#and boy. does she make a good martyr

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

the first thing eryn does when she does wake up after dying is immediately try to fight everyone around her

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[vasilissadragomir]

people often use snow’s experiences with lucy gray as an explanation for how he engages with katniss, but i think that the true story of his downfall lies not in how lucy gray and katniss are similar, but rather in how they are different.

snow knew that it was never him that made the games what they are. it was lucy gray, with her scrappy, passionate artistry, that put on the show that kept people watching. more importantly, it was lucy gray that put on the show that kept HIM watching. all he ever did was give her the stage.

ergo, snow recognizes that the person with the power to usurp him is his natural counterpart, someone like lucy gray, who possessed both the charisma and humanity that he sorely lacks. however, in his mind, those traits are not real; they’re performed in order to obtain power. how could he know better, when he’s never experienced them himself, and the only person he ever truly believed possessed them betrayed him?

so snow keeps his eye out for performers, people with gravitas who could capture the heart of the nation, and squashes their spark as soon as he can. people like haymitch. people like finnick.

and that’s where snow goes wrong. he doesn’t see katniss’ similarities to lucy gray from the start, because while they both demonstrate astonishing, intriguing bravery at their reapings, their actions and motivations are completely different. lucy gray is motivated to perform by anger for herself, and katniss is motivated to sacrifice herself by fear for her sister.

but then katniss starts to put on a show for the audience, kissing peeta and being willing to die with the berries at the end of the 74th games. snow starts to see an entirely different side of katniss that resembles lucy gray to a concerning degree. he sees how, with peeta at her side, she could beguile the nation the same way lucy gray had. and, even worse, she was using the poor, helpless boy who had the misfortune of falling in love with her to survive. the moment katniss started performing, he finally sees lucy gray within her. but it’s already too late.

by catching fire, katniss is the spark fanning the flames of the resistance, but snow fails to understand why. as far as he’s concerned, katniss’ star power comes from her connection to peeta. he tries to weaponize their “love” for his own gain, but it doesn’t work, not because people don’t believe that she loves peeta, but because, for the first time, a victor offers their winnings to the family of a fallen tribute.

snow is caught in a catch 22 of seneca crane’s making—if he kills katniss, she becomes a martyr. but if he lets her live, she’ll be a revolutionary icon. either way, she’s the spark. so he has no choice but to allow the spark to flicker, just for a little while. enter the 75th games. snow knows he needs katniss to die a tragic death in the games. more specifically, he needs it to be a brutal death at the hands of a tribute, not the gamemakers, because he understands that as long as the districts see the capitol as the one who ended the life of katniss everdeen, she’ll still be a martyr.

but snow still doesn’t get it. in the quarter quell, the prey does not become predator. katniss’ allies protect her, ensuring she survives until district 13 rescues her. why would they protect this girl, assuming such a steep personal risk? why would they put everything on the line for a revolution they personally stand to benefit little from? he doesn’t know. but he does know that lucy gray katniss is at the center of it all, so he tries to eliminate what makes her look best: peeta.

and that is snow’s fatal mistake. what he, coin, and everyone but haymitch fail to understand is that it was never peeta that made katniss look good—it was katniss, who befriended and put faith in rue. katniss, who recruited mags, wiress, and beetee as allies. she is the source of revolutionary inspiration. it isn’t her charisma or even her compassion, and it certainly isn’t how well she performed those virtues.

katniss becomes the mockingjay because of her solidarity.

lucy gray was charismatic, like peeta, and compassionate, like both peeta and katniss, but she did not demonstrate solidarity. she was never truly “district” in the way katniss is. she showed kindness to jessup, not because he was from 12, but because he showed kindness to her. lucy gray left behind everything and everyone she loved when she left coriolanus, because she was first and foremost a survivor.

katniss was a survivor her whole life, but she survives exclusively to ensure the people she loves are protected. she always does what she can for people more vulnerable than herself. lucy gray couldn’t have sparked a revolution on her own because she lacked the solidarity that makes a hope for a better future authentic to others. katniss is the human manifestation of solidarity, and to a people divided by a common enemy, that’s the most inspiring thing a person can be.

only in the end, when katniss shoots coin, does snow realize none of it was a performance. choking on the blood of his countless adversaries, snow’s final moments are consumed by what he got wrong. what made lucy gray and katniss different ends his reign, but ironically, the final nail in his coffin is an act that both lucy gray and katniss share in their last moments with snow. they both prove, unequivocally, that he is not the center of their worlds like they are his. lucy gray put her own survival before her love for him, and katniss puts the future of her nation before her hate for him. in the end, he simply doesn’t matter. and that’s greater justice than could have ever been achieved if katniss had fired her arrow into his heart.

the greatest enemy to coriolanus snow could only be the person who reignited the embers of a dying revolutionary fire, who demonstrated to a broken people that while one spark alone might not be enough, thousands of sparks uniting in solidarity is an unbeatable force.

and really, he should have known better. after all, even when snow lands on top, fire melts snow.

[munsonson]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏『••✎••』

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4

This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 

Things could’ve ended far worse than they actually did. Hell, most of the couples in their school tended to make breakups as dramatic as possible, normally painting one half of the relationship as some kind if irredeemable monster, if not to paint them as this sympathetic martyr, than just to save face that it actually hurt. 

In her case, Eddie Munson told her they just weren’t a good match and he wanted to be friends again instead. That was as healthy as they could possibly get. And in the best case scenario, too, she’d still be able to have him be a part of her life. She didn’t think she could stand the thought of seeing him in the halls and not being able to acknowledge him. 

She’d fallen hard and fast for Eddie, embarrassingly so. 

Given the heavy duty of designated driver for the little hooligans she’d somehow decided to adopt with Steve Harrington, she’d gotten accustomed to waiting in the high school parking lot, her nose pressed into the creases of her current novel while she waited for them to finish their important campaigns, all procured from the brilliant mind of Eddie Munson. 

She’d known him before then, too, but only in passing. He’d often make a big spectacle of himself in the cafeteria just to bug the other students, and he held the record as super senior. But she’d never even talked to him until she saw him walk the boys out after a seemingly successful campaign, his arms wrapped tightly around Dustin and Lucas’ shoulders as he praised them.

He’d acknowledged her when he got to her car. 

“My fair maiden,” he’d said, “I apologize for the delay.”

She’d blubbered out some kind of half-hearted response, good enough to make him laugh, and that made her heart go a million miles a minute. 

It didn’t take long before she’d gotten the courage to ask him out, even if it was just for coffee. He was surprised, but he agreed. 

It had been nice, he even drove her home after. She probably should’ve seen the signs then because he didn’t suggest a second meet up, she had instead. And he’d agreed.

It was about a month before they made themselves official, in Hawkins High language, practically married. But it really just meant she got to hold his hand between classes and get quick kisses goodbye when it was time to separate, somehow always on her cheek than her lips. 

She’d thought their dates were fun; it was a lot of pressure since he always left it up to her, never having any other idea than lounging about her home and just watching TV. But she was the one who thought of renting movies for horror marathons, figuring it was up his alley. She thought of bowling and drive-in theaters and picnicking near the quarry for its desolate atmosphere, another thing she figured was right up his alley. 

But things came to an underwhelming end when Eddie approached her at her locker on some random Thursday to tell her things just weren’t working out and he wanted to stay as friends. Despite how much even that had hurt, she agreed. She didn’t want to make him do anything he regretted. 

She could still be friends with him, happily so. That meant she could still sit with him at lunch, hear his outlandish tales, and be able to admire him from afar, even if she was no longer able to touch him and hold his hand. 

“Be honest,” she’d heard Gareth say as she approached with her tray, “what really happened? You know, most guys woulda killed to be able to take her out, the fact she stuck around for months is surprising enough.”

Eddie shrugs, chewing absentmindedly on a pretzel he’d brought. She would pack him lunches when they were together since he always forgot and resorted to eating prepackaged things instead. Since they broke up, it seemed like old habits really did die hard. 

“To tell you the truth,” he starts rather dramatically, “no substance. Pretty face, nice voice, real sweet, but God, boring as all hell.” He runs a hand down his face. The other boys seemed surprised. Dustin and Mike share a look, but say nothing, clearly waiting to hear more. Because there was no way it could be just that. There had to be more. They knew her better than anyone, had been through so much with her. What could be the real reason Eddie broke things off?

“And?” Dustin coaxes.

“And what?”

“Dude, seriously?” Mike scoffs. “She wasn’t interesting enough for you?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Look, she’s a great gal. And I know you guys are super close, which is awesome, but we just weren’t the best match. And I felt like shit that she was putting in all of the effort when I wasn’t interested. Now she’s free to...I dunno...find someone boring, too.” He sniggers, elbowing Jeff beside him trying to get him to laugh, too, but he could see how upset Dustin and Mike were. 

Luckily, for her sake, they didn’t notice her standing there, having overheard everything. Spinning right back around, she’d ditched her tray onto one of the trash bins before leaving the cafeteria completely before there was a chance anyone could see her tears. 

God, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, she thinks again. He was more than welcome to have his own opinion, but why did it have to be something like that? 

He was right, she wasn’t exactly Chrissy Cunningham or Heather Holloway, being this huge spectacle that made every new day more exciting than the last. All things considered, sometimes too much excitement frightened her. Having risked her life at least once a year for nearly four years now made her yearn for the more simple things. It was stupid of her to think Eddie would want the same. Eddie Munson, who liked to make scenes in the cafeteria and rock out in a bar with his band. He didn’t crave the simplicity of life like she did.

She didn’t go back into that cafeteria for the remaining of the lunch period. In fact, she’d decided to skip the rest of the day completely, knowing she shared three periods with Eddie and right now she really didn’t want to see him. She just wanted to get away, leave herself to her own thoughts to try to calm down. 

Well, that really only lasted for ten minutes because she found herself pulling into the small parking lot into Family Video. She spots Steve’s car at the far end and knows he’s inside. It was childish of her to go running and crying to Steve Harrington, who she knew would take her side and say all the cruel things about Eddie that she couldn’t bring herself to because she really just needed someone on her side right now. Aside from Dustin and Mike, of course. She wouldn’t forget how they jumped to her defense. 

The little bell rings at the top of the door as she walks in, startling Steve into consciousness, who seemed to be snoozing on the edge of the counter, drool pooled across his forearm. He wipes feverishly at his face and blinks unfocused in her direction, trying to situate himself quickly into his customer service face.

“Welcome to Fam-Jesus, you scared me,” he cuts himself off when he at last realizes it’s her. Confused, he turns to glance at the clock hung up on the wall. “Don’t tell me school’s out already? You beat Robin here.”

“No, I’m playing hooky,” she shakes her head, unsteadily moving towards the counter. 

“What? You? I’m sorry, am I still dreaming?” Steve asks dramatically. “Since when do you, of all people, ever skip class? I’d sooner believe Nancy doing it than you.”

“Just...needed a break s’all,” she says with a shrug, looking around. “Keith not here?”

“Nah, he’s off today. Something about a new graphic novel he’s been dying to get. Says he’d have to wait overnight just to get one of the first editions. I don’t know, I don’t really listen to him unless he’s handing over my check,” Steve said. She leans up against the counter, trying to act casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t things be okay?”

“Well, for one, having to clarify that things are supposed to be okay when asked if everything’s okay is a pretty big indicator that things aren’t, in fact, okay.” Steve says with a laugh. “So everything’s not okay, then?”

“Everything’s okay,” she lies. “I just...can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

She isn’t sure how to come out and say it without sounding stupid. Better, she can’t figure out a way to come out and say it without sounding completely pathetic. But this was Steve, he was the king of asking her embarrassing things. He even called her once at three in the morning to ask how long you were supposed to leave cookies in the oven for. The follow up question was how to get the burnt smell out before his mom came home. 

“Am I boring?”

Steve tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Am I boring, Steve? Am I boring?”

“No? Who gave you that idea?” Steve snorts, like he thinks it was a foolish thing to ask. “Whoever it is clearly hasn’t seen you handle a crowbar.” He was referencing when she’d nabbed a crowbar from the junkyard lot to fend off the demodogs with him, all to protect the little ones in the bus. She doesn’t want to remember that right now, not when it makes her feel cold inside. 

“Nobody, I just...I dunno, I just think that maybe I’m not as exciting as, like...you o-or Rob or Nancy or, hell, even Jonathan.” 

“Nonsense, you’re a badass! True story, you know I wouldn’t say that about just any...” Steve trails off, finally really looking at her. “Hey...hey, why are you really askin’ me that? Something happen? Someone say something to you?”

“No, Steve, I was just asking.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses. “Who was it, was it Byers? Nancy? Not Robin...”

“No! No, Steve, they didn’t say anything, please just drop it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Steve’s face eventually relaxes, having realized he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Munson.”

She shakes her head. “Stop it, Steve.”

“What did he say? I thought he just wanted to be friends, where’s all this coming from?” he asked. There were too many questions being thrown at her. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him, but as soon as she feels her cheek dampen that was it. Soon she was burying her face in her hands and trying to stop the little whimpers from coming out.

She doesn’t notice Steve leap easily over the counter. He pulls her close, shushing her quietly. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he says. She sniffles, wrapping her arms around him. He’s petting her hair, kissing the crown of her head, trying his damndest to get her to calm down and talk to him. He was the perfect person to come to, she now realizes. Her subconscious knew Steve was the answer.

When she finally stopped crying, he at last let her go, giving her some space.

She rubs the tears from her eyes and wipes the tears on her jeans.

“Want me to kill him?” he asks jokingly. She laughs. He smiles again. “What happened? Can you tell me now?”

She told him what Eddie had said, the real reason he’d broken up with her and how she ran from the cafeteria and came here. Steve was reasonably upset, but he didn’t want to make it all about pounding Eddie into a pulp, he knew she needed her friend right now and he was prepared to be just that.

“Hey, screw him,” Steve scoffs, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her back into his chest. “You’re far from boring, believe me, and honestly if you ask me you could do so much better than Eddie Munson. The guy picks his nose. I saw him once. It was gnarly.”

She’s laughing again, playfully hitting him. 

“Thank you, Steve,” she says, “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, I just needed someone to talk to, you know?” 

“Well, you came to the right guy. I can’t tell you it gets much better from public humiliation, but I can tell you that you find much better shit to focus on. Like this obviously stellar job. Robin. My new stereo I saved up for. And...well, you.” He playfully flicks her nose. She wrinkles her nose and swats his hand away. “Eddie doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. But I know he’s gonna kick himself in the ass when he realizes he lost a girl like you.”

“Yeah, you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my friend.” 

“Not true, I also wanna bug you for your famous cookies.” Steve winks.

“I can bring them to you tonight, then.” she said, patting his arm. “I should get going. Um...you clearly are very busy and I don’t wanna keep you from doing your job.”

“I know, such a bad influence. The gateway rebellion was skipping class. Now it’s job defiance,” Steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, um...if you want, when you come by tonight, maybe you could stick around? Was gonna rifle through the back, borrow some flicks to waste my evening away. Free to join me if you want? Robin flaked out on me, says she’s doing some band practice with Vicky. Didn’t ask for details.”

She thinks about it and smiles. “Sounds like fun. Girls’ night.”

“Invitation rescinded!” Steve shouts, turning away. 

“No, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, stop!” she protests, giggling. “I’ll bring cookies and pizza, Steve. I’ll be there.”

“Alright, then,” Steve said. “Um...hey, don’t worry about Eddie, alright? He’s just being a dick. And honestly, apart from his relationship with the rugrats, he’s still gonna be a dick. He missed out on a girl like you. Clearly he’s a martian.”

“Doesn’t mean much when I’m from Hawkins. But thank you, Steve. I’ll see you tonight,” she says, squeezing his hand and finally leaving the store back to her car. She left feeling much lighter than she had going in. He was right. Forget Eddie. If he thought she was so boring he clearly didn’t need her around him. She had other friends, friends like Steve.

Smiling to herself, she climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key into the ignition, hearing the engine roar to life.

Things would be just fine. 

[charlotte-queen-owl]

Swapped Personalities AU 🤡

Appearance explanation:

Yuuji Itadori (Megumi's Personality):

Yuuji has longer hair because he hasn't cut it since his grandfather's funeral, if he had OGumi's tendencies then bro is depressed. Instead of his "I don't wanna die alone so I'll save everyone to the best of my abilities while I'm still alive!" mindset, he's got the "Since I'm still alive I might well do what my grandpa's wishes, it's what he would've wanted." Mindset, bro is Sukuna's vessel and he's depresso expresso but like he's good at hiding it. He doesn't wear a hoodie inside his uniform and doesn't modify it at all because man's doesn't really see the point of it. Still likes to read manga and watch movies but doesn't outwardly says he does (he likes to do those alone). Can totally go insane and lose his will to live if he loses everyone he holds dear.

Nobara Kugisaki (Yuuji's Personality):

Kinda see Nobara as a kind of happy-go-lucky country bumpkin with OGji's personality, She's all happy to be here in the city!!! Meeting new fellow classmates and make friends!!! Trying out new foods!!! Killing more curses!!! All the jazz. Her grandma is safe back in her hometown alive and well, She's in Jujutsu Tech cause she wants to make a difference! She's got a lot of bandaids because she has a lil bit of a martyr complex and gets hurt a lot (she doesn't have Yuuji's super strength so). She also didn't dye her hair because she isn't looking to be scouted or be model so her hair is still dark brown. Likes to wear a jacket OVER her uniform to prevent bad curse blood stains.

Megumi Fushiguro (Nobara's Personality):

Oh baby boy. Where do I EVEN begin. He knows he's a pretty little darling with long lashes and he THRIVES in being gorgeous. OGsaki's personality has him wearing good expensive clothing (from Gojo's black card), amazing beauty products and a knack for Black Fashion. Not easily angered unless you touch or damage his expensive shit even though he can just buy 20 more of them with his Guardian's money if he wanted to. Eyelashes on more fleek because he takes his beauty routine seriously. Yes he wears eyeliner. Has black earrings because they look cool on him (Tsumiki's words). Paints his nails black because his older sister used to do it. The only non-black thing on him is his green clip-ons, those are a gift from his older sister when they were playing dress up and has been wearing them ever since. (Even more so now since she's in a coma.)

[cdyssey]

It's that tiny, baby goat named Bruce being brown and furry, like the pelt Shauna Shipman wrapped her dead baby in.

It's the fact that it's a boy goat too.

It's her immediate and irrational fear—upon even hearing the word sacrifice—that she's going to have to kill the kid. The goat. The baby. This precious, innocent life in her care. Because everything she loves gets taken away from her, doesn't it?

All her fault.

Every last bit of it.

She can't have anything that she doesn't eventually hurt.

(And yes, it's about Jackie. It's always about Jackie, even when she swears that it's not. Jackie, her first victim. Jackie, her first love.)

(She's wearing her shirt in this episode. She's wearing her life in this whole damn series.)

It's her sitting alone in the woods, disassociating, triggered by a goddamn goat, and it's her utter panic when she realizes that he's missing.

It's Misty telling her, “Well, you’re not that innocent either.”

And it's her so bitterly replying, “Do you think I don’t know that?” as she frantically searches for Bruce, yet another living creature that she thinks she’s failed.

It's the tenderness with which she holds him when she finds him again, mothering him so gently. She tells him—this goat—that he's delusional and dumb if he thinks she's gonna hold him all day, but then she fucking does it! She holds him! She cradles him to her chest like a baby, and it's so lovely.

But it's so, so sad too.

Because it's her pleading with the barn worker to make sure that the goat is okay; she doesn't trust her ability to take care of him; she'll fucking lose it if he gets hurt in her care.

And it's this guy robotically replying, "The kid’s care is entwined with your own." And it’s the way that Shauna's pupils immediately blow, and we intimately understand—well before she tells Lottie—that she's thinking about that baby in the woods.

And she's thinking about Callie.

And she's thinking that if this much is true—if her ability to care for herself is the metric by which she can care for a kid—then, of course, her children are so totally fucked.

With her as a mother, they were doomed from the very start.

(Relatedly, it’s Melanie Lynskey saying in an interview: “I don’t think Shauna’s really disappointed in people. I think she’s disappointed in herself. She takes things out on herself, and she just feels kind of fundamentally unlovable.”)

It’s her confrontation with Lottie, which is charged with their fraught and bloody past, by Lottie's obsession with the wilderness baby, by the dream where the baby is cannibalized, by Lottie's willingness to become both Shauna's punching bag and martyr.

It's the tears that run down her face as she says, as she confesses:

"I’m not crying about the goat. I don’t really know, um, what’s happening right now. Um, I think it’s just that I’ve always kept my daughter, you know, Callie, like, at arm’s length. I think just out of fear that she would… die, I guess. Or maybe that she was never even real to begin with. I don’t know. I try to tell myself it’s okay. That I’m safe to… to think of her as-as mine, you know, and to just be her mom. But I think something is broken, Lottie. I just can’t do it.

God, it’s how every line of this monologue is so fucking broken and raw. She told that bastard cop that she's just not very good at loving her daughter, and here is both the reason why and the brutal extent. In the woods, her baby died, but for just a brief moment, in the tantalizing spaces of that dream turned hellish nightmare, he lived. But then he died again; he was consumed; or was he?

No.

Abso-fucking-lutely-yes, but not in the way that Shauna could have ever conceived.

Because this is the idea that she can't think of Callie as her own when that first baby was never hers either.

Not really.

Our baby, Lottie had called him. He was their communal savior, their shining hope, their personal Jesus who didn’t live.

And Shauna's singular moment alone with him had been a cruel fantasy too.

It's her murderous rage at his death, the violence that such grief engenders in her, which in and of itself is an echo of Misty's Steel Magnolias monologue—the way she wants to hit someone until they feel as bad as they do.

It’s how she can't allow herself to love Callie completely because of her fundamental incapacity to discern reality from the nightmare. In the cabin, she accuses them all of killing her baby. Every goddamn day she fears that her daughter will die, if she even exists at all.

It's the panic in her eyes when she clutches the phone and asks Jeff if Callie is okay all the same.

Because that's her first instinct, her immediate assumption.

That something with her daughter is horribly wrong.

And that's the crux in the end, the horrible conclusion to all these frayed and tangled threads.

Something going wrong is the only reality that Shauna Shipman can ever reliably count upon. The entirety of her life is an open, gushing wound.

[yallthemwitches]

Sticking the Landing

For @jilytoberfest Day 30: 🎶"where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"🎶 - The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

I originally wrote just a little snippet pre jilytober but now it’s the longest fic of the collection!

AO3 Here

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

Should I expect to see you in the Gryffindor stands or are you a traitor?

He had wedged the note inside her history of magic textbook. He turns around and waits, watching as her hand grazes the piece of parchment and her lips turn upwards.

Not sure, where does Switzerland sit?

It floats back to him under the table and he catches it without hesitation, not looking away from a droning Professor Binns.

I reckon somewhere in the Beaux Batons stadium.

She can’t help but chuckle at the snarkiness of it. Beside her, Sawyer makes a loud yawn, using his stretch as an excuse to lay his arm around her shoulders. All of the sudden every quippy response she thinks to write back crumbles to dust.

“Godric, this is boring. Should be illegal to have classes before a game.” She doesn’t respond to Sawyer because she knows he doesn’t actually expect one. She tries to focus on class again, and sees out of the corner of her eye James turning around, anticipating a response. With one look at Sawyer’s dangling hand, he whips back around, shoulders now stiff and set.

*******

“Woah, no way Evans. No double agent’s sitting with us on my watch.”

“Bug off, Black.” Lily sidles a little closer to Remus who shoots his mate an annoyed look.

“Er Lily, if your boyfriend is on the other team—does that mean that this is a win-win situation for you?” Peter wheedles out, looking like he’s trying to do a particularly difficult arithmancy equation. Sirius guffaws and slaps him on the back, making him give a sheepish, pink smile.

“Right you are Wormy–I guess you could say that Evans plays for both teams—Ouch!”

Remus leans over behind Lily and pulls hard on Sirius’ earring. “Stop embarrassing me.”

Sirius whimpers like a puppy and Lily can’t help but laugh. She feels bad to not sit over with Sawyer's mates in Hufflepuff, but their relationship is still new and she doesn’t know many of his friends well enough. Besides, she can’t help that the Gryffindor box is vastly more entertaining. Even before she became mates with the marauders, the boys would make a big spectacle, crooning and screaming fabricated songs, trying to get the crowd to participate in wildly ridiculous cheers— it almost made it easy to forget that there was a game going on—almost.

“Alright Evans?”

A tuft of black hair rises up from the bannister, James already on his broom and hovering up to the stands. His new captain’s uniform fits him nicely—the gold plating of his badge bringing out the flecks of honey in his eyes.

“Oi! Prongs! Where’s my good luck kiss?” Sirius starts to make wet kissing noises and Peter grabs his stomach laughing.

James smiles at his friend but his eyes remain on Lily. After years of fighting it, she is willing to admit that she likes him like this: hair actually wind blown instead of a fabricated attempt, mouth permanently set in a wide grin, eyes alight with excitement and zeal—the tight uniforms doesn’t hurt either.

“Thought you’d be sitting with the yellows.”

“Nah, figured someone needed to keep the peanut gallery in check.” Lily nods over to the boys, Sirius now lurching in an attempt to kiss Remus’ ear.

“How noble of you, a real martyr,” James winks, starting to float back to the middle of the pitch. It does something jarring to her heart. “But really–glad to see you here.”

He flies away, the words good luck sitting like a lump in her throat.

*******

THIS IS A NAIL BITER FOLKS—SAWYER DAWSON PASSES THE QUAFFLE TO AMELIA JENKINS. THE HUFFLEPUFFS ARE REALLY PLAYING WITH THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH HERE. BUT WAIT, JAMES POTTER OF GRYFFINDOR SWOOPS IN, HE’S INTERCEPTED THE PLAY. YOU CAN TELL HE’S GOT THIS ONE IN THE BAG—MAYBE GETTING A LITTLE TOO COCKY WITH THOSE FLIPS…

THIS IS THE MOMENT OF TRUTH TO END THIS HELLISH TIE BREAKER—AH, JAMES POTTER SCORES!

James does a small victory lap around the side of the pitch, fist pumping into the air. They haven’t even won yet, but the Gryffindor stand is inconsolable, Sirius and Peter leading the crowd in a raucous chorus of We Will Rock You. Lily is infected by it, laughing and stomping along with the rest, only the glimpse of Sawyer panting and frustrated at the other end of the pitch makes her sober up.

James takes a pass by the stands and the crowd erupts in a roar ‘POTTER POTTER POTTER’. She doesn’t mean to join in, at least doesn’t consciously make the choice. Blame it on hive mentality.

The game continues, but this time there is a distinct energy shift in the Hufflepuff team. Sawyer is all offensive, making perilous moves to intercept the quaffle, barely scraping past as bludgers get aimed right for his chest.

He flies past the Gyffindor stands where Lily and all the rest are a deafening roar of team spirit, still chanting James’ name. He turns his head just enough for Lily to catch it, the twisted grimace of anger. It stops her cold.

*****

James couldn’t deny it, he felt good. It wasn’t even because they were winning, already climbing their score to the point where catching the snitch would turn into a formality. No, the real victory was the fleeting image of Lily, mouth wide open in jubilant revelry, chanting his name.

If he owned a pensive, it would be the first memory he would guard—it shouldn’t have mattered so much with the whole crowd cheering as well, but something about her flushed face, her stomping feet, her bursting voice—they could lose and he would be all the better for it.

The game kicks off again and James immediately swerves towards Hufflepuff chaser Brenda Alburn, eyes trying to juggle between following the quaffle and peeking back at the stands where Lily still watches. A sudden rush pulls beside him and Sawyer nearly clips his broom, turning around to give him a dark scowl.

It was odd for Sawyer who was usually a pretty level headed bloke. James ignores it, pushing forward towards the quaffle which is now meters ahead of him. He picks up speed, getting closer to intercept when he feels something coming in close.

He had no reason to double back but Sawyer is beside him again. As swift as flicking a wrist, he reaches out and yanks at James’ broom, sending it into a tailspin.

James feels a sickly upheaval in his stomach as he free falls, the world a blur of spinning color. Screams ring out from every corner of the pitch and he swears he can pinpoint one amongst the crowd—

It’s a gamble, a stupid, completely mental choice but he pushes himself off the broom, the world suddenly gaining clarity as the spinning ends. He has a zero second window to grab hold of his broom handle before it spins out of reach and he kicks his leg up, clipping on with his shin and the new pressure halts the broom's spiral.

The roar is deafening, mixing screams of amazement with cries of foul play, but it doesn’t matter: Gryffindor caught the snitch.

He feels nauseous, body heavy and begging to be horizontal, but he pulls himself right side up on his broom, already seeing the students from the Gryffindor stands leaking down onto the field, awaiting his descent.

Maybe it was the lingering vertigo, but it all happens too quick to digest in the moment. He feels his feet touch the soft earth. A roar of a crowd rushes around him, a blaze of red and gold like wildfire in an instant. She is there, but walking towards him or towards Sawyer he isn’t sure. His body moves on its own, quickening his pace before he can even stop to think about the consequences. A smile on her face, a smile like all the ones he’s savored from her since they had become mates.

He doesn’t need to make a decision, it is already made. He can blame it on the near death experience later. He picks up Lily and swings her in his arms.

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

“I-I’ve got to go..I’m glad you're alright.”

He wants to address the fear that he can hear stuck in her voice, but she pulls her arms away, fingers sliding on his shoulders as she goes.

******

“Godric, Lily is so lucky. What I’d do to have the two fittest boys in school making a scene over me like that—“

“But who can blame him? Did you see how she screamed when Potter took the nose dive? She looked about ready to throw herself from the stands.”

Its hard to ignore because it’s all everyone wants to talk about. He wants to be the better person (“A game is a game—it was an honest accident—Sawyers a good bloke.”) but even his words hang hollow in the air because he knew the look on Sawyer's face too well—a look of pure jealousy.

“If it wasn’t his last year, I’d lobby to ban him—break his broom and watch as he cries..” Sirius slurs out, putting an arm around James’ shoulders.

“But hey, silver lining! Our lovely Evans was in rare form by your little tumble. I swear there were tears in her eyes.”

“Not helping Sirius.”

He wishes it would help though, because hearing Lily invested in his well being feels like a bigger win than the cup. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that she is not there—

A hush rolls over the crowd as the portrait hole swings open. Lily walks in with deliberate steps. She’s not an idiot, she knows they have all been talking about her. Not making eye contact she beelines her way to the drink table, ignoring as whispers follow her through the room.

He can tell she’s been crying—not in the way Sirius described but really crying. On one hand he wants to console her, apologize for whatever he has stirred up in Sawyer, but on the other everyone is watching. Him approaching her would just cause more uproar.

She pours herself a drink and takes a long swig before refilling it again. Turning from the table she doesn’t even wait to acknowledge anyone, just walks with her shoulders back up the steps to the dorm.

“You need to talk to her.” Remus says beside him like a voice of reason.

“Get your cloak and go up there—just for fuckssake make sure no one bloody sees you.”

Filling a new drink, he mounts the steps and finds the door slightly ajar. He’s never seen the inside of the girl’s dorm before but it’s much more put together than the boys’, records and books neatly stacked around well made four-poster beds. The record player garbles out some faintly familiar tune as Lily reclines with her eyes closed, drink still clutched in hand.

“Alright, Evans?”

She doesn’t open her eyes, but he knows she’s awake. He opens the door a bit farther but doesn’t dare to enter without permission.

“ I thought you might want a refill.” He half heartedly holds out the drink and she cracks an eye open.

“Ok Potter, price of entry granted.”

He takes a few hesitant steps in, standing in the middle of the circular space. He can’t help but feel like he’s crossing a barrier, like some infectious disease in a host body.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize,” he murmurs, unsure of how to proceed. Lily straightens up, eyes now open with suprise.

“For what?”

“I don’t know—“ he meanders, “I guess I just can’t help feeling like I didn’t something. Like this is my fault.”

“James, you could have died. Or have been easily incapacitated for the unforeseeable future. Sawyer had no right—.”

“It could’ve been an honest—“

“No, James. It wasn’t—and besides he told me.”

James feels his stomach drop in a way reminiscent of his earlier fall. “Oh.”

Lily sits up and swings her legs to hang over the side of the bed.

“I owe you an apology. It’s my fault anyhow.”

“I’m not following.”

Her eyes go suddenly glassy, the bloodshot streaks becoming more prominent as tears threaten to spill over again.

“Please don’t make me say it,” she bites out.

“Evans, I’m being serious I don’t—“

“I fancy you, ok! I fancy you and—Sawyer could tell. Unlike us he’s not a complete fool.”

She starts to say how this doesn’t excuse his behavior or that what happened at the game was warranted but James doesn’t hear it. His heartbeat is defeating, his whole body becoming red and feverish. The whole world starts to spin again but her, the clear stable focal point to everything.

He crosses the few steps it takes to be next to her and she stands up with a start, confused by his sudden energy.

“Does Sawyer—“ he lets it teeters off, knowing his question is clear.

“Let’s just say, Sawyer isn’t going to make the cut.” She snorts bitterly, eyes looking at her feet. “I should have ended it ages ago honestly.”

Maybe it’s because his body is still in shock from it all, but he lets his instincts take over, all propriety lost.

“Will you let me hug you? I would really like to hug you.”

She gives a tearful laugh and opens her arms in weak approval. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and pulling her in. This close she smells like roses and the salt of her tears.

“I’m glad you’re ok James.” Hesitant, she reaches her arms up to clasp around his shoulders, before pulling herself closer, burying her face into his Jersey.

“Who me?” He exclaims in mock shock. “Hell, I’ve never been better.”

[aconflagrationofmyown]

|| Memphis to Fort Hood

Timeline alterations: Spring of 1958

Theme: THAT ASKED FOR BABY ANNOUNCEMENT, sorta

So, so many thanks to all my darlings who I throw my ideas at and they in turn bolster my resolve and refine my daydreams.

Warnings: good ole fashioned 50’s misogyny, Elvis being rather poorly represented? -for the reasons of this being written as critique?…nothing explicit but themes of free use, subspace, paranoia and eating disorders (which ends up being morning sickness so no really big deal there, just wanted to be careful.

A note on the style of this particular interlude: One of my obsessions with this universe has been using multiple points of view and narrative styles, ultimately adding to my own expansive delusion that this AU really was the verified version of his life. 🤓 And see, if it had been we would have magazines and newspapers, speciations and interviews galore, all of which I’ve enjoyed fabricating in the past and intend to continue. Now I’ve cooked up something else, a faux cultural study on what would have been the massively studied and criticized impact of a couple this peculiar and idolized -Mrs. Presley and Other Martyrs:

Strangely, if one looks for the first cracks in a marriage that outlasted five decades, nine children, assasination attempts, adultery, rock n’ roll and the most publicized divorce of its time, one might find that the first fissure had begun to open by the Presley’s third week anniversary. Outlasted, that’s the key. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t things to outlast. The old curse of stepping outside Graceland and finding trouble found them early on, as did their tenacity to simply ignore and surmount the witch’s brew of criticism, ego and exhaustion.

It took 38 hours by train to reach Fort Hood from Memphis Tennessee in the year 1958. Time enough for legends to be made. Dynamics to be established. A couple dozen demons to resurface.

And impressions to be formed. Lasting impressions of herself by the scrutinizing public that Elaine Presley reportedly never forgave Elvis for -a remarkable instance of a grudge in a woman so notoriously absolvent.

At the start of the journey she boarded the train at Memphis a sheltered girl tucked under the arm of the most famous man on earth, her own face captured without obstruction for the first time by the press, wedding band flashing and virginal blush staining her features at the attention and the queries hurled at her. The most envied woman in the country hadn’t known she was wanted a month before and by the time she stepped off in Texas, Mrs Presley was the doe eyed subject and demure recipient of a hundred varied opinions, editorials, fan tokens and bouquets.

What her rushed wedding may have slighted Elaine Presley of in terms of a bridal fuss, this dutiful journey made up for in sheer abundance of notoriety. What her sequestered honeymoon had sheltered her from in terms of being tabloid fodder was more than made up for on the trip as Elaine Presley got paraded on the train balcony at each stop along the route by her beaming groom:

A sauve cad in a uniform who beamed at the crowd with a cocky leer that suggested much in regards to his reserved bride and was in stark contrast to the sober and tear streaked boy he’d been when he came up this way to say goodbye to his mama weeks before. This little couple and their little rebellion of a marriage was manic in appearance and in gaiety, and even the most charitable of well-wishers found the occasion they were celebrating a bit forced, a bit dire, a bit off kilter for something as sanctified and sober as matrimony.

This was compounded by the new groom’s attitude which seemed as eager to display the varied trousseau he decked this almost catatonically pliant girl in -with a change nearly on the hour- as he was to introduce his new wife to his nation’s worth of fans that crowded the rails as they hustled south.

As Hedda Hopper unapologetically noted in her column that week “…it makes a person wonder if this sensational canary of an entertainer is too proud of having conquered a sensible girl child into being his wife to realize he just married himself off the market. America’s daydream is now a taken man and no one in the nation seems ready for that, least of all him.”

Married, to Elvis Presley, was perhaps more of a reality than Miss Hopper and her column gave him credit for, although the old spinster might’ve been aghast if she knew what marital duties the young star prioritized over others. The folks who caught sight of the flushed couple at each stop might’ve had a suspicion. Certainly Elvis’ ever present entourage of childhood friends and relations couldnt hope to be left in the dark.

Even if the close quarters on the route, the thin traincar doors and shared meals were not enlightening enough, Elvis Presley gloated too much in being a new husband to possibly retain any mystery. Love drunk and determined to stay so lest panic or grief overtake him, his friends recall his unreasonable amounts of excitement and generosity in detail regarding his “lil wife.”

-And his skills as a lover, of course.

Nothing had changed for Elvis from his time on the road with these naughty friends of his except that now all his famous drive and obsession was channeled towards one rather overwhelmed teenage girl. One who had, in typical 1950’s fashion, promised to obey his every whim. Turns out, trapped in a train car for over a day with an insomniatic sex addict uncovers an astounding amount of whims that their more placid honeymoon at Graceland had kept at a low simmer.

Whether tamed by the supposed influence of his mother’s ghostly presence at Graceland or whether in a fit of gentlemanly restraint for an untried bride, Elvis Presley had, by all accounts, played the gentleman while at home in those first weeks of marriage. While happy and smug -so much so that the story went that when the colonel appeared at Graceland to assure himself that the secret wedding hadn’t happened, one look at Elvis and the girl on his lap assured him it had both occurred and been consummated- he had nevertheless been considerate, gentle and almost tutoring in aiding Elaine to adjust to her new life.

Trapped in the claustrophobic buzz of the train car speeding south to a life of regimented discipline and obedience in the army, the antsy rebel in him found his boredom and dread peaked beyond endurance and distracted himself with the new and ever captivating charms of his new wife.

Elvis Presley with a goal could be a dedicated and diligent man but without one he was a chaotic force of nature that could catch all those around him in a whirlpool of fun or an avalanche of insanity. Pursuing Elaine Presley had brought out the best in him and so intently did he peruse her with every traditional method of wooing a typical southern girl, that she had quite forgotten the more frightening aspects of his temperament that she and her father had been witness to before. She could be forgiven for thinking he had matured past such outbursts and compulsions he had been thrall to in his early fame. Subdued by grief and spurred by ambition to have her, he had been impressively restrained upon his return to Memphis and driven by a rededication of his life to the old values of his mama’s ambitions for him, he had managed to continue it into the first days of marriage.

The upcoming reality of life within the rigorous confines of Fort Hood was too strong for such flimsy good intentions. As was the oppressive reality of his mother’s permanent absence in his life. His love, which had always been a somewhat smothering thing that required as much as it gave, was needy yet inexpressive in those early days and according to his daughter Ella, who divulged some of her mother’s confidences in her own book, Elaine was yet to learn how terrified her young husband was of a future that most would have envied.

Scared of being alone, yet suspicious that his presence was merely being tolerated, young husband Elvis Presley had every hope he could train a young girl by conjugal powers alone to be loyal to him where others failed. In a fit of hubris and optimism, he chose for this amorous experiment the one woman in town who admitted to not being in love with him. This fear and frustration expressed itself in an appalling physical demand on her bodily attentions. One that their fellow train car occupants could not ignore yet found themselves incapable of preventing, bound by the antiquated respect of a husband's rights.

“I swear he’d not leave her alone for a full hour,” Red West recalled in his book, reflecting on the times he spent in the Presley’s entourage, “and he’d be back there with her for hours at a time, then pop out and then right back again. If he couldn't sleep then he didn’t see why she should.”

Billy Smith, his cousin and a man adamant about staying on Mrs. Presley’s good side over the years, would only admit discreetly, “He was utterly in love with her, had been for years and couldn’t quite pace himself once he got the green light, so to speak. He adored her and was in a bit of a state of shock that she was even better than he’d hoped, she was like the first thing to exceed his high expectations. She was very genuinely kind to him and he ate it up. On the train ride he was bored and it was like taking a bored kid to their favorite sweet shop. And Elvis Presley had a big ole bank account to cash in.”

Big enough, apparently, that by lunch of that day the ever proper young Mrs Presley, in her perfectly starched new outfits and watery lined eyes, was having trouble sitting still at table, much to the comment of guests and friends. After excusing herself early she went back to their suite. Elvis was seen following within minutes. Thirty minutes later the train stopped and Elaine Presley, in a fresh outfit and an uncharacteristic wobble to her stride was paraded by her husband on the balcony to the roar of envious onlookers.

The train moved on, she excused herself again, as did he moments later.

“We could hear them, it became like road noise.” Red West, long used to Elvis’ various rendezvous while on the road in the past took this marital overindulgence in stride, “Initially it was kinda a laugh and a grin about it with all the folks in the dining car, but then we could hear her tiring out, and he’d keep at it and it got a bit annoying, all her pleading and him going on about bein’ able to do anything he pleased with her. He’d come out and brag to us when we told him they were being loud.”

“He was very proud of how sensitive she was,” Joe Esposito does not bother to sound impressed himself when relating this confidence, “he’d tell us how she was a squirter and she got all sensitive real fast before he was even close to done and he’d just have to hold her and make her let him finish, sometimes make her keep going when she swore she couldn’t. He said he was training her to respond the way he wanted. It didn’t occur to him maybe she was made different than the ones he’d been with before, he just thought he was a damn good husband. Figure she just wanted a nap and maybe some Vaseline. Nobody dared to tell him to give her a break.”

Ultimately Vernon Presley ventured to do just that at breakfast the next morning, after his daughter in law had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast that day from a ubiquitous headache that was likely not an ache in the head at all.

“He was so timid about it as Elvis was in a mood, worn out and hadn’t slept, stabbin’ his eggs like they’d done him wrong.” Lamar Fike remembers the incident, “Vernon just spoke up real gentle like and says ‘son, why don’t you go easy on the little lady, she’s real fresh and delicate,’ Elvis just glared at him so he tried jokin by sayin’ something like ‘you got the rest of your lives for this, don’t gotta cram it all in today.’ Elvis didn’t even try to act dumb, he just got mad and stood up from the table and said ‘daddy, you mind your own business, reckon I don’t need lessons for how to take care of a wife, not from you leastwise.’ And that was a low blow, you could see it on Vernon’s face and like I said, Elvis stood up, with his napkin still tucked in his shirt neck, and went back there to her again like he was makin’ love to spite his old man. Ya just don’t tell Elvis what to do with what’s his.”

Charlie Hodge wasn’t there and in an admirable display of keeping in his lane only commented that, “Elvis told me they danced a lotta the way, had the old records on, trying to keep the cramp away. He’d get antsy on trips.”

Marty Lacker had the decency to at least be sheepish and a little apologetic about the times when relating his version of events, “Just a different time back then, ya know? Didn’t occur to us to step in. We’d say a thing or two but ultimately that’s between a husband and wife to sort out and back then wives just didn’t fuss. It all worked out, they sorted it. Elaine never breathed a word of anything and we wouldn’t think of saying anything to her. Not even after the little emergency, you just don’t talk about that stuff. It’s not fitting. Even Elvis knew that, he didn’t appreciate the advice or adminitions from his daddy. Braggin’ between boys us one thing but talkin’ about what goes on between a man and his wife beyond that it’s, it’s just, it’s not fittin. It’s just not a thing to be discussed, you know? Different times, man.”

The little emergency in question was a case of Elvis bursting out of the train car an hour or so after lunch on the second day in search of his paternal grandmother, old Dodger as the family called her, full of consternation that his young bride was unresponsive.

“I really think he rode her silly, that’s all there was to it.” Joe shrugs at this bold diagnosis, “He’d brag about how out of it she’d get when he would start again after she thought he was done. Said she’d space right out and start shakin’ and shivering and get plain stupid. I think he liked that, makin’ a smart girl feel dumb. He’d dress her up and redo her makeup and take her out like that in front of fans, and they all got the impression she was a little bozo. Then I guess he just kept at it one time too long.”

Elvis told Dodger that his wife was not fully concious, although his heightened concern was less regarding her insensibility than the fact that neither a light smack to the cheek nor a resumption of activities on his part could rouse Elaine like it had on previous occasions. Vernon dunked her head in a bowl of ice water with no success, Billy tried to give her aspirins but she wasn’t awake to swallow them down.

Dodger prescribed a drink of water for the young girl, a cold compress to the nether regions and a nap -sans husband. Disgruntled but terrified of losing yet another woman in his life, and with his own cheek stinging from his grandmother's wrath, Elvis Presley secluded himself to playing cards with the boys in the smoking lounge for the remaining three hours of the train ride while his grandmother watched over his bride and her precariously suggestible headspace.

“ ‘I done told her again and again to hold it if she gets so excitable after she comes that she can’t stand to take me longer. But she’s a hair trigger, couple stokes and she’s off, keeps comin’ all the same then acts like I’m skinnin’ her when I keep goin. I gotta finish man, what else am I supposed to do?” Red recalls Elvis bemoaning his bride’s hyper responsiveness like a martyr recounting his sentence -while wearing his signature sulky expression that did nothing to hide the smug pride beneath.

By the time Elaine Presley wobbled off the train onto the platform at Killeen Texas and stiff smilingly took her seat beside Elvis in a taxi to their little crackerbox house on base, the world at large had a firm opinion that the new Mrs Presley was a pretty little thing with dark features and a rosebud mouth, a nice figure and sweet charm but possessing a vacant sorta look to her. It suggested a gullibility so utterly untrue to her real nature that three decades worth of wit and shrewdness could hardly undue their initial impression of her.

Elaine Presley would ultimately have her revenge for such a first impression but it would cost her much in the process and Elvis Presley even more.

The buzz of press did not decline upon her arrival. With Private Presley busy soldiering all day, it fell to his young wife to sort the intricate social circle of his entourage and fellow soldiers, to manage the fanmail and contracts as well as set up house as best she could in such impermanent lodgings. All these precarious duties were stalked and documented beyond all sense, photographs of her and her choice of groceries dutifully printed for readers across the country to guess at what she planned to feed their idol for dinner. If the sharp glint in her eyes, captured on occasion when the intrusion became absurd, hinted at something beyond the vacant and ravished doll of the train ride, no one was eager to investigate. A sharp set to the mouth or a dangerous glitter in the eye got one called a bitch and it was better to be vacuous as a woman than to be venomous. So Elaine was caught smiling with her vegetables and spending her afternoons baking beneath a Texas sun while chatting with snide fellow housewives.

It was the first bootcamp for a lifelong grueling ordeal that Elaine Presley submitted to with grace and tenacity.

If her wit and her marital irregularities were glossed over by the papers in their eagerness to find the noble idyll amongst the immoral muck of rock and roll, what did not go unnoticed was the increasingly wane aspect of what should have been a rosy and glowing young wife. Shortly after arriving in Texas, Elaine’s already strained nerves seemed to have frazzled beyond small fits of fainting and what was once a private display of weariness kept between her and the implacable Dodger. Soon it became bouts of vomiting and exhaustion beyond any reasonable excuse.

The public noticed her figure grow slight and frail, as did Elvis. No longer was she slight but sickly instead, and a milky complexion was now waxy and unbecoming in contrast to her dark hair. The public were concerned for her, not for her health so much as for the future of the readership should her picturesque ordeals unravel further.

Battling his own preoccupation and exhaustion in the hard crucible of army bootcamp, Elvis’ one solace was the charming little haven he had created for himself with a wife and domesticity shipped in like so many plates and doilies. When this fairytale grew pale and bony and even the most cheerful of liars couldn’t convince him his “Tinkerbell” was fine, Elvis Presley grew increasingly paranoid of something fatal having cursed the women in his life. Frustrated at Elaine for allowing herself to grow so weak, his friends recall his behavior towards her vasciaiting from aching tenderness to angry remonstrances at her to eat and to rest and take care of herself. He even paced his own indulgences and begged her not to bring him the usual treats she’d sneak into barracks during the heat of afternoon. He pampered and berated, prayed and cursed.

None of these precautions were sufficient to build her up and alarmed beyond any reassurance, Elvis Presley packed his young bride into a car in the early summer of their first marriage and, having a five hour furlough from the army, drove her himself into the nearby hospital. The statement tossed to the press waiting outside was mild sinus congestion.

Twenty minutes later these two world wide famous young adults stumbled out in a daze of knowledge that they were about to be parents for the first time.

A severe case of twins -and the rigorous discipline of making them- having caused all the raucous.

No longer scared of abandonment, imminent loss or rebellion on his wife’s part, Elvis Presley softened considerably in the next months, the looming likelihood of a separation with his deployment softening him even further. It was the first case of children saving -and complicating- one of the most volatile and devoted couples of the 20th century.

By the first few weeks of the second trimester, Elaine Presley was both filled out enough and sufficiently cheery to regain the accolades lost to her by the press during her first. Finding few friends to be had amongst jealous soldiers' girlfriends and snooty Sargeant’s wives, as well as having been abandoned by most childhood companions after becoming mistress of Graceland, Elaine, never to be out maneuvered by bad luck, turned those publicized grocery store runs into social occasions, her growing belly eliciting advice and solicitations from wise old Texan grandma’s and rancher’s wives.

Accompanied by the stoically indomitable Dodger, Elaine could be found at geriatric swim classes at the local pool in a bid to stay cool during the heat of summer, at smoky poker games at Billy Bob’s honky tonk where she was the lone abstainer from the free flowing bourbon and became winner of a mechanical bull riding competition against a Navy Pilot.

It was a win for the infantry that night and even Elvis drank a cold one in celebration of her winnings that she spent on quenching the Hell on Wheels squadron at the adjacent saloon. Those Sargeant’s wives got somehow even more acrid after that.

Whether there was a correlation between this heated ride-off and said Navy Pilot’s face ending up black and blue the next day from some jealous young husband’s fist, was anyone's conjecture. Either way, Elvis Presley was likely too busy for such petty displays of insecurity, he was hiding in the lavatory most times to get away from his recently energized and insatiable young wife whose visits to Fort Hood soon became a byword and euphemism for something else besides visitation.

Altogether the Presley’s in Texas was an eclectic and occasionally damaging PR debut, but not without its merits.

The nation decided the new Mrs. Presley may have been a little short in the smarts department but she made pregnancy look fun again and that was rather charming and not a little rebellious, as was unapologetically marrying Elvis Presley right from under their noses. And Elvis? Well, it would be two long years before the world got any candid, civilian, unrepentant opinion out of Private Presley.

Hope you enjoyed! 💋

Tags: (let me know if you’d like to be added or retracted)

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottadowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

[vasito-de-leche]

hi hello!!! I’ve been reading your Horropedia stuff and oh my goD the way you write him fills my itty bitty heart with glee- would it be alright if I asked for a character analysis on him? I’d love to hear your thoughts on him!! ༄⋆｡˚✵ ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ꒱ྀི১

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Horropedia as a character and other related things.

TYSM! I'm very happy that you like my horropi posts! my horroposting!!

I don't know much about the horror genre or horror culture because I get scared very very easily so I don't watch many horror movies, but I'll do my best to deliver a good analysis of our boy o7

On the subject of horror, ableism and neurodivergency.

It goes without saying that Horropedia's character revolves around the horror genre. In this bullet point, I'm not aiming to list every single reference to movies or horror culture, but to tackle his relationship with it and how it gives further context into his personality--as well as how his heavily implied neurodivergency is meant to bring focus into the ableist ideals and practices within the St. Pavlov Foundation.

The very first part of Horropedia's storyboard and his 01 Story explains the origin for his love of horror AND affinity for tinkering with technology: his adoptive grandfather, described as a failed researcher and forgotten horror novelist.

In these excerpts, it is VERY clear that Horropedia and his grandfather loved each other despite the poor living conditions. This aspect of community and family, as well as a strong sense of self and individuality is very important, because it goes against EVERYTHING that the Foundation stands for.

Compare the "role models" of the Foundation with the "troublemakers"--on one hand, we have Sonetto and Matilda. On the other, we have Vertin and Horropedia. All four act as parallels and foils of each other in this aspect. I think everyone is more familiar with Sonetto and Vertin, so I'll begin with them to make this whole tangent easier to digest!

Both characters are direct opposites of each other, but their origins are similar: neither of them has any sort of strong ties to the outside world. Sonetto does not know about her biological family. Vertin was the youngest arcanist to join the Foundation, and vaguely remembers her mother. The key difference is that Sonetto hasn't shown any interest in finding about her biological family, adapting perfectly to the model that the Foundation aims to instill into their students--whereas Vertin's character focuses a lot on loneliness, on finding a community. Because Sonetto lacks this support, this solid ground in which she could cultivate her own identity separate to her martyr and obedient dog role, she's considered the best of the best. And because Vertin keeps stepping out of these ideals and strict guidelines, clinging onto her own sense of self and individuality, she's considered a troublemaker.

Now, let's focus on Matilda and Horropedia. Unlike the previous examples, these two HAVE families outside of the Foundation--which are a very important part of their lives--and it's implied that both of them chose to join the Foundation, unlike Sonetto and Vertin who had no choice.

We already discussed Horropedia's grandfather. When it comes to Matilda, it's stated in one of her Stories that the only way for her busy parents to show affection and give her the time of day is through academic success, which explains why she's so hellbent on being the best. Family is very important to both of these characters. Both of these characters also suffer within the Foundation because they have strong identities and lives that the Foundation does not agree with. In Chapter 03 "Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien," the very first stage shows the way Matilda, the newest student in class, is immediately put down by the rest of the class.

In this context, Matilda is being cast aside and ridiculed because her knowledge (of arcanist origin, coming directly from her grandfather) and her inability to give proof (note how mankind considers knowledge discovered or passed down between arcanists as "inferior," as seen in 1.3 "Journey to Mor Pankh", because they cannot verify it themselves).

How does this relate to Horropedia?

Well. The second part of his Storyboard shows the connection I'm trying to make.

Horropedia went through a similar experience. Both he and Matilda were ostracized by their peers because they didn't neatly fit in within the perfect model of a Foundation arcanist. We even see that he had to abandon his love for horror, instead "blending into the quiet campus." Their uniqueness, their history was slowly washed away.

So what is the difference between the two? How are they parallels and foils of each other? The difference is that Matilda, like Sonetto, was assimilated into the Foundation's ideals, whereas Horropedia was able to break free and retain his sense of self. The things he loved, the things that made him himself.

His Monologue voice line expresses this sentiment perfectly:

We all experienced the past where we were denied, distressed, and lost. That beautiful building, the white cradle, cut off all the "inconsistent" parts from us, in order to shape us into a "better" self … All in all, I am relieved that I am still me, and you are still you.

We see time and time again throughout the main story and sprinkled throughout other events, the Foundation is an organization that advocates for order and peace--something that they believe can only be achieved through the assimilation (or taming) of arcanists. They are written in a very specific way that shows how oppressive they can be to every single minority, not just related to neurodivergency. It's intersectional oppression.

It's just like horror.

Horror as a genre has an undeniable connection with communities such as POC, LGTBQ+ or neurodivergent and disabled people. Or just women in general! These groups have been demonized in one way or another in these movies. At some point, we have seen caricatures of people like us used to scare the masses.

...And in some cases, we've reclaimed certain aspects of it. Take one of the latest movies for example, "Lisa Frankenstein", or an older piece of media such as "Carmilla," a book that might be the origin of the predatory lesbian stereotype.

To me, it makes a LOT of sense that a character so heavily coded to be autistic or neurodivergent has a hyperfixation as loaded as horror. Fundamentally, Joshua and horror should not go together--because his Medium is "Logic," which contradicts the whole nonsensical and fantastical aspect of the horror genre. This is the subject of his interview with Pandora Wilson, actually!

In here, he explains how horror has its own set of rules and guidelines, a "rigorous internal logic" as he puts it, which allows anyone to survive--as long as they understand how horror movies work. We see this aspect of him in action during the 1.2 event, many many times! We see the way he interprets it, how it relates to his way of thinking and his life, how he embodies horror as part of his life--it's in his chosen nickname, Horropedia--it all falls into place rather nicely!

Horror can only make sense if you take the time to study the laws that govern it, when you pay attention to the details.

A lot of the discussion surrounding Horropedia is obviously about his hyperfixation with horror, how he would act in a slasher movie, if he would make fun of certain tropes and this and that... Which is fair! That IS the whole point of his character!

But I hope I was able to emphasize just how meaningful his connection to the genre is. It goes beyond a classic hyperfixation that could wear off in the future. Just note the description for his i2 Garment "Screamism":

A little monster under the sheets and a steadfast guardian of the heart.

Details and things I had no idea where to fit in that first bullet point.

I hope these analysis and this entire blog gave away the fact that I'm also extremely neurodivergent and my special interest is overanalyzing things to an insane degree. These are the details that I HAVE to share with others or I'll explode, but I don't know where exactly fit them in the previous bullet point.

Related to this whole discussion about horror, ableism and neurodivergency. Horropedia's Night voice line mentions "The Man in the Frame."

Fine. I've always considered "The Man in the Frame" to be a conventional horror story. But when I myself stay in a frame … I finally realized it's really horrific.

I discussed this voice line with some people and some interpret this as a reference to the way characters in the main screen can turn into paintings. However, I believe this is a reference to the neat, little mold that the Foundation and the School of Discipline insist on using to raise their arcanists.

"The Man in the Frame" is a Russian animated short by Fyodor Khitruk, which you can actually watch here on Youtube--it's only 10 minutes and it's very interesting! I actually watched it to understand what Horropedia was referring to.

For those who don't have time for it, the short follows a man living within a frame and the different phases of his life. At first, it's a simple rectangle, four black lines caging him--when he falls in love, he gets out of this frame, but returns to it. Each phase shows him slowly working to "better" his frame, so it's more elaborate and ornate like those coworkers with higher positions. Until he refuses to step out of this frame, now at the top, even turning a blind eye to the suffering of others who ask for help, ordering everything to be put within more and more frames, his own becoming more and more claustrophobic until there's nothing left of him.

Of course Horropedia finds this story terrifying now that he understands what it's like to be suffocated by conventional and strict rules.

In this same vein, I want to talk about the fact that every character (except Tooth Fairy, since we don't know her real first name) in the 1.2 update has a name that starts with J--Jennifer, Jessica and Joshua.

Horropedia's name is said to reference a movie named "Joshua" from 2007. I'm not going to watch this movie because its premise sounds scary to me and I would like to sleep tonight, BUT the poster for this movie is relevant to the discussion of "The Man in the Frame".

If someone has seen this movie and would like to add their two cents about it and how it might relate to Horropedia, please, by all means! I would love to hear what you have to say!

Next thing I couldn't fit in: Horropedia's items.

A character's items are meant to give us a little more insight into their lives and important aspects that the game wants to highlight about them. If you've read my previous analysis of Dikke and Tennant, then you know what I'm taking about. One of Horropedia's item stands out to me.

His glasses allude to his fanatism and devotion to his interests. His gadget set alludes to his logical side and intellect, the technology that his grandfather taught him. But what about the green tie clip? There is nothing outstanding nor worth noting about this clip, other than the fact that it's green.

Why does it matter that it's green? Because green is Horropedia's color.

It is the main representative color in his design, the one that pops up the most in his i2 Garment and sprites, the color of his shirt and monster slippers, the color of slime and ooze from horror movie's practical effects, the color of the entire 1.2 event. It is the color that, in this case, represents the aspect of horror.

It's the color you see once you understand Horropedia more (by raising his level and insight) and the color that is subdued and hidden by default in his regular sprite, only seen in very specific areas as shown below.

Perhaps this is an extrapolation on my part, I'm willing to accept that if it's ever confirmed, but with the amount of detail given to each character and their items, I think it makes sense for this simple, green tie clip to mean much more than "oh hey, Horropedia wears tie clips!" the same way Tennant's third item is a direct display of how much New Delhi meant to her despite the lies she tells in her voice lines.

Note the first phrase Pandora Wilson uses to describe this item: "A green line cuts through a black-and-white checkered world." To me, this alludes to Horropedia being an outlier within the Foundation, as someone who fought the system and remained true to himself despite everything.

He is the green line that cuts through this checkered world, everyone knows him and his eccentric nature, he fully embraces his status as a problem child and even gives Jessica tips on how to avoid being brainwashed by the School of Discipline in her own event.

The next and final part of this bullet point is more of a personal observation?

I've seen a lot of people focus on the fact that Horropedia would poke fun at every single horror trope because "they're too predictable" and I feel like this is not quite right? Yes, he plays the role of That One Guy who is very aware of the sort of movie he's in, who serves mostly to explain horror tropes to the audience and be self-aware or joke about how certain aspects make no sense when we think logically (outside of the context of horror) about them. But we also see how serious and eager he is during the whole 1.2 event. And tropes exist because they work, because they are part of the formula in each genre. Being able to spot a trope does not mean that the media you're consuming is bad, it's just something that you were able to pick up on because it's part of the genre.

From my understanding, shock value and surprises are part of horror. That's why we have these twists at the end, like the reveal of a killer who survived being killed by the protagonists. Yes, Horropedia DOES mention that jumpscares are outdated, but we understand jumpscares as a cheap and fast way to scare people by catching them off guard, like Five Nights at Freddy's for example. But the element of surprise is still important, it's just something that this cheap tactic and actual horror share.

Logically, horror makes no sense because there's no way for a zombie apocalypse to happen, or for ghosts to haunt you and so on and so forth. This is why we suspend our belief, to fully immerse ourselves in the worlds being presented to us--one must understand the logic within the context of these movies, rather than apply outside logic to it.

This is a really long tangent just to say that Horropedia wouldn't exactly be the type of guy to engage in horror with such bad faith interpretations or opinions, since his To The Future voice line does focus on the impossible, the surprises that the future might bring. Expect the unexpected, as he says!

Future, future, hmm … Our future slides back to the past. What else would be impossible then? Perhaps that blondie would accept an award on the stage of any film festival, or the lame horror novels written by my grandpa would win the Nobel Prize in Literature, haha … I mean, you can always expect the unexpected, my friends!

There is also the fact that his Inheritance Skill is LITERALLY named "Jump Scare," because even though it's an outdated practice, it requires a lot of redirection--to ease the viewer into a false sense of safety only to hit them with the real thing, which fits the way Horropedia's Incantations work! He shoots randomly or with his eyes closed and his shots are redirected to the enemy! It's like his Ultimate description says:

With that, I think I got everything off my chest and out of my brain. Sadly, I don't think I have many headcanons that I could ramble about without making this post longer than it should be?

I guess I like to think Horropedia is left-handed and wears his accesories on reverse to throw people off, if that counts? I also like to think that he just naturally assigns a piece of horror media that he knows to everyone he knows in his brain, and that's how he knows them as or remembers them. Oh! I also think he could figure out the plot of FNAF if he wanted!

[ptn-imagines]

best of luck with the new blog! if possible i'd like to request headcanons for zoya in a relationship with touch starved fem chief :) i imagine chief is probably pretty stubborn both about acknowledging her own needs and just. taking the time to let herself fully relax for a moment

That is absolutely possible and you are absolutely correct. Zoya my beloved.

Touch-starved f!Chief in a relationship with Zoya

While Chief isn't quite a martyr, she's absolutely a self-sacrificing bleeding heart. So yeah, she can be quite stubborn and insistent on pushing her needs to the wayside.

You know who else is as stubborn as a brick wall? Zoya.

A lot of S-Rank Sinners in the Bureau behave with a certain level of audacity towards the Chief, but compared to Zoya, they may as well be the picture-perfect models of good behavior. Zoya can even get away with acting out a lot of the time, by virtue of her relationship and also just her sheer intimidating aura (though Chief isn't afraid to tug on her leash if she needs to).

In addition, Zoya is more in tune with Chief through the shackles than any other Sinner in the Bureau. The experiences they’ve shared have left them with a truly unshakable bond that goes even deeper than the shackles; they’re soulmates in every sense of the word.

Combine these two things and you find yourself with an extraordinarily fearsome S-Rank Sinner who isn’t afraid to manhandle Chief into taking care of herself. And boy, does she need it.

Chief isn’t addicted to her work, but she’s definitely a workaholic. She frequently pulls long nights and unhealthy amounts of overtime. Iron has scolded her about it many times, to no avail.

Enter Zoya. The Commander of the Legion can bite at the Chief without fear of retaliation due to the power and respect she commands. She’s aware of this fact and absolutely unashamed about wielding it.

It’s a common sight to see Zoya bust into the Chief’s office. By this time, Chief is usually half-asleep already at her desk, frequently nodding off before startling awake.

As soon as she sees Zoya in her office, the Chief starts to say the same thing every time: “Just a few more documents, then I’m done.” Both of them know it’s a lie; if left to her own devices, Chief will toil away at the paperwork until the Bureau begins to rise for its daily routine.

So, Zoya never gives the Chief any slack; it’s no problem at all for her to sweep her girlfriend into her arms, holding her firmly against her broad chest as she marches towards Chief’s bed.

Though she doesn’t dare to admit it aloud, these moments are some of the Chief’s favorites. She is, unfortunately, very touch-starved, so the heat of Zoya’s skin and the steady thud of her heartbeat as she’s carried is enough to send a shiver down her spine. Zoya is probably aware of this, but she never says anything.

Zoya isn’t gentle when she unceremoniously dumps Chief onto the sheet and pins her down, her eyes burning with what would seem like anger to someone not as in tune with all the minute details of her expression as the Chief. The intensity of her gaze always makes Chief’s mouth go dry, yet she can never pull her eyes away.

Then, Zoya claims her lips. It’s a fierce, hot, and open-mouthed kiss, encapsulating all of the icy fire that the Commander of the Legion is, and it never fails to steal Chief’s breath away – all she can do is cling to the Sinner and hope that the moment never ends.

Of course, it has to end eventually, and all Chief can do is try to bite back her disappointment and not chase Zoya’s lips when she pulls away. “Sleep, Chief,” she murmurs, her voice rough with unsaid emotions. “I’ll stay.”

So it is that, on these nights, Chief falls asleep with her back to Zoya’s chest, lulled into slumber by the other woman’s deep breaths and heartbeat.

Zoya always falls asleep first when they’re like this. It’s a sharp contrast to when she sleeps alone in her cell; those nights, the Commander of the Legion is prone to sleeplessness. Chief doesn’t dare to ask about it.

These nights are the most restful sleep that Chief gets. And when Zoya is still there in the morning, gently snoring, well… All of a sudden, the Chief isn’t in a rush to get back to work.

[wendytestabrat]

why i actually feel bad for kyle (FROM THE VAULT [2020])

I definitely do feel bad for Kyle, I really do. Bc he probably has one of the most difficult home lives of the boys and that’s why he acts the way that he does, and that’s what makes him a more sympathetic and complex character. First of all I think a big reason why Kyle always feels like he has to preach to everyone constantly is because he feels misunderstood and like he’s not being listened to. And this has been shown A LOT. Kyle’s parents hardly ever take the time to sit down and talk with him about stuff, they’re usually just very cold with him or they try to help him by preaching logic and facts about the world down his throat (which is why Kyle kind of does that to everyone else bc it’s what he was taught). Like he never gets to have a heart to heart with his parents. And I think the South Park movie is the best example of how neglectful Sheila is and how she doesn’t listen to Kyle. Throughout the entire movie, she went bat shit insane trying to start a war with Canada and every single time Kyle tried to get a word in with her about how he felt she just shrugged him off. So Kyle reacts by shouting everything he thinks and feels at everyone else hoping they’ll listen and validate him. And his parents are also just really hard on him and strict with him in general, which is why Kyle feels like he has to be a “good boy”. I’m sure the reason why Kyle is so smart and hardworking and does well in school and everything is because his parents push him to, so Kyle never really gets to let loose and have fun and shit because he’s probably always worried he’s gonna get in trouble. And a big part of why Kyle is so smart and woke about shit that goes on in the world is because we see his parents preaching their liberal beliefs a lot to him throughout the show (I mean his dad is a lawyer). It’s been shown that Ike is this child prodigy and they make him read books and shit, but I’m sure they probably raised Kyle similarly. And this is why Kyle is always soooooo concerned about morals and doing the “right” thing and he projects those beliefs onto everyone else, because it’s really the only way he knows how to live and he gets soooo offended when he sees other kids who actually do know how to chill out and have fun that aren’t as uptight as him. He was taught to live cautiously, safe, and ethically, so when he sees anyone else dare to break the rules or go against authority he freaks the fuck out. And we’ve talked before about how Kyle is really just jealous of Cartman. And you know why? Because Cartman is pretty much the complete opposite, Cartman has a mom that’s way too nice and she lets Cartman do whatever the fuck he wants. I’m sure Kyle wishes he had that much freedom. But anyways another thing about Kyle’s home life is the fact that his parents are always making Kyle look after Ike when they don’t feel like dealing with him. Ike is like a fucking toddler, (I think he went into preschool later on but whatever) it’s hard enough for an ADULT to deal with a toddler, but putting that responsibility on a 4th grade kid? This is definitely how Kyle developed his martyr complex, he always feels like he has to look out for others before himself because he’s used to having to take care of Ike. (And I’m sure having to deal with his mom’s outbursts is like dealing with a toddler too DHSJSKKS). But this is all why Kyle is such a neurotic scrooge, I mean if you had to deal with all of this shit all the time you would feel anxious and alone too.

yeah, this is the only time i’ve ever been nice to kyle and easy on him lol

[sparrowsortadrawzzz]

LEMME JUST RANT ABOUT URINETOWN FOR A SECOND NOW THAT MY ROLE IS OVER CUZ ITS SO GOOD-

see the crazy thing about urinetown is the paralells. like, we don't see Hope as this master manipulator, yet...she is???? she went to the most expensive university in the world for it?????

it first occurs in follow your heart, she practically plays with his feelings to get him to like her back (see her validating his feelings and using the "Why, my heart was saying the same thing just the other day!!" card), and from there, yes, the two are genuine, but you gotta admit, in follow your heart is she does use a bit of a persuasive direction.

then we see her manipulate again in the end when she leads the poor to UGC headquarters and. yknow. kills everyone 💀 she eventually becomes worse that her father by denying them any other option than. die from lack of basic needs, and leads their demise. ALSO SHE COULDVE AT LEAST LISTENED TO THE RESEARCH?? CONTINUED IT??? AND SAVED EVERYONE LIKE BOBBY AND CALDWELL WANTED?????? anyways-

also, Caldwell and Bobby were the same at one point. they had to have been. a poor boy in the midst of crisis has dreams to help the people of his community, so he rises up with the support of his people, and becomes a martyr...sounds like two people, doesn't it?

ALSO², PENNY AND CALDWELL ARE SO TRAGIC????? this young woman (who is perhaps a prostitute just to get by) and (probably) poor boy are in love, and once the water table drops and keeps dropping, they take a chance to give into their feelings and have their night together, which leads to their daughter Hope being born, and once that happens Caldwell has possibly already started his revolution, company, and rise to the top. so he takes their daughter (possibly so that she doesn't have to go through what he went through as a child), makes her promise to never tell Hope who she is, and becomes this hard, cold shell of a man he used to be, becoming someone Penny doesn't even recognize anymore. she doesn't love Cladwell, she loves Caldwell, the dreamer who once cared for all the people. and that's probably why she calls him such, to try and get her beloved back.

also erm lockstock how dare you just reject barrel like that-

HARRY AND BECKY ARE TOGETHER???? AND ARE ACTUALLY RABID??????? couple goals <33 /j

who tf is tiny tom, like, is he Harry and Becky's kid????

im obsessed with imagining what Penny and Caldwell were like before UGC

REMEMBER WHEN OUR NIGHT WERE STARRY????

arent you sorry..? (translation: "Are you sorry about loving and listening to me?")

..sure, I'm sorry.. (translation: "You probably want me to say I'm sorry for loving you because you no longer love me, and regret me.")

im not sorry.. (translation: "I STILL FUCKING LOVE YOU AGHHH-")

JUUUST UNNNNSOUNDDDD (translation: "WE STILL LOVE EACH OTHER AND NOW ONE OF US HAS TO DIE-")

all the original broadway cast photos are 2001 crunchy 😭

HAIL MALTHUS

making fun of and calling out the government and twisted cops >:)

the harmonies make me wanna ascend

okay that's all for now 💀💀💀

[see-arcane]

considering it was the late 1800s, do you think Seward and VH are oblivious to Jonathan's watchfulness because Stoker couldn't justify writing Jonathan implying that "vampirism and blasphemy are fine if it's for Mina, actually" beyond his initial declaration? We don't seem to get much more of it directly from Jonathan's entries either after that, just by implication.

I wouldn't be surprised if that was a factor.

Considering all the very potent metaphors at work in the premise of 'God has denied love and protection to my beloved over X Violation and/or X State of Being which is beyond their control, and I have decided our love is more holy than any decision of the Almighty, and I would rather be a monster with her than shun/destroy her As Is the Righteous Thing to Do,' Stoker was already dancing on the edge of acceptability with Jonathan making his secret vow even once.

But thankfully, that single vow--and the adamant refusal to even pretend to make a new 'Yes honey, I will absolutely vampire martyr-murder you like a good Christian boy! God says it's chill just like it was for Lucy and everyone else Dracula has snacked on for untold centuries! God's will be done!'--likely flew over a lot of heads back in the day (as it does now) and simply landed in a lot of hearts with the more obvious factor of...

"Oh. He is literally willing to brave Hell and eternal damnation as the conscripted undead, possibly even cutting down his stake-wielding friends, just to protect and be with his beloved? ...That's kind of hot."

Especially during a period when romance was basically just a bonus to tack on to the Job of Being Married. Jonathan Harker is proven multiple times to be the un-Victorian Victorian man, running from the Brides (mistress stand-ins), happily letting his wife take the lead and holding her up as his equal until he's peer pressured out of it (which leads to dangerous consequences! Social mores fucked everything up! And He Only Follows New Directions with Mina's Approval Going Forward!), and now here's this romantic motherfucker ready to skin Dracula and French kiss the Devil so long as it sees his beloved safe and un-slaughtered, even if she isn't ~perfect and saintly and non-monstrous~.

Girls gays and goths of 1897 were definitely fanning themselves at the next tea party book club once they reached October 3rd.

Even without the ell gee bee tee undertones to glean from Stoker's own romantic leanings, the idea of 'selfish' personal love, of a mere human being, getting held up as more important than God, someone worth Hell, was extremely spicy to depict during that period. If Stoker had had Jonathan repeating himself over and over regarding his secret plans, it would have started to sound a bit like writing a smitten Poe protagonist. Which would also be sexy! But it'd risk taking some of the heroic shine off of him towards the end.

Better to let it hang over the narrative's neck in silence like an axe waiting to fall.

Or a kukri.

[nanomooselet]

Final Phase: The Fairy Tale

I'm going to tell a story.

And because it's a gruesome, disturbing one, it can't be anything other than a fairy tale. Caution is advised.

Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Nai.

He was a good, innocent boy who loved his mother and his brother, who liked jokes and cowboy movies. He wasn't born what he grew to become. He was, at worst, too protective of his dignity. Precocious. Convinced that he was special.

Then Nai made a choice. Nai went on to make many more choices, every single one of them a cascading result of the first.

Knives would like you to think he's Vash's equal opposite. He's aligned with the Plants; he's their avenging angel. He talks about them as though they're people, calling them "she" and "her". To him, they're suffering martyrs. They're crying out for vengeance, can't you hear them? He's the older twin. He's the adult. He's the authority. He's the lord. He's the avenger. He's a liberator. He's fighting for freedom.

He might even believe all those things. He might have so much conviction that the story, through his eyes, bends to support him.

Nevertheless it is a distortion of the truth.

Knives says that everything he's done was to protect Vash from the humans who'll eat him alive. He wants to keep his brother safe. On this point alone, he's being honest. It might be the only honest thing he says. But it's an honesty concealing a truth no one so much as suspected was there. No one except…

You want to know a secret?

Nai poses as cold and inscrutable, but he wears everything he thinks on his face. You can track his thought processes quite easily, when you know.

I've yet to figure out what the proper order is, but I wager this conversation was one of the last before the fleet crashed, even though in the episode it comes before the one where they discover Tesla. The way these scenes are presented in Episode Eleven is extremely manipulative. 

Right here Nai is thinking: Joke's on you. I know the truth already.

He's reminiscing.

Rem realises in this instant she cannot save her son. That there's nothing she can do or say, or that he'll hear from anyone, that'll spare him the consequences. She looks into the eyes of her child, the boy she raised with so much love, whom she trusted and adored, and she sees the path he's chosen by disobeying her.

Because he ate the forbidden fruit.

Knives loves Vash - really and truly, he does. He always has. He's telling the truth when he says his paradise/world of Plants is incomplete without his brother. But the same way he sees Rem in Luida and Meryl and immediately tries to destroy them, Knives can't understand how Vash exists as an independent entity or as a Plant who has no desire to hone or use his power.

Knives craves that power - wants to have enough that he'll feel safe. You can't forget he is driven above all by fear. Rem ran into the fire, leaving him behind. Knives had Dr. Conrad modify himself so he wouldn't die until Knives allowed him to. One of the arguments he makes to Vash is that humans only live a century at the outside.

He looks at Vash and he sees Tesla, who was so heartbreakingly young when her body failed her, yet to reach her full potential. She couldn't defend herself. He sees her reborn in Vash, because her powers are also Vash's powers: to connect, to receive.

To consume.

This is a second chance. He wants to keep his family safe.

You think that's an operating table? These are specimen jars?

Or maybe an alter? A reliquary?

Holy robes? Suffering angels?

Because Knives calls Conrad a doctor? Because he wants him as a father? Because anything about this could possibly be sacred? That's a table. That's a freezer.

That's an apron and those are husks.

Because the only thing any of this has ever been about?

Preserving the meat.

What do you want to hear? Wolfwood says to Meryl about Vash. That his parts are hanging in Knives's chop shop?

In the English dub specifically, whenever they meet again after the crash, Knives always pauses to inhale deeply before speaking to Vash. Breathing in his scent. Savouring it.

Cain is a farmer. He knows how to raise a crop. How to set a snare. He knows patience, maintaining cycles, destroying infestations. He'll keep his brother safe. No one will touch him. The humans aren't going to eat Vash alive.

Not if Knives catches him first.

The real reason Vash "turned against" his brother? The real reason Vash supposedly chose humanity over the Plants?

Abel is a shepherd. He protects his flock.

No matter what it says, what skin it wears, what it pretends to be…

He knows a predator when he sees one.

Knives has always been like this.

I wonder if it's because he's less independent than Plant. He yearns to be part of a collective, but fears his own identity being subsumed. He's left with an emptiness within himself he has no understanding how to fill, a loneliness he's too frightened to bring to an end.

There's no better way for Knives to keep what he loves safe than making it part of himself. Sustaining his perfection. Sharing his immortality.

So they'll all live happily ever after.

[fuchsiamae]

caveline 1, 14, 15

holidays - he never remembers when secretaries’ day is (he firmly believes than holidays should have a DATE to count, none of that nth weekday of whenever shit), but he’s told her to get herself something nice on his dime every year. generally she’s the type to self-sacrifice and act like a martyr about it (modest like that) but once in a while, if there’s a treat she REALLY wants, she’ll use his checkbook and say it was a secretaries’ day present. he never objects. she deserves it. 

insane moment: in let’s say 1973, once they’re bankrupt and struggling, she gets herself something stupidly frivolous—she’s not the furs-and-jewelry type, but she’s feeling bitter and in the mood for a fight. he’ll lecture her for wasting his money, she gets to say “so something nice for me is a waste of money?” except when he sees it and asks where she got it, and she says he bought it for her, he’s glad. he hates her self-denial schtick, she’s been working hard, she deserves it. let folks see he can still treat his girl right. (but it WAS a waste of money! how can he be so careless! oh she’s SO mad, and she doesn’t even get her fight. if she returns it he doesn’t notice, but I’m not sure she does—she does deserve it.) might throw this into t+t, it’s pretty

dancing - dance marathons were a big fad when they were growing up, they both know how to cut a rug. cave warms up the dance floor at every company party. caroline makes a point to dance with other men, ostensibly to keep their cover (it would look untoward if they only danced with each other) but nobody’s fuckin fooled by that, including cave. he knows (correctly) that she  just likes him cutting in. her favorite move:

scope out the prettiest girl here

palm cave off on prettiest girl

flirt a little with some nearby dude until he asks her to dance

never make eye contact with her partner the whole dance, because she’s watching cave watching her (while he ignores the pretty girl (she pays more attention to his pretty girl than her own dude (for normal heterosexual reasons)))

see how long his jealousy can simmer before he takes her back

if the dude is clueless enough to flirt with her while dancing, she will immediately recoil, which is cave’s cue to drop everything and go into the “is this guy bothering you?” routine. if the dude then does anything but back off while apologizing profusely, he will get canned. everyone who’s worked at aperture long enough recognizes this pattern and steers clear of it. 

singing -  she sings in private, when she’s relaxed or alone. she doesn’t sing FOR him, but she’ll sometimes do it when he’s near enough to hear. he likes that. knowing she has a nice voice and wanting to show her off, he once tried to goad her into singing at a company christmas nondenominational winter holiday party. just a casual thing, makeshift karaoke with jane from the typing pool on the piano. oh boy she did not like that at all. silent angry tears at the end of the night, no sex for a week, no GOOD sex until new year’s. he didn’t make that mistake twice. 

bonus: opera is a glados thing, not a caroline thing. she likes the way it resonates inside herself, now that she has a body with great acoustics. 

bonus bonus: not only is ellen mclain a professional operatic soprano, jk simmons ALSO has a musical theatre background, and does sing (god fucking help me)

[canmom]

tsv episodes 24-27

loved 24. i mean it's a Carpenter centric episode so of course it slaps, and fascinating to see her really confront the shit she has done and how she rationalised it at the time. i think one thing this show does exceptionally well is show how people don't have to be an anime psycho to commit violence - how with the right social pressures you could totally become someone who does the monthly murder before dinner. the setup reminds me of that point in Exordia where Anna goes into hell. time loop lotus flower dream stuff can go a few ways, but these cruel variants are especially interesting. one thing that wasn't entirely clear was the old man and little girl who Carpenter apparently left behind - possibly this is foreshadowing? unless they mean the pox monk and the girl who can't see other people but i don't think so. besides Nana Glass there was another voice of Carpenter's guilt that I didn't recognise, and maybe this is related to whatever is being foreshadowed.

episode 25... was kind of a moving the pieces around episode. the 'snuff gods' were cute - it's interesting to see what the line is for what people consider a truly socially unacceptable god in this setting after we've seen what they'll rationalise. i honestly don't get that much out of the hunter duo - they're not terrible characters but they don't feel like they have the depth of our MCs. i kind of expect at least one of them to get killed off in the finale. but while it was good to see Carpenter and Faulkner reunited, it was less emotional themes and more action.

episodes 26 and 27 though - hoo boy. paige and her dad have a fascinating dynamic, and this season it feels like the real thematic meat lies with this attempt to create a parasitic god that steals martyrs.

and honestly, what a way to make the classic redemption arc => immediate heroic sacrifice beat fresh and sharp again. the white crocus flower imagery is so damn nier, can't get enough of white flowers that symbolise death in fiction lol.

but I'm even more fascinated by the idea that this god punishes all acts of predation, even a whale consuming krill. the inherent violence of animal life was probably not considered in scope. we already have themes of "pollution" by the effects of the war and the churning of gods, and this area seems well on its way to becoming another spiritual chernobyl.

the prisoner, Esther, was also really well handled. though she's a victim of this regime, she still has agency, and a real no bullshit attitude about her situation and the options. although she only appears briefly, she makes a very strong impression.

we're on to the rapid apocalyptic escalation now. this is an insanely good story, just the kind that i love - tightly plotted, thematically sharp, juicy with its imagery. can't get enough of it.