM

when the girl slid next to him, julian was inclined to inch away, but stayed, and accepted the friendly hug. he was in the middle of taking a long sip from the bottle when ashely spoke, and it caused him to immedietly put the drink down. "you remember that? that i played soccer?" he looked down at her, trying keep his eyes focused on her face.

ashley-Today at 1:25 AM

"yeah of course," ashley said, sightly taken aback by how surprised he sounded. maybe he didn't see her at the games she had attended, or had forgotten that she went to them. "i went to a lot of soccer games." mainly because of how hot the soccer team was and as much as she didn't want to admit it, julian was no exception. "so i knew you played."

julian-Today at 1:28 AM

julian made himself comfortable, leaning back against the table, his arm reaching out, resting behind ashley's back. he thought back, trying to place the girl's face at any of the games. his memory, which hardly ever failed him, was blocked by a building wall of liquor-made smoke. "the cheerleaders didn't cheer for soccer, there's no way you were there," he joked, hitting his hip against hers for an added effect. “but really, you came? you saw? what position did i play?” he was leaning in closer now, questioning her with a grin.

ashley-Today at 1:39 AM

"i wasn't a cheerleader. it's like you didn't even know who i was," she teased, laughing as his hip bumped against hers. "yes, really. you played in the middle. i don't remember what the actual position is called, but you weren't forward or defense and you ran a lot," she answered confidently, remembering the games with ease.

julian-Today at 1:45 AM

while she spoke, julian finished off the beer, knowing all too well that he had gone over his limit when he cracked it open not long ago. "yeah, i was a mid." he stretched back a little bit, grinning, "some would say it's the hardest position, you know?" obviously joking, julian couldn't keep a straight face for long, breaking into a giggle and relaxing his body again. "that's so cool though. that you remember."

ashley-Today at 1:53 AM

ashley perked up as he confirmed that she was right, even though she already knew that she was. she couldn't help but check him out as he stretched, he looked so good in his costume. "oh yeah? that makes sense though, because you were good." frankly, ashley was just hoping he was drunk enough to not call her bluff, because she didn't now enough about soccer nor did she pay enough attention to what was happening in the games to know if he was actually good or not. she shrugged off his comment. "it's not really hard to remember. high school wasn't that long ago."

julian-Today at 2:02 AM

"i'd say i was pretty average. maybe above," the boy shrugged, trying not to let his cheeks blush any darker than they already were. "so you can remember me playing soccer, but not a single chemistry lesson?" before julian even started laughing, he stopped himself. "i'm joking–i graded some of your papers for my dad. they weren't always terrible." again, he shrugged. "how often did you cheat on those?" he asked with a devilish smirk.

ashley-Today at 2:10 AM

"no maybes. you were good," she insisted, rubbing guys' egos came naturally to her. her mouth dropped open at his comment, "oh, fuck you," she said, but she didn't even try to hold back a laugh, she had always been good at laughing at herself. "and yeah, you in a soccer uniform is a lot more memorable than, the periodic table or whatever." matching his smirk, she shrugged innocently, "i don't remember."

julian-Today at 2:13 AM

for a moment, julian just laughed along with the girl. but his eyes fell to her face, and he got a little quieter. "you don't remember cheating, but you remembered me in that stupid uniform?" his head was lower to hers, eyesbrows raised, all while smiling through his words. "that uniform was nothing, ash."

ashley-Today at 2:19 AM

"you didn't help me cheat, so i'm not gonna tell you anything about it," she said firmly, attempting to hold her ground as he leaned in closer. "it was nothing?" she repeated, the smile a permanent feature on her face by this point. "when have you ever looked better? i mean, excluding now."

julian-Today at 2:29 AM

the words shocked julian, but the alcohol helped him manage his composure. “you like the costume?” he asked, showing only a hint of his confusion. with a laugh, he went on, “wait-you really think the brawny man look is good for me?”

ashley-Today at 2:33 AM

"yeah," ashley nodded. "you look good. in like, a hot lumberjack kinda way. it's a good look for you, julian." she paused. "even though it's kinda a lame costume, because it's super easy, still, hot lumberjack works for you." usually she wouldn't say anything like that to julian, but she had always thought he was cute and alcohol had a way of convincing her that everything she thought was alright to say.

julian-Today at 2:38 AM

the compliments did more for julian’s ego than he expected them to. “oh,” he started, nodding along with her, “okay. i can see hot lumberjack.” he took the opportunity to look over ashley’s costume once more, his eyes lingering maybe too long. “all this coming from a sexy britney spears. i guess i should say thank you.” it was like he didn’t approve of the words before they flew out-but he couldn’t find the effort to care about them, either.

ashley-Today at 2:42 AM

julian wasn't subtle about checking her out, but ashley didn't mind; it made her feel good. for a long time she had been convinced he wasn't interested, but he was starting to make her second guess that decision. "is it possible to be britney spears and not be sexy?" she pointed out. "but i guess you're welcome."

julian-Today at 2:46 AM

“welllll,” he dragged out, running into a chuckle. “i still don’t know about bald britney. i don’t think i can call that era for her sexy...” julian dipped his head down again to look at her, focusing ( mostly ) on her eyes. “schoolgirl brit, though... a personal favorite of mine.”

ashley-Today at 2:51 AM

"okay, i guess you're right." as usual. "oh yeah?" she repeated, biting down on her lower lip as he met her eyes. "do you have a thing for knee high socks?" she teased. "or are you a white button down kinda guy?" her hands trailed to the knot she had tied the shirt in as she spoke, eyes never leaving julian's face to gage his reaction.

julian-Today at 2:12 PM

their banter was all fun and games until ashley had started to bite her lip. that is when julian really caught on. too stunned to actually speak, he watched as the girl began to untie the knot. he was finally able to tear his eyes away, and cleared his throat in an attempt to man up, wanting to say something. "okay, not here–" he quickly breathed out. julian brought both of his hands up to stop ashley's, quickly realizing too late just how close they now were to her chest.

ashley-Today at 2:49 PM

for someone so smart, it took julian a long time to catch on to what she was getting at. although it was julian. when he finally did, ashley couldn't help but smile as his eyes widened. "okay, where?" she shot back. she placed her hands over his and guided them around to her waist, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him slightly closer.

julian-Today at 3:02 PM

everything was going a bit too fast for julian to register it all. one second he was stopping ashley from taking her top off, and the next his hands were feeling the rim of her skirt again her skin. “ah–” even though her face was inches in front of his, he picked his head up, and looked around the room. none of the faces he saw struck him as familiar–in fact, no one really seemed to notice the two. julian turned to look back down at ashley, and, completely overwhelmed by her magnetic pull, immediately lost his train of thought. “are you sure?”

ashley-Today at 3:42 PM

ashley was slightly shocked by his question. usually all she had to do was show a bit of interest and the guy assumed the rest, but julian wasn't just folding. it threw her off for a second, having to confirm her interest. "yeah, i'm sure," she finally replied, nodding. for a second she wondered if she was supposed to ask if he was sure, but quickly decided against it and waited for julian to actually make a move.

julian-Today at 3:53 PM

a smile slowly formed across the boy's lips. "good," he said, gaining a little bit of confidence. only a moment after, he was swooping his head low, meeting ashley's lips with his own, and kissing her. his hands felt around the girl's wasit, but the rest of his body stood still.

ashley-Today at 4:04 PM

julian answered her unasked question with a kiss, which was a good enough response in her book. her hands trailed from his neck down his torso, untucking his flannel as she kissed back. assuming she knew what he wanted next, she pulled away for a moment reaching for his hand. "come with me," she murmured, pulling him behind her.

julian-Today at 4:11 PM

when ashley pulled away, julian was finally given a moment to breathe. his chest was pounding, but the feeling wasn't right–it wasn't an excited heartbeat, but something closer to a nervous one. still, taking one drunk step after another, he dragged on after ashley. when they began to leave the room where most of the people were partying, he called out to the blonde, his voice quiet but wiry, “ash, hold on…”

ashley-Today at 4:30 PM

pulling julian in to an empty room in the frat, shutting the door behind him. she was about to pull him back in when she heard him speak. "what's up?" she asked, taking half a step back to let him talk, expecting him to ask if she had a condom or to go back to his place, or any other thing that she usually got from guys.

julian-Today at 4:36 PM

the longer julian stood there, looking at ashley, the more he began to think clearly ( as clear as he could, that is ). “i don’t want…” he looked down on the floor, catching sight of the way his shirt was untucked and a little unbuttoned. with a sigh, he began to fix it. “i’m sorry. i didn’t think this would…” the boy glanced up at her only to look away again. “i can’t, ash.”

ashley-Today at 4:44 PM

ashley's eyebrows furrowed as she heard julian speak, thrown off by that he was saying. "wait, you don't want to sleep with me?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "then why have you been so nice to me lately?" adjusting the knot of her shirt, she took a seat on the edge of the bed, awaiting an explanation.

julian-Today at 4:50 PM

julian’s heart sank as ashley spoke. he wanted to comfort her, but was hesitant to get any closer. “because, ash, you’re a nice girl,” he said sincerely. there was a sad smile resting on his face, though his eyes were full of concern. “i just don’t… feel that way towards you.” except for a minute ago, he wanted to add, but kept his mouth shut.

ashley-Today at 4:58 PM

ashley still didn't follow what julian was saying. she wasn't upset that he didn't want to fuck her, it just didn't make sense. she didn't think julian had any interest in her, but if he thought of her at all, she figured it would be sexually, not platonically. that's usually how it went for her. "oh," she murmured. then why'd he kiss her?

julian-Today at 5:05 PM

"i’m sorry, ashley.” he was. julian knew that it was his fault for kissing her–he should have stopped when he first felt that things weren’t right. to avoid more awkward silence, he kept blabbering. “i went through that game drinking too fast, and i should probably get some water or something, and you…” he frowned, sighing again, “it’s nothing about you. fuck, please don’t think that.” julian slowly stepped over and sat down at the end of the bed, keeping a good couple inches from the girl. “i don’t know what i was fucking thinking.”

ashley-Today at 5:20 PM

"no, it's okay," ashley said, and it really was. "i'm just," she paused. it felt weird to say not used to being turned down. usually she wasn't even the one that had to be turned down, she just went along with whatever the guy she was with wanted. not finishing her sentence, she moved on without another comment. "yeah you should get water but you probably shouldn't leave yet. i mean, people saw us come in here so they're gonna think we slept together." it was ashley. "so it they don't think it was so fast." she hoped he understood she was getting at without her having to say she was trying to make it seem like he lasted s long time with her.

julian-Today at 5:26 PM

he was happy to see that ashley was slowly starting to be more positive, recovering from the saddened expression she wore a minute ago. he even laughed a little at her suggestion to wait. but once he looked at the situation as a whole, his smile dropped. “wait, you really think people saw us?” a rush of anxiety was beginning to take over. the more julian thought about it, the more upset he became. “oh, fuck…” he muttered, falling against the bed, his mind wandering to a single person. “who was out there? did you see anyone we know?” julian avoided giving ashley a particular name.

ashley-Today at 5:33 PM

"yeah, of course they did," she said as of it was obvious. they were at a packed frat, there's no question if people saw them or not. "um, i don't know. i wasn't really paying attention." she was a little offended by his tone as he realized that people might have actually seen them together. "would actually sleeping with me really be that embarrassing?" she murmured, shifting slightly on the bed. "you didn't seem so upset about it a few minutes ago." it definitely stung that he only liked the idea of being with her if no one else knew, but she didn't ask because she really want to hear his answer.

julian-Today at 5:38 PM

julian shot back up, immedietly reacting to her questions. "no, no! no–don't–it's not like that," he wanted to reach out and touch her, but kept his hands to himself. "it's just… like…" julian didn't want to say it. there was a certain guilt in his chest that was tugging hard around his heart. "i wasn't thinking a few minutes ago. and now i'm thinking about it, and i'm… dammit…" an idea came to him, "like, what about isaiah? if isaiah saw i'd… fucking hate myself…" isaiah wasn't the only person julian was worried about.

ashley-Today at 5:48 PM

"what is it then?" she pushed, struggling to follow his logic. although ashley usually had problems following julian's train of thought. "is there someone specific you wouldn't want to see us together? are you like, into someone?" she would feel bad if she hurt julian's chance of being with someone he was actually interested in. but her confusion peaked when julian brought up isaiah. "why would isaiah care?" she asked, turning to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

julian-Today at 5:52 PM

avoiding her earlier questions all together, julian decided to focus on isaiah. "isaiah? because he is like… in love with you, ash." as he looked at her, julian realized that, because of ashley being ashley, she might not even have the slightest clue. "wait, do you really not know? ashley, he really fucking likes you. and he's one of my good friends. i know it. i can see it. he's not very good at hiding it," julian let out a little chuckle.

ashley-Today at 6:02 PM

ashley let out a laugh as julian explained, wondering how he got that idea from isaiah, of all people. "no he's not," she insisted. "he's definitely not. we're just friends." if he was interested they definitely wouldn't be just friends. "he's one of my good friends too," she pointed out. "so wouldn't he want to, like, make it obvious to me?" she didn't push her questions any more, it was clear julian didn't want to answer them.

julian-Today at 6:13 PM

"isaiah is a weird dude," julian said with a smirk. "i don't understand his tactics. all i know is that if he saw us come in here, i'm probably going to get my ass kicked. and i'm pretty sure i deserve it…" again, the boy sighed, and laid down on the bed. with his hands coming up to rub his eyes, he let out a groan. "how long does stupid drunk sex take? i need to talk to–" he stopped himself short, wanting to say a name, but instead changing it. "kimi… if she hasn't already gone and blacked out, yet."

ashley-Today at 7:46 PM

"i promise you isaiah won't care, so don't worry about him. i can't really think of anyone on the team that would care. and it's not like we actually did anything so like, we'll just tell them that." even as she spoke, she couldn't help but wish isaiah did care about who she slept with. it was becoming increasingly obvious how frustrated julian was by the whole situation. she felt guilty, like she had pushed him into something he didn't want to do. "i'm sorry julian," she murmured. "i didn't mean to mess anything up for you." even if she didn't know what she was messing up. "um, that's kinda up to you." she pointed out. "how long would you want it to take?" although ashley was pretty ready to get out of there as well. "kimi? kimi won't care."

julian-Today at 8:43 PM

ashley wasn’t one hundred percent correct… but what she said still managed to make him feel a little hopeful. he nodded his head, “yeah, actually. i mean, we didn’t do anything, they should get that.” he took a deep breath, relaxing a little bit more. “ashley, don’t apologize. the only things i’m blaming are the crappy beers i had. and you didn’t mess anything up… there really isn’t anything to mess up, right now.” it was a bit of a sad realization that julian had, and he tried not to dwell on it longer. “a good five more minutes, you think?” he pretended to check his non-existence watch, chuckling.

ashley-Today at 8:56 PM

julian's reassurance made her feel a little better, at least he wasn't mad at her. "five more minutes, huh? impressive," she teased, shooting him a small smile. she still didn't really understand where they stood now, and luckily there was enough alcohol in her system to push further. "wait, wait, wait, one more thing. so you've been nice to me as like, a friend?" she asked, the concept still foreign to her. especially coming from someone like julian.

[scrapeourshoesonthestars]

can you do U, V and if you've got the energy, Y for sledgefu on the headcanon game?

OMG YES THESE ARE GREAT CHOICES SO HELP ME LORD!!

Okay here we go

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Snafu - Need I even say it. It’s lined in his DNA, his very soul, his heart BEATS just to tease Eugene. In every sense of the word, he teases Eugene verbally, contradicts him just cause he can, just cause he knows how much it winds Gene up. He teases him physically, sneaks up behind him, pokes the left shoulder while ducking to the right. If he knew what a wet willy was, he’d probably pull that shit on Eugene too. Of course his favourite way to tease Eugene is sexually and this is where he really gets to be creative and have some fun. Everything he does is to make Gene beg him for more, kisses him softly, pulls away before Gene is ready, touches him so lightly, he can barely feel it. He will kiss his way down his body and then once he starts to reach somewhere really interesting, kisses back up and does this a few times, anything to add just that extra lil bit of frustration in Eugene’s breathing. When he does kiss further down, he skips completely and goes past where Eugene wants it most, only to bite his thigh. He would finally get to where Eugene was waiting for. Yet he would hover over him, so Gene could feel Snafu’s hot breaths against him, feel him moving closer and closer, making him heave out his breaths because he knows Snafu is going to pull away from him again any second but then the moan that leaves him when Snafu DOESN’T pull away is why he does all of this in the first place.

Eugene - as much as he tried to match Snafu’s level of teasing in the beginning, and as much as it did work, Snafu was far too good at pretending not to be bothered by it so Eugene gave up pretty quickly. Instead, his focus was always more the element of surprise, giving Snafu instant gratification, too much too soon. But he was also one to grow bored with what he was doing pretty quickly too. This meant that he would flit from one thing to another, kissing Snafu, to biting his neck the back to kissing, playing with him using his hands then dropping and using his mouth, always driving Snafu to the edge but pulling away and changing things up before he could fall over the edge, and it drove Snafu insane!

So while Snafu’s tactic was to make Eugene WANT what he had not yet received, Eugene’s tactic was to make Snafu MISS what he had just been thoroughly enjoying. Both lead to them begging and squirming and wanting!

(God damn, I’ve written this much already and there two more to do…I’m so sorry, this is going to be a Sledgefu dissertation all about their sex life. So strap in cause I hope you’re ready.)

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Snafu - He is quite a playful lover and so is pretty vocal, he likes to put on a bit of a show and loves the sense of danger that comes with being loud. He also loves how much it seems to turn Eugene on to hear his moans and cries, even if he threatens to stop if Snaf doesn’t shut the fuck up soon! The best part is that he knows Eugene ain’t gonna stop for nothing, and when Snafu does push too far, it gets him a rough hand clamped over his mouth, so all he can do is heave through his nose and muffle his sounds into the hand, which is of course what he makes such a scene for anyway.

Eugene - it probably goes without saying but he is nowhere near as vocal as Snafu. He makes no attempts to put on any show. The difference here is that when Snafu is working him, any sounds he pulls from Eugene and completely genuine. That’s not to say that Snafu is not genuine, but he does like to exaggerate sometimes for effect. Eugene never exaggerates his pleasure and the little REAL noises he creates, makes Snafu shiver, knowing that he caused those sounds. This also means that when Snafu moans, it’s usually more pronounced, almost song like because he’s making them with intent. When Eugene does make noises, they tend to be more grunts and sighs, with the occasional moan when Snafu does something particularly good.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive)

In this area they’re both pretty similar, after spending so long together and all the shit they have been through together, they know each other very well, maybe more than they know themselves. They know when to be affectionate to the other person, they also know when to give them space. They can generally tell when their advances will be responded to positively, not even just sexually, but in terms of physical communication all together. Snafu knows that when Eugene has his nose in a book or is writing down his little notes, he generally likes his space, save for the odd kiss here and there which Snafu doesn’t mind in the slightest. Although Snafu is a lot more affectionate than anyone ever gave him credit for and once Eugene was done with whatever he was doing, Snafu would pull him in to him and just let himself be surrounded by Eugene for a while. Which of course, Eugene just loved to indulge him and his secret neediness.

In terms of sex, since that’s what this actual question was kind of about, Snafu had the foulest mouth. He would make reference after reference about sex, anything that he could find to allude to anything sexual towards Eugene and he was right on top of it but as much as he would give all the talk, it was actually Eugene that would make the most physical advances. He had this way of starting things off so innocently, small lil soft kisses that Snafu can’t help but lean into, which Gene will slowly deepen and then start to progress things until next thing Snafu knows, he’s on his back, freshly fucked with a cigarette between his lips and a look on his face that lets Gene know that he’s completely speechless for the first time in his life. Because Eugene totally just seduced the hell out of him and there was not a thing he could do about it. He feels tricked! And he freaking loves it!

I think I’m a bit obsessed with these two

[slendermanlore]

Slender Man Mythos + Fatalism

Consider this a polar opposite companion post to the “motivational” one. Confusingly enough, some of these can be just as comforting in their own way.

Original Mythos, “Stirling City Incidents”:

“we didn’t want to go, we didn’t want to kill them, but its persistent silence and outstretched arms horrified and comforted us at the same time…”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #18”:

“Something dangerous is going on, and I’m starting to regret ever getting involved with it now.”

Everyman HYBRID, “First Hidden Box”:

“Consider this a place of refuge, not from the waters, but from damnation.”

Original Mythos, “The Tall Man”:

“Because,” said her mother, “there is no reward for goodness; there is no respite for faith; there is nothing but cold steel teeth and scourging fire for all of us. And it’s coming for you now.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #22”:

“Seth is gone. I don’t remember what happened. We were the only two left. And I left him. Brian is gone. Tim, and Jay, and Sarah. Everyone is gone. I just woke up in this house. With the tape. Seth’s camera is gone, and all I can remember from the night is right here. All I can remember at all is on the tape now. I’m leaving this house. I thought I would be safer here, by running away. But everything’s just gotten worse. I’m going back to my home. And I’m burning these tapes. All of them.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Second Hidden Box”:

“Time and space flee every which way, disregarding your beloved logic.”

Just Another Fool, “Untitled”:

“I run. And that’s all I can do. I will run and run and run and die. Perhaps then I will find sanity.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“It was as if my body was trying to tell me something… Not the frantic 'Don't look, don't look, dear god please walk faster,' but instead the eerily calm 'There's no need to look. You already know he's there.'”

Everyman HYBRID, “I’m okay.”:

“And thus the roadtrip continues. Maybe I'd think of something poetic, but I have to keep moving. I have to do this alone. And now.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“The key to not having nightmares is to not sleep at all. Insomnia has its benefits, and flaws. My dreams are starting to creep into reality.”

Original Mythos, “Miscellaneous Journal Entries”:

“I don’t hear the words, but they always stick in my head. I’m going to watch over my son. Until the day I die, until the day he dies.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #23”:

“I’m done with this. I don’t want to know the answers anymore.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Reunion.”:

“Who are you, my dear friend, to reach someone like me? I look forward to our reunion in Hell.

Otherwise, I fear my warnings have fallen on deaf ears. The sight of its black eyes, those markings; this blight is not human, and now has claimed another one of us.

I’m sorry I was too late.

– Linnie.”

Original Mythos, “Fear Dubh”:

“I’ve still got the rosary, and even though people laugh, I sleep with it under my pillow. Because if I don’t, I dream. About the sound of wet leaves sliding softly across a window, and the way he is still watching me, even though he has no eyes.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #####”:

“We will wait for you no more. Control is being taken away from you. From the start this has been a game for us. Not anymore. I'm coming for you. And you will lead me to the ark.”

Original Mythos, “Deadly House Fire”:

“He’s going to come for me, and then he’s going to find you. You can’t stop it, you can never stop it. He finds you, and what he does to you is worse than death.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“He isn't coming. He is already here, and he always has been, and always will be.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Third Hidden Box”:

“There is no veiling your perception as anything more than an illusion.”

Original Mythos, “Fog”:

“The car stopped, the engine revved but to no avail. The battery was the last look into the infinite abyss. He knew this was his stop.”

Everyman HYBRID, CANYOUSEETHEWORDS:

“this is no longer their game. consider yourself marked.”

Tribe Twelve, “Device Findings”:

“You, and everyone you've ever known, are prisoners… bound in a cave and facing a blank wall on which you can only perceive shadows. A brain connected to eyes and nothing more. We have seen what casts those shadows, Noah Maxwell. Why won't you let us untie you? You are quite deserving, after all. The Boardwalk. Bring the journal. That is your homework. However, if you come empty handed, we shall be forced to take… disciplinary actions.”

Original Mythos, “Pyotr”:

“About that time, things started to change. It was not the people so much as the air, which seemed to hold less oxygen and felt static at all times, constantly threatening to send out a spark at any point and any time.

[...]

It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.”

Dark Harvest, “Log Entry #27”:

“You can’t make them stop, Chris. You and I have both seen what they’ll do to you, and anyone else involved. I’m involved… this is what they’ll do. They’ll kill you the second they get a chance.”

Everyman HYBRID, Twitter:

“YOU STILL BELIEVE THIS IS MERELY THEIR STORY. YOU ASSUME A GRANTED REFUGE? NO SUCH SANCTUARY EXISTS.

YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER. DO THEY THINK THEY ARE ANY DIFFERENT? YOU ARE ALL IN THE SAME. SINKING. VESSEL.”

Just Another Fool, “The Reward”:

“The Earth shifts. The earth shifts. Time shifts. Reality shifts. And he just. Doesn’t. Care.”

Original Mythos, “Small Findings”:

“But I am sure that I cannot sleep or will not wake up. I cannot leave. i can hear the waiting noises just outside. All i can do is wait, and return to this damned drawing, and wonder…”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“I can hear him. I can always hear him, every day. Far, far away, but getting closer with each scratching step. Only a matter of time until he comes back, and I learn everything.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #49”:

“I didn't want to upload it here, but now I feel like I need to in case anything happens to me or the footage.”

Everyman HYBRID, Twitter:

“IN A WORLD OF SUCH UNCERTAINTY, THERE IS ONE TRUTH WE CAN CLING TO: WE SHALL ALL JOIN THE DOCTOR, INEVITABLY. YOU, TOO, SHALL DROWN. vii”

Original Mythos, “Rodzby Incident”:

“when your time comes

Don’t Run.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #52”:

“It might be nothing. He might actually show us something. But if he does try anything, I’m going to make sure that Jessica gets out. Whatever it is that I have to do to make sure of that, I don’t care. So I guess that’s my confession or whatever, about what happened, if anything does happen to me.”

Everyman HYBRID, CANYOUSEETHEWORDS:

“I’m sorry, Jeff. I’m sorry, Vincent. I’m sorry Evan. Most of all, I’m sorry, Jessalyn. I’m sorry, “HYBRIDs” (still can’t get past the nickname). I’ve brought this upon myself. Maybe we’ll speak again someday. Probably not. Don’t follow my footsteps.

Be not like me. I am alone.”

Everyman HYBRID, “77of76.avi”:

“It’s like you’re just going around in circles; you don’t get anywhere. No progress is made. You go in, balls to the wall, but it doesn’t fucking matter. You just wind up in the same fucking spot.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Fifth Hidden Box”:

“THEIR WORLD SHALL PERISH

THEIR WORLD SHALL BURN

YOU, TOO, ARE ON THIS SAME. SINKING. VESSEL.

THE GREAT FLOOD SHALL WASH AWAY ALL THE ASH, READYING THE WORLD FOR ANOTHER GREATER, CYCLE

[EXIT ALL]”

Everyman HYBRID, “Tribe Twelve Envelope”:

“Milo seemed frightened of this man, but also held a sense of… let's just say, concerned respect. Accepted inevitability. This worried me a great deal. He didn't seem eager to rid himself of this man, more so that he accepted this as how things would be and could not seek an accommodating change from its standing.

He went on to tell me that this man had a particular plan for him, for other children, too. They were all to go on a great journey together. The way Milo described it, it seemed like a vacation, disregarding the melancholy nature in which he told it.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“Knowing the slenderman…he wouldn't even strike for weeks, months, even years…he is just letting you know that your time is running out and that he is holding the hourglass”

Tribe Twelve, “The Order”:

“This is exactly what he fucking wants… he pulls us apart.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Twenty-four Months”:

“Three friends, two parents, two loved ones, two strangers, two coworkers, a brother, his dog, and still no resolution.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #60.5”:

“I’m still not sure what to do from here. I don’t like being on my own again like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Dark Harvest, “Log Entry #28”:

“Although the words of the Oracle may protect you from death by our hand, Gorr’Rylaehotep will destroy you one day. Why he hasn’t yet is a mystery but rest assured, your time will come. What we can do, though, if you ever try to uncover the secrets of our Order again, is give you a fate far worse than death. We will kill everyone you love. Your entire family will be destroyed, and your world will crumble. Although we cannot kill you, we will find you. We will take you into our care and make your every waking moment an unending hell! You will be begging for the release of death, but we will not give it to you. We will only bring you more suffering. Think about that before you attempt to contact anyone in our Order again! I hope you heed our words and stay out of our business, or you’ll be regretting it until the day you die!”

Original Mythos, “Nathaniel V”:

“If a magician must face a Transformed man, all logic, honor, and fairness must be tossed aside. The Transformed does not follow any rules that can be known by men.

To decipher them is to risk becoming one of them.”

Tribe Twelve, “Catharsis”:

“Whatever they have planned for me on the 11th, I just hope it doesn't hurt. Comment if you want, I don't care anymore. I'm so sorry for everything guys. I'm so fucking sorry.”

Tribe Twelve, “INTERCEPTION”:

“BUT IF YOU DO NOT/INSANITY WILL RULE YOUR MIND/BECAUSE/DO YOU KNOW WHATS WORSE THAN KNOWING WHEN THE CLOCK STOPS?/NOT KNOWING”

Everyman HYBRID, “Sixth Hidden Box”:

“I know there's nothing I can do to help their memory, but every night, I wake up, preparing for a battle, readying myself to fight for their lives – only to remember that I've already failed them.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“If you get away its only because he lets you, hes the monster in your nightmare who always finds your hiding place.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter

“It's been approximately 3 years since I opened this account. Things have gotten worse each year. The future is pitch black.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #67.5”:

“If Alex is still out there, he’s going to find us sooner or later.”

Everyman HYBRID, “:D”:

“And in that moment, I’ll be there. To piss in your wounds, and to burn you alive. You think you’re untouchable? Not even God can hide from me.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“life is but a dream. what happens when u wake up. how do u know if youre dreaming. questions fuel my insomnia. or am i still just dreaming.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Next”:

“They're all gone. Everyone except for you guys. I'm not going to stop. And if I go next, just don't forget us. [V]”

Original Mythos, “Henry Louis Marshall”:

“The closer you get to him, the more real he becomes. The closer you get to him, the more people die.

If you’re reading this, then I got too close.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #75”:

“It is going to be really weird if it comes to that and we come out on top, though. Because… I don’t remember what all I did before all of this happened. No… well… I do remember that I was living in a crappy apartment by myself doing nothing. So at least now I guess I’m… doing… something… I don’t know.”

Everyman HYBRID, “l'esprit de l'escalier”:

“They won't let me... they won't let me go.”

“I don't think they're gonna let any of us go, Evan.”

“Vinny... I tried.”

“Tried what, Evan?”

“I tried to keep you safe.”

“I don't think anything's gonna do it at this point, brother.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Are you running yet?”

“in my mind i run miles every day. trying to escape this life. but when i wake up i realize i havent moved at all.”

Dark Harvest, “the last three months - part two”:

“At the time I had no idea that thing was ever in the apartment. When I reviewed the footage, I was both frightened and confused. Why didn’t it kill us like it killed Greg? It feels like it’s just toying with us at this point.”

Original Mythos, “Of the Slender Man”:

“No matter what culture he descends on though, the outcome has always been the same. For in the wake of the Slender Man all that is left is a cold, dark road covered in corpses with agony on their distorted faces.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #80”:

“I left Jay at my house so something like this wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what to do.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“We have created the Slender Man. Brought him out of the shadows and back into the world.

We have created a monster and we cannot put it back in its cage.”

Just Another Fool, “Laughter”:

“I can hear the laughter. Through this endless night and after. I can hear the singing. Chorus, verse, and refrain ringing.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Lexi”:

“You gotta be able to live with yourself after seeing all this shit. After being involved with the deaths of all these you people; you gotta be okay with it. Otherwise you're never going to get past it. There's going to be a lot more blood. A lot more bodies before this is all over. And you have to be okay with that, otherwise you'll just end up being one of them.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“What gives you the strength to get up and continue with this?”

“it is not strength. it is cowardice. that coward creature in the mirror that was once myself. i am but a witness to his destruction. his slow decay.”

Original Mythos, “Remains of Missing Camper”:

“I think I hear him coming, I don’t feel like fighting or running or chasing anymore. I will lie down and await the peace of death, perhaps I will find repose then. Perhaps I will find home.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Oh Noah… You will be back to normal i just know you will”

“you cannot reassemble burnt paper.”

Original Mythos, “Comment Chain”:

“Then a crackling breathing is heard coming through the car speakers. You flick the switch but it grows louder and encompasses you and comes from everywhere. Then it slowly dies down and begins to pinpoint itself… away from the speakers.

You realize it’s coming from the back seat.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“hope is but the caged angel. slave to fear. there is no door. no lock. no key. but there are bars to tease. and she reaches out to no avail.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“5 years. this is all a dream. you are all dreaming with me. i cant sleep but i cant wake up. i wake up asleep. nothing is real. where am i.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #85”:

“Alex has destroyed everything I have. I don’t care what happens to me as long as he is stopped. There’s only one way this can end, and he’ll hunt me forever until it does. I have to find him.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Blue room”:

“Just because you're alive doesn't make you a hero. Makes you a survivor. That's not worth shit. I would give anything to just go back and not fuck with this. Not do what we did. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't have even made a difference. You know?”

Tribe Twelve, “DEATHTRAPEXODUS”:

“IF YOU AREN'T BROKEN NOW/WE WILL BREAK YOU THEN/BECAUSE NIGHT IS LONGEST/WHEN DAY DOES NOT EXIST/OUR MASTER HUNGERS FOR YOU/WE ARE ALL CAUGHT IN HIS WEB/AND THE WEB CONSUMES US ALL”

Original Mythos, “Stanley Ercavich”:

“But then she started going on about how it wasn’t an end, but a beginning…fuck it, right?”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #86”:

“This isn’t over. You see how it spreads. If there’s someone left, you have to kill them, and then yourself.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“used to think jumanji cant hurt if you dont play. except the game is in session. i have to roll.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“used to think this was a nightmare i couldnt wake up from. i was wrong. i wake up from nightmares into more nightmares. im living a lifemare.”

Original Mythos, “Abandoned Journal”:

“The story of the Greens interested me fiercely but nobody in the town was willing to talk. That night, I called my children and wife. I told them how very much I loved them.

And I told them to lock the doors.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Do You Fear The pain anymore? Do you fear the thought of dead?”

“ive become the pain. death and fear are my friends now.”

Dark Harvest, “2014 - boiler room”:

“I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I don’t see a point. I’m surviving, but is it worth it? What the fuck is the point if it’s never going to get any better? I can’t fucking deal with this… I just can’t.”

Tribe Twelve, “Pitfall”:

“This is the end! I’m fucking dead! I’m free!”

Just Another Fool, “Journal of Logan Renault”:

“Fate. It surrounds us. Guides us. Draws us together. It is permanent, UNWAVERING AND CONCRETE. ONCE YOUR FATE IS DECIDED, IT is Not about to change.”

Everyman HYBRID, “two thousand three hundred ninety-five”:

“You know what? You are right, though, about one thing. Kinda does look like the only way out. Because what do I have, to make it out of here? To get answers? Cool, got answers. There is no life. Because you took everybody! You know what? If there's a heaven... hell, if there's a hell! It's better than this.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“Nobody knows where it is you are taken to, but nobody ever comes backs, and everybody agrees it's generally a horrible place. And maybe in this place, you can't die. And maybe you also don't need organs or skin or even a body, really, and that's why yours has now been nicely wrapped up and hung in a tree.”

Tribe Twelve, Scriniarii on Reddit:

“Look I've been doing this over and over for so long. I'm tired. Everyone I have ever loved is gone because of me and I'm doomed to relive their deaths over and over every fucking recursion because you can't get your shit together and stop trying to be individuals. Maybe I just fucked this up and we will have to reset again, maybe you just needed this push.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #87”:

“Everything is fine.”