#big fan of when two polar opposite things happen at the same setting. it is excellent

[cubedmango]

episode 7 // movie

[seeingivy]

family rules (alternate version)

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which you’re the one who gets in the accident this time, not satoru and megumi 

**read the other ones here 

content warning: car accident, mentions of glass and blood, reader in pain satoru says daddy, megumi wants you to break satoru’s neck

an: for all my very lovely family rules fans, this is the part for the request I received here. I hope you all enjoy :D 

-

Satoru pushes his key into the door, swinging the door open as he calls out to the three of you. He’s balancing the pink box in his hands, very excited to see your very irritated face when you open it. 

He stops for a second, eyeing the light purple around Megumi’s eye as you push green peas into his face, before turning to the fridge to steal your leftovers from last night. 

He can feel you opening the box out of his peripheral vision, preparing his silly little consolation piece to calm you down. He knows you’ll be irritated, obviously, but he’s always sweet talked his way out of situations, especially with you. He just wanted to ease the air after the lecture you were probably going to give Megumi, settle everyone down. 

“Megs, do you mind joining Miki upstairs? I need to talk to Gojo over here.” you say, watching you press a very strained smile to your face. 

Maybe the cake was too far. He should have settled for balloons instead. 

“You have got to be kidding me, Satoru. You bought him a cake for punching another kid in the face?” 

“It’s just a joke, my love. No harm done. I’ll talk to him about it later. You know, all that cheesy stuff you say - words before violence, be the bigger man by walking away.” he leans over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before he sets out to set the plates for dinner. 

“Satoru. Be serious for one minute. Megumi is our responsibility. You’re doing him a disservice if we keep letting him process his anger this way. Don’t lead him down the wrong path.” 

He can feel the stinging in his chest, the anger developing in his chest. He would be lying by saying things were perfect between the two of you, as of late. The two of you were polar opposites, something he always considered as a strength to your relationship. When he was drifting away too far, you grounded him in reality. When you were too stuck in the little things, he always reminded you of the big picture. You worked - moon and sun, salt and pepper, black and white. However, the two of you had been finding it harder to find compromises lately, arguing more lately, especially when it came to Megumi. 

It’s a few fights, not mass murdering people. If anything, Megumi’s doing very well, considering who his father is and what happened. He’s doing very well, considering the fact that he’s being raised by two twenty year olds. Satoru’s doing very well, considering the fact that he’s trying his best to be there for him. 

“I’m not leading him anywhere wrong. You’re setting him up for failure if you keep letting kids push him around like that. You’re the one leading him down the wrong path.” 

“Solving your problems with fists isn’t always the right answer, Satoru. This is why he doesn’t talk to us when we ask him what’s wrong. We just have to wait for him to explode, just to find out he was suffering the entire time.” 

He feels your words sink into his chest, burning him in a place he hadn’t been before. No. Surely you couldn’t be insinuating what he thought you were. You wouldn’t. 

He thinks back to the third grade, his parents' faces engraved in his mind. He learned all too quickly that punching another kid in the face, pulling a girl's pigtails, running out of class would get their attention - faster than asking them to tuck him into bed, eat breakfast with him, or come to a school play. They would drop everything, run to his side to see him at the first sign of trouble. There’s no way you’re insinuating Megumi is doing the same. 

It kills him. Even the thought of it being right. Megumi’s mimicking him, when he was younger, acting out to get someone to look at him. The two of you tried your best with him, he was always a little more closed off, but you were doing everything you could. 

No. No. Satoru Gojo was not his father. You had to be wrong. You had to be wrong because if you were right, he was no better than his father. 

“Whatever problem he has, I’ll deal with it. Remember, he’s my kid, not yours. My responsibility. So I’ll figure out what’s best for him moving forward.” 

He comes to realize that this was his first mistake, one he’ll come to regret in a few hours. 

He can feel the words hanging in the air, waiting for your anger filled response. But it doesn’t come. You compare him to his father and then have nothing to say?

“All quiet now, Y/N? Have nothing to say to me?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“And why’s that? You sure had a lot to say a few minutes ago.” 

“Because. He’s your kid. Not mine. It’s not really my business what he does, is it?” 

He feels his heart sink in his chest, his cheeks burning with regret already. Why did he say that? You didn’t mean it like that. There’s no way you would ever compare him to his dad, in earnest. He curls his fingers around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. Kiss it better, Satoru.

“Hey, hey. Wait a minute.” 

You shrug him off, swiping the keys off the counter and running out the door. This is his second mistake - letting you run out that door - and surely the one he’ll regret even more. 

He stands there in shock, your absence chilling him. What the hell is he doing? The table is half set, your sweet strawberry smell absent, your glimmering smile gone from the kitchen. 

You left. You actually got up and left. It’s his fault. He hit it where he knew where it hurt. He can feel his heart sinking in his chest, the stinging vertebrates through his bones. Why did he say that to you? He loves you. He reaches around for his phone after a few seconds, his fingers shaking as he texts you. 

i’m sorry love

you know i didn’t mean it

just come back. you know he’s our kid. 

i know you’re right. he shouldn’t be punching people every time he disagrees with them. i just have trouble being too hard on him, i don’t want to be like my parents

not an excuse. i know i’m in the wrong. we can have the talk with him, just like you wanted. just come back y/n. 

Satoru nearly drops his phone into the sink, at the sight of Megumi pushing into his legs. He presses his arms around Satoru’s legs, hiding his face against in the fabric. 

“Hey Megs. You okay?” 

“Did Y/N leave?” 

He leans down, intending to talk Megumi down. You were always better at it, but there’s no harm in trying. 

He looks over, really observing the bruise on Megumi’s eye for the first time. His eye is swollen, coloring into a dark purple. There’s a tiny bit of pink in the whites of his eyes and he doesn’t miss Megumi keeping his eyes closed, squinting whenever he makes contact with the light. 

He reaches down, pressing the green peas you were pushing into Megumi’s face, back to the spot. He didn’t realize Megumi was hurt this bad. 

“Yeah. We just had a little argument. She’ll come back.” 

He feels Megumi clench his fist, his hand crumpling the fabric of his slacks. 

“Do you think she hates me?” 

“Megumi. Y/N loves you. She’s mad at me for being stupid, not at you for fighting.” 

He feels another set of tiny hands, this time resting on his arms. Tsumiki’s tear filled face is at his side. He’s messed up. 

It’s in this moment, Megumi’s stressed out expression and Tsumiki’s tear stained face, that he realizes how small they really are. He’d been teaching Megumi how to master his cursed technique and he was always impressed with how self-sufficient Tsumiki was, but he never realized how wrong it was until now. 

They were kids. They’re small, tiny little kids acting like adults. He leans down, pressing the two of them against his chest. He won’t let them burden it - that’s what you and him were for. You, when you were still here anyways. 

He reaches for his phone again, shooting you another text. 

kids are getting real upset with you gone, they miss you already 

“Satoru.” 

“Yes, Miss Miki?” 

“Why did she leave?” 

He sighs. Because he’s an idiot. Because he can’t control his tongue, because he can’t accept his faults, because he’s in over his head. 

“We had an argument. I got upset with her and said something that wasn’t very nice to her.” 

“Does she still love us?” 

“You’re her entire world. She loves you both, so much. That’s partially why she’s so mad at you Megumi. She doesn’t like to see you hurt and gets upset when you willingly put yourself in situations like this.”

He feels his phone buzzing on the floor, basically collapsing trying to pick it up fast enough. He presses the phone to his ear, without even checking the caller ID. 

“Y/N?” 

“Am I speaking with Mister Satoru Gojo?” 

“Yes, this is him.” 

“This is Tokyo Medical Hospital. I’m calling regarding a Miss Y/N L/N. She was in a car accident around thirty minutes ago, near the central line highway. She’s just been transported to our Emergency Department where we are responding to her now. It would be best if you could arrive as soon as possible. Do you know her blood type? We need to attempt a transfusion.” 

He feels his voice strain in his neck, fighting to get the word out. Blood type. They need your blood type. You were in a car accident. Blood transfusion.

“O negative. Her blood type is O negative.” 

 - 

Shoko and Nanami meets him at the front of the hospital and he nearly breaks down right there. He was a mess without you. You had to be okay. You had to stay alive. 

“I’ll watch the kids.” 

Nanami walks off, his hands holding their tiny ones as he takes them on a walk around the block. 

“Am I going to lose her, Shoko? Is she okay?” 

“She’s really hurt, the glass shattered on impact. Just go through the doors, Satoru. She was asking for you.” 

Glass. He nearly runs through the double doors and is met directly with the sight of you. 

The air is gone from his lungs and the room is on fire. No. You’re lying on the gurney, the two nurses balancing shining, silver surgical tools in their hands. They’re digging shards of glass out of your soft, soft skin - from your arms, your chest, and the sides of your face. 

He can see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes pinching in pain every time they pull a piece out. The worst part, he can hear you murmuring his name and asking for him every time they do. He walks up aimlessly, interlocking his hand with your free, uninjured side. He can feel his hands shaking in yours, his blood burning in his skin. 

“Satoru?” 

He reaches forward, patting down your hair. 

“I’m here, i’m here.” 

“It hurts, Satoru.”

He feels his resolve break at the sound of your voice. He’s crying, full on crying at the sight of you like this. In pain, sitting alone for the past hour. He lifts your uninjured hand, pressing a kiss to the top of your knuckles before resting your fingers against his eyes. 

“It’s best if you can distract her while we do this. The silence makes it easier to focus on the pain.” 

He nods, turning his face away from the nurse and towards you. 

“Hi love.” 

“Hi Satoru.” 

“Don’t…don’t die on me, okay? I still have a lot of things I want to do with you.” 

“Like what? 

You hiss in pain, squeezing his hand as they keep going deeper into your skin. 

“Eat breakfast with you tomorrow. Make you those strawberry pancakes you love so much. Watch you yell as me as I squish whipped cream into Megumi’s hair.” 

He watches you laugh, the pain still pressed on your face as you try to respond. 

“Don’t respond. It’s okay, love. Just listen to me, yeah?” 

You nod, squeezing your hand in his own. 

“I…I love you.” he can feel his voice breaking, trying to stop his tears from returning. He clears his throat, his heart screaming in his chest. 

“I love you so much, Y/N. You’re everything to me. You and me, we’re going to be okay. I- I…there’s just so much we have to do still. I didn’t even get to marry you yet. Or put my own kid in you.” 

“Gross.” 

“Out of all that, that’s what you chose to respond to?” 

He sees you smile, your eyes all watery at the sight of him. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. 

- 

You wake up a few hours later, to a very pink eyed Satoru sitting on the chair next to you. He looks horrible.

You make the slightest bit of movement, attempting to reach out for him, and he jumps up from his chair. He presses his hands to your face, shaking his head profusely at you as you put your hands down. 

“No, no love. No moving, okay?” 

You nod and he gives you a soft smile, before locking his fingers with your own. You can see the tears building in his eyes, his smile being replaced with tears streaming down his eyes. 

“Can you put on a little nurses uniform? We’re about to live out my wildest dreams.” 

He laughs at your joke, his teary smile returning. 

“Shut up. Stop copying my fantasies.” 

His hands don’t leave your face, his entire body shaking at the sight of you. He’s scared, scared shitless and you don’t know how to fix it. You’re okay. You’re both going to be okay. You try to sit up, Satoru’s hands helping you most of the way. He has his arm secured around your waist, holding you steady. 

“Satoru. I’m okay.” 

“You’re not allowed to do that. You can’t just pick up and leave every time you get mad at me. I thought I lost you. I almost did lose you. Do you think I could live if I actually did?”  

“I know, Toru. I’m sorry.” 

He presses himself against your shoulder, crying into your arms. He’s ran his hands over your arms multiple time’s now, his fingers resting against your beating pulse at your wrist. You can feel the guilt twisting in your chest, for leaving, driving so recklessly, upsetting him in the first place. Any normal person would get up and run right about now. 

“You are the only family I have. Please don’t leave me, Satoru.” 

You feel your heart clench in your chest at the sight of his defeated resolve and can’t even remember why you were mad, why you drove off in the first place. You squeeze his hand twice, rubbing small circles into the back of his hand. 

“You’re the one who left me. I would never leave you. It’s you and me, in life and in death, Y/N. Preferably not the death part from you, if that’s possible please. That’s against the rules.” 

“In life and in death? Those are wedding vows, Satoru, we aren’t even married. And we don’t have rules.” you deadpan.

“You didn’t get the memo? We’re married in my head, sweet thing.” 

The two of you laugh, the giggles filling up the little medic bay you were sitting in. You feel him lean over, his face still wet and pink from his tears, and press a soft kiss to your forehead before pressing one to your lips. 

“Did you eat chocolate from the vending machine?” 

“No.” 

“Don’t lie. I can taste it on your lips, idiot. Your supposed wife is maybe possibly dying and you’re eating candy?” 

“You’re so vulgar. Talking about my lips like that in public. And I was eating for both of us. In your honor. I knew it’s what you would have wanted.” 

You roll your eyes at him, giving him a smile, before leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“Where are Megumi and Tsumiki?” 

“With Nanami, outside. I’ll go grab them now that you’re all bandaged up.” 

As he sprints out the door, you readjust in the bed, sitting up. You watch the two of them run in, their little faces swollen from crying. You feel the tears well in your own eyes at the sight of it. You open up your arms (which hurts like a bitch), signaling at the two of them to climb up. They press their bodies against you, their distinct smells pressed against your nose (vanilla for Tsumiki, clean laundry for Megumi). 

You can feel them sobbing against you and press kisses to both of their heads as they shake in your arms. You can feel your skin burning at them pressing against your bandages, but you don’t want to let them go.

“Okay, kids. Off. We can hug her as hard as we want when she feels better, okay?” 

Satoru Gojo, mind reader. They climb off, the three of them facing you at the side of your bed. They all have their hands pressed against you - Satoru’s resting in your hair, Tsumiki’s in your hand, and Megumi’s at your shoulder. Satoru speaks first. 

“I was thinking.” 

“You can do that?” 

“You wound me, Fushiguro Megumi.” 

The three of you snicker at the sound of his whiny voice, the smiles reaching all the way to Tsumiki and Megumi’s cheeks. 

“I’ve always had mental rules you should be following in my head, as I am our benevolent, perfect, spectacular leader. But we should establish real ones, for each other. We are a family after all.” 

“You’re not our leader.” deadpans Megumi, rolling his eyes at Satoru before eyeing you exasperatedly. 

“I like it, Satoru.” you whisper. 

“Me first, then. My first rule is for Miss Miki. You have to do anything and everything I say.” 

The three of you stare him down, pinching your eyes in annoyance. 

“I’m kidding. You guys are such a tough crowd. My first real rule is for Megumi. You’re not going to fight anymore. No punching people when you get angry.” 

He nods, whispering a promise to you, more than Satoru, that he won’t fight again. You squeeze his fingers that are interlocked with yours, nodding at the promise. 

“The next one is for you, missy. No running away, Y/N. Ever. We can argue all night for all I care. You don’t get to leave.”

You nod, promising all of them that you won’t leave them again. You don’t miss the way their tensed shoulders relax at your promise, shocked that they were even worried about you leaving again in the first place. You would never leave them again. Tsumikis’ quiet voice fills the room next. 

“Third rule, no fighting if we can avoid it. We’re all on the same team here so we can just try to work it out.” 

You reach forward, pressing your hand into Tsumiki’s hair, you and Satoru promising her you won’t fight, at least if you can’t help it, again. The three of you nod, smiling at each other at your new rules. 

“I have one.” 

You reach over, running your hands through Megumi’s hair as you smile at him, encouraging to speak up. 

“No one leaves the house without saying goodbye. You especially, Mom.” 

Mom. Mom. Fushiguro Megumi, in the six months he has been staying with you, has never called you Mom. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, wanting to crush him in a hug for a better part of the next hour or the rest of his life. You’re his Mom. 

Before you can reach forward to do so, Satoru’s whiny voice stops you. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s not even fair.” 

“Toru, shut up.” 

“Megs. If I break my neck, will you call me dad?” 

You roll your eyes. Way to ruin a moment. 

“How about I break it right now and we test the theory?” 

Megumi and Tsumiki break out into giggles and you and Satoru can’t help but join them at the sound of their laughter. The three of them press themselves against you, wrapping your arms around as you all laugh. 

“Hey, one more rule, okay?”

You all nod, turning to face Satoru. 

“Everyone calls me daddy from now on.” 

“Can you actually break his neck now? Please? I can help.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know plenty of fans are coming to your blog to ask you all sorts of questions about Twist. (Who can blame them? I feel like you’re a walking Twist Wikipedia. That's a compliment, btw.)

But I low-key miss seeing Miss Raven! 😔 We haven't seen her since forever. I miss the good old days with her shenanigans with Leona and J word! Or Octavinelle student A!

I would even go as far as to say that Miss Raven is one of the best written and interesting twisted wonderland Oc's I've come across!

That being said, it's only fair for me to ask a question regarding Miss Raven? 👀 Since we had our share of interactions with Miss Raven with the other characters. One character we didn't see her interacting with; That's Grim!

I like to imagine Miss Raven having to take care of Grim because Yuu is currently absent (Her uncle asked her to). Grim is a handful that could lead to some funny scenarios. A "bird" taking care of a "cat" is a funny twist! (Hehe, get it? Twist?) Surely it would be even more chaotic if two idiotic students from heartslabyul offered their help.

Aaah, thank you but really I feel like I just happen to know the right places or friends to ask/look for info 💦 There are things I miss sometimes too, and I appreciate people pitching in to help me fill in the knowledge gaps.

As I’ve mentioned a number of times before, I’m not typically in the habit of sharing my OC content unless prompted by others first; I tend to keep that to private circles or to instances when I feel very inspired. I’m of course grateful when people ask questions or express interest in a public setting; thank you for presenting these opportunities and helping me get out of my comfort zone ^^

I usually don’t have Miss Raven interact with Yuu (and by extension, Grim) since I don’t have a Yuusona. Generally, I think of Miss Raven serving as a messenger between Yuu and Crowley, or sometimes pitching in and helping with some of the assignments that the headmaster offloads onto Yuu. I’m sure she could fit in cat-sitting Grim at one point or another if Yuu’s too preoccupied by something else.

I don’t think Raven and Grim would get along considering their natures as bird and cat/tanuki/weasel/direbeast or whatever the heck Grim is. Their personalities are pretty polar opposites too. Miss Raven would be lecturing Grim about doing his homework or chores while Grim tries to sneak out and whines about how she sounds like Riddle. (She is, after all, twisted from an Alice in Wonderland riddle!) It’s not much different from how she tries to get Leona to be a model student, she just has to also feed and bathe Grim on top of nagging him. She’d tell herself, “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before, I can do this!”

When it comes to Ace and Deuce, Raven shares the same homeroom as them (and Yuu and Grim). She’s not super close to that group, but she thinks of herself as a “big sister” to the duo. Whether those two acknowledge that, well… Likely not. (Miss Raven learned the egocentrism from Crowley and the other prideful NRC students!) The arrogance comes from wanting to be respected and seen as able to hold her own in this new environment—and in the wild, showing any weakness could mean the difference between life and death. That underpins a lot of how she acts when adapting to a more “human” life. She has to prove that she’s strong and reliable to the flock!

Ace would be the one constantly provoking her and refusing to help with Grim unless she begs for it. (To be clear, he gets on her nerves a lot in and out of lessons too.) He and Miss Raven would argue and butt heads a lot; they’re both stubborn people. I think it’d be because Ace can see right through her “I’m a mature and responsible lady!” bullshit and would rather she confess she needs help than pretend she doesn’t. If she caves, he’ll still bully her before actually helping. And if she doesn’t cave, well… Not like he cares or anything, he’s also fine with watching her cry a little 🤷‍♀️ He’s probably getting a little laugh out of it either way.

Deuce is the nicer guy of the two; he’d tell Ace to cut it out or that he’s being unnecessarily mean to a peer. I also think he’d be the one that initially respects Miss Raven more since she comes off as that honors student ideal Deuce has in his mind. He might be a little stiff around her at first, given that she’s the headmaster’s family member, but he could eventually loosen up a bit. Perhaps Deuce feels more compelled to lend a hand since he’s so used to being “the man” of the household and helping out his mom. Like maybe Deuce sees her struggling to dunk Grim into the bath and clears his throat before robotically announcing he’ll help hold Grim down while she rinses him off. Or maybe they can go for tuna can runs at the Mystery Shop??

chjabejwjeow Anyway, she passes out at the end of the day and Yuu will likely come back to find her curled up in a ball and snoozin’ off the tiredness. Ace and Deuce are by the couch (lookin’ like Deuce’s Dorm Uniform Groovy). Grim is sleeping beside Miss Raven in what seems to be a homemade little cat bed made out of neatly folded blankets… until Yuu realizes that’s not a cat bed, that’s a big ol’ nest 😂

[touyota]

Catfish

☁ Summary: Tomura is hopeless when it comes to relationships, and soon that’s all subject to change. With the power of Tinder, Touya and one oblivious chick on his side, who knows what can happen. 

A/N: omgggg, i’ve lurked on my priv for the past year and finally decided to stop being a narc and post something. i haven’t written in forever and it shows lmao, but uh yeah pls give me feedback if you’d like. (also idk if this has been. done before, but sorryyy if it has)

☁ Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader

☁ Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, manipulation, dumbfication (if you squint), slapping, yandere, catfishing 

"Fuck I'm horny." 

Tomura groaned into his pillow, conflicted with whether he should be agitated or turned on. Due to his third nap of the day being interrupted by the excessive lewd noises coming from the shared living room. Tomura's roommate, Touya, had no real understanding of boundaries and was often more bothersome than helpful. Still, without his portion of the rent, he'd be on the streets struggling to find an apartment within his meager budget.

"Keep fucking me, Touya-san!" The plea echoed through the thin walls of the shoddy apartment. At least someone was getting laid. The last time Tomura had gotten lucky was at an impromptu Halloween party thrown by Touya at the apartment. 

He went as Jason Vorhees using a dingy hockey mask he found in Touya's closet. The poor girl in question, who came dressed as an angel, was drunk out of her mind. She clung to Tomura's scrawny body incoherently, slurring about "How hot it would be to fuck a murderer." The fling hadn't lasted long before the young lady in question toppled over the side of his bed and hurled her entire cup of jungle juice onto the floor. Poor Tomura had to spend his night nursing her head over the toilet. Making a mental note to tell Touya that he couldn't invite any freshmen to their parties ever again.

Tomura ended up seeing her again in passing on campus, giving a small smile as she walked by. Only to be met with an eye roll as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. Fucking bitch... Other than that, Tomura had found himself too busy writing code, playing video games, and browsing Reddit to dedicate any time to dating. The polar opposite of his roomie Touya-san, a communications major whose schedule consisted of dating? If you considered fucking the same chick for a week before ghosting her dating, sleeping, and eating and drinking Tomura out of a house and home.

"You ready for my load? You're my little cum dump, right? Say you're my cum du-"

Speaking of fucking, Tomura's hard-on was starting to hurt, and what better way to relieve himself than to beat off to the action in the adjacent room. 

He started to palm himself over his sweats, erection already beginning to poke through. Figuring that he's teased himself enough, he lowered his boxers, allowing his cock to slap against his stomach, throbbing and angry. He slowly stroked himself, gathering the pre-cum spouting from the tip, and used it to lube the rest of his cock.

"Pleaseee fuck! I'm your little cum dump! I swear Touya!" 

Tomura started to stroke his cock faster, leaving a squelching noise with each stroke. He was barely managing to suppress his moans. Knowing how Touya wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he got caught fucking his hand to the sounds of their subtle lovemaking. 

"Fuckfuckfuck... I'm cumming!" Touya grunted, giving out after his final stroke.

Tomura followed suit, flicking his wrist with each stroke. As his orgasm finally took hold of him, biting into his shirt to stifle his moan as he came all over his fist. 

"Are you fucking serious, Touya?"

"What?" 

"I didn't get to cum?"

"Um… I'm sure you can take care of that when you get home."

"You're such a piece of sh-"

Tomura tuned out the rest of his roommate's performance. Really hoping he'd wrap it up cause he really needed to take a piss and couldn't make it to the bathroom without passing through the living room. 

After hearing a respectable amount of silence, he figured it was safe to leave the room. Of course, he was wrong; he was met with a staredown between Touya and a petite blonde woman.

"I'm sure your roommate Tenko wouldn't leave a lady hanging like that."

"It's Tomura," he muttered.

"Same fucking thing, my point still stands," The mystery woman huffed. There was a pregnant pause before Touya doubled over in laughter, clutching his chest.

"You think this cuck knows how to take care of a lady? Yeah, it's time to go, Tara."

"It's Toga, you shit stai-"her statement was abruptly interrupted, the door slamming in her face. Touya's back slid down against the door as he sat facing Tomura. 

"Chicks? Am I right?" Touya sighed, peering over at Tomura, who had just left the bathroom. "Speaking of chicks, when's the last time you had sex, Shiggy?"

"It's been... a while." Tomura shrugged, not wanting to indulge his roommate with the details of his sex life.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's make you a Tinder." Touya proudly announced, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker for his roommate. Tomura reluctantly gave in, knowing once Touya was set on something, it was bound to happen one way or another. 

Two blunts later, Tomura and Touya were strewn over the couch, mulling over his profile's final details. It consisted of three pics, one from the Halloween party, another from their most recent function. The last pic is a selfie of him in a black hoodie with sunglasses on. The icing on top is the bio that unironically stated, "Freak in the sheets, gamer in the streets."

"You're gonna be a real pussy magnet shiggy. Just wait, you'll have to fight the chicks off with a stick after they see this." Touya chuckled as he took another puff of the blunt.

"Go to hell and stop hogging; you didn't put shit in on this anyways," Tomura muttered as he snatched the blunt away to take a pull. Maybe he would find some success, he entertained the concept of having a consistent fuck buddy, but sometimes he was lonely and just wanted someone to lay up with. He wanted to be optimistic about something for once, taking his final pull and ashing the blunt out. The smoky haze and intoxicating scent lulling him to sleep. 

Fuck optimism, Tomura thought. It had been three days with zero matches or messages, and he was starting to think there had to be a glitch in the system. The only time he had seen a match is when he accidentally swiped on Midnight's profile, a famous Only fans content creator who specialized in BDSM. The same Midnight that he happened to be a top donor for and occasionally bought panties from, but that's beside the point. The profile was poorly made with blurry, uncropped pics taken straight from her social media profiles. The lack of detail and legitimacy was apparent. Tomura felt terrible for the poor soul who probably fell for it, but it made him think… 

Why not see how different the response would be if he ran a profile under someone else's guise.  Someone more attractive, someone more affluent, and someone more famous. This was simply a social experiment; no harm would come from it of course. He would simply ghost anyone who wanted to meet, keeping all interactions virtual. Now who could he possibly pretend to be. without getting caught. Tomura's eyes finally settled on an Axe ad playing on tv featuring male model Keigo Takami. Mr. tall, blonde, and handsome would definitely attract the feminine masses.  

Ding ding ding, it was like a bell went off in his head; he had found his new look. He started to scour the internet for any pictures of Hawks that weren't already posted to his socials and be sure to crop any evidence out. A few hours later, Tomura gazed over his final product. He thought it seemed too good to be true; he was sure that anyone with a working brain would know the profile was clearly a catfish. It was too clean, too pristine, and too perfect, but Tomura was tired of the profile's nit-picking details and saved his last changes. It was starting to get dark, and he had to begin his Comp Sci homework soon so he'd have time to play zombies on Call of Duty later. 

Tomura woke to a multitude of buzzes notifying him of the several hundred matches he'd accumulated overnight on his Hawks profile. Apparently, no one had a working brain within the 15-mile radius. The messages were filled with tons of chicks he had seen on campus or in class. He even recognized the one from the Halloween party. He spent his morning smoke break, siphoning through the various contenders.

Too tall.

Too blonde.

Too ugly. 

Until...

He finally stopped scrolling when he reached your profile; he had seen you before in his Major classes. You were a somewhat modest girl, always working to be an overachiever and teacher's pet. You hadn't spoken to him before, only forcing a smile when Tomura was caught staring at you in class. You were talented, beautiful, quiet, and you hadn't encountered Touya yet. You were everything he had wanted, and more. He started to type a message awaiting your response.

Keigo: "What's keeping you up this late, love ;)" 

Tomura thought to keep it casual enough to fit his suave persona.

Y/N: "lol, just sum late night studying keeping me up."

Y/N: "won't lie im very nervous to texting you rn, i'm a big fan 

Keigo: "it's gud knowing i have fans as cute as you ;p"

The conversation seemed to flow from there between you two, texting for almost two weeks strong. Tomura had learned so much about you in a short time, your favorite foods, your favorite color, favorite music, and your dislikes as well. Touya often came by his room to check in on Operation: Get Shiggy Some Pussy, only to be met with a "Fuck off," and yet another door slammed in his face. 

You gushed over how lucky you were to be texting the one and only Keigo Takami. Of course, you were skeptical at first, but what kind of fucked up person would take the time to pretend to be another person? The conversation between you two was great and always kept you on your toes. Still, sometimes days would pass before you received a response; you chalked it to the fact that he was always busy as a celebrity and didn't always have time to respond to you. 

You were currently lying in bed and unable to fall asleep; you peered at your phone to see that it was 2:05 am. You let out a sigh, preparing to stare at your ceiling until you finally fell asleep, only to be interrupted by a chime from your phone. It was a message from Keigo. 

Keigo: you up? ;(

You instantly typed a response, scared that you had done something wrong.

Y/N: yup, what's wrong…?

Keigo: i'm so fucking hard rn baby ;(((

Oh shit, you hadn't prepared yourself for that response; maybe he injured himself at work or-

Keigo: you still there babe? send a pic ;p

You definitely hadn't prepared for that, but who were you to deny him. Keigo could've asked anyone else in the world, but he asked you. Not wanting to leave him waiting, you quickly shucked your shirt off and used your arm to push up your breasts, giving an illusion of the perfect push up bra. You promptly took several pics, taking the time to edit and select the ideal filters to complement your skin tone.

Y/N: 1 image sent

A bubble indicating him typing popped up instantly 

Keigo: 3 images sent

Keigo: fuckkkk babe, ur such a tease

You opened the pics, feeling your panties dampen slightly. It was a cock, well Keigo's cock, fat and engorged, leaking pre-cum against his toned belly. He was mostly well-groomed, but a prominent white tuft of hair appears in the picture, making you wonder if Keigo was actually a natural blonde.

Keigo: 1 video sent

 let me see that pretty pussy baby, 

It was a video of Keigo languidly stroking his cock, how romantic. It was only right for a gorgeous man like Keigo to have a pretty cock to match. What he lacked in girth was definitely made up for in length, complemented with a slight curve that could definitely reach that itch that none of your toys could scratch.  By now, you had ditched your panties and started to slowly start to fuck yourself open with one finger at a time. You started recording and angled the phone against your pillow, trying to capture you desperately fucking yourself on your fingers, letting out a small whimper with each thrust.

Y/N: 1 video sent 

You began to fuck yourself vigorously, dragging the accumulated slick over your clit with slow, circular strokes. You felt your orgasm on the brink, growing more restless and desperate, humping reverently at your fingers, whimpering desperately; you were so close...There was a sudden surge of fluid from your core, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth as you kept carefully fucked yourself through your climax. The post-orgasm bliss lulling you to sleep, your eyes had finally fluttered shut, only to be awakened by another chime. 

Keigo: 1 image sent 

look @ all that cum baby, its all for you ;)

Y/N: when can we meet? my fingers can only work for so long :p

Read: 2:53 am

Aw man, maybe he fell asleep. You were definitely fighting sleep at this point as well, finally closing your eyes, satisfied for the night. 

Tomura struggled to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe the sticky cum off of his stomach. That was the third time this month you'd ask about a meeting, and it was frankly starting to piss him off. He'd have to come up with something fast if he wanted to keep you around. Even though he didn't have much of a moral compass left in his body, the feeling of guilt was hard to ignore. You didn't deserve to be roped into his fucked up social experiment… 

A yawn interrupted Tomura's guilty thoughts. He could continue to feel guilty when he wakes up tomorrow.

 The following week your prayers had been answered, Keigo finally agreed to meet! It had been such a bittersweet feeling. What if he thought you looked nothing like your profile pictures? Would he reject you and run the other way, screaming? You tried to push your doubtful feelings down by distracting yourself with running errands. Finding the perfect outfit to wear, getting every inch of your body waxed, and picking up a lacy red lingerie set. 

Upon getting back to your apartment, you found a red bouquet of roses on the doormat. They were clearly store-bought and not of excellent quality… but it's the thought that counts! 

Lots of celebrities were frugal, and of course, Keigo was no different. After further inspection, a small white card with an address and time. You searched the address finding a mid-grade hotel on the outskirts of the city. Keigo was definitely a (cheap) frugal man dedicated to his discretion. Soon realizing that the time on the card was approaching, you quickly ran to shower and primp yourself for the evening. Not even thinking to question how he found your address in the first place...

You had finally arrived at the sketchy hotel, noting that there were little to no cars in the parking lot and noting that none of them looked like they belonged to Keigo. You wandered through the lobby until you finally reached the elevator, tapping the button for the 5th floor. You tried to shake off your pre-meeting jitters, you already knew everything would be fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong...

Those intrusive thoughts were soon interrupted by the chime that indicated you had reached your floor. You took a deep breath as you stepped off the elevator, pacing yourself as you walked to your destination. 

Room 555 

How fitting, you thought. Your knuckles rasped against the door several times.

"Come in." A voice sounded through the door.

You peeked your head around the door before taking a step in the room, not being able to locate the owner of the voice. You gasped after taking the appearance of the room. The room had rose petals haphazardly strewn across the floor. Candles flickered on the dresser, a bubble bath was run in the bathroom, and to top it off, a too cheap bottle of champagne on ice. 

There was clearly an effort made, which made your heart swoon, hoping to put a real face to the man you've been speaking to for the past few months, you said out into the empty room.

"Keigo, I like what you've done with the place. You can come out now," you giggled.

"I'm glad you got the flowers," a raspy voice responded.

.......Huh?

Your joy instantly crushed, having heard Keigo's voice multiple times in the interviews you've seen, it sounded nothing like that. Unless he'd suddenly started chain-smoking within the past few months. A loud alarm started going off in your head. It was definitely time to go.

You twirled on your heels and reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm.

"Leaving so soon? The bathwater is still warm…" The mystery voice informed.

"Oh… I think I have the wrong room, so sorry about that." You squeaked, attempting to reach the door again only to be dragged into a bony chest. 

Your chin was tilted, forcing you to meet eyes with "Keigo." Who was actually a porcelain-skinned tower of a man with shaggy white hair that had an oddly familiar look to him? 

"Let me go! You're not Keigo!" You screamed, hoping to alert any other guests on the floor.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought you were smarter than those other bitches on campus. Tomura balked, struggling to keep you still in his grasp.

Campus. That's where you recognized the face and voice of your captor, you were both in the same Comp Sci class, and you'd often caught him staring as you worked, chalking it up to you having something on your face or in your teeth. The realization caused tears to spurt from your eyes.

"Poor baby, didn't mommy and daddy teach you to not speak to strangers on the internet?"

"I-I thought y-you were K-Keigo," you gasped, struggling to control your sobs. 

"Well, I'm not. Get over it." Tomura slurred, placing sloppy kisses over your collar bone, slowly backing you towards the bed. 

You couldn't bring yourself to move or fight anymore, body stiff with fear. Your sobs increase in volume after feeling your legs make contact with the edge of the bed. You didn't know this man from a can of paint, and here he is about to assault you. 

"Stop crying before I leak those sexy little videos you shared with "Keigo." Imagine if everyone in the class knew how much of an easy slut you are?" Tomura hissed, shoving you unto the stiff mattress, springs squeaking as you bounced. 

You cradled your mouth, struggling to stifle your sobs. Why hadn't you recognized the signs sooner? You spent so much time looking at the situation through rose-colored lenses that you had utterly neglected your safety. But it wasn't the time to feign sympathy for yourself. You needed to take action, and soon—the shaggy haired stranger dragging your motionless body towards the end of the headboard. 

"Wait!" You gasped, hoping that you could possibly reason with your captor.

"What's your name? 

This was your final chance to escape. You suddenly kicked forward, aiming for his face, failing miserably as it was blocked. Both legs were then shoved into a mating press, granting Tomura the space to press himself even closer to you.

A groan left Tomura's mouth, frotting against your clothed mound, smothering your neck with sloppy saliva drenched kisses. You cowered at the feeling, curling away from his advances. The dry humping continued until a final groan of desperation was released. He was too grown for this shit and didn't feel like going home with stained boxers when your sweet heat was right in front of him.

The red bodycon dress you decided on was shredded down the middle, leaving you in your lingerie set. You added that to the list of things you were already regretting, moving to cover yourself the best you could. Your efforts to preserve the crumb of modesty you had left were futile, both hands knocked out of the way.

"You don't have to hide princess, I think Christmas came early.” “You're wrapped so pretty, baby." He chuckled, moving to fondle your breasts. Taking the time to pinch and pull at both nipples, drawing small hesitant gasps. 

"I'll play with these more later. You don't know how long I've waited to play with that cute little pussy in person." You felt your panties tugged to the side, embarrassed with the amount of arousal accumulated below. The feeling was soon replaced with horror after feeling the tip of his cock dragged between your slit.

Tomura used the residual slick to grease his cock, bypassing the need to stretch you out. He pressed forward, forcing himself inside, pausing to catch his breath. Damn... it's been a long time. 

You yelped in pain, closing your eyes in hopes of blocking out the situation at hand. You felt him start to pick up his pace, causing small tinges of pain to course through your body. 

"Mmmm, open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you." He gasped, realizing you hadn't complied yet, he landed a firm slap on your cheek. "Not only are you dumb, but you're also deaf too… open. SMACK your. SMACK fucking. SMACK eyes." 

Your eyes shot open, brimming with tears, finding yourself face to face with your captor. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, dainty white lashes framing the lids, traces of dry patches on his face. He wasn't ugly. You'd honestly give him a chance if he asked you out like a decent human being.

His pace had gained traction, hips crashing against yours. You found yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure, discreetly fucking yourself against him. You wanted to protest and resist against him, but with your inhibitions lowered, you found it hard to comply. Each thrust pulling you further into the abyss that was your impending orgasm. Your lust-filled thoughts being interrupted by the stranger's incoherent mumbling.

"Tomura."

"Huh?" you whimpered, not fully understanding what he said. 

"My name is Tomura."

"Okay and mine i-"

"Shut up and say my name." Tomura's thrusts were sporadic, signaling his impending climax. "Beg me to cum…... please." 

You barely registered the final demand, not recognizing the soft tone of his voice.

"T-tomura, p-please let me cum!" you begged, right on edge needing something, anything to push you over.

Two nimble, callused fingers drew delicate circles over your clit, forcing you to writhe and sob as your orgasm coursed through your body. The feeling that followed was one of warmth as Tomura came, slowing his thrusts until he collapsed, encasing you in his arms.

Your eyes fluttered shut with your post-orgasm haze lulling you to sleep until a wet, sticky substance trickled along your inner thigh... 

What the fuck....

You nearly launched yourself from the bed, fighting to separate yourself from your captor's arms.  

"What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't use a condom," you wailed, tears perched at the corner of your eyes. You didn't have the time for a child, you were doing great in classes, your parents would reject you, you'd be stuck playing house with some stranger and-

"Stop muttering. You're fucking up my nap. I'll buy a Plan B when I wake up." Tomura mumbled into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

You continued to fight his grasp, pausing after feeling a firm pinch to your side. Fighting was futile at this point, and you couldn't fully assess the situation until you had some decent sleep. 

Closing your eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt…right?

[justgottafinishthischapter]

Writing Romance: Opposites Attract

One of the most widespread among romantic tropes is opposites attract, and with good reason. When a couple are opposites, they’re meant to be one of a few things to each other: 1. An inverse reflection of each other. 2. Compliment each other 3. Cover each other’s shortcomings

In a sense, a good Opposites Attract serves to turn two incomplete people into one solid force. If they’re a battle couple, they’ll tend to fight very well together, often balancing force and finesse, melee and ranged, or physical and magical abilities. If the show or book has a lot of time dedicated to foils and character moments, they are more likely to be the ones that each other lean on, since their opposing characters makes them interesting to react off one another. Their roles, story arcs, and backstories tend to run opposite or parallel to one another depending on the series. If one character’s arc is to mature and become more responsible, likely their partner’s arc might be to learn to loosen up and have fun, learn to trust people, or to face a trauma in their past that made them so mature at a young age.

In terms of design, opposites attract partners tend to be inverse in color schemes. Light and dark hair or eyes, warm and cool color schemes, clashing or complimentary fashion styles, etc. The degree in opposition also varies. Some opposites attract look very similar with only a slight difference, indicating that something small is what set them on different paths in life but are otherwise very similar, almost as two sides of the same coin. Other couples are stark contrasts with virtually nothing in common to really emphasize their differences so that they can better make each other whole, as shown very literally through the character of Garnet in Steven Universe. 

Femme and Butch

While typically, you’re mostly going to see this in femmeslash/yuri pairings, this dynamic is actually fairly universal. This divide focuses on a pairing where each couple reflects the values of masculinity and femininity. Although mostly used as lesbian terms, a femme and butch pairing can also be gay or heterosexual. A fashion-loving twink who cries during romantic movies dating a jock who likes sports and drinks beer is still an example of Femme and Butch. Heterosexual is rather obvious, but can also be inversed, with a tough, assertive woman partnered with a sweet, sensitive man, such as Calhoun and Felix in Wreck-It Ralph. A Femme and Butch pairing doesn’t need to check off every box on this list of traits, but these traits tend to be common in these types of relationships.

Brains and Brawn

Also known as Jock and Nerd, this romantic dynamic prioritizes the usefulness of both intelligence and brute strength. Another variation is Book Smarts vs Street Smarts. The Brains will be good at doing research, organizing, and will tend to fight more strategically while the Brawn is primarily going to be good at fighting and likely protecting the Brains from serious harm. Princess and Bodyguard is another possible example of this dynamic, albeit a little less directly.

Hot and Cold

Hot or Warm characters tend to be friendly, outgoing, upbeat, loudmouthed, temperamental, boisterous, and battle-ready. Cold or Cool personalities tend to be shy, calm, quiet, logical, reserved, serious, and emotionally withdrawn. However, while these extreme opposites of hot-head and cold-shoulder balance each other out, it’s worth discussing same heat relationships. Kiribaku is an example of a Hot/Warm relationship, as Bakugou Katsuki is an angry little spitfire with an aggressive streak, while Kirishima Eijirou is a happy-go-lucky sweetheart with a good attitude. This is sort of the same concept, just that both boys are on the warm side of the spectrum, with Kirishima being the cooler counter to Bakugou’s temperamental hot-head. This also works inversely, as the ship Tododeku is a Cold/Cool relationship. Midoriya is a shy, but upbeat young man who tends not to draw too much attention to himself, while Todoroki is stoic, logical, and a bit dense socially. In this case, Midoriya is Cool while Todoriki is Cold, with Midoriya serving as the “Hot” aspect of their relationship as the more friendly and outgoing of the two.  

Light and Shadow

This archetype is often used as a “opposite sides of the same coin” format, where the characters serve as foils to one another. In Teen Titans, Raven’s powers are dark and demonic, while Starfire’s are bright and extraterrestrial. Both girls get their powers from their emotions, but where Starfire revels in her emotions to make her powerful, Raven must suppress her emotions to retain control of her powers. As the only two girls, they stick out as the obvious foils of the group. Many times, when this trope appears, it’s in the form of Classic Paragon Hero vs Cynical Anti-Hero. Superman and Batman are a great example. Superman is a boyscout token good guy, while Batman is a brooding loner. One is the hope for justice and goodness to always triumph while the other acknowledges that people are flawed, and maybe not everyone deserves to be saved. Naruto is interesting because he has two dark reflections. The first is Sasuke. While Naruto is the golden-haired idealist who befriends villains almost as often as Steven Universe, Sasuke is a dark counter consumed by a thirst for vengeance and the power to exact it. Naruto’s other dark counter however is Gaara. Both are Jinchuriki, but whereas Naruto eventually found friends and love in his fellow genin, Gaara was very much still alone when he met Naruto, reflecting what Naruto could have become without that love and support in this life.

Protagonist and Rival

Another case of “two sides of the same coin”, most anime protagonists and their rival tend to either have very similar backstories, very similar motivations, or very similar personalities, if not some combination of the three. Both Naruto and Sasuke were abandoned in the world at a young age with the Hokage looking out for them from afar. Naruto started off having nobody, and was always reaching out hoping to connect with anyone. Meanwhile, Sasuke started with a family and lost it, and decided to keep everyone at arm’s length and isolate himself further. Rin Okumura and Ryuji Suguro are practically the same person. Both lost their families and homes due to Satan, both are strong-willed loudmouthed tough guys with a knack for leadership, and both share the goal of killing Satan. Natsu Dragneel is immature and battle-ready, but while Grey Fullbuster at least pretends to be above it, he’ll jump into a fight with Natsu practically unprompted. The main appeal of the anime protagonist and his rival is that they push each other to succeed, often coming from very similar roots, but where they end up is entirely up to the effort they put in and the path they choose to take. They both refuse to lose to each other, and that propells them to constantly want to out-do each other.

Sweet and Sour

My best friend and I are polar opposites in this sense. When we met, she was far too trusting, submissive, and far too forgiving. Meanwhile, I was a lot more cynical, mean-spirited, and unfortunately, a little more closed-minded than I’d like to admit. After five years of friendship, my friend is far more assertive, has a lot more confidence in herself, is a lot better at handling criticism, and rather than just submitting in an argument, she now has the nerve to get in someone’s face and make her point heard. Because of her, I’ve become less stand-offish, more patient and polite, less of a control freak, more aware of valuing other people’s emotions, and more tolerant of a group I hadn’t realized I’d been intolerant toward. We saw the world in such distinctly different ways that we have managed to rub off on each other, and now we’re both such stronger and more complete people for having known each other.

Serious and Goofball

A classic comedy duo, the comedian and the straight man. The Goofball character tends to be immature, a knucklehead, a jokester, and comes off as a bit inexperienced. Meanwhile, the Serious character tends to be mature, responsible, disciplined, but comes off as a bit aloof. The Goofball reminds the Serious character to have a little fun every once in a while, while the Serious character reins in the Goofball before they hurt themselves or somebody else.

Hero and Sidekick

The hero has their act together and the sidekick is just doing their best. This happens a lot in Action movies where the handsome tough guy and the hapless damsel (who he kidnaps a little too often for my liking) is just kind of along for the ride. The two live in entirely different worlds. Sometimes this comes in the variant of Starlet and Manager where one in the relationship takes center stage while the other is content to help them run their life, promote their career, and help them. Another variation is Superstar and Random Extra, wherein one person leads a very visible life in the public eye being adored by millions of fans while their partner works 9-5 in an office dealing with insurance claims. Although they coe from very different worlds and lead very different lives, that doesn’t mean they still haven’t found love in an unlikely place. Often, the reason the hero or big shot loves this random nobody is because they fell in love with them before they ever became famous, or they didn’t know/care who the celebrity was and just liked them as a person without interest in using their celebrity to climb the social ladder.

Loud and Quiet

She’s quirky, outgoing, bubbly, energetic, and talkative. Too talkative. She never shuts up. He’s quiet, simple, down-to-earth, and calm. Too Calm. He never gets excited. This pairing works to push and pull each other until they’ve harmonized. The Quiet one will be pulled out of their shell and learn to be more open and talkative, while the Loud one will learn to think before they act. This couple is divided along lines of Introversion and Extroversion, and together can navigate the anxiety-triggering unease of a social gathering, and finding joy and pleasure in just enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill the silence with pointless chatter.

To be fair, many Opposites Attract couples will fit into more than one of these archetypes, and there’s probably more I didn’t list. But if you’re wanting to create a couple that balances each other out, I hope you find this helpful to you in your writing.

[satan-chillin]

Hereafter (2/7)

Wei Wuxian is sent off of Cloud Recesses, bade by his fathers to "have fun and make friends" which, now that he thinks about it, sounds like a gross oversimplification of what the next six months away from home will entail.

If he happens to form unlikely connections, start a matchmaking, and gets unwittingly involved in the presently strained political state of the cultivation world, those are just par for the course.

Chasing after one of the famed Twin Jades of Lan, however, is an added bonus.

(Or, WWX was sent to Gusu by his fathers Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu)

Part 2 of Spirited Away Series. Part 1 here.

Also available in Ao3. Hereafter Chapter 1 here.

❆❆❆

Putting aside the Wen debacle in the orientation day and his shixiong’s leave—which Chengling had done after waiting for Wei Wuxian’s first classes to end so he could bid his junior a proper farewell—his first week was rather promising.

For one thing, he finally had the name of that Lan Disciple: Lan Zhan, courtesy name Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be surprised at the name given his display of dedication; he, of course, elected not to call him that. Lan Zhan rolled off the tongue more than Lan Wangji.

“You’re quite bold, aren’t you?” was Nie Huaisang response to that. He was a fast acquaintance and a faster friend who found Wei Wuxian a quick study and who in turn Wei Wuxian also found interesting. They got along like house on fire especially during the times Nie Huaisang proved to be a trove of gossips within the cultivation world. “I’ve known him longer, but I won’t dare address one of the Twin Jades of Lan informally."

Twin Jades sounded fitting. Notwithstanding Lan Xichen’s warm disposition and Lan Zhan’s standoffish character, Wei Wuxian could somehow understand how the brothers were said to be similar in appearance—at a glance, that was. He was quite proud to admit that he could spot numerous differences between them aside from the eyes.

Wei Wuxian hummed, absently remembering the forehead ribbon he had snatched and safely kept in a pouch at the bottom of his chest. For safekeeping. Not that it was terribly missed, he thought, not after he last noticed Lan Zhan wearing a new one.

“And you?” he asked. “What do they call you?”

“I might have earned the title of the Most Useless Young Master,” Nie Huaisang replied blithely. “I haven’t heard it directly from anyone, mind, but Wanyin might have mentioned it in passing.”

At the careless shrug Wei Wuxian got in response to his incredulous blink, he scoffed. Alright, so Nie Huaisang might not have the making of a standard cultivator—belonging from a prominent sect famous for their prowess with the saber and as a younger brother of a known cultivator might have demanded more than the average from him—but he was far from useless. While he was aware of his complete lack of martial talent combined with a weak golden core, Nie Huaisang excelled in the other aspects like the finer arts and literature.

The first time they interacted, Wei Wuxian had mistakenly thought that he cultivated with a fan and wielded it in place of a sword, but instead, they had ended up discussing the finer details of the intricate painting on his fan. Wei Wuxian lacked the aptitude for painting despite liking to watch a-die paint, and Nie Huaisang, with his own creation depicting the mountains of his homeland, was outstanding in his own right for their age.

From what Wei Wuxian knew of the Qinghe Nie Sect, Nie Huaisang must be the polar opposite of their values, with his slight build, meek personality, and overall soft nature. You’d look at him and see someone to protect instead of a protector—the impression which Wei Wuxian might have instinctually adopted as the truth. Not to mention that he was already piling up plenty of owed favor after Nie Huaisang handled the previously unruly raven Chengling left for him as a messenger bird between Four Seasons Sect and Cloud Recesses. Nie Huaisang had not only adeptly tamed the raven; he was also going into the trouble of keeping it from stern eyes together with the variety of his kept birds caught in interest.

Up to this day, Wei Wuxian still didn’t know how the raven remained silent.

“You’re not useless,” he argued, though Nie Huaisang’s pout said that he was more offended by that. “What I’m asking is what they call you if the Lan has the Twin Jades. Surely the Nie Sect aren’t blind and can see that they have an attractive young master.”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him in disbelief before an endearing tint of red broke across his cheeks that he hastily hid behind his fan. “Wei-xiong! D-Don’t say embarrassing things like that!”

Oh ho, Wei Wuxian thought gleefully. Who would have thought that a young master was unused to compliments? And he thought that was only Lan Zhan. Smirking, he touched the top of the fan with a finger and brought it down to uncover Nie Huaisang’s face teasingly.

“Huaisang!”

A scowling young master came approaching with thundering steps. Wei Wuxian racked his mind for a name; Jiang Wanyin, if he recalled correctly, who Nie Huaisang was quite close to.

He went to make a gesture of a formal greeting when Jiang Wanyin outright ignored him in favor of Nie Huaisang, glaring down at him as he barked, “Where have you been? You promised A-jie you’ll join us for lunch.”

“Ah, sorry, Wanyin. I kinda forgot,” came the nervous reply. “I’ll make it up to Yanli-jie. Promise!” Nie Huaisang glanced between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. “Speaking of which, you two haven’t been introduced yet, have you?”

“We haven’t,” Wei Wuxian said. Standing straighter, he bowed and introduced himself. Oddly enough, the mention of his name merely deepened Jiang Wanyin’s scowl, though he was not remiss in his courtesy, a little curt it might be. “Nie-xiong and I lost track of time when he showed me how to track that rosefinch by the stream.”

“Wanyin, you should come with us next time,” Nie Huaisang eagerly said. “You can teach us how to fish.” At Wei Wuxian, he shared, “Yunmeng Jiang is based in Lotus Pier so they’re near a big lake. Their disciples are very good swimmers, and Wanyin here is one of the best.”

Interestingly, Jiang Wanyin’s face colored—truly, what was with the young masters here being unused to a little bit of compliment?—though he hid it with a clearing of his throat. He didn’t seem keen to engage with Wei Wuxian in a conversation, electing to mutter, “I’ve taught you before.”

“That was years ago! You can’t expect me to remember how when I can’t even remember the lesson earlier.”

“Says the person who can memorize an anthology,” inputted Wei Wuxian. “Which reminds me—drop by later tonight. I’m going to show you something.” Nie Huaisang would definitely like his baba’s written poems.

“There’s a curfew at nine,” Jiang Wanyin retorted, crossing his arms in disapproval. “Your brother won’t like it if he heard you’ve been fooling around,” he admonished Nie Huaisang.

“Da-ge knows I’m fooling around though. Besides, what makes you think we’ll be caught?”

Wei Wuxian nodded sagely. “Nie-xiong will provide the silencing talisman, and I have an extra measure of security in my room. You’re invited too, Young Master Jiang. I’ll supply the alcohol, of course, but you have to bring in something too. Peanuts, maybe?”

“Wanyin, Yanli-jie still has lotus seeds, right?” Nie Huaisang asked. He nudged Wei Wuxian. “You have to try them.”

“Alcohol is forbidden here.” With Jiang Wanyin’s impassioned reminder, one would think he was doing very well mimicking an uptight Lan Disciple. “Just because you like breaking rules from day one means you can drag others into doing the same.”

And, oh, that was for Wei Wuxian.

Nie Huaisang smacked his folded fan on Jiang Wanyin’s arm with a resounding hit which would have been amusing, seeing as he was also adorably glaring like an angry puppy, if Wei Wuxian wasn’t befuddled at the sudden hostility from basically a stranger. It was enough, however, to send Jiang Wanyin into confused indignation that Nie Huaisang took advantage of, bodily turning him by the shoulders and dragging-ly pushed him with merely a yell of a “Later, Wei-xiong!” before hurrying away.

Wei Wuxian watched their backs, distantly hearing the unintelligible noise of bickering, and wondered what to make of Jiang Wanyin’s peculiar attitude towards him.

❆❆❆

He heard the coded knock at the exact time, and Nie Huaisang slipped in noiselessly alone.

“I went to Wanyin first. He’s already sleeping,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry about earlier. Wanyin has a temper, but he’s not normally that rude.”

Wei Wuxian waved a hand dismissively. He expected this already. “It’s done, Nie-xiong. Don’t sweat it.” Though he would rather not have Nie Huaisang apologizing when he wasn’t the impolite one in the first place.

He smiled, easing the tension on Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. With Wei Wuxian’s permission, he set on placing the silencing talismans. He observed him work, whistling lowly; he had to learn how to recreate those.

Once Nie Huaisang was done, Wei Wuxian did his own magic, gesturing at Nie Huaisang to crouch next to him. He watched with curiosity at the wooden cube half the size of a palm inlaid with a square of metal that Wei Wuxian placed where the edges of the doors meet. Pressing the metal that served as a button, tiny, curved, iron barbs embedded themselves on the wooden frame.

“There! No one will barge in on us.” At Nie Huaisang’s rapt stare, he explained, “It’s a mechanism from Longyuan Valley. They have all sorts of toys there, from locks to specialized boxes, but the most fascinating are their traps and the structure of the Longyuan Cabinet itself.”

He went into a narration of the brief history of Longyuan and how his shixiong came to be its sole disciple. Nie Huaisang was a great listener, especially when Wei Wuxian launched into tales about his known home in the middle of sharing a jar of wine.

“You know, some of our scrolls said that our clan founder originated from jianghu,” he said. “He was a butcher, but that’s as much as we know of him.”

It wouldn’t be surprising if it was true. The people of the Nie Sect were martially inclined, famous for the typical aggression that characterized the pugilists in general. Wei Wuxian would also bet that way before there had been no clear distinction between cultivators and those who did not cultivate in the same manner.

“Maybe our ancestor was like one of those martial artists who managed to achieve immortality. It’s not like they’re different from cultivators who cultivated longevity,” Nie Huaisang speculated, hiccuping slightly. “We have this regular guest in the Unclean Realm who’s not a cultivator but is a semi-immortal, I think.”

“Semi-immortal?”

“I remember seeing him around since I was a kid, and he still looks young except he has more white in his hair. It suits him since he wears all white, and if anything, he looks handsome. Da-ge thinks so too, even if he's shy to say it aloud. I know him! Not that he needs more reason to like him because he’s really strong and likes to spar as much as da-ge. He gets really happy for weeks when he’s around.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. Oddly enough, the white attire and wisps of white hair reminded him abruptly of a certain sour grandpa who he hadn’t seen for quite some time now. Grandpa Ye’s last visit at the Four Seasons Sect was three months ago.

Eventually, he remembered why he invited Nie Huaisang in his quarters past curfew, though he might be a little late in remembering seeing as they were already slurring by the time they perused baba’s original poems. At one point, Wei Wuxian whipped out his dizi, belting out random notes while Nie Huaisang whacked the table as an accompaniment, all the while singing praise to the great poet that was Wei Wuxian’s father and loudly claiming that he was ashamed of himself for not knowing him.

Thank the gods for the silencing talismans.

❆❆❆

If Wei Wuxian was asked, he’d say that it was a coincidence to stumble upon the clearing near the back hills of Cloud Recesses. If he happened to have heard that a certain young master could be found around this area, well.

A glare greeted Wei Wuxian. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m strolling the grounds and simply came across a young master diligently practicing his drills,” Wei Wuxian said airily. “Go on, Young Master Jiang.”

Jiang Wanyin clicked his tongue. “And enjoy a free commentary? No, thank you.”

“Fine. You’ll hear nothing from me. I’d love to watch and study forms from different cultivation sects. Lan Zhan made an exhibition of his, though I’m curious to see more of Lan Sect.” Jiang Wanyin looked as if he was torn between asking how in the hell he fought the Second Young Master Lan and responding with silence to discourage Wei Wuxian’s presence. The joke was on him if he thought he could send Wei Wuxian away that easy. “It was quite an evening,” he said wistfully. “In the blue night, he stands in the dark svelte and urgent. ”

Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes and turned his back, completely missing the mischievous grin. Wei Wuxian reclined languidly once Jiang Wanyin continued with his training.

He moved like someone who began training at a young age, likely as young or younger than Wei Wuxian when a-die started instructing him. While his movements were not the fluid motion of Lan Zhan, Jiang Wanyin’s were just as solid with a different center for his foundation. He had a long torso and upper limbs—a swimmer’s build that might have influenced his prioritizing of strength over stealth.

“Your form is crooked,” Wei Wuxian called. While not as adept as Lan Zhan, it wasn’t necessarily a poor balance; call him petty, but this was his payback for their previous encounter. “Your right is your dominant side, isn’t it? Placing your left foot behind your right will abort your turn halfway.”

Jiang Wanyin threw a scowl past his shoulders but minutely corrected his posture. “I’m ambidextrous,” he argued.

“Yes, that’s very amazing of you, Young Master Jiang,” came the instant reply that further irked him. “I heard that Yunmeng Jiang practices archery. Your skills must be superb.”

“It’s a rudimentary skill any Jiang Disciple should learn.” Jiang Wanyin turned to him without sheathing his sword. “And you? What does your sect specialize in?” Coming from him, the question was akin to a demand.

“Plenty,” Wei Wuxian said. “My fathers are masters of different martial arts, but they use different weapons. A-die taught me the sword, and baba the fan. There’s also a skill in disguises passed down from generation to generation by Four Seasons Lords so a-die does the same but only to those interested. Baba originally came from a family of healers so he also teaches what he learned from his father. Four Seasons Sect is connected to two more sects because of its First Disciple, my shixiong, Zhang Chengling, and through that link, Four Seasons adopted other forms of teaching to disperse among its inner and guests disciples. If you’re looking for a single specialization our sect is known for, I can’t give you a definite one since we’re more of a sum of many parts.”

Jiang Wanyin looked at him peculiarly, and Wei Wuxian could see several questions running through his head yet voiced none. Then Jiang Wanyin’s scowl morphed into a perpetual frown instead. “Is that how they met your parents?”

Wei Wuxian was perplexed. “What?”

“Your masters… fathers. They sound like worldly people. Did they meet your birth parents on the road or did they come across your sect first?” Jiang Wanyin hesitated before adding, “I know you—or at least, I’ve heard of you before from my father. He said he was close friends with your birth father, Wei Changze. He used to be a Yunmeng Jiang Disciple who became a rogue cultivator when he married your mother, Cangse Sanren, a student of the immortal Baoshan Sanren.” At Wei Wuxian’s wide eyes at every word that spilled out of his mouth, Jiang Wanyin paused. “Wait. You don’t know this?”

“I—I don’t. I’ve never—I don’t know anything about my birth parents aside from their names and occupation before they passed away.”

And Wei Wuxian used to believe that he already made peace with the knowledge, or the lack thereof. He had a father and mother who birthed him to this world, and he also had two fathers he grew up loving as his true parents, the family that he recognized. But to think that someone actually knew about his birth parents that he could remember merely vague faces of.

It was… it was…

“Oi. Don’t cry!” Jiang Wanyin said urgently. His panic, Wei Wuxian found subconsciously, was kind of funny. “I’ll tell you more—just don’t cry!”

“Okay.” Wei Wuxian wiped his face hastily. “You said you heard my name before?”

Jiang Wanyin swallowed but nodded awkwardly once he was sure that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t go crying on him again. “My father looked for you,” he said, stooping down next to him. “The news of your parents' death reached him a year late. He searched everywhere, even the streets, but he couldn't find you. If he had, then he would’ve brought you home to Lotus Pier to raise you.” He shuffled on his feet. “He kept looking for you for years, and I think he gave up when he thought you died. He mourned for you and your family. He had no idea that you were somewhere far away.”

“I was in the streets,” Wei Wuxian whispered. “I remembered that much. I think your father would have found me if baba hadn’t done so first. He… came across me in the middle of a snowstorm and brought me to his home and to a-die.” He smiled. “My home.”

He would have a different life raised next to Jiang Wanyin, calling Jiang Wanyin’s father as his too, but Wei Wuxian couldn’t imagine a life where it wasn’t his a-die who spoonfed and carried him around the Four Seasons Manor that first night he woke up with them, where it wasn’t baba who took him away from the cold and brought him to the warmth and called him ‘little one’.

It warmed Wei Wuxian’s heart to discover that his birth parents had people who had cared for them, and, by extension, him. Perhaps it was a tad selfish of him to be glad that Jiang Wanyin’s father had not found him, that Wei Wuxian would willingly endure the snow and hunger if it meant having the years he would have with his fathers.

“Thank you for telling me, Jiang-xiong.”

❆❆❆

They wouldn’t call each other friends just yet, but with Jiang Wanyin’s increasingly constant presence, Wei Wuxian could probably call him an acquaintance.

Well, he had looked after far more difficult children before.

Jiang Wanyin took it as a personal offense that Wei Wuxian lacked the basic knowledge of creating simple talismans and decided to take up the mantle of a tutor; a tutor with an incredibly short fuse for patience that his student couldn’t resist goading. As recompense, he would invite himself to Jiang Wanyin’s daily drills, offering a regular training opponent that was reluctantly accepted at first until Wei Wuxian wiped the ground with him.

They never spoke again of his birth parents, though he doubted that Jiang Wanyin had more to say beyond what his father had told him. If Wei Wuxian wished to learn more, he would have to reach out to Sect Leader Jiang.

He sighed, unable to concentrate. He escaped the confines of his room to get some air. He couldn’t sleep, and he’d rather not seek the assistance of alcohol tonight. A-die had told him once that there was no comfort of reprieve in drunkenness, only an added headache in the next morning.

It was baba’s xiao that had done wonders on the random evenings he was plagued with insomnia. Baba wasn’t here now so Wei Wuxian would have to resolve this himself. Bringing the flute to his lips, out flew the notes of his favorite ballad that baba used to play for him about a ghost king who met a wanderer with three years of his life left.

Then, as if beckoned by the lulling of the music, a Jade in white descended in front of Wei Wuxian, enrapturing as always.

He smiled. “Hello, Lan Zhan.”

[real-american]

Supernatural: A dedication to its memory and how the show changed my life

Fifteen Years. 15 years and over 300 episodes of the greatest show on TV. 15 years of joy, heartache, tears, fun and inspiration; and for me, 15 years, two marriages one divorce, two tattoos and a show that brought me the love of my life. Supernatural has impacted us all on so many levels. I could easily write a 15 page academic paper on the seasons, the meanings behind each season and all the little things that made the show so great. Things such as the music, the brothers Winchester, the family dynamic, and the beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala (my dream car should I win the lottery. Black four door version of course). I could go on about each major and minor character, how they impacted the show and what each of them meant to me and the fans but this is not what this is about. This post is about how Supernatural changed my life and how it impacted me.

First a few housekeeping things to address regarding the final season and the series finale. I thought the pre finale show was excellent but definitely could have been longer and included more. However I do understand they only had 42 minutes or so to cram 15 years of memories and characters in so I understand they had to only hit the highlights. They should do a longer version for the Blue Ray 15 season collectors set which I'm sure they will make and that I am definitely getting. Regarding the final season, I thought it was excellent. My wife, who is also a big fan of the show (more on her later) didn't think it was as good as other seasons but enjoyed it none the less. The ending was good sort of expected with the two boys ending up in heaven together, but I was surprised they killed Dean in the sort of nonchalant way they did. Sort of anti climactic for the greatest hunter in the world. The final speech to Sam was heartbreaking and heartfelt and I loved it! I also loved the symmetry of how Sam's son Dean also gave him permission to leave this world as Sam gave (original) Dean all those years later. I'm glad they didn't show who Sam's wife was and she was just left as a mysterious place holder. Originally I thought maybe they should have had him with Eileen but in retrospect the way they did it was better and honestly I'm not sure if she (or the other AU folk) were even brought back with the rest of the world. Maybe someone can clear this point up for me. I was really surprised they didn't do the "carry on my wayward son" beginning but I soon figured out before it even happened they were going to do it in the end of the episode which turned out to be much better. All in all I give the last season an A- and the finale and how it ended an A+ Again there is a lot to say about the final season, the final episode, and all the seasons but I will leave that analysis to other people. This is about what the show meant to me specifically about how it helped me through my darkest days and ushered in my brightest of days which I am living now. This is that story.

I wasn't with Supernatural from the very beginning. The show premiered in 2005 and I honestly hadn't heard anything about it or did I know anything about it for a few years. I came off active duty from the Marine Corps in June of 2005 and after fighting my beloved country's wars for a few years I was out of the loop on many things. I first came across Supernatural on TNT catching a re run here and there but with no real interest and only getting bits and pieces of the story. In 2010 I met my first wife and was a casual fan at this point seeing enough re runs on TNT to get a general idea of the storyline for the first few seasons but again only as a casual fan. At this point of my life I was also falling down a dark hole. My alcoholism which is a result of my PTSD from my combat service started to get really bad. I was drinking more than most people could handle but as my father was, highly functional. This led to me staying with and eventually marrying my first wife which was a bad idea. She cheated on me constantly and probably didn't even really love me. We were also polar political opposites (you can figure out my political viewpoints from the rest of my blog) and not compatible really in the least. Why I ever stayed with her and married her is beyond me at this point in my life. So there I was drinking my life away in a bad relationship and trying to figure out how to manage my life. Then Supernatural came on Netflix and I decided to give it a real shot. This decision changed my life.

I quickly caught up on the first six seasons and started watching the show live starting with season 7. I was hooked. I loved everything about it. Dean and Sam, Cass the car, the brotherly love, the monsters, the angels, everything but I still didn't know how this show would impact me in the end. I continued to drink myself to death getting unhealthier fatter and no longer resembling the fit Marine I once was. I was in a constant haze drinking an entire bottle of whiskey every night to drink away the pain of my bad marriage and the pain of not being loved and cheated on by my wife. Supernatural was the one bright spot in my life.

In 2014 I finally divorced my wife but this was only the first step. I continued to drink and destroy my life causing me to get fired from my job. Fortunately I was hired on back into government work making much better money and with having no wife and no kids was finally able to live a little better financially but I was lonely and alone except for the alcohol. I continued to find refuge in the bottle but also in Supernatural. I watched every episode as it came on, re watched all the old episodes, blogged and facebooked about it to the point that I am sure I was annoying the one or two friends that I had. The rest of my life was a blur. Get up, stumble into work drunk or hungover, go home sick and jonesing for my next drink, bottle of whiskey till one in the morning, a few hours of sleep and starting the whole cycle back over. I was fat, ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside, and a bad human being. My drinking got so bad I destroyed my liver and was medically discharged from my job but was given retirement for all my years of service to the federal government. So now I was 33 retired with a pension and VA disability and really nothing to do but sit at home drink whiskey and watch TV. I had no love in my life, one or two close friends who didn't like being around me anymore because of my drinking, and my family was worried but couldn't get through to me. Even after my father died of alcohol abuse in 2015 I still continued down my destructive path. Finally in February of 2017 I was hospitalized and was told I would be dead in less than a year. I truly believe I was touched by God at this point because I went home dumped out three bottles of alcohol and never touched the stuff again to this day.

Now I had to learn to relive my life all over without alcohol. I started to exercise and lose weight (90 pounds in 5 months) I went back to church, and I started to try and find love again and of course needing distraction and something to occupy my mind I dove deep into Supernatural. I re watched and re watched again all the old episodes, I poured myself into analysis of the plot lines and characters, I got tattoos on my arms (the demon trap and the anti possession symbol), I obsessed with everything Supernatural. It helped me stay sober. When I wanted a drink I would watch an episode, when I was feeling lonely I would go hang out with Sam and Dean. When I wanted to give up I took refuge in the Impala. I became a super fan. So far Supernatural got me through my divorce, was my bright spot in my alcoholic haze, and helped me stay sober when I first gave up my demons. I cheered harder during the happy moments of the show and cried harder in the sad ones. I was an emotional wreck and my feelings only seemed to come out while watching the show. Although I had quit drinking, got rid of my toxic ex wife and started to improve my life, I was still not happy. I was alone and lonely but Supernatural came to my rescue once again.

Throughout 2017 and the first part of 2018 I managed to be in two relationships. I poured myself into them grasping at them as if they were my reward for turning my life around and ignoring all the signs that they were not good relationships. I was still learning to relive my life as a sober person. I never integrated back into society after I left the Corps in 2005 and finally I was doing so but it was a hard journey. Inevitably those relationships failed and I was utterly heartbroken each time, but Supernatural was always there through the good times and the bad. When my heart was broken I would go find refuge in my favorite show forgetting about my problems and trying to help Sam and Dean solve theirs. Finally in May of 2018 I decided to try and find love again. This time it would be different and this time it was Supernatural that helped me get there.

As part of my recovery and daily routine I started to eat at my local diner everyday. Everyday from about July 2017 to the present time in this story I would go in, order 2 eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage, and toast. Everyday I would sit in the same spot at the counter (counter 6 was the name of the spot) order the same thing and even had my own special coffee mug. I knew everyone who worked there by name and they all knew me by name. They knew my order and had it ready for me when I came in. It felt like a magical place, a place that would forever change my life. There was one waitress/cook that I didn't see very often. She mostly worked the night shift but occasionally I would see her if I was there later in the day than usual or if she occasionally worked a morning shift. I was drawn to this woman. About the middle of May in 2018 I decided to maybe try and work up the courage to ask her out. I would always look for her when I went in hoping she was working that day hoping she wasn't too busy so that I could exchange a few words with her and hoping she would even notice me. Then one day in July I went in and she was there. I said hello and ate my breakfast but we didn't talk much. When I was paying for my meal the other gal working there asked  what my plans were for the day and I said oh nothing much just gonna go home and watch Supernatural. Then she turned around. The woman I had been trying to talk to, the one I wanted to ask out, Michelle was her name. She said, "I love that show I'm watching season 13 on DVD right now". I perked up a smile came across my face. Nervously I said, "oh cool yeah its my favorite show" Michelle nodded and turned back to work, I went to my car got in and smiled. I knew how I was gonna break the ice now next time. A few days later on my daily visit to the diner I went in a little later than usual. It was about 3 in the afternoon. It was dark and gloomy, raining, and cold. It felt like a Supernatural episode. It felt like a 67 Impala should have been in the parking lot and two good looking hunters should be in the corner on a laptop researching their current case. It felt like a magical moment. Turns out I was the only customer in the whole place. It was just me the waitress and Michelle who was cooking that day. They took my order without asking as the usually did and I could already see Michelle had already started cooking it. She finished and brought it to me herself. We exchanged a look and a feeling of confidence I have never had in my life overcame me and I said to her, "So are you enjoying season 13?" That is how it all began we started talking about the show. How we started watching it who our favorite characters were, how much we loved this season or that one. The conversation was seamless. We got into other get to know you topics around our conversation about Supernatural and it was like we were old friends talking about a show we loved. Eventually I got up and went to pay the waitress and she turned to go back to the kitchen in the back. Feeling an opportunity slip away I said "hey Michelle, maybe we should go get some dinner some time and watch some Supernatural together". I held my breath. She would surely smile and politely say no. She probably gets asked out all the time by the customers, beautiful woman that she is. Then she smiled and said "sure that would be great" I must have smiled so big and my heart skipped 10 beats! I got her number which she wrote on a order ticket and the rest they say is history. Ten months later I wrote ,"will you marry me" on the back of that order ticket and gave it to her at counter 6 at the diner where we met, where we first started talking about Supernatural, where my life finally changed for the better forever, and she said yes! We were married two months later on our one year anniversary and we just watched the final episode together yesterday. We both had tears, we both smiled when Sam and Dean, soulmates, were finally together at the end because we both know how it feels to be with each others soulmate. We held each others hand and said goodbye together.

Supernatural has forever changed me. It has been with me through every major event in my life over the last 15 years. Through the dark times, through the hard times, and finally through the current happy times. I guess it is ok that Supernatural is over now. I no longer need it. I have my wife, my Michelle, my soulmate. I am finally happy. I have Sam and Dean's permission to move on and they have mine. Good bye Winchesters. Good bye and thank you. You have taught me to carry on and find my peace when I'm done, and to cry no more. This is but one man's story, one of so many. How many lives has this show changed? How many people have found comfort in the adventures of Sam and Dean? I'm not sure the answer. Too many to count I would wager. 15 years and 300 episodes of the greatest show ever on TV. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  

[ojcobsessed]

Oliver Jackson-Cohen, on Bly Manor and Other Things That Haunt Him

by Diana Colcer for Cosmopolitan Romania, 24 October 2020

Energetic, suave, and anchored in the reality of the problems around us, Oliver Jackson-Cohen is part of a generation of actors looking for something else, something that will remain imprinted in the collective memory. I talked about this with the actor you know from The Haunting - by the way, the latest season, The Haunting of Bly Manor, now on Netflix, is the ideal choice for a scary night, if you want to spend Halloween at home this year. Let's see what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

"Why choose a role that's safe when you can take risks?" This is the question that came to my mind as I was documenting the interview with Oliver Jackson-Cohen. Because that's what I was gathering from the things we know about him. You first saw Oliver as Luke in The Haunting of Hill House - and now, just in time for Halloween, you can see him again alongside Victoria Pedretti in the even scarier second season, The Haunting of Bly Manor. In this adaptation of the short ghost story The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, Oliver Jackson-Cohen plays the charming and manipulative Peter Quint, a character who hides many scary secrets and… I won't give away more!

So you understand what I'm talking about: Oliver is used to playing characters haunted both by their own inner conflicts (PTSD due to childhood traumas, drug addiction, etc.) and, well, ghosts. And the answer to the question at the beginning of the text, which I did not ask out loud, was given to me while I was talking to him. Born in London, Oliver, the son of fashion designer Betty Jackson, has dedicated his entire career to a different philosophy of acting, starting from the premise that fear makes you grow, develop and get out of your comfort zone.

And that's exactly how most of his roles are. After the BBC drama Larkrise to Candleford, he starred in the Emmy Award-nominated mini-series World Without End, then in shows such as Dracula and Man in an Orange Shirt. In real life, when he "strips off" his characters, Oliver is a guy oozing charisma and sex appeal: he’s 1.91m tall and has a pair of blue eyes in which you can get really lost, an extremely attractive and a style of being (and, let’s face it, dressing) extremely cool. 

So, he’s one to watch, and, as such, we invite you to read the interview he gave us exclusively for Cosmopolitan Romania, after which we found out spectacular details about the unseen parts of horror, fashion, lifestyle and what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has something to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

What made you determined, at only 6 years old, to become an actor? Simple! I saw Home Alone at the movies and suddenly I wanted to be Kevin McAllister. I just couldn't believe a child was appearing in a movie. I remember my father explaining to me that he was an actor and then I said to myself, "Well, I'll do all that, too."

Many people who discover their dream at such a young age change their minds later. How did you stay in acting?

Looking back, it was probably a stupid thought [process]. But I became fascinated by how you can disappear into another world and how you can become whoever you want. I still think that these things are what kept up my passion for acting. I love the whole process behind this job and the way you translate into reality something that is not, in fact, real. It's also been about luck, I admit - that people pay me to do that, and that's how I make a living.

You appeared in the first season of The Haunting of Hill House as Luke Crain. I was impressed with how you managed to get Luke away from the typical drug addict stereotype. How did you avoid this cliché? I have seen many portrayals of drug addicts over the years and I wanted to show what the person behind the addiction is like, the one who is not defined by this addiction. I think that's an extremely important thing. All over the world, people are struggling with drug addiction and, most of the time, they are excluded and marginalised because of this, but also because they are seen only in this way, as addicts. I didn't intend to do this with Luke. I felt that it was essential for the public to see the man in him, to see that he is someone who is really shaken inside, someone who has lost control of what is happening to him, but who is always trying to control his addiction. 

As a society, we usually condemn or shun such people. We need more empathy in these cases, and these people need to receive the attention shown primarily to them, not to the addiction they suffer from.

When your work is so rigorous, so emotional, I imagine it consumes you a lot to play a character who has struggled with addictions all his life. How do you detach yourself from this intensity? I can't tell you exactly. I don't think you can, to be honest. For the series The Haunting… the filming was long and stressful for all the actors, but also for the crew. I think you have to gradually detach yourself from the story, as much as you can, when you get home, but at the same time, you have to stay in the character's shoes, because the next day you return to the set for a new round of filming. It was a demanding experience, but it was worth it.

Is there anything you wish you’d known before you started working a horror TV show? Or about a series with an intense family drama? Know that it's not that scary when you're filming. Not at all. I started working from the pre-production phase and I knew it was going to be a ghost series… and, initially, I had the impression that there was always “someone” in my Atlanta apartment. But from the moment you get on set, you realise that the series about ghosts is just another job. The coolest thing when you are part of a horror series is when you realise, in the end, that you can watch it [later] without any problems, because all the tension and panic are built up in the editing process.

I know you're a big fan of the horror genre in general. Is it an area you want to explore further? I think so. But I wouldn't say that I intended, from the beginning, specifically, to explore any certain genre. Everything is, in fact, in the characters. Always. If it's an interesting role, I definitely want it. But what I find incredible about this genre is that the dose of horror is often a metaphor for other elements of our lives. But when horror is done properly, it can affect us incredibly, which is true.

You're back to haunt us again in the second season of the Netflix anthology series, this time called The Haunting of Bly Manor. What can you tell me about the new character you play? I'm afraid I don't want to reveal too much and I'd rather you watch the show and form your own impression. All I can say is that the new series, Bly Manor, is completely different from the first, which I like. My current character, a young man named Peter, is the polar opposite of Luke, so for me, as an actor, he was wonderful. Ah, also don’t even try to watch this season at night, alone at home, because the plot is really creepy!

About The Invisible Man, another classic monster comeback, in which you play alongside Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid's Tale), what can you tell me? The film debates the notion of ownership of a person (editor’s note: Jackson-Cohen's character is a sociopath obsessed with control, and we don't know if he terrorises his ex-girlfriend as a ghost or if he actually staged his death). I look forward to seeing how this film will be received by the public, because Leigh Whannell is an incredible screenwriter and director. He wrote a fresh story, which I find brilliant, which follows the Invisible Man in the context of connections with other characters, but also with real people. It's a very clever movie.

How would you best describe yourself using the title of a movie?

Hm… The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, the classic directed by Sergio Leone in 1966.

Are you into fashion? Yes, I really am. I was raised by my parents who worked in the fashion industry, which influenced me quite a lot over the years.

Do you wear high-fashion pieces in everyday life? Why not?!

Your mother is the designer Betty Jackson. Has he ever given you advice on clothing style?

I don't know if she gave me style advice in the true sense of the word, but it's great to talk to her about style and clothes. Her belief has always been one like "Wear something that makes you feel good,” so I adopted this perspective as well. She is an incredible woman, with a good eye for fashion, so she often helps me.

You divide your life between London and Los Angeles. How do men groom themselves in the two cities? Have you noticed different approaches?

Probably. LA is a more eccentric place in terms of style and fashion, with more pressure to that end, at least from what I've noticed. In Los Angeles, it's more important to look good physically. In London, on the other hand, it seems more important to combine clothes and accessories in a cool and smart way.

How do you stay in shape?

I honestly don’t care. I only exercise when I have to, and when I don't have to, I eat everything I can. I go to the gym if I notice that my weight is getting out of control.

What do you like to do in your free time?

To be the laziest person. Seriously. I would love to count all the hours I’ve spent sleeping or lazing around!

[horrorhare]

I think it’s about time I collect myself and put in my own 2 cents on the RWBY V7 E12 situation.

I started watching RWBY when I was in like, 7th grade. I’ve been here since the Red Trailer. I’ve gone through this show and watched it evolve and devolve, take turns and twists and upset people over and over again. It is not the perfect show and it never was.

But there’s a huge difference between that and what happened today. This wasn’t just a little flaw, but a colossal mistake on CRWBY’s part. Very rarely do I come across media that have solid MLM rep. Sometimes it’s just “subtle”, never worked upon even if there’s obvious romance within the show. Other times it’s fetishy, stereotypical, and unrealistic. So much media treats being a gay man like it’s a problem, a sin, a mistake, a secret. I thought finally, FINALLY, a show that I really enjoy that I’ve been following since the very beginning of my own journey towards figuring out who I am, would have that representation.

I’d also like to mention that I am a storyteller, I’m majoring in Animation so I’m able to tell stories, write and design characters, develop a world and it’s people. As someone who’s studying film and media and cartoons, picking things apart to figure out what’s right and what doesn’t work, it’s incredibly frustrating to see something with so much potential be put to waste.

Why go through the trouble to design a character who’s obvious purpose was to compliment, bring up, and develop another character and then throw that all away for something “dramatic”? Stuff like in E12 isn’t “showing your true colors”, it’s blatantly written out of character. To make something like that work, you have to signal and clarify that not all is as it seems. Working up towards that “big moment” felt wasted because it never had buildup in the first place. So many people today have said it felt wrong, it felt out of place, like it wasn’t real. Well? It’s because it didn’t work.

Why did Penny’s death work? Because Metal vs Polarity was an obvious set up, Cinder could be seen insinuating she was planning something with Penny, there was obvious build up.

Why did Pyrrha’s death work? Simple, Achilles heel. Who she was based upon made it clear something was up, such a strong chadacyer had to have a weakness. From the start with the crushes and romance, team building, to the maidens and destiny to her final moments, it all made sense. Yes, it hurt, it hurt a lot to watch Pyrrha die, but it didn’t make me want to stop watching the show because it worked.

So what exactly made Clover’s death not work? Well, for one, you shoe horned him into one damn volume. Yes, Lionheart was in one volume, but he was set up to be weak and hated, he was a traitor who was hurting the cast rather than helping. Clover was set up as a perfect foil to Qrow, expected to have great character interactions with him since it was constantly teased at.

As someone who writes, who develops characters, and knows their way around animation, I saw things that I expected were going to be built upon. A professor of mine taught us to have every frame, every composition, every set up to mean something. From the way they smile, to the way they look at a character, to the dialogue, down to even the smallest bit of body language. CRWBY seemingly wrote Qrow, a broken character who was recovering, to have an intentionally complimentary queer-coded foil, only to lose all that great development and buildup to one poorly written episode.

There’s one crucial thing I’ve been taught by multiple professors, and that is the writing technique of establish and resolve.

What CRWBY established was a clearly deep connection between Qrow and Clover, a connection built upon flirtatious gestures and phrases, along with clear and exciting growth.

What CRWBY didn’t do was resolve. They did the flip opposite of resolve. Instead of taking the time to develop on an interesting conflict between characters, they took the cop out route and killed off one of them swift in order to give it “angst”. I mean, for real, it played out like I was reading something fan made, like the people who wrote it didn’t know the characters.

Why would Qrow team up with Tyrian, a serial killer whom he does not trust who has fought him, attempted to kill him, and attempted to kidnap his niece? Why would Clover, a man “loyal to his kingdom”, suddenly blindly follow Ironwood’s actions to abandon his kingdom, after being paired up with a character clearly close linked with rebellion? I’m not blind, people. The utter potential to write interesting scenes between these two is near limitless and instead they go for something completely out of no where.

Specifically, like I mentioned before, Pyrrha’s death hurt me. But I continued to watch. I wanted to keep watching because after lying down her life to protect Beacon, her friends moved forward in order to continue spreading peace to Remnant. They kept moving forward.

Why is Clover’s death so upsetting? Because after moving so far forward for so long, Qrow is going to start moving back. This show, since day one, no matter the conflict, was about pushing through and moving forward. And from what I’m seeing, Qrow has been set up to relapse. Something incredibly horrid to see after a character has made such progress.

It’s not enjoyable to watch, it’s not exciting, it’s not alluring. It’s agonizing and hurtful.

And yes, the big red cherry on top is the fact that out of all I just said, they took away the chance to have an amazing badass MLM couple that wasn’t just “a secret”, that wasn’t just “a fetish”, but something that had weight. Something that had meaning. Something that made people feel happy and represented.

This was never about our ship not becoming canon, this was about poor writing, poor development, and yet another queerbaiting scenario after decades of other shows doing the same exact thing.

All I have to say at this point, after taking a whole Saturday to grieve over this damn episode, is that I’m extremely disappointed. Volume 7 from episodes 1 to 11 have been my favorite, but it hurts to watch all that progress be completely done in by one poorly written episode.

[innuendostudios]

Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie, a video essay on how the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers recruit. Clocking in at 41 minutes, 6756 words, 633 individual drawings, and 27 sources (including three full books), it is by far the longest and most heavily-researched video in The Alt-Right Playbook. I am very tired.

It took so long to put this behemoth together that my Patreon started to dip. So, maybe a little more than usual, if you want to keep seeing videos like these, please consider backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, your friend Gabe is starting to worry you.

Gabe’s always been just, you know, a regular guy. Not very political. He likes video games, sci-fi, comics, Star Wars, and anime. White guy shit. The only offbeat thing about him is you suspect there’s like a 20% chance he’s a furry. For all intents and purposes, Gabe is a normie.

But recently Gabe’s been spending a lot of time on some radically conservative forums, and listening to radically conservative podcasts, and picking some radically conservative arguments with you and your friends. You never would have expected this, not from Gabe, and, given the speed it’s happened, it’s worrying to think where it might be headed.

How have the Alt-Right gotten their hooks into your friend?

If you’ve ever known a Gabe, this video is for you. Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie.

Step 1: Identify the Audience

What you need to know before we begin is: around 2013, the Nazis went online.

Hate groups in the US, as tracked by the Southern Poverty Law Center, had been growing in number since the noughts, but, between 2012 and 2014, they dropped by almost a quarter. Patriot groups dropped by over a third. However, hate crimes stayed about the same. Radical conservatism was not shrinking, but decentralizing. Still radical, still often violent, but now full of white nationalist nomads unlikely to join a formal organization.

This didn’t make them harmless. What it did was protect their asses from the typical hate group cycle: getting the public’s attention, making allies in conservative media, swelling their numbers, and then eventually disgracing themselves with failures, infighting, and, often enough, members committing horrific acts of violence, which come with social and sometimes legal consequences for all the other members.

So the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers these days don’t so much have members. They have hashtags, followers, viewers, and subscribers. This insulates them from their own audience. If Gabe, as a member of that audience, were to go out and commit a crime on their behalf, there’d be little doubt they had a hand in radicalizing him, but it’d be very hard to claim they told him to do it. On some of these sites, where Gabe spends hours and hours of his day, he’s never created an account or left a comment; the people radicalizing him don’t even know he’s there.

This distributed nature is what makes the Alt-Right, and the movements connected to it, unique. (You may remember a notable proof-of-concept for this strategy.) Doing almost everything online has, as compared with traditional hate movements, dramatically increased their reach and inoculated them from consequence. The trade-off, as we will see, is a lack of control.

And so we come to Gabe.

Gabe exists at the intersection of the kinds of people the Alt-Right is looking for - straight white cis men who feel emasculated by modern society, primarily, though they do make exceptions - and the kinds of people who are vulnerable to recruitment. Gabe fits the first profile in that he got bullied in high school, and often feels he has to hide his nerdy side for fear of getting ridiculed. The Alt-Right also has success with men who can’t get laid or recently got divorced or feel anxious about an influx of non-white people in their community. These things can make one feel like less than the confident white man they’re “supposed” to be. And it’s the closest they will ever come to being minoritized.

Regarding the second profile, it’s important to know that Gabe is not categorically different from you or me. He’s a cishet white dude - his problems are not unique. There isn’t a ton of research into the demography of the Alt-Right, but there may be a higher-than-average chance Gabe has a history of being abused or comes from a broken home. You don’t know if it’s true of Gabe, he’s never said. But most abuse survivors don’t become Nazis. The things that make people like Gabe recruitable tend to be situational: it happens often during periods of transition, as dramatic as the death of a loved or as benign as moving to a new city. Things that make people ask big life questions. Gabe has concerns like economic precarity, not knowing his place in a changing world, stressful working conditions. In other words, Gabe is suffering under late capitalism, same as everyone, and it’s entirely plausible he could have gone down the path to becoming a Leftist.

This is not to make an “economic anxiety” argument: the animating force of the Far Right is and always has been bigotry. But the Alt-Right targets Gabe by treating his “economic anxiety” as one of many things bigotry can be sold as a solution to. It is their aim that, when dissatisfied white men go looking for answers, they find the Alt-Right before they find us.

Step Two: Establish a Community

Were Gabe pledging an old-school hate movement, there would probably be a recruiter to usher him into an existing community. But that’s the kind of formalized interaction modern extremists try to avoid. Online extremism has many points of entry, and everybody’s journey is unique, so rather than be comprehensive we will focus on what are, in my estimation, the two most common pathways: the Far Right creates a community Gabe is likely to stumble into, or infiltrates a community Gabe is already in.

The stumble-upon method has two main branches, one of which is just “Gabe ends up on a chan board,” which we’ve already done a video about. The other is kind of the polar opposite of 4chan’s cult of anonymity: Gabe ends up in the fandom of a Far Right thought leader.

These folks are charismatic media personalities (that’s charismatic according to Gabe’s tastes, not ours; I don’t understand it, either). These personalities may gain traction on any number of platforms, from podcasts to reportage to blogging, though the most effective platform for redpilling is, and yes I am biting the hand that feeds me, YouTube. They may get Gabe’s attention through fairly standard means, like talking about or even generating controversy to get themselves trending, while some of the more committed will employ dubious SEO tactics like clickbait, google bombing, and data voids (just pause for definitions, we don’t have time).

What they tend to have in common, especially the most accessible ones, is that they don’t present themselves as entry points to the radical Right. In fact, many did not set out to be Far Right thought leaders, and may not think of themselves as such (though they are often selling products, of which the Alt-Right are among their biggest purchasers, and it’s not like they’re turning the money away). How they present is the same way anyone presents who wants to be successful on social media: accessible, approachable, authentic. The face-to-face relationship a budding extremist forms with their recruiter or the leader of their hate group’s local chapter are here folded into one parasocial relationship with a complete stranger.

Why this person appeals to Gabe is they’re not selling politics as politics, but conservatism as a kind of lifestyle brand. They rely heavily on criticizing or ridiculing the Left: feminists are oversensitive, Black people unintelligent, queer folks doomed to loneliness, and trans people insane; I dunno if it’s a coincidence that these are all things Gabe thinks about himself in his low moments. By contrast, they don’t sell conservatism as having sounder policies or a more coherent moral framework, but that abandoning progressive principles and embracing conservative ones will make Gabe happier. Remember, Gabe isn’t looking for white nationalism or misogyny, what he wants is the cure to soul-sickness, and these friendly micro-celebs are here to offer a shot of life advice with politics as the chaser. It is extremely important that politics be presented as a set of affects, not a set of beliefs.

The second pathway is infiltration, which is its own beast. Media personalities sometimes become gateways to the Right almost by accident: they do something edgy, a part of their audience reacts positively, and, facing no real consequence, they do it more; this leads to further positive reinforcement from conservative fans, the rest of the audience acclimates, and the cycle repeats, the personality pushing the envelope further and further based on what flies with their increasingly conservative audience. In this way, they become a right-wing figure by both radicalizing and being radicalized by their audience.

Infiltration is deliberate.

The Far Right will reliably target any community that has 1) a large, white, male population, 2) whose niche interests allow them to feel vaguely marginalized, and 3) who are not used to progressive critique of said interests. This isn’t to say progressive critique doesn’t exist, or hasn’t been baked into the property from the beginning, but that it has been, so far, easy for white guys to ignore. As such, progressives within that community probably don’t talk politics much, and women and minorities are perfectly welcome to post, same as anyone, but just, you know, don’t, don’t make identity politics, you know, like, a thing.

Given Gabe’s proclivities, he’s probably already in a number of fan communities where he can geek out and not get teased. And this is where the Far Right will go looking for him

Communities are at their most vulnerable to infiltration at times of political discord. This can happen naturally - say, a new property in the fandom has a Black protagonist - or it can be provoked - say, a bunch of channers join the forum and say provocative things about race to get people arguing - or both. Left to its own devices, the community might sort out its differences and maybe even come out more progressive than they started. But, with the right pressure applied in the right moment, these communities can devolve into arguments about the need to remove a nebulously-defined “politics” from the conversation.

The adage about bros on the internet is “‘political’ means anything I disagree with,” but it’d be more accurate to say, here, “‘political’ means anything on which the community disagrees.” For instance, “Nazis are bad” is an apolitical statement because everyone in the community agrees. It’s common sense, and therefore neutral. But, paradoxically, “Nazis are good” is also apolitical; because “Nazis are bad” is the consensus, “Nazis are good” must be just an edgy joke, and, even if not, the community already believes the opposite, so the statement is harmless. Tolerable. However, “feminism is good” is a political statement, because the community hasn’t reached consensus. It is debatable, and therefore political, and you should stop talking about it. And making political arguments, no matter how rational, is having an agenda, and having an agenda is ruining the community.

(Now, it is curious how the things that provoke the most disagreement tend to be whichever ones make white dudes uncomfortable. One of life’s great, unanswerable mysteries.)

You can gather where this is going: a community that doesn’t tolerate progressivism but does tolerate Nazism is going to start collecting Nazis, Nazis whose goal is to drive a wedge between the community and the Left. Once the Left acknowledges, “Hey, your community’s developing a Nazi problem,” the Nazis - who are, remember, trusted, apolitical members of the community who might just be kidding about all the Nazi shit - say, “Did you hear that, guys?! Those cultural Marxists just called all of us Nazis!” Wedge. Similarly, any community members who say, “but Nazis though” are framed as infiltrators pushing an agenda, even if they’ve been there longer than the Nazis have. They get the wedge, too.

This is how fandoms radicalize. They are built as - yeah, I’ll say it - safe spaces for nerds, weebs, and furries, and are told that the Left is a threat to their safety. Given a choice between leaving a community that has mattered to him for years and simply adjusting to the community’s shifting politics, the assumption is that Gabe will stay. This assumption is right often enough that a lot of fandoms have been colonized.

What is true of both of these methods - Gabe finding the Right or the Right finding him - is that Gabe does not come nor stay for the ideology. He’s here for the community, the sense of belonging, of being with his people, of having his fears validated and his enjoyment shared. The ideology is simply the price of admission.

Step Three: Isolate

There is a vast, interconnected network of Far Right communities out there, and Gabe is, at this point, only on the periphery. In order to keep him in, they need to disrupt his relationships to other communities, and become, more and more, his primary online social space. Having made this space hostile to the Left, they now seek to break his connections to progressives elsewhere in his life.

This is hard to do online. The whole appeal of moving radicalism to the internet is that your away-from-keyboard life doesn’t have to change. You are crypto the moment you log off. Some thought leaders will encourage their audience to cut ties with Family of Origin, or “deFOO,” but, even then, they can’t monitor whether the audience has actually done it the way an in-person movement could. And so alienating Gabe from the Left is less controlled, and, consequently, may be less total. How much Gabe isolates is up to him.

But the vast majority of Far Right media presumes an alienation from the Left. Part of conservative bloggers and YouTubers making the Left look pathetic is doing a lot take-downs and responses. This is a constant repetition of the Left’s arguments for the purpose of mockery, and, for Gabe, it starts to replace any engagement with progressive media directly. He soon knows the Left only through caricature. It also trains him, if he does directly engage, to approach the Left with the same combative stance as his role models. (For reference, see my comment section.) And this is only if he doesn’t partake in one of the many active boycotts of “SJW media.”

In addition to mocking the Left’s arguments, they also, curiously, appropriate them. This is one part sanitization: liberal centrism is more socially acceptable; indeed, many figures on the outer layers think of themselves as moderates, even as they serve as gateways to radicalism. But, also, many of Gabe’s problems could be addressed by progressive leftism, so they sell him racist, sexist versions of it. Yes, there is a problem with workers being underpaid and overextended, but the solution isn’t unions, it’s deporting immigrants; yes, there is a chronic loneliness and anger to being a man in the modern age, but it’s not because of the toxic masculine expectations placed on you by the patriarchy, it’s women being slutty; yes, wealth disparity does mean a tiny percentage of elites have more influence over culture and politics than the rest of us combined, but the problem isn’t capitalism, it’s the Jews. And it’s hard for Gabe to reject these ideas without, in the process, rejecting the progressive ideas they’re copied from; the Right’s “take the red pill” is, to the untrained eye, similar to the Left’s “get woke.” (Or, at least, the bowdlerized version of “get woke” that is no longer specifically about race which came to fashion when white people started saying it, grumble grumble.)

Take the red pill or reject them both; either is a step to the right.

As this rhetoric slips into his day-to-day conversation, even as seemingly harmless “irreverence,” it may strain relationships with people who are not entertained by this shit. Off-color comments about race and gender can certainly be wearying for female and non-white friends, which can lead to a passive distance or an eventual confrontation [“why is everyone but me so sensitive?!”], which only seem to confirm what his reactionary community says about liberal snowflakes. If he says these things on social media, he may get his account suspended, and, if he comes back under an alt, you can bet his new reactionary friends will be the first to reconnect, applaud the behavior that got him banned, and repeat should he get banned again. A few cycles of this and he’s lost touch with everyone else.

Also, his adoption of the insular, meme-laden terminology of this community makes him less and less comprehensible to outsiders.

Over time, sources of information get replaced with community-approved ones: conservative news, conservative YouTube, conservative Wikipedia if he’s really committed. The Algorithm soon takes note and stops recommending media from the Left. He stops watching shows with a “liberal agenda,” which usually means shows starring women and people of color. Now, there is evidence that the human mind responds to fictional characters similarly to real people, and that consuming diverse media can decrease bigotry in ways roughly analogous to having a diverse group of friends, which is one of many reasons we say representation matters. By consuming a homogenous media diet, Gabe stymies his ability to have even parasocial relationships with anyone who isn’t a cishet conservative white dude or one of their approved exceptions.

To the extent that any of this happens, it happens at Gabe’s discretion and at his own chosen pace. It has not been forced on him, only encouraged and rewarded. But the fact that it hasn’t been forced can make him all the more willing to accept it, because it seems safe to consider; even though his life and social circle are changing to accommodate, he does not feel committed. But many Gabes have walked these halls, and, if they close the door behind them, there’s nowhere left to go but down.

Step Four: Raise their Power Level

(...and they say we ruined anime.)

Consider the ecosystem of the Alt-Right as layers of an onion, with Gabe sitting at the edge and ready to traverse towards the center. (No, I’m not just going to reiterate the PewDiePipeline, though, if you haven’t seen it, go do that.)

The outer layer of the onion is extremism at its most plausibly deniable. Without careful scrutiny, the public-facing figureheads could pass as dispassionate, and the websites as merely problematic rather than softly fascist. It is valuable if Gabe believes this as well; that, at this stage, he believe the bigotry is simply trolling, the extremists an insignificant minority, and any report of harassment faked. That he believe where he is is as deep as the rabbit hole goes. And that he continue to believe this at each successive layer.

People in the deepest crevices of the Alt-Right self-report getting redpilled on multiple issues at different times in their journey to the center of the onion. If Gabe’s first red pill is about the SJWs coming for his free speech, he’ll think that’s all anyone in his community believes; there’s no racism here, people are just making a point about their right to use slurs. Then, when he gets redpilled on the white genocide, he’ll laugh at those Alt-Lite cucks who tried to sweep the race realists under the rug, and at himself for having once been one, but acknowledge that those channels and websites are still useful for onboarding people, so he won’t denounce them. At the same time, nobody takes those manosphere betas seriously.

And this process is reiterated with every pill swallowed: gender essentialism, autogynephilia, birtherism, Sandy Hook truth, pizzagate, QAnon if he’s really out there. The heart of the onion is typically the Jewish Question, but these can happen in any order, and in any number. But each layer sells itself as being, finally, the ultimate truth. Each denies the validity of the others; the layers ahead don’t exist, they’re made up my liberals, while the people behind are asleep where you are now awake. That’s why they chose “the red pill” as their metaphor: take it, and everything will be revealed. That’s why it cozies up with conspiracism. But what’s supposed to follow is that this knowledge help Gabe in some way, and it doesn’t. Blaming immigrants doesn’t actually fix the economy, and hating women doesn’t make men less lonely. But, having been alienated from everything outside the onion, once that sinks in, the only recourse on offer is to seek out the next pill.

And pills are easy to find. Those within the network have laissez-faire relationships, even as they, on paper, disavow one another. When they need a source or a guest host, they aren’t going to go to the Left; they’re going to feature each other. The Left is the enemy; their ideas are beneath consideration, and the only reason to engage them is for public humiliation. [Shapiro’s book.] But you can interview “western chauvinists” and that doesn’t mean you’re endorsing them, just, you know, it’s fine to hear ‘em out, nothing should be off-limits in the marketplace of ideas. Besides, Nazis are apolitical.

And because these folks keep showing up in each others’ metadata, regardless of what they say, Google thinks there is definitely a relationship between the guy “just asking questions” and the guy denying the Holocaust. Gabe is softly exposed to many flavors of conservatism just slightly more radical than he is now, and is expected, at the very least, to not question their presence. This is an environment where deradicalizing - listening to the Left - would be sleeping with the enemy, but radicalizing further? You do you, buddy.

Gabe’s emotional journey, however, is somewhat more complex. If you’ve spent any time reading or watching reactionary media you’ve probably noticed it’s really. fucking. repetitive. It’s a few thousand phrasings of the same handful of arguments. Like, there’s only so many jokes about attack helicopters! But these people just crank out content, and most of it’s derivative; the reason to pick one personality over another isn’t because they say something different, but because they say it differently. Gabe just picks the affect it’s delivered in.

Repetition dulls the shock of the most egregious statements, making them appear normal and prepping him for more extreme ideas. Meanwhile, the arguments themselves? They’re not good. (BreadTube will never run out of shit to debunk.) They are repetitive because they’re not good. They’re mantric. A good argument you only need to hear one time; if you can follow it, internalize it, and explain it to someone else, you know you’ve understood it. But a bad argument can’t convince you on its own merits, so it will often rely on affect. This can be the snappy, thought-terminating cliche, or the long, winding diatribe that sounds really sensible while you’re hearing it but when someone asks you for the gist you can only say “go watch these 17 videos and it’ll all make sense.” Both these approaches are largely devoid of content, but, gosh, if they don’t sound sure of themselves.

And that mode can be very persuasive, but it doesn’t stick the way a coherent argument does. It needs to be repeated, the affect replenished, because the words matter less than the delivery. There needs to be a steady stream of confident voices saying “we’ve got this figured out and everyone else is stupid” or Gabe’s gonna notice the flaws. They are not well-hidden.

And the catch-22 of returning to that stream over and over is that these communities are stressful even as they are calming. People afraid they will die virgins go to forums with people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, you will die a virgin.” People afraid Syrians are coming to kill us all watch videos by people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, Syrians are coming to kill us all.” Others have already pointed out that rubbing your face in your worst anxieties is a form of digital self-harm, but I need to you understand the toxic recursion of it: Gabe is going to these communities to get upset. Every emotion is converted into anger, because sadness, fear, and despair are paralyzing but anger is motivating; Gabe feels less helpless when he’s pissed off. And so, while he’s topping up on reassuring nonsense, he’s also topping up on stress. And, being cut off from everything outside the network, the only place he knows to go to release that stress is back to the place that gives it to him. It’s a feedback loop, pulling him deeper and deeper on the promise that, at some point, relief will come.

It is a similar dynamic that keeps people in abusive relationships.

When someone in Gabe’s community makes a racist joke, they are presenting Gabe with a choice between the human interaction of laughing with his friends and his societal responsibility not to be a fuckin’ racist. And not laughing seems ridiculous; everybody’s friends here; no one’s getting hurt; this is harmless. And so the irreverent race joke draws a line between the personal and the political, and suggests that one can be safely prioritized over the other. One way to look at radicalization is being asked to stick with that seemingly innocuous decision as the stakes are raised incrementally: first with edgier humor, and then comments that are funny because they’re shocking but you couldn’t really call them jokes, and then “funny” comments that are also sincerely angry, but, in each instance, since he laughed with his bros last time, it stands to reason he should keep favoring the personal over some abstracted notion of “politics.”

This is why the progressive adage “the personal is political” is among the most threatening things you can say in these spaces.

I’m not trying to make a slippery slope argument. Most of us who laughed at edgy jokes when we were teenagers didn’t grow up to be Nazis. It is a slippery slope in the specific context of being in community with people trying to radicalize you. Gabe is a lonely white boy in need of friends, and laughing at a racist joke is personal, while not laughing is political. Staying in a community that has Nazis in it is personal, and leaving is political. The personal is what brings people together and the political drives them apart. (The “only if some of them are bigots” part of that sentence is usually lopped off). There’s this joke on the internet that nerds perceive only two races: white and political. Following that logic, what could be more apolitical than an ethnostate?

They are banking on his willingness to adapt his beliefs to suit an environment that meets a need. That same need can be satisfied by white nationalism. There are few things more seductive to people who doubt their own worth than being told you are valuable simply for being white. And you can sub in male, cis, straight, allosexual, or able-bodied. It just takes priming: by the time Gabe officially embraces bigotry, he’s already been acting like a bigot for months. The red pill is simply the moment he says it out loud.

Change Gabe’s surroundings, and you change Gabe.

Step Five: ???

The final step in a traditional extremist group would be getting a mission. But that is one thing the Alt-Right can’t do. Once you start giving clear directives, you can’t play yourselves off as a bunch of unaffiliated hashtags and think tanks; you are now a formalized movement accountable to its followers, and can be judged and policed as such.

To my mind, Charlottesville was an attempt to become such a movement, taking things offline and getting all the different groups working collectively. And, as so often happens when these people get in the same space - especially with no official leaders or means of control over their members - it backfired. Their true colors came out before they were ready and a counter-protester lost her life.

This would be the point where, historically, an extremist group starts to disintegrate. Their veneer of respectability gone, they’re now hated by the public, the media wants nothing more to do with them, and everyone not in jail turns on each other or goes underground. This is also the point where the liberal establishment says, “My job here is done,” and utterly fails to retake control of the narrative, allowing the next batch of radicals to pick up more or less where the last one left off.

But to an already-decentralized group like the Alt-Right, Charlottesville was bad but eminently survivable. People retreated back to the internet, with its code words and anonymous forums, but that’s where much of the work was already done anyway. The platforms where they organized kept tolerating them, the authorities still didn’t classify them as terrorists, and any disgraced figureheads were replaced with up-and-comers.

The major change in strategy is that it doesn’t seem anyone has tried to formalize the Alt-Right since.

So where does that leave Gabe? He’s gone through this whole process of largely hands-off indoctrination - and I should stress his journey may look like what we’ve outlined or it may look different in places, this video is not comprehensive - but now he’s swallowed every pill he cares to, he blames half a dozen minorities for everything he sees as wrong with the world, and no one will give him anything to do. You’ve got this ad hoc movement frothing young men into a militant fervor and then just leaving them to stew in their own hate. Should we really be surprised at how many commit mass shootings?

This is a machine for producing lone wolves.

Leaving men to take up arms of their own volition is a way of enacting terror while being just outside the popular conception of a terror cell. There are also, of course, more classic militias that will offer Gabe clear directives - they’re recruiting from the same pool. And Gabe may stop short of this step, settling in a middle layer that suits him or finding the inner layers too extreme. But violence is the logical conclusion of an ideology of hate, and, should Gabe take this step, he can approach violence in the same incremental fashion he approached conservatism.

He can start with yelling at people on Twitter, and then maybe collective brigading, DDoS attacks, sharing dox, leaking nudes, calling their phone numbers, texting them pictures of their houses from the sidewalk. These acts of cruelty become games of oneupmanship within his community. All this can start as far back as Step 2, and get more intense the deeper he goes. Some people join explicitly partake in harassment and violence the way Gabe joined to talk about anime.

But this behavior can serve as a kind of buy-in. The Left and the feminists and the LGBTQs and the Muslims and the immigrants are all, within his community, subhuman. You’ve maybe heard the conservative catchphrase “feminism is cancer”; well don’t treat cancer by having a respectful exchange of ideas with it, but by eradicating it down to the last cell. Cruelty against the Left is framed as righteous.

From any other perspective, posting someone’s bank information is something you might feel ashamed of. Which creates a psychological imperative not to consider other perspectives. A thing that keeps people in is staving off the guilt they will reckon with the moment they step out. Gabe is also aware that anything he’s done to the Left could be done to him if he leaves; some communities even keep dox on their members as insurance. And the things he’s been encouraged to do to the Left will likely make him feel that the Left would never take him now; the radical Right is the only home he’s got. Harassment becomes another tool of isolation.

Steadily, options for Gabe are whittled down to being a vigilante or a nihilist. There are periods of elation: moments the Alt-Right feels it’s winning - or, more accurately, the people they hate are losing - are like cocaine. They are authoritarians, after all. But the times in between are mean and angry. They are antisocial, starved of emotional connection, consuming incompatible conspiracies that may at any point run them afoul of one another, devoted to figureheads who cater to but cannot risk leading them, and living under constant threat of being outed to the Left or turned on by the Right for stepping out of line. Gabe took this journey for the sense of community and purpose, and, but for the rare moments everything goes their way, the Alt-Right can’t maintain either. They can only keep promising his day will come, a story he could get from a $5 palm reading.

The feeling there’s nothing left but to kill yourself or someone else is so common it’s a meme.

But there is always a third option: Gabe can leave.

Pre-Conclusion: For Fuck’s Sake Do Not Make Gabe Your Whole-Ass Praxis

Before we continue, I want to state plainly that Gabe went off the deep end because he found a community willing to tell him that, because he is a cishet white man, the world revolves around him. Do not treat him like this is true.

If a fraction of the energy spent having debates with America’s Gabes were spent instead on voter re-enfranchisement, prisoner’s rights, protections for immigrants, statehood for DC and Puerto Rico, and redistricting, Gabe’s opinions, in the societal sense, wouldn’t matter. Reactionary conservatism is a small and largely unpopular ideology that is only so represented in our culture and politics because they’ve learned how to game the system.

And I get it. Those are huge problems that are going to take years to address, where, if you know a Gabe, that’s a conversation you could have today. And, if you think you can get through to him, it is worthwhile to try. This is a fight on many fronts and deradicalization is one of them. But it is only one, so please keep it in perspective. It sends an awful message when we spend more time trying to get bigots back on our side than we do the people they are bigoted against.

Your value as a lefty does not hinge on whether you can change Gabe’s mind.

Conclusion: How Gabe Gets Out

He may just grow out of it. These communities skew young, and some folks hit a point where hanging with edgy teens doesn’t feel cool anymore.

He may become disillusioned after the movement fails to deliver on its promises.

He may become disillusioned if something goes wrong in his life and his community isn’t there for him, if he feels they like his race and his gender but don’t actually care about him.

He may be shocked if he sees the Alt-Right at its worst before being appropriately conditioned. Charlottesville was a step too far for a lot of people.

His community may turn on him for any perceived unorthodoxy, and he may leave out of necessity.

He may be separated by circumstance from the community - a trip with no internet, hospitalization, arrest - and not be able to top up on the rhetoric. This may lead him to question his beliefs.

His community may disappear, either tearing itself apart or getting shut down by authorities.

He may have incidental contact with populations he’s supposed to hate, and have trouble reconciling who they are in person with what he’s been told about them. In his community, people bond over shared intolerance, but, suddenly, being tolerant helps him make friends. (This is one reason the Alt-Right has made a battleground of the college campus.)

He may form or revisit relationships outside the network, people who can offer him the connection he’s been looking for. This may reintroduce outside perspectives. More importantly, it rekindles his ability to have healthy relationships at all, something the Alt-Right has estranged him from.

As with recruiters, it seems these “escape hatch” relationships can sometimes be parasocial; coming to respect a public figure who is on the Left, or is critical of the Alt-Right.

Someone he is close to may compel him to choose, “me or the movement.” A lot of young men leave to save a romantic relationship.

Hearing stories from people who’ve already jumped may help; there aren’t a lot of public formers, and some raise suspicions as to their sincerity, but it is getting more common, and may be the closest we get to exit counseling for the Alt-Right.

He may become aware of the ways he’s being manipulated, or have them revealed to him, maybe because he stumbled into BreadTube, I dunno. Knowledge that you are being indoctrinated is no guarantee it won’t work - you are not immune to propaganda - but it can help one resist.

And he may revisit a core belief system that used to guide him, be it religion or social justice or a really wholesome fandom, and be reminded of the identity he used to have.

Moments like these, in isolation or in aggregate, can inspire Gabe to jump. They are also good times for friends to intervene. The reach and the impunity that comes with the internet means it has never been easier to fall into reactionary extremism. It has also never been easier to get out. People who exit skinhead gangs often fear for their lives; for Gabe, there’s a chance getting out is as simple as going to a different website. Much of his community does not know his name or his face and he may not important enough to dox.

What doesn’t get Gabe out - not reliably, not that I have seen - is an argument with a stranger who proves all his facts wrong and his ideology bunk. Facts don’t always work because facts don’t care about his feelings. This was about staying in a community, and holding onto an identity, that mattered to him. It was about belonging, and that is something a rando from the other side of the culture war can’t give him and probably shouldn’t be responsible for.

The theme here is human connection. Before he can do the work of disentangling himself, and facing the guilt of what he’s believed and maybe done, he has to know there’s somewhere for him on the other end of it. That the Right hasn’t ruined him. They’ve told him all of history is groups fighting each other over status, and, without his clan, he’ll be an exile. He needs a better story.

I don’t know that lefty spaces are ideal for this, in no small part because bringing someone who’s a bit of a Nazi but working on it into diverse communities is… questionable. And it probably wouldn’t be good for him, either; having just gotten out of a toxic belief system, he’s going to be deeply skeptical of all ideologies. In a perfect world, people who care about Gabe could build for him - to use a therapy term - a holding space. Someplace private - physical or digital - where Gabe can work out his feelings, where he is both encouraged and expected to be better but is not, in the moment, judged. That comes later. It is delicate and time-consuming work that should not be done in public, but we find these beliefs, built up over the course of months or years, tend to fall away very quickly with a shift of environment. Change Gabe’s surroundings and you change Gabe.

But, instead, a lot of people who jump are functionally deprogramming themselves, which is working for a lot of them, but it’s haphazard, and there are recidivists.

If you don’t personally know a Gabe, or have training as a counselor, you may not be in a position to help him. Possibly there are things you can do to disrupt the recruitment process or prevent infiltration of spaces you’re in - I’m looking into it, but talk to your mods - but, elephant in the room: meaningful change will require reform on the part of platform holders. Tools to disrupt this process already exist and are being used on groups like ISIS, but they’re not being used on the Alt-Right because they try oh so very hard not to get classified as terrorists (and also any functioning anti-radicalization policy would require banning a lot of conservative politicians, so there’s that...).

But what makes our story better than theirs is that the fight for social and economic justice, though it is long, and difficult, and frustrating, when it works, it fulfills the promise the Right can’t keep: it materially make people’s lives better. I am not prone to sentimentality, or to giving these videos happy endings. But one thing we have that the Alt-Right doesn’t is hope.

[thankskenpenders]

So, about the movie...

At long last, a week after it came out, I was finally able to see the Sonic movie. The Daytona 500 being held across the street from my favorite theater and conflicting work schedules had been keeping me away, but now I’ve finally seen it. And it was...

Decent!

Which is way, way, way, way, way better than a movie with this awful premise has any right being. That’s for damn sure. I enjoyed my time at the theater. I don’t know how they did it, but they did it. If you like Sonic and haven’t already seen it, you will probably get a kick out of this film. If you don’t like Sonic (or Jim Carrey), there is very little in this movie for you

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, it’s time to break that whole movie down. This will contain full spoilers for the Sonic movie

This movie kinda gave me deja vu because it’s set up so similarly to the Bumblebee movie. Both open with a slavishly faithful CGI sequence on another planet to ensure long time fans that the creative team gives a shit, but a conflict sends the title character to Earth. There, they form an emotional bond with the human lead as they’re pursued by the bad guys, who are working with the US government and tracking the energy signature of the title character. This setup worked extremely well for Bumblebee, because it’s so similar to the usual plot of Transformers. For Sonic, it was... a mixed bag. But it worked better than I expected

(This shot does not happen in the movie.)

That opening though, huh? Green Hill Zone looked great, and I was pleasantly surprised to see they did, in fact, use the Hyper Potions track from Sonic Mania in the actual film. (The piano rendition of the Green Hill theme used later was also lovely.) Longclaw was also interesting. I’ve seen one person bring up all the bird-themed ruins in Sonic 1 and 2 as a possible source of inspiration for the character, and I think that’s a valid take. And man, the echidnas! I wasn’t expecting that AT ALL. I guess that was probably the Knuckles Clan or something? I would never, ever picture them being alive during Sonic’s lifetime, but like... I guess Knuckles had to come from somewhere, right? If they do another movie with Knuckles, will the rest of his kind have died out?

Sadly, though, this sequence felt like it was over in a heartbeat. We barely see Sonic’s life on his home planet, and we’re expected to feel emotional over Longclaw’s sacrifice when she only gets like three lines before Sonic is sent to Earth. This is a common theme with the film--it goes for these big emotional beats that it just does not earn with its rapid fire pacing

Anyway, then we fast forward and Sonic’s a teen. This is actually kind of an interesting one if you’re constantly neck deep in Sonic Character Analysis like me, because it’s a pretty different take on the character. It’s hard to give them credit for doing something somewhat fresh with the character, though, because like... how much of that was intentional, and how much was just Hollywood writers trying to squeeze a generic action-adventure movie out of Sonic? (Honestly, it’s probably mostly the latter.)

The closest other piece of Sonic media to the movie would probably be Sonic X, a story in which Sonic isn’t really the protagonist. The Sonic of the anime is fairly emotionally distant. He cares deeply about his friends, and does nice things for them, but he’s totally fine with running off on his own for extended lengths of time, and he doesn’t really talk about his feelings. He’s not the character the audience is meant to sympathize with, but is instead this cool older kid who Chris wants to impress. This is pretty much in line with how Sega likes to depict the character. He cares about his friends, but he’s also cool with being a loner. It feels like he only runs into them incidentally, usually when Eggman is causing trouble, and then when the crisis of the week is taken care of he’s back to going on his own adventures. There’s a reason why one of his catchphrases is “long time no see”

The Sonic of the movie is the polar opposite. His main conflict is that he’s lonely and desperately seeks friendship. He’s also an overly-eager, extremely earnest goober. He literally flosses twice. (Which I loved.) I’ve seen him compared to Silver, and honestly, that’s not a bad comparison. I did like it, though! I don’t mind Sonic being a more emotionally open character, like he was in a lot of older Western media. I mean, he cried in like the second or third episode of SatAM

It’s just that, like many things in the movie, it feels less like a deliberate creative choice and more like a logical string of decisions to make when writing a generic action-adventure film for general audiences. Sonic’s the only one of his kind on Earth, so of course he’d be lonely. He has to have some sort of arc for audiences to connect with him, and if he’s gotta be accompanied by James Marsden for the whole movie, well, his arc’s gotta be about them becoming friends

I’ve gotta say, though: Ben Schwartz is great as Sonic. As much as I like Roger Craig Smith, I wouldn’t complain if he became the new main voice of the character. And thanks to the redesign, he looked great. I can’t imagine how nightmarish this movie would’ve been if Sonic wasn’t cute

My main fear with this movie, though, was that Sonic wouldn’t really be the protagonist. As a fan of Transformers, I know all too well that the cost of doing a full CGI character usually means that said character can’t really be the star of the film. Optimus and Bumblebee aren’t the stars of the Transformers movies--they’re supporting characters who are primarily present for the sake of the action scenes. The humans are the real stars in those movies, and the robots are barely even characters. I was terrified that Sonic would be the same, with the actual character I paid to see taking a backseat to James Marsden The Cop

I’m not quite sure if they struck the right balance there, but they did better than I worried they would. Sonic is central enough to the film and gets enough screentime that you can easily say he’s the protagonist. BUT there is absolutely too much of Tom and his family. The human cast is fine, the performances are fine, and there were a few good jokes, but every time the movie tried to get me to care about Tom’s life I was bored out of my mind. It’s just so trite and passionless. The other characters barely felt fleshed out at all, including Tom’s girlfriend (wife?) and Agent Stone. The little girl who gives Sonic the shoes had some cute moments, though

I do, however, love the part in which James Marsden is walking around in a San Francisco t-shirt, to remind us that he’s planning on moving to San Francisco... which then becomes the excuse for Sonic to think about San Francisco and accidentally send his warp rings there, which becomes the excuse for the buddy road trip aspect of the film. And as much as that was a focus of the marketing, the actual road trip part is like... maybe 20 minutes of the movie? There’s like three scenes with Sonic and Tom on the road and then they’re in San Francisco for act 3. The movie tries to act like they’ve formed this deep bond and I just did not give a shit. I don’t care about the cop. All Cops Are Bastards, and that absolutely includes Tom, whose dream in life is to join the extremely corrupt San Francisco PD

The whole excuse for Sonic having to sit in the passenger seat of a car going the speed limit for a good chunk of the movie is also, just. Stupid. If he doesn’t know where San Francisco is and time is of the essence, just... give him a map?

And then there’s Jim Carrey. I was worried about this one. The previews tended to highlight his most Jim Carrey Being Wacky moments, and as fond as I am of movies like The Truman Show and Bruce Almighty, that’s just. That’s not Robotnik. I was pleasantly surprised by the actual movie, though! I thought he was pretty good. I’m not sure what incarnation of Eggman I’d most compare him to, but like... it was close enough, and he was entertaining enough. I’d pay to go see another movie with him as Robotnik. Sure. (Especially with how he was looking at the end of the film.)

There were some other little interesting tidbits here with Eggman, although again, a lot of that is less “let’s do a new take on Eggman” and more “let’s do a marketable movie with Eggman in it, which requires us to explain some stuff.” Like him straight up just being a normal human from Earth, with none of the confusion present in the current “two worlds” canon of the games. Or him apparently being an orphan who was bullied in school, and who trusts machines more than other humans. It’s a safe way to depict the character in a Hollywood movie, but I thought it worked

The way they got to his nickname was kind of funny, though. Like, obviously they didn’t put Jim Carrey in a fat suit, and thank god for that. So instead of mocking his weight, the nickname is derived from the egg-shaped robots he uses. Which made sense, I guess. It at least felt logical for this incarnation of Sonic, who had annoyingly been calling Tom “Donut Lord” the whole movie, to make up the nickname “Eggman.” (Said robots, by the way, were a weak point of the movie to me. They just didn’t have that Eggman whimsy and felt very safe and very Hollywood. Honestly, though, if they had just made Robotnik’s ship grey and slapped some hazard stripes on it, it’d probably be fine.)

As a whole, I thought the humor of the movie was... okay. Sonic had a lot of good moments thanks to Schwartz’s great performance, as did Robotnik. There were just so many weird lines, like James Marsden telling Robotnik that he was breast fed, or the agonizingly long child trafficking joke with Sonic in the duffel bag. Stuff like that

The action was great, though. They definitely owe a lot to the Quicksilver scene in that one X-men movie (I forget the one), but they had a lot of fun with Sonic’s powers and it felt extremely true to the character. Seeing him do one of his Smash poses during the San Francisco fight was great. The action scenes were an absolute delight

And then the ending. Oh, that ending

So, I had already heard that Tails shows up in the stinger before I saw the film. And when I heard that, I expected it to be like, the classic Tails origin story. Maybe Sonic would return to his planet, and run into this precocious kid who decides to follow him around... but no! Not at all! Tails is already the Tails we know and love. He’s already an inventor, he’s already tracking down Sonic. I’m shocked that Sonic actually stayed with Tom instead of running off to have new adventures, but hopefully this is a sign that more characters will be brought into the fray if they make a sequel

And boy, they better make that damn sequel. This movie had a great opening weekend and a positive reception. They have no excuse not to. GIVE US SONIC AND TAILS GOING ON AN ADVENTURE

Other stray thoughts

Holy shit they put Sanic in the movie

The Sega logo animation meant that Kiryu from Yakuza was in this movie for a few seconds

The pixel art credits sequence, which featured both the Sonic 2 special stage and Get Blue Spheres as well as the Eggman logo screens from the Studiopolis Zone boss, was cute

The Saturn logo could be seen on the diagram of the other habitable planets

Robotnik had a label for “Badniks” on his circuit breaker. I wonder if the drones in the movie are intended to be Badniks, or if we’ll see actual ones if a sequel gets made

Also, was it implied that Robotnik committed war crimes for the US government

One of the government guys who I think only got one line was played by Garry Chalk and as such sounded exactly like Optimus Primal

I can’t tell if Sonic getting a red race car bed was an intentional shout out to the Archie comics or if it’s just a coincidence, but I loved it

A dude about my age wearing a Sonic Mania t-shirt literally stood up and clutched his head in shock when Tails showed up

After the movie a very excited kid got his mom to take his photo with the Sonic display in the lobby. Afterwards he was so excited that he flossed

I can’t believe they talked about Olive Garden so much

[aj-anime-blog]

Deca-Dence - Review!

Wooooo Deca-Dence!

Deca-Dence was a summer 2020 anime, and that’s when I originally watched it! I've watched it about a dozen times since, as it landed itself right on my roster of my favorite animes, if not my favorite of all time.

Deca-Dence is an original piece, so no manga source material (whaaat!) and comes from the genius brain of Yuzuru Tachikawa, the director of other fan-favorites like Mob Psycho 100 and Death Parade (a review for Death Parade is in the making!). Original mangas are such a hit-or-miss recently, and I think that this one got the bullseye!

What's our concept?: Set in the future, the world is now plagued by monsters known as Gadolls. In an attempt to keep humans safe from them, mobile fortress Deca-Dence was constructed, where Gears, who live near the top, fight the Gadolls, and Tankers, who live at the bottom, provide support from inside Deca-Dence. Our protag, Natsume, is a Tanker who wants to fight with the Gears, but her prosthetic arm keeps her out of battle. That is until she meets Kaburagi, an older Tanker who seems to know his way around fighting and might have more to him than he lets on.

It's gonna be hard to go through this without spoilers, but I promise that I'll keep it spoiler-free until the section at the bottom!

So overall, what do I think?: 10/10! I've already said it, but Deca-Dence is one of my favorite animes of all time, and it deserves the spot! It has incredible characters, a story that keeps you hooked even through twists and turns, and a pace that manages to cram so much plot into only 12 episodes without feeling overwhelming or rushed! Deca-Dence presents ideas that, at the surface, may seem overused or old, but spins them in such a way that they're completely original. It follows through with character relationships, making them worthwhile and fulfilling.

Let's start with the story this time!: 10/10!! It's going to be really hard to explain the beauty of Deca-Dence's plot without spoiling it, but I'm doing my best! I really do recommend just giving the show a try, though, as it's really worth it! (Don't just drop it after episode 2, like a lot of people did :( That's just judging it wayyy too early!!)

Deca-Dence has a story that's thrilling and new. Everything that happens builds off of itself in a way that's natural and smooth. The elements of the story, no matter how different they may seem, play their part and work together well. The show isn't predictable either - don't go in thinking that you know what's going to become of it. Each twist feels surprising and new without feeling like they're coming out of left field.

I won't say much more in fear of ruining it, but Deca-Dence's story holds up well, and with its strong cast of characters supporting it, it becomes absolutely suburb. I think a lot of people fell into this pit of seeing only the beginning and tossing it aside, but no matter how strange the concepts in it may be, they wind together to form something really unique!

So those characters, huh?: 11/10, I love them so much! I'm a character nerd through and through, and Deca-Dence sends my little character-obsessed heart wild. The protags, Natsume and Kaburagi, are both fascinating, have incredible development, and engage in a character dynamic that is so natural and well-written that I never doubted it.

To be honest, Natsume doesn't have a personality that's anything new. She's young, determined to a fault, naive, and a complete sweetheart. She wants to fight the Gadoll and she'll do anything to achieve that dream. She's not a natural at fighting but her motivation to do so makes her believable and relatable. She's looked down upon because of her prosthetic arm and forced into a job that she doesn't like, but she never gives up on her goals. Even though she's so simple, her interactions and energy make her lovable and a wonderful protagonist.

Kaburagi follows the washed-out warrior trope, as he's an older man assigned to clean-up duty who keeps to himself and never shows too much emotion. While this type of character can sometimes get annoying, the show gives Kaburagi enough time to show his real feelings and explain how he got to his position. This proper development keeps him down-to-Earth and shows him as even more flawed than Natsume. Kaburagi's motivation, which I can't explain for spoiler reasons, is entirely believable and explains perfectly why he decides to put up with Natsume, even though she's his polar opposite.

The relationship between the two characters is balanced and beautiful. It's given the proper time to grow, mature, and ends up being extremely worthwhile. Natsume relies on Kaburagi, as he sees the potential in her and continues to support her in ways no one else ever has, and Kaburagi understands that Natsume is everything that he's trying to rebel against. Their relationship is emotional, runs deep, and leaves you wishing that there was more of them to watch, even after the show has ended.

The villain! The villain. I cannot talk all that much about the villain at the risk of spoiling. He is evil. I really really hated him, and that is a very good thing because it means that he's well-written. His motivation makes sense, his actions make you want to strangle him, his design was really really good! He's not the most interesting thing in the show, as his character is really only there to move the story along, but not every villain needs to be incredibly deep for a show to be good.

Lastly, our supporting characters! While none of them are as wonderful as Natsume or Kaburagi, they're still interesting and hold their own. They play important parts in the show and all of their interactions with the main two feel natural. Their conflicts make sense, their resolutions feel well-earned, and their personalities are all unique! For a 12-episode anime, there's a larger cast of supporting characters than you would think, and nearly all of them are memorable and loveable.

Time to shut up about characters, what about the art?: 9/10, ooooh yes the art! Deca-Dence is gorgeous! It's animated by studio Nut (bwahahhaha), who haven't done that much else in the anime world. Still, for a relatively new studio, it's absolutely amazing! The characters all have unique looks that make them stand out and the fight scenes are to die for. They lose a point on the CG, since it's a little bit less than amazing, but again, for a new studio, it's definitely not the worst I've seen!! (Admittedly, I also don't like CG much at all, so I'm always harsh towards it when it's used).

Deca-Dence switches between two styles that vastly contradict each other, one which is a colorful, happy-go-lucky style, and one that's the more typical anime style. I'll speak more about them in the spoilers section, but they do a wonderful job at maintaining the tone of the show, as to not let it get too dark, and forming a clear divide between the events of the two parts.

Oh goshhh the Gadolls look so cool. I'm so obsessed with cool monsters in anime and woah they look awesome!! They're original, with cool designs that I haven't seen elsewhere. The show could've so easily slapped in some pretty typical-looking dragons or wolves or whatever, but they instead spent time on these epic creatures, and it's so worth it! It makes the setting that much more unique and allows it to stand out from other animes.

Surely there's a flaw in this anime? The pacing, maybe?: 9/10. Yeah, I would argue that the pacing is Deca-Dence's weakest point. Not that the pacing is particularly bad compared to other shows! I still think that, for a 12-episode anime, it does a wonderful job of fitting in a large amount of plot into only about 5 hours! But, at some points, parts felt rushed or confusing, as the show would zoom into them. I never felt like I was truly lost, though. Even if I did wish that there was a break from the action, I never found myself really thinking that the show was leaving me behind in the dust. It's not the kind of show that you can turn on and leave running while you multitask, though. Blink for too long and you might miss something important, which can ruin some of the hard-hitting twists that the anime works so hard to build up.

OK! Time for spoilers! I beg you, go watch the anime before you read past this, because it's totally worth it!!

Woahh episode 2 am I right?? I thought that I clicked into the wrong anime when I began it, it took such a wild turn, and so soon in the anime too. This is what I really mean when I talk about a show not being what it appears to be! Again, I really encourage you to watch it for yourself, but if you're that stubborn on reading this through before you turn it on:

Deca-Dence is not about the heart-wrenching battles between Gears and their desperate attempts to keep humanity alive, because Gears are just avatars for cyborgs! You see, there's a civilization of cyborg people who are living above the Earth, who log in to fight in mobile fortress Deca-Dence as a game. So the Gadolls are genetically grown as prey for the Gears and the entire story surrounding Deca-Dence's battles are scripted. Crazy right!? The best part: the Tankers aren't in on this at all. You heard me: Natsume and her human friends have no idea that Deca-Dence is staged.

From here, Deca-Dence has two distinct parts: we'll call them "Natsume's half" and "Kaburagi's half". Natsume's half refers to the mobile fortress, the Tankers who live unaware of the cyborgs, and the art style that premiered in the first episode. Kaburagi's half is the Solid Quake organization, the Gears who are avatars of the cyborgs, and the goofy, stylized art style with big lines and bright colors.

The twist and the diverging sides of the story set this show up as not your typical sci-fi anime, but as something a little deeper. The stakes are the same, as humanity is in just as much peril as it was before - it becomes abundantly clear that the Gears and cyborgs don't care about them - but the name of the game completely changes as you realize that our so-called "heroes" aren't really all that heroic, and there's a lot more going on.

Kaburagi is, of course, one of these cyborgs, cursed to live among the Tankers because of a mistake he made while playing as a Gear. Now, he's in charge of eliminating "bugs", or mistakes that the system finds. He's upset with his life, frustrated at what he's doing, and contemplating suicide. But when Natsume walks into his life, a little girl that the system considers legally dead, Kaburagi sees a chance to rebel, even the slightest, against the system. He's supposed to kill Natsume, but instead, he takes her under his wing, determined to protect what he's been instructed to eliminate. This development gives their relationship a deeper meaning, even if Natsume doesn't know it.

Deca-Dence does a wonderful job at showing the watchers both sides of the story but keeping Natsume's side in the dark. Even though we see scenes from Kaburagi's side, Natsume knows nothing about them. When Kaburagi leaves after Hugin kills his avatar, Nastume doesn't know where he's gone and has no reason to believe that he hasn't run away. There's no way she could guess that Kaburagi's new form - his weird orange Gear avatar - is the mentor that she once knew. And when Kaburagi, back in his original form, is killed in front of her, she really believes that he is dead. When Natsume finds out about the truth of the Gadolls - that the world she knows is fake - her horror is palpable and realistic, because there's no way she could've known any better.

Kaburagi's world has a goofy style to it, with the cyborgs looking cartoonish rather than realistic. While it might initially seem off-putting, I think that it ends up balancing the tone of the story much better. Consider the hellscape that is the reform facility that Kaburagi visits. Imagine how dark it would've been if it was not in a silly style! By keeping the style cuter rather than realistic, the show doesn't dip too far into dark and gritty, and I really liked it!

It also set up this harsh divide between Kabruagi's half, where things are easygoing, done for pleasure and fun, and not nearly as harsh as Natsume's world (Look at the name of the series! Decadence literally means living in excessive luxury!). Even when the cyborgs are in their Gear forms, which are drawn in Natsume's style, they're still a lot more colorful and vivid, showing that their lives aren't as harsh as that of the Tankers. The art styles reflect the differences between the two halves and give them both distinct tones and personalities!

& finally, let's take an in-depth look at one scene!: I had a really hard time picking what I thought summed up the series in a single scene. In the end, I think that Natsume and Kaburagi's discussion at the end of episode 7 was the best. Here, we see a culmination of a lot of the character development going on. Kaburagi, in this scene, is in a Gears avatar that Natsume doesn't recognize, meeting her for the first time since his normal avatar was killed. Natsume's been working with the Tankers to protect them from Gadolls that infiltrated the fortress, and she's motivated them all to rise up and fix the hole in the fortress themselves.

Kaburagi has encouraged Natsume to be a stronger person, even though she had to be independent and not rely on him any longer. His pessimistic view on the world - that they'll never defeat the Gadolls - has rubbed off on her, but it's only made her more determined to be stronger to stand up to them. In this scene, we see her breaking down as she considers that Kaburagi might be right, and that she'll never kill them all, but that she needs to continue fighting.

Though Kaburagi previously doubted Natsume and her endless determination, he now feels filled with the same motivation. Natsume has convinced him, time and time again, that he can't give up, and so he decides that he's willing to do anything to make sure that she never loses that hope. He wants her dreams to come true, and he knows that she can't accomplish them alone.

This perfectly shows the effects that they have on one another. Natsume is now stronger than she's ever been: independent, able to take down Gadolls on her own, and determined enough to patch up the hole that no one else thought could be fixed. Kaburagi, in stark contrast to his suicidal thoughts from episode two, is now completely devoted to make the world a safe place for Natsume. Their relationship has shaped one another into being the best versions of themselves, and this isn't even the end! They still complete their growth in the last few episodes, but I've rambled about them enough.

We're done!: That's my review of Deca-Dence! I really believe that it's one of the masterpiece animes in recent years, and I wish it got more attention. I'm sure that there's plenty of anime out there like this one - forgotten diamonds in the rough - that I'd love to dig up and fawn over. Tell me if you know any! Or, if you disagree with my review, tell me where you think I'm wrong!

[thewreckkelly]

Watch "Could Only Happen In Ireland" on YouTube

GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY (My Mother Myself) 

I love my Mum – loved her when I was under her care, loved her throughout my independence, love her now she’s in someone else’s care. Of course I’m aware such maternal love is by no means exclusive and undoubtedly, while the expression of such love tends to soften with distance and age, it remains an emotional bond that is a true unbreakable.

Recently I’ve been helping a florist – who also happens to be a great friend - with an online marketing campaign for ‘Mothers Day’ and, (during the course of concocting and plagiarising four line sentiments and graphic displays of floral fawning) , got to thinking of my Mum and what we have shared throughout a lifetime of mutual love.

A strange highlight dominated my walk through that particular past!

-o- 

The year was 1980 (I think) and I was slowly ridding myself of the adolescent petulance properly associated with teenage angst while also - willingly and without excuse or apology – continuing to embrace the evolutionary revolutionary mindset of ‘Punk’.

Don’t get me wrong I had never fallen into the ‘Mohawk’, ‘Piercings’, ‘Gobbing’, ‘Pogoing’ or ‘Safety Pin’ syndrome - not this good Catholic boy. It was more than enough for me that the freedom of expression associated with the genre felt ridiculously  inspirational and challenging in its raw depth – ‘Never Mind the Bollox’ proving a universally perfect mantra of how to be young in that very beneficial yet restrictive first world of change and changelings.

My Mum was the polar opposite in her musical taste and, (with a small ‘c’), conservative view of people, society and trends. Perry Como was more her cup of tea than the subversive Sinatra or Elvis while country music provided the stories of life she could relate to. Her idea of rocking out was to blare the Ray Conniff’ big band singers through my Da’s good stereo speakers on Sunday mornings - after mass - while letting go of any dancing inhibitions as she prepared the traditional roast.

The funny thing is; I sort of liked her music – without ever admitting such a ‘terrible’ thing to my friends and so called musical peers of course. There is an argument I liked the stuff she liked in much the same way liking anything that defines a good person has a habit of doing, but I don’t believe that was the reason.

I was too young and self-obsessed to understand that all was not simple and simple was, most certainly, not all – yet somehow aware enough to know without really knowing. Later I would realise my Mum had a terrific universal ear for much of what was good and great but back then ...... well .......

My Mum’s life, at the time, was neat and tidy by design - honed from a lifetime of consideration for others and struggle against an incomplete education, social gender relegation and being without too often. Mine was naturally a mess - a snap semi considered series of decisions and influences borne out of immediacy and yearning coloured by arrogance and naivety – a rebel searching for a ‘because’ if you like.

I had spent the summer just gone in London immersing myself in a musical and literary culture that was maturing from the raucous irregular  nature of punk and had taken in lots of pub and small venue gigs that ranged in influence from ‘The Jam’ to ‘Elvis Costello’ to ‘John Cooper Clarke’ to ‘Jimmy Pursey’ to ‘Billy Bragg’ to 'Kafka' to 'Tom Wolfe' to 'Philip Larkin' .

It was my coming of age moment when all of such seemed terribly exciting and dangerous to the person I was and surely massively influential in opening up my, (up till then), purposely covert disdain for authority and establishment

In the autumn of that year, weighed down by the morass of all such personal contradictions, I secured two front row seats for a Country & Western show at the RDS - with some degree of trepidation – to treat and play chaperone to my Mum, who was a big fan and unlikely - at that time - to actually enjoy or have the opportunity to avail of such an occasion.

And so it came to pass the two of us left the semi in the suburbs and drove to a monolith in the better part of town to see Dolly Parton do her thing.

-o- 

The Royal Dublin Showgrounds in Ballsbridge, Dublin, was, and probably still is, a throwback statement in architecture and class driven membership designed to promote and embrace all of what was good from the Protestant protectorate time of Victoria - while actually succeeding in highlighting much of what was insidious about those whom believed in a realm upon which the sun would never be expected to set. A venue where aspiring middle-class Dubliners and those beyond the pale could, on occasion, sample and digest possibilities their betters expected them to aspire to but rarely achieve.

The entrance to the RDS is signature and a facade of understated power – inviting and intimidating in measure and construction. I hadn’t been in the exhibition hall before and was hugely underwhelmed by its ordinariness, the starkness of the concrete floors and rows of institutional collapsible chairs set out in slightly skewed rows. The room was cavernous, very bright with a stage that looked more suited to a communist political convention than a glitzy C&W extravaganza.

Mum was dressed to the nines, which had worried me slightly to begin with only for such fear to rapidly evaporate upon arrival - it was twenty year old me, dressed as conservatively as I could allow in Wrangler jeans, Polo shirt and black suit jacket, that looked out of place among the throngs of Sunday best middle aged men and women taking their seats in an excited, orderly and happy manner. I felt like the proverbial fish out of water and had to reach deep to marry myself to my Mother’s mounting excitement and sense of occasion.

The support act that night was a solo artist called Kevin Johnson. Here I was on relatively safe ground as his big song was; ‘Rock & Roll I Gave You All the Best Years of My Life’ to which I knew all the lyrics and felt some level of identification with. He was a good competent performer with the troubadour’s presence and I remember being impressed at his professionalism along with enjoying the Americana folksiness of the set. I relaxed a touch and, when he finished off with that song, felt at least I’d got my money’s worth and anything else would be a bonus.

A sense of fervent excitement in the hall grew as we waited for the headliner and, to a point, became infectious. I genuinely had no idea what to expect and the sense of expectation bordering on privilege emanating from this packed venue caused me to doubt any possibly disingenuous pre-conceptions I had inwardly held since I’d bought the tickets and surprised Mum.

The lights went down, the band silently took to the stage as shadows. A fanfare of guitars, fiddle, bass and drums in galloping beat broke the deafening silence of the seated audience and then .......

‘GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY’ issued forth from a disembodied deep male voice - in the pronounced accent of a Southern American State - to rapturous applause.

A spotlight broke the darkness and concentrated its stardust on the wings from which a tiny giant bounded and danced her way to centre stage with more energy than Sellafield.

Clad in a very revealing figure hugging silver diamantes laden dress, sporting perfect make-up on cheeky cultured facial features pronounced with ruby red lipstick – all artistically framed by an abundance of perfectly coffered Dixie blonde tresses.

This would be first lady of country music lit the auditorium miles beyond the ability of mere electricity.... Oh yes Ms Dolly Parton made an entrance you couldn’t beat with a stick.

The show is a blur – I do remember her doing ‘Applejack’ on the banjo, with ridiculous big painted nails not being a bother at all – and the best I can actually recall for the most part is before you could wail ‘Jolene’  I found myself cheering, clapping, dancing and singing along with songs I didn’t know in the company of equally uninhibited people I didn’t know and wising the show would never end. This was new to me; this was a living example of the best at what they do, doing it for me along with everyone else and delivering on every level.

The famous composer of melodies, Thomas Moore, once wrote:

‘And the best works of nature can only improve – when we see them reflected in looks that we love’ 

When Dolly caused us all to settle down, mid set, and invited each and every one present to relive a childhood memory of Motherly love with her soft ballad; ‘Coat of Many Colours’, I glanced smilingly at my Mum and her returned look allowed an understanding of exactly what Tom Moore was getting at.

Thanks for giving me Dolly Mum, (I’ve held on to her ever since), and, of course, all the rest of the other stuff.

Happy Mother’s Day

[secret-engima]

Some Random Reasons I Really Like the Boruto Anime.

(because yes it has it’s problems but honestly I’m tired of trying to enjoy my fandoms with everyone whinging that it’s “not as good as the original”. As if the original two Naruto shows weren’t utter dumpster fires with moments of Pure Awesome to keep it alive and half the fandom isn’t there solely to pick through Kishimoto’s junkyard world building looking for shiny bits to incorporate in their fanfics.  Which is not to say I don’t like the Naruto shows, but seriously ppl you can’t whine about how bad the fillers and slow pacing and weird world-building of Naruto was only to turn around and scream that Boruto is horrible of TRYING TO BE DIFFERENT. Let’s inject some positivity in here. Anyone who has no need for Boruto positivity can kindly move on with their lives and let me have my shiny fandom. Moving on.)

-Reason 1. Mitsuki exists. He is Best Boi™ and I adore him.

-Reason 2. The characters are not carbon copies of their parents, but neither are they polar opposites. They have some of their parent’s traits and some of their own unique traits and honestly it’s so refreshing to have a show that isn’t “Main Character X Take 2: This time with a New Color Scheme”

-Reason 3. Have you SEEN how many girl characters there are in this show? Even if most of them are side characters? Have you SEEN the fact they can actually DO STUFF other than flip their hair and whine about boys? One of them can use seals! And has CAT POWERS!! Another one was the antagonist of the first story arc! And was actually cool! And also got reformed rather than just being yote off the nearest cliff! The main female character is actually useful without being either a whim or a jerk!

Reason 4. The school system has been revamped in ways that make SENSE. The Naruto cast (especially Iruka as the new headmaster) looked back on their early life and went “You know what? It’s REALLY DUMB that we were so unprepared for shinobi life. Let’s change that.” And they did! Students actually learn water and tree walking BEFORE they get thrown into life and death situations! They know jutsu other than the Basic Three! They get to know basic sealing and learn that Summoning jutsu exists! There’s a student who knows medical ninjutsu, so that’s obviously an optional course or something kids can take! They also have an option to NOT BE NINJAS. If they decide partway through they don’t wanna be ninja’s, there’s a civilian middle school program incorporated into the academy! Do you know what that also means? Civilians who get to know BASIC SELF DEFENSE. So even if they aren’t Ninja, they at least know how ninja work and how to not Insta-die the next time someone breaks into their village!

Reason 5. THERE’S AN INTER-SCHOOL TRANSFER PROGRAM. Way to show just how tight the alliances of the different villages are. Even if it’s only mentioned here and there, it’s SUCH a cool thought with so much fanfic potential.

Reason 6. Chocho, flipping, Akimichi exists. Yes, she can be a little annoying with her running gag of “I’m so pretty” but like- SHE IS ACTUALLY PRETTY. And she knows and can use the clan jutsu really well! DO YOU KNOW HOW EASY IT WOULD HAVE BEEN for them to either make her utterly hideous and go “Hur hur look at the fat girl thinks she can actually be pretty lol” OR make her constantly whimpy and shy and lacking any confidence at all because “oh look at the poor girl, she’s FAT so she must feel UGLY all the time, and have no confidence because what FAT PERSON has any confidence unless they’re delusional?” Both of those would be so freaking stupid and defeating. But INSTEAD they make Choho 1. pretty and 2. self-confident. She dresses nice, she looks nice, she’s not stick thin like say, Sarada, but she is actually pretty and she OWNS it. She owns her love of food, and her clan jutsu, and just- herself in general. And yea they use it as a running gag sometimes when she plays it up a little too much, but like- there’s a body positivity character! Right there! Who is also a girl who kicks butt! One of the biggest complaints I’ve seen of the naruto show is that the girl characters are flat and useless and underused save for like- Tsunade. Here you have a useful girl who is also body confident! And that’s not even touching on Sarada “can use both super strength and the sharingan and owns this fact” Uchiha.

Reason 7. Boruto’s issues are not his dad’s issues. There are ... lots of “kid sequels” i’ve seen/read/heard of where all the problems are basically the main character’s problems rehashed. And yeah, the villains so far are that I’ve seen are callbacks to the main show, BUT. EMOTIONALLY. Boruto’s issues aren’t the same. Boruto doesn’t have the “nobody likes me I must earn their respect” issues Naruto did. Or the orphan issues. He has a loving mom, he’s a loving big brother (who makes mistakes and does argue with his sister, which #realistic kthanks), and he is popular. Being alone isn’t his problem. Being unpopular or hated isn’t his problem. His problems are that he doesn’t know how to bond with his always-busy dad (which- of course Naruto is always busy, that’s just the show writers continuing the Overworked Hokage gag from the original show, and yes Naruto uses his Shadow Clones to help with it but come ON he’s running a military force AND a booming village) and that he hasn’t had the same life experiences Naruto had at that age. He’s learning to mature in a different way. If Naruto and Naruto Shippuden were about children who grew up too soon in a brutal ninja world, then Boruto is about kids who grow up in the AFTERMATH of that world. The world where their parents never want their kids to suffer like that and so, just a little, coddle them. It’s kinda like the aftermath of the big wars. The kids who grew up during that war are adults now and their kids have COMPLETELY DIFFERENT life experiences and priorities. It’s just how it works, and I appreciate that.

Reason 8. We have a girl Uchiha who wants to be Hokage. I love the Naruto and Naruto Shippuden shows, but it got ... a LITTLE tiresome that Naruto’s dream was also the dream of both his dad AND his mom and I think also kid Jiraiya at one point? Like- it seemed like at that point the show was going “Of course you want to be hokage! It’s in your blood!”. Boruto couldn’t care less bout being the next Hokage. He’s lived what it’s like to be the Hokage’s kid (something Asuma, if he’s still been alive, could have sympathized with I’m sure) and he doesn’t want to be that person. Sarada on the other hand has lived the live of having no real dad figure until recently, and as such Naruto’s “all the village is my family” motto really rings home with her. She wants to be the next Hokage, not Boruto, and frankly that’s refreshing.

Reason 9. Shino the teacher. I’m pretty sure this is a controversial point but honestly I really liked this. I do have some issues with how the og characters are portrayed (looking at you Kiba and Anko), but Shino I have no issues with. This is an intelligent, helpful boy who grew up struggling to bond with people and who grew up with people constantly interrupting him/not listening. And this gag does make its frequent appearance in Boruto, but that’s not Boruto’s fault that’s actually a case of the show being consistent with its predecessor so, you know, go blame Kishimoto for how his students didn't listen to him in the early episodes. BUT. As the episodes go on, it’s so clear the students do love and respect their teacher. They wouldn’t talk to him if they didn’t. They might not see him as a terrifying warrior, but he’s their TEACHER. Even Mitsuki comes to respect Shino, going out of his way (spoiler) to fight Shino in the graduation exam because Mitsuki saw Shino as someone worth testing himself against. Mitsuki. Orochimaru’s “perfect clone bby”. Thought Shino was badass enough to fight. And also on the student body in general, OBVIOUSLY they listen to him off screen, because if they didn’t then they wouldn’t have learned the things they did and have actually succeeded in the graduation exam, now could they?

Reason 10. Naruto and Sasuke are still utterly epic WITHOUT stealing the spotlight the moment they come on screen. I’m not that far into the show, so maybe that changes, but from the arcs I’ve seen (mostly the Shin arc), Naruto and Sasuke are utter powerhouses, but they don’t ... they don’t just hax the show. In the same way Jiraiya didn’t hax everything and steal the spotlight from Naruto, neither do Naruto and Sasuke, but we still see they’re awesome (after all, they were perfectly capable while fighting all the Shins, and just- the moment one of them got a look at Kuruma it was OVER and it’s SO clear in that moment that Sasuke and Naruto were holding back because they didn’t want to kill a bunch of kids. Naruto or Sasuke on their own could have MASSACRED the Shins, but didn’t, because they’re former protagonists (and reformed antagonist in one case) like that.

So... tl:dr Boruto is not Naruto or Naruto Shippuden but considering all the massive plot holes and world-building errors that happened in those shows, as well as the utter lack of use of its female characters, that’s not a bad thing! Boruto has some stuff wrong with it, and some things that I can see annoying/ticking off fans who had their heart set on another path, but the show has potential, the characters are utilized much better than I expected, and as someone who did not grow up on Naruto and so doesn’t have shiny nostalgia glasses spot welded to my face, I think it’s a really good show.

Honestly if it wasn’t a sequel of such a monolith, childhood-forming show, I think it wouldn’t get NEAR as much hate, and the fact that it gets such flak because it dares have its own unique take on the post-Naruto Shippuden years rather than trying (and inevitably failing) to cater to the whims of every single fan out there makes me sad. If you want to see more of Naruto’s world and see female characters actually get some cool moments to themselves, then give it a try. If you’d rather go with your own Naruto HCs for what happened at the end of the war, then that’s FINE, just don’t get mad at those of us who enjoy Boruto for the glorious animated fanfic AU it is.

[rockshortage]

Another list, hell yeah, lets go if ya feel like: 5, 18, 25, 28, 35 aaaand 48 for Hector.

aw yee, thanks!

5. Do they have any unappealing habits (ex: picking their nose, hawking loogies)?

Sniffling/snorting a lot when he has a stuffy or runny nose. Sometimes aggressively, because he can’t just fix his problem with a tissue because the mask is in the way, and he can’t take that off at any given time.

18. Do they daydream? Of what?

All kinds of things, depending what’s on his mind at the moment. It can be exploring possible solutions for tech problems, realistic or not so realistic future projects, thinking about MAAK and how he’d like to give him a good pat, making up conversations with the bosses about scenarios that’ll never happen, brain music video featuring the song that’s been stuck in his head.

25. How do they feel in large crowds?

Very uncomfortable. He’s often self-conscious about not being in people’s way while simultaneously annoyed that not everyone is extending the same amount of mindfulness to him. He just can’t relax, unless he’s at least seated or standing somewhere ‘safe’ that defines his own little space that won’t be intruded on. Every moment spent in a big crowd is kind of like a quest to get somewhere not (as) crowded.

28. If a friend asked them to taste something and it turned out to be unpleasant, how would they handle it?

Poker face, though not always successful. He doesn’t want to hurt their feelings, so he’ll try to pretend it’s good or make it abundantly clear that even though he’s not the biggest fan of it, that’s just his personal preference, he’s at fault here, what they made is great, Hector just has bad taste, please don’t feel bad.

35. In which of their own skill sets do they have the most confidence? Why?

Hector has the most confidence in his ability to figure out tech-related things. He still has a bit of a tendency to be a bit bashful about it or have some doubts going into it, but he does know he’s good at it.

48. How festive are they on holidays?

This number is featured in another ask too, so I’ll go off a bit:

He’s indifferent to most holidays and has a distaste for the ones with a Christian background due to the whole religion-related trauma. He’s generally reluctant or can also outright refuse to partake in those. In general, he doesn’t care to put effort into organizing something, but he won’t say no to a nice festive meal someone else prepared and an excuse to drink a little more than usual. E.g. at New Year’s Eve he’ll perhaps look at the clock at 11:59 pm and have a glass of wine or whatever, and then get straight back to what he was doing before. There are two exceptions: Halloween and Christmas. Halloween is the best hands down, he’ll immerse himself in the spooky cheer, it’s a great excuse to decorate everything with skeletons and maybe he even has a costume he put way too much effort into. Christmas is the polar opposite, he hates it. Trauma aside, pre-war Christmas time was the most stressful and sucky time of the year, and everyone pretended it was great and cheery and festive and that all was right with the world. Tacky decorations everywhere, sensory overload, all underlined by the same 5 obnoxious songs playing over and over and over… He mellows out about it a bit post-war, since a lot of his gripes with it aren’t much of a problem anymore, but he still doesn’t like it at all. Though of course in Nuka World, monument to capitalism with its unstoppable loudspeakers, the Christmas Rage makes a comeback.

[lowkeyassgard]

DAY 10 OF LOKI VS. EARTH: CONCERTS

Day 10 of Loki vs. Earth series and today Loki is very pissed off by attending a country concert.

One shot summary: After bailing Loki out of some serious trouble, Thor asks Loki to attend a concert with him.

Quarantine series summary:It’s going to be a series of fun and light hearted one shots to help readers and other writers get through this hard time. I made a a03 collection and a tumblr tag. To join just write a fun, soft, and/or light hearted one shot and post it to the collection @Quarantine_Series or tag it on tumblr as #quarantine series.

Word count: 900 words

Loki didn’t care much for music, He never understood why Midgardians would spend their time blasting loud obnoxious noises into their ears. Also, didn’t understand how they enjoyed it. He didn’t like it but since permanently residing on Midgard his brother Thor had found a love for it. He blasted it through their home and would dance around like a psycho. Loki thought Thor a fool for it.

Thor had been pestering Loki to attend a concert for the last few months. Loki had repeatedly said no but knew he would no longer be able to decline the offer. Loki had recently run into some trouble leading Thor to bailing him out. Literally. Loki was arrested for assault. He did nothing of the sort, but the police officer insisted that Loki had come at it. What had actually happened was that one-day Loki was walking down the road flipping his favorite blue knife and a police officer had stopped to question him. Loki was not a fan of this man tone and pointed his knife at the officer. Loki wasn’t going to stab him, but the officer said that he had to jump back to avoid being plunged in the gut. What a liar. Upon Loki’s arrest they confiscated the knives on him and threw him in a dirty dark cell.

He spent two whole days in the jail because the police department had no clue who Loki was and how to contact someone to bail him out, Loki wasn’t from Earth, so he did not have a fingerprint on file or even a social security card. The entire police department was perplexed by his existence because to their computer system Loki simply did not exist. Yet he did and he like all others will have to serve the time for his crime. On the second night of his confinement Loki astray projected to New Asgard and pleaded with his brother to free him. Sure, thing the next morning there Thor was with a big wad of cash to free him and recover his prized knives.

With that situation in mind Loki knew the next time Thor asked he would have to go. He did in fact owe his brother and how horrible could a concert be.

The dreaded ask came two days later. Loki was in his bed reading a book over astronomy. It was a calm and bright day. He was in a pleasant mood. He was until Thor came waltzing into his singing one of those songs he was always blasting.

“Oh brother! Do you recall when I got you out of that sticky situation?

“How could I forget brother. It has only been a week.”

“Oh, how time flies when you are having fun. Speaking of fun how about you and me go to a concert tonight. There will be alcohol.” Thor emphasized the last part. Loki wasn’t fond of Midgardian alcohol, but something was better than nothing. Since Loki didn’t have any form of identification he could not lawfully buy alcohol even he was thousands of years past the required age. The people would just not believe it. So, the only time he received alcohol was when he stole it, much frowned about by Thor and Valkyrie, and when he went to an event that served it to all guests.

“Ah yes brother. I do owe you so just this time I will join you.”

“YES!” Thor practically jumped with joy. Loki knew that Thor loved hanging out with him, but they just didn’t like the same things. Loki liked raves and clubs meanwhile Thor loved campfires and concerts. They were like polar opposites and yet they still loved each other dearly. When Loki had no one, he had Thor. Thor was the only one that gave him chance after chance and saw the good in him. So even though he knew he would hate every minute of it if this concert would make his brother happy he would attend.

“Alright Loki. Be ready by six and where something that isn’t black.”

At a quarter to six Loki walked out of his bedroom in a olive green shirt and grey denim jeans. It was the only thing he owned that wasn’t black or Asgardian custom clothes. He felt like a teenager that was trying to be cool. He wasn’t going to impress anyone, so he swallowed his pride and put on a smile for his brother.

Thor on the other hand was absolutely ecstatic. He was in a plaid button up shirt blue denim jeans and boots. He was grinning ear to ear. The minute Loki came out Thor gave a big holler of excitement and practically dragged Loki out of their home to take a truck into the city.

They arrived at the concert venue within the next forty five minutes and immediately Loki wished he had said no. Just from the look of the people entering the venue he would be miserable. Everyone entering was dressed in cowboy hats and boot. The men and the women were plaid shirts and both were equally acting loud and obnoxious.

As Loki walked with Thor toward the entrance Loki groaned. The person taking the tickets was a blonde chick with a plaid shirt tied at her breast level. She was in cutoff denim shorts that showed the bottom of her undergarments. She was loud. Too loud. Loki wanted to throw his ticket at her and tell her to shut up before she found her mouth bound. Instead he calmly watched as Thor handed the tickets to her.

“HOWDY THERE BOYS. YALL READY FOR SOME FUN”

“No.” Loki simply said. Thor was beside him talking about how excited he was and had been looking forward to this all day.

Loki left his brother at the ticket stand to push his way into the venue. He thought maybe it would be better once inside, but it was not,

Thor had left out the part that this was a hillbilly concert. Loki wasn’t even trying to be offensive. A person that walked by him held a sign promptly stating that it was a hillbilly concert. The sign read “Hillbillies get down too.”

Everyone I mean everyone looked like they should be in the wild west. Loki didn’t usually complain about humans showing off a little skin but now he was. Their attire and the way they presented themselves repulsed Loki.

He pushed himself thought the crowd of sweaty exposed bodies to find the bar. Once there he was even more repulsed. They just had beer. Cheap piss. This was their suck ass excuse for alcohol. The whole reason why he was here. Loki remembering, he was doing for this Thor laid down a few bills and took one of the beers. He took one swig of the beer and spit it out on the ground.

“Real men drink beer.” A woman sitting at the bar scorned at him. He reached for his knives to realize he left them at home.

‘Real women know not to pester a man that could easily destroy them.” Loki spat at her. Pardon his language but fuck her. If he had his knives he would hold them at her throat until she cried out in mercy. He might not want to take over the world anymore, but he would not be disrespected.

Not being able to stand the taste of this piss he threw the half full can on the ground and removed the lighter from his pocket and set it on fire.

“Oh, brother there you are!” Thor said before realizing that Loki had set a can of beer on fire and had attracted a crowd.

“Please excuse my brother. Its not a concert without a little spilt beer am I right?” Thor said before grabbing Loki by the arm and dragging him to the other side of the room.

“Loki, what did I tell you about burning things?”

“Do not belittle me brother. That Midgardian piss made a fool out of me and I smite its existence as punishment.”

“Just stand here and have some fun. The concert is starting soon.” Thor said before taking a swig out of his own can of fermented piss.

The concert did start but Loki did not have fun.

The music was horrendous. It was loud. Obnoxious loud. The people let out yeehaws like they were farm animals. At one point the man beside Loki made the comment that he loved this music which Loki returned by screaming “THIS IS NOT MUSIC.”

Worse than the music was the dancing that followed. The dancing looked like an exorcism ritual. The people shook their bodies and bent them in ways that should mot be normal. They thrashed against each other and yet out shared simultaneous hollers. Loki felt as though he was watching a whole crowd of people possessed by a spirit and this country music was expelling them of their farm demon.

As the night went on the crowd got worse. Even his brother began to thrash around and swing his beer in the air. Later Loki would ask what happened and Thor would just say he was overcome by the music. Overcome by the music? The only thing Loki was overcome by was the urgent need to bleach his eyes and wipe his memories of this event.

When the crowd began to sway, Loki let out a groan. The people around him assumed he was joining them in their pleasure but he was not. Every time their shoulder pressed into his body he had to stop himself from grabbing them and snapping them in half.

At one point the stranger beside him bumped a little too hard into Loki taking him by surprise and knocking him to the concrete floor. That was loki last straw.

“I do not know what kind of hoe down throw down you people think this is hit if you so ever even think about touching my godly skin I will remove your bones from your body one by one.”

The people around him just stopped. They stopped dancing. The must stopped playing. The people all stopped to look at Loki.

“I am a god and I will not be disrespected and touched by you distasteful rowdy animals.”

Thor just watched in disbelief as his dear brother screamed at a venue of people.

“ I did my best to enjoy this time for the sake of my brother but you farm animals sad are just not worthy of my company.” With that Loki felt arms reach around him and he was picked up. A very large human carried him outside the venue and threw him on to the ground.

“Do you know who I am?” Loki screamed at the man.

“No and I do not care. Move another inch and I’m calling the cops.”

Loki was absolutely appalled that he was thrown out. He was even more appalled that Thor did not quickly come out to him. Instead loki spent the next 2 hours on the ground outside of the venue. When Thor finally came out he was completely hammered. . He was smiling and laughing to himself

“Brother. You are such a pain. Kicked out of a concert. If only mother and father could see this. They would laugh so hard they wept.”

Needless to say that Loki never attended a concert after that.