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[theamityelf]

Makoto enters the Neo World Program to help with the shutdown sequence, but to his surprise, he doesn't find himself in the trial room.

He finds himself on the beach, in the simulation's normal map. The original map, before Junko's twisted Funhouse and her Titty Typhoon and all her other contributions. He was even dressed for the beach, in a tank top and swim trunks.

(Back in the trial room, Junko stops in the middle of some great exposition and exclaims, "OMG, finally! Later, chumps! Sit and spin, or whatever," and she disappears, leaving them confused.)

Makoto feels that she's there. He doesn't have to turn around, but he does, only to get glomped in an unnecessarily tight hug.

"You made it," Junko('s AI) coos. "It felt like I was waiting forever. Did you let me play with those chumps because you were scared to see me?"

He sighs. He kind of knew that he wouldn't have much control over what happened once he was in the simulation, but the fact that he hasn't joined the surviving Remnants as intended is a bad sign. "Get off."

"Oooh, so forward!"

"Get off me, Junko."

She takes a few steps back, eyeing him up like she's taking inventory of his limbs.

"What happened to the trial? What's happening to them, while I'm here?"

"Who knows? Who cares? You didn't actually think this was about them, did you?"

"It is for me."

"Not even that. Come on, those nutty senpais of ours were always just dolls. They're proxies. How about you put on your big boy pants, instead of wetting them, and talk to me directly."

"They're not dolls, and you're not her. She's dead."

"But I'm like her. Aren't I?" She traipses up to him again, trailing her nails lightly over his skin. "Aren't I enough like her?"

She looks completely real. The details of her skin, her eyes, are exactly the same. Her hair is frizzing from the spray of the sea. She's wearing a bathing suit, too. The top piece laces at the shoulders; it's tied into a bow on one side, but on the other it's just a knot. Imperfection. Realism. The placement of the sun directs his gaze to her, and her shadow snakes across the sand.

The sand feels real.

"This is cheating. You didn't win the trial. You haven't earned this. If you don't play fairly, you're admitting that they can beat you if you give-"

"Yawn! You're taking a leaf out of Kyoko's book. We already did this 'I owe you a trial' thing. Take a load off. We're one-one right now. You beat me once, I beat you once. Let's take a walk."

Makoto almost argues, but then he remembers the ancient ruins on the second island and considers that he might be able to get out through there. "Fine. Let's take a walk."

"Yay!" Junko bounces up and down, and he quickly looks away. "I just love this map. As soon as Kamukura plugged me in, I could just smell your nasty little hope-hands all over this thing. Did you notice, I kept all of your ideas in my version of the map, in some form or another."

Makoto starts walking toward the bridge. He did notice that the places that were removed or walled off wholesale were ones that were thought up by other people. He assumed it was a coincidence. After all, how would Junko know which ideas were his? "I'm glad they got to ride the rollercoaster. It looked like they had fun."

"Like we did."

He remembers that class trip. "Yeah. We did."

"Tampering with your map was more fun than this whole killing game. It was like we were making a baby together."

"N-No it wasn't."

"You planted the seed, and I-"

"Nope. I'm walking faster now." He power walks across the bridge.

"Oh no," Junko deadpans, remaining a step behind him. "Your legs. So long."

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Ten

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: It was in the drafts and it's been a while so I thought I'd post. Might not hear from me for a bit though after this, so I hope you like the next part. Thank you for all the love on this one.

Masterlist

A warm bout of light filtered into the bedroom through a small gap in the curtains. It gave the space a sepia feel, tinting the light bedding and walls a warm hazel colour. Creating a haze of skittering beams above me.

It wasn't much, the room. It simply held the necessities I thought I needed seeing as I didn't spend too much of my time in it, other than when I needed to dress or sleep. I’ve really had too many other things occupying my time during the past few years that have kept me from worrying over the state of it.

There was a rickety old dresser, which sat in the far corner and had been something I'd picked up during my time at uni. Student accommodation had been lacking and so Finn had decided, quite early on I might add, that it would be in our best interest to find ourselves some cheap furniture to fill it with.

In truth, we’d actually had to lug the pesky thing all the way down a dual-carriageway and across a roundabout, after having spotted it advertised in the window of our local offy. It held a good few memories though, like when the pair of us had jumped up onto it at the first sight of an eight-legged pal, or the time I’d walked in to find him getting railed over its top.

Then there was the large mahogany wardrobe that had been purchased from a wholesaler not very long after I had finally gotten a newly born Teddy settled into the tiny flat I'd rented out in Hackney. 

It had been cramped, what with the bathroom having been the size of a broom cupboard and the only bedroom having led straight into our ‘fun-sized’ kitchen. But we'd made it work. In fact, it had practically been a Godsend during those nightly feeds- six steps and I’d been right by the cooker!

The wardrobe had been a much needed purchase though, and one of the first things I had bought solely for myself since I’d moved out of mam’s.

Then there was the side table, sat next to the one edge of my bed that hadn't been backed into a wall, which held a reading light, a three wicked candle and a couple of novels with folded and refolded receipts sticking out the sides as page markers.

I had garnered quite the collection of books, I could admit, all of which seemed to line up haphazardly on the opposite wall. I tended to smile whenever I caught sight of its heavy shelves, a reminder of all the havoc that had gone into them whilst putting them up. It had taken me three whole days, and even though they were still a tad lopsided, I still gazed upon them in pride.

A woeful plant burdened my windowsill, a slither of its olive coloured pot barely seen from behind the billowing beige curtains. Whilst cushions sat in disarray across the hardwood floor below, having been tossed every which way the night previous.

There were dirty clothes in the hamper by the half-opened door and a basket of clean, partially folded, washing in a chair sitting beside the wardrobe. 

The room wasn't completely tidy, but not a tip either.

Humming groggily to myself, I began to stir from the deep sleep I’d lost myself in and used the ball of my palm to rub tiredly at my eye just as a furrowed line creased between my brows. 

It was far too quiet, I deemed, and must've been later than usual too because Teddy normally had us both up long before the crack arse of dawn. So I sniffed once and then went to turn over, just to check the time as I always did, but couldn't stop the way I stilled completely at the sight that greeted me.

Because in bed, right beside me, laid another body. One hidden deep beneath the weighted duvet and my favoured blanket, but a body nonetheless. 

Shit.

It appeared in the remaining foggy haze of last night, I had quite simply forgotten about the man I'd invited back home. And into my bed, it seemed. As well as the ill-timed events that had led up to it, too. 

My breath hitched when the man suddenly moved in his sleep and I did my very fucking best not to express any of my thoughts or feelings outwardly. Desperate not to actually rouse the sleeper. 

Instead, I inhaled. Once, then twice. Before finally, I gathered enough courage and strength to slowly inch myself all the way down to the very end of the bed. Mindful not to drag the duvet down with me.

Once I was standing- still fully clothed, I might tack on (thank you to small miracles!)- I allowed myself a second to just peer down and admire the dark, curling locks that now sprawled across my pale pillowcase. As well as the slither of skin which poked out from beneath the bed sheets. 

In all honesty, I couldn't actually recall the last time I'd shared my space like this, so freely it almost felt effortless.

Quickly though, I blinked myself out of those sorts of thoughts and took another, much needed, deep breath. The flat was still as quiet as it had been a moment prior, but I was careful to tread incredibly lightly when I turned to grab the nearest set of clean clothes. Then, cautiously, I started to tiptoe my way out of the bedroom.

Standing in the hallway, with a wooden door now planted firmly between me and my overnight guest, I threw my head back in silent ire. Questioning just how, why! I had gotten myself into a situation this stress inducing, a situation I had not been in since my days at uni. I could only  just begin to imagine how this would all pan out once everyone was finally wide awake and Teddy had-

Oh God, Teddy!

It was painfully embarrassing to admit that I had just about worked myself into a right state before it finally hit me that Teddy was, in fact, still with Finn. At his flat, not even ten minutes away, and not down the hall, sleeping in the same space as a fucking strange bloke he’d never even set eyes on.

So with that anxiety riddled train of thought now settled, I found that I was ultimately calmer and took a deep breath before resolving to head off to the loo before anything else happened to occur. Or before I sent myself into another full blown panic attack.

I wandered down the rest of the hall into the bathroom and went about my business before stripping out of last night’s clothes. I couldn't stop myself from wincing at the laddered tights I’d since tugged off, those which would surely have to go straight in the bin, and then stepped into a pair of well-worn joggers as well as a newer jumper I’d found during the early summer sales.

It was a long and thoughtful process that had me deciding that I should start on a pot of tea, because if I couldn't sneak my way out of this entire affair via the front door, then tea would simply have to do. Us Brits, hey?

But first, I needed to find my phone.

The thing wasn't too hard to locate. I found it lying on the kitchen counter when I walked in, charging, and did my best to recall the events of the previous night as I puttered around to fill the kettle.

There had been the phone call.

Then Finn taking Teddy.

The tube ride to the bar.

Ronan... As well as everyone else.

And then, Matty had appeared out of nowhere and turned my entire sodding night on its head.

"Christ." I heard myself grumble under my breath, feeling as though I had aged an entire year in a single night.

The hangover I was now supposed to be nursing was teetering around the edges of my mind, a headache oncoming I reckoned seeing as though my shock had hit it clean off onto the verge upon waking up. But still, I found myself rubbing at my temples for a brief second before splaying my palms out on the cold counter in an attempt to calm my brewing emotions.

"Could tell you a few ways to reach him, but I don't reckon he's the sort to make house calls..."

I startled at the sound of the unexpected voice and snapped my head straight up to find Matty standing in the doorway to my kitchen. The man had apparently foregone trousers, choosing instead to make up for the lack of material on his bottom half with a pair of thick socks and an oversized jumper I knew had been draped across my dresser only moments earlier. 

I couldn't find it in himself to complain though, not that I would've. Matty looked far too indecent standing there, morning light illuminating his milky skin and shadowing his already dark, tousled hair, watching me through bleary eyes.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Is what I chose to reply with, heartbeat still a little erratic, pulsing in the curve of my throat. I reached a hand up to tug on an earring, the other arm moving to wrap its way around my torso.

Matty’s lip quirked upwards when he stepped further into the room, just as the kettle whistled away to a boil.

"You're alright." He waved off, and shook his head lightly as he made his way over to where two mugs had since been placed on the counter. Two mugs I’d put down without much thought as to whether or not he was sticking around long enough for a brew.

Still, I hadn’t needed to fret over it, seeing as I was forced to watch on as Matty brewed the tea himself; popping a tea bag into each cup and steeping them in hot water. He then cocked a questioning brow in my direction which startled me into motion.

"Sugar’s in the tin.” I told him softly, pointing in its direction, “You'll have to make do with skimmed milk though I'm afraid, got none of that oat shit."

Matty snorted in retort and crossed the floor to open the fridge, looking almost too at home in my austere, little kitchen. Especially when the jumper he wore rid high enough up his thighs to expose the edging of his tight, black boxers.

I looked away.

"Might be a bigshot, babe, but a decent cuppa means actual milk." Matty tutted, paying no mind to the homage of colourful drawings on my fridge door as it rattled shut, and then returned to his station to pour an ungodly amount of milk into one mug. He hovered the bottle over the other.

"Just a splash, please. No sugar." I told him quietly and he hummed in turn, stirring methodically before he fished the teabags out and into the bin.

I took my mug rather cautiously once Matty had picked up his own and taken perch on top of my countertop, feeling a bout of unease at seeing the singer so comfortable in my humble home. What must he think of it all?

I tried not to stress anymore than I already had and took a small sip instead, looking at the way the man opposite fiddled with the old school radio that resided on the closest shelf. It was something I'd brought along with me from back home, it had belonged to one of my grandfathers, I wasn't sure which, but it tended to soothe me whenever I cooked in the late evenings, or during the long nights when Teddy was up all hours. 

The warm tea soothed my dry throat and eased some of that tension I still had coiled in the line of my shoulders, enough so that I felt the need to start up another conversation just to fill the lingering silence.

My tongue darted out to wet my bottom lip and then I cleared my throat, cradling the hot mug in my hands.

"So, about last night..."

I was overall quite surprised to see the way Matty's entire mood immediately shifted upon hearing my opener. His lethargic demeanour- mostly down to having just woken up- stiffened entirely and sharpened his tired eyes and soft lips.

"Last night." Parroted Matty, voice low and tinged with a slight rasp that I hadn't paid much attention to a minute ago. It held power, though toneless. 

I paused, if only for a moment to weigh my next words. It was important that Matty understood that last night had been a bit of an overreaction on my part, that I’d misstepped whilst drunk, and not something other. I couldn’t deal with any of that right now, if ever. No one needed to know the extent of what had gone down.

"Ronan, he's... well, he's just always been a bit protective."

Matty stared back at me, his face utterly blank. Enough so that I actually startled slightly when he scoffed. It was a loud sound that echoed off the tiles, before his jaw set sternly and his narrowed eyes met my own. “Hang on, you're actually choosing to defend that dickhead?" 

I blinked in return, gaping in truth, at the realisation that I’d completely forgotten the fact that I'd explained much of what had happened, drunkenly, to Matty on the cab ride home. The same journey which had ended with not only Matty escorting me up to my front door but me also inviting him inside. 

Couldn’t he have just been a gentleman and declined? Left me to choke on my own sick and perhaps allow me to die with the little dignity I’d had left?

It wasn't anything like most would've probably imagined though, the whole me asking him up thing, that much I knew. My intentions hadn't been anywhere near illustrious and I certainly hadn't set out to lure the illusive singer into my bed. I’d merely wanted some company after all that had happened that night is all, scared to be alone with the guilt, even.

Which was honestly a first for me. It had always been so much easier for me to just deal with my many thoughts and complicated emotions alone, behind closed doors and far, far from judgement. 

It seemed that the alcohol had addled my mind slightly.

I couldn’t help the sigh I gave then, nor the way I curled up further into the wooden chair I’d since sat in.

"No, just-"

Matty scoffed again, this time cutting me off completely. "Well, it sounds as though you are, darling."

I went to argue but found I couldn't- not that Matty gave me much of an opportunity to though. No, the man simply stampeded on, didn’t he?

Were all rock stars this pigheaded?

"I mean, for fucks sake, Mouse! What were you thinking? I've met my fair share of arseholes but he was no doubt one of the biggest, toed right in line beside me when I was off my face, in truth. He was so fucking arrogant, controlling and- moody! My God, he was a downright moody prick, too. And those were just my thoughts before seeing the aftermath of what went down at the end of the night!” 

He shook his head vehemently.

"And protective, really Squeaks? I'm sorry to say this, babe, honest I am, but you might need a reality check, mate. He was downright possessive. Glaring at you the entire night only to try and stake his claim the second you were alone."

I gritted my teeth, unhappy with the way Matty had portrayed everything.

"He's a friend!" I tried to defend but Matty, who had since quietly settled his mug down in spite of his obvious anger, jumped off the counter and stepped forward.

"More like deranged!" He spat back, "I saw you! I was fucking there! I had to look into your eyes, see the blinding panic, the fear. Don't tell me that he's a friend, not when he caused a reaction like that. I mean, you can be intimidating when you want to be- all sweet like, subdued, and intelligent. You're all these fascinating things rolled up into one oversized jumper, and yet, you let someone like him walk all over you? Treat you like you're his property or something." He scoffed once more, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the words he was having to spew.

I stared long and hard into his dark eyes before I couldn't stand to any longer, instead I turned away to blow out an unsteady breath.

Matty was right, I knew that much, alright? But it didn't mean I had to enjoy having to admit to that. Having someone else in on a secret I’d kept for so long, one I hadn't even realised I’d been keeping, not really. It all just felt like a little too much to be dealing with all at once and so early in the morning to boot. Because in actuality, I didn't want to face up to the fact that I had actually allowed someone to treat me that way. To know that other people had finally been a witness to it. Seen me that weak.

I had vowed long ago to never let another person put me in such a state of vulnerability. But here I was, a-fucking-gain.

I heard Matty sigh before socked feet dragged closer and I felt a gentle hand come to rest at the bow of my elbow. He sighed again, softer this time though, when I only continued to stare resolutely out of the kitchen window.

"I'm sorry for blowing my top, yeah? I just- it annoys me, to see you wash your hands of it so easily. As though you believed what he'd done was okay."

I swallowed thickly.

"You deserve better than that, okay?" Matty added.

I had to glance up at the ceiling to blink away the mist in my eyes, but did finally dip my head in silent acknowledgement, pulling away slightly so that I could take a moment to gather myself.

Matty didn't move when I crossed the kitchen floor to riffle through my cupboards, rooted to the ground almost, but he was spurred into action only a few seconds later.

I’d just placed a carton of eggs on the side and moved to turn on the hob when the old radio stuttered to a start. It let that silence I so hated fade away, and gave me the kick I needed to carry on.

"How'd you like your eggs?" I asked, and felt more than saw Matty’s relieved smile. He just had a way of taking up all the space in a room, as though he were its own gravitational pull and everyone else just had to be aware of his every cue. 

I hid my own, however tiny smile, as best I could.

"Fried. Got any bacon?"

And just like that, things evened out and our 'talk' was seemingly long forgotten. To be honest, I actually got so caught up in the normality of it all, the radio playing, the sidestepping, the easy smiles, that I completely forgot about the world around us. Everyone else that lived beyond these four walls.

It was just as we’d finished up eating and Matty had jumped up to grab our plates, that a familiar alert sounded. I glanced away and was reminded that life had in fact continued on without us.

I hurried over to where my phone was still sat on the side and worried at my lower lip when I saw the many notifications which lined the dimming screen. The newest was from Finn.

Messages now Finnleyyy Awake yet drunkard? Got a little man here ready to head home, well fed and only a little dirty!

It was instantaneous the way my gaze darted up to where Matty was now standing by the sink, only a tad surprised to find him making an attempt at the washing up. He must've felt my eyes on him though because he turned to flash me a grin over his right shoulder a second later. I tried my best to smile back, but the thought of Teddy meeting Matty, and of Matty meeting Teddy... just didn't sit quite well with me.

My thumbs flew their way across the screen to type up a speedy reply. 

Messages now Just woke up Sort of got a visitor? And before you start, no it wasn't like that, but I promise to tell you more when you get here Can you give me half hour??

It was only a little embarrassing, having to mention my overnight guest, especially whilst knowing it was the same man Finn had been blatantly teasing me about these past few weeks, but I really didn't want to have these two parts of my life crossover. Not right now.

With everything I understood about Matty and his past, I had to be certain that he was the kind of person I wanted my son to be around. The kind of person my son was safe to be around. And I was nowhere near sure where I currently was on that scale.

Matty was unreliable. His job had him everywhere and nowhere at once, up all hours of the day, and on a bus most months out of the year. That was something I really had to consider here. 

Because I really was just trying to be brutally honest with myself. No matter how genuine Matty might've seemed in his recent efforts, I also knew that he was bound to get bored of our dubious friendship sooner or later, and that Teddy tended to get rather attached quite quickly. And I wouldn't stand by and watch my son get hurt when Matty finally chose to walk away. It was tough, him only having so few people constantly around, I wished so greatly that I could give him the big family I’d always dreamed of, but new people always had me so weary.

I breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when Finn finally messaged back giving me the okay, as well as the expected hard time.

Messages now Finnleyyy Ah I'll be sure to rinse you of every detail, you lazy sod! And Teds will be fine, we'll stop off at the park on our way over

Matty popped up right beside me then, just as I exited my messages, and I was merely thankful that I'd managed to avoid him seeing anything that could have led to questions. In an attempt to both evade and act casual, I scrolled down further to see who else had texted. 

"Anything interesting?"

I blinked up at him, mouth now suddenly agape, then to my screen, then back up at him.

"Erm, you might want to see this." I told Matty as I all but threw my mobile into his hands. 

The Sun 07:34 HOTHEAD HEALY IS BACK AND MAKING HEADLINES WITH DARK HAIRED BEAUTY

MTV 08:02 MATTY HEALY SPOTTED AT LONDON BAR WITH NEW FLING!

The Mirror 08:11 A WILD NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN FOR 1975 SINGER AND FRIENDS TURNS SOUR

In all the new texts I’d gotten Jamie had been the one to send the first few articles, but one seemingly spiralled into another, like a spider spinning its deceitful web.

Matty’s sudden bout of boisterous laughter startled me though, the sound so unexpected, and I shot a hasty look over to find an amused smile dancing on his lips whilst he shook his head.

"Erm," I attempted, but stopped there when I realised I didn't quite have the words, or rather no actual clue on what to say.

"Same old story." Matty told me, shrugging it off as though him being pictured simply standing next to Indra, the friend of a friend from last night, in a crowded bar was enough to warrant such a spectacle.

"But you barely said two words to her!" I retorted when Matty handed me back my phone, surprised by his utter nonchalance.

He only shrugged again! "All publicity's good publicity, and all that crap. Besides, I know the truth, the people who matter know the truth," He dipped his chin over at me then for some reason, "And so does she. They'll find something, or someone else, to hound soon enough."

"What, so it really doesn't bother you then? Being made out to be this person you're not."

"A slag, you mean?" Matty teased as a mischievous smile limned his lips. 

Tutting, I could only roll my eyes at him before I forced myself to my feet and wandered over to the sink. The bigshot singer made an abrupt noise of indignation when he realised that I really did intend to redo all of his hard work.

"Oi, I already did those!"

I couldn’t hide my smirk as I rinsed the plates off properly, honestly glad for the distraction. "And you did quite well, what with it being your first try."

Matty scowled halfheartedly, but I took note of the faint blush that flushed the back of his neck. Seemed like I wasn't too far off in my assumption.

"So, what did Jamie have to say about it all then?" Matty quipped, swiftly changing the subject.

I let him have it, not saying a word more on the topic before I went to dry my hands. "What I think you mean to ask is, why did he text me?"

"Well, yeah." Matty replied with another single shoulder shrug, "How did he even know that we were together?"

"Made a good guess?" I supplied simply when I found that I didn't really have the answer to that particular question. 

But privately, I reckoned that maybe Jamie hadn't realised that Matty and I had been together at all. I hadn't been photographed in any articles, from what I'd seen at least, and neither me nor Matty had had any contact with him until right now. 

Maybe Jamie had just wanted to let me in on what was happening, on the know, perhaps he'd wanted someone to rant or share his frustrations with. It wouldn't have been the first time. 

So I made a mental note to message him again later, when Matty was long gone and I had time to stew on all of this.

"Enough about him anyway, what are you up to today?" Matty asked me as he jumped backup into the counter. I consciously avoided looking at the way his thighs pressed against the granite, the tattoos that marked the length of his skin.

"Apart from bleaching your arse off of my countertops?" I snarked back and snorted when Matty merely wiggled his arse in retort, "I've got a couple of things to sort today."

"Work things?"

I hummed my general assent but avoided meeting Matty’s eye, not wanting to outright lie. I really did have plans though, plans to waste the day away with Teddy, grab a late lunch, and maybe head off to the cinema to watch that new superhero film he'd been yapping on about for the past two weeks. Only, I couldn't tell any of that to Matty.

"What about you?" I asked instead (always so polite!) as I went about the kitchen, clearing away what remained of our cooking session. I'd rather get the majority done now, than fret over it later.

"Not much." Matty mumbled as he ran a fingertip along the edge of a nearby cupboard, kicking his feet up when I swept past. "Avoid Jamie, dodge a couple calls, maybe meet up with some friends. Think Ross got the new FIFA, so might bug him for a bit."

I hummed around a small smile, returning the dry cutlery back to its rightful drawer, "That Danny guy?"

Matty flashed me a knowing smile. "Mayhaps."

"Mayhaps?" I mimicked, shooting him a questioning brow.

"It's a combination of words, Squeaks. Emphasises the meaning!"

I snorted. "I'm sure."

Matty chuckled quietly to himself before he finally pushed himself off of my kitchen side and back onto his feet. "Well, I'd best get out of your hair then. Leave you to do your important work and what not."

I faked a sigh of evident relief and dodged the swat he aimed at my arm, grinning as I rounded a table chair.

"Don't act like you won't miss my Godlike presence, darling." Matty looked down his nose at me mockingly as he made his way over to the doorway.

A belly laugh bubbled up out of me upon hearing that and Matty all but lit up at the sound. "Godlike? Wow, it's nice to know that fame really does get to some people’s heads."

Matty cut his eyes at me and with a mirthful smile, flipped me off. "Dick. I'm just gonna head up and get changed. That alright?"

I dipped my head, feigning wiping down the table before I glanced up to watch him walk away, finding my smile never faltering even after Matty had disappeared from sight.

It wasn't too long later when he popped back up again though, all dressed up in a pair of expensive boots and the tight trousers he'd been wearing last night. I didn’t miss the flash of my jumper that had been hidden somewhere behind the zip of his jacket though, but I didn’t say anything, pleased that he’d taken a liking to it. 

Looking at him, it didn't even seem as though he'd been out drinking all night, or that he'd just rolled out of the bed of some other. He looked rather lovely like this, still a tad bit sleepy- it was all in the crook of his smile, you see- and soft.

"Well, I'd best be off then." Matty announced from where he was now stood idling waiting in the hallway. 

I propped myself up against the bannister and found myself wearing an amused smile, drinking him in. "Best be."

He grinned back over at me and just when it felt as though he was about to reach out, he stuffed one hand into his jacket pocket and pointed at me with the other. "I'll text you later, yeah? So make sure to actually reply this time, all right?"

Rather dramatically, I blew out a large breath and crossed my arms over the ball that sat atop the bannister’s wooden beam. "Seems like a hard task..."

I laughed when Matty shot me a particularly nasty glare, but relented.

"I'll be waiting on your many messages, my dear." I corrected, doing my best to feign the doting wife sending her husband off to war, even going as far as to clutch at my jumper in a pained goodbye.

"You’d better." Matty smirked and when I took a step away from the staircase, he decided to take that as his leave.

Though it was just as he was halfway out the front door that he paused and turned back to chance a glance at me, ring clad fingers toying with the latch on the inside lock. 

"We might've dropped the subject but, just know, if I ever see that ginger prick near you again I will put my fist through his face hard enough that he'll be shitting out my rings." And with that Matty dipped his chin at me once and let the door swing shut behind him.

I wasn’t ashamed to say that I stood there in the silence that encompassed the house for a very long moment, before my lips finally quirked upwards and I let myself laugh. 

It seemed that everyone was right, Matty Healy truly did have a way with words. Only, the wrong kind.

[octuscle]

I’ve always been a good person or at least I like to think of myself as one. Always worried and being considerate of others. Some times I wonder what life would be like if I wasn’t and didn’t care like some fuck boy. Is there anything the chronivac can do to help me experience this for a day?

Little Italy of all places! Couldn't his secretary have found anything worse? If your name is Gianni Lombardi and you stay in a hotel room in Little Italy, everyone must assume that you are Italian. Gianni's great-great-grandfather was his last ancestor who was born in Italy. His great-great-grandmother came from Germany. There was hardly a drop of Italian blood in his veins. And Gianni had often wondered why his parents, who were called Stephen and Kathrin, had given him an Italian first name.

And now he was standing in the lobby of this shabby hotel, which was called the Bowery Grand Hotel but was nothing like a grand hotel, and the Italian mamma at reception was talking to him in Italian. Fortunately, at some point a somewhat greasy older man arrived, who said something to the lady in Italian and then took Gianni to his room.

It was clean. Pretty clean, at least. But the tube TV was ancient and there was still a clock radio on the bedside table. The carpet didn't look like something you'd want to walk on barefoot. And the bathroom was in the hallway and was an orgy of rust and limescale. One night, Gianni thought to himself… It's only for one night. And he was tired. It had been a long journey.

The brand new radio alarm clock rang at 05:30. Gianni lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. It still smelled of the fresh paint, the room had only been finished last week. He lit a cigarette and was about to go to the bathroom when he heard his mum calling. Could he hurry up a bit, he had to go to the wholesale market. As if he had forgotten. Breakfast was at 06:30 and he had to be back by then. So he quickly washed up, got dressed and got into the van to get everything his guests would need today. He could also meet his fence there, to whom he could sell some of the things he had "found" with guests in the room. It was an advantage to look good. And some guests paid well for the fact that no one found out that the hotel's junior had shagged them.

It was 11:00 a.m. when Gianni was finally able to take a break. He walked two blocks to Sara D. Roosevelt Park and sat down in the sun. He had no more cigs. But in his experience, it wouldn't be long before his boys would hit this place up. And they owed him a lot more than just a cigarette.

Luigi, Luca and Andrea were good buddies. Stinking lazy ones, to be sure. And Gianni envied them for not having a mother with a whip behind them. But the three of them were always good for a laugh. And today there was a cigarette for Gianni, too. In return, however, he had to promise them that they could come to his mum's hotel for lunch. If he was lucky, the three of them would also help in the kitchen afterwards. And Gianni could let the sun shine on his Italian skin for the rest of the day.

[azspot]

A resurrection of McCarthyism would therefore be just a stop on the road towards the full-on purges. This was the plan being voiced just blocks away from the White House by the leading figures of a political faction that could very well be moving into that White House in six months. This is a faction that believes, as a rock solid truth, that white Christians are the most persecuted people in America, and that this screaming injustice is being exacerbated by the wholesale importation of illegal immigrants through our open borders. One of the most bizarre elements of listening to these true believers talk for a few days is that you hear little about things that are, objectively speaking, the biggest challenges that Americans share — the economy, for example, or healthcare, or transportation — and instead hear tons about immigrants murdering women, and children being “mutilated.” It is not just that these people have different views on political issues; they seem to have recently arrived via wormhole from an alternate universe in which the nation’s entire survival depended on preventing someone coming from Mexico in order to sneak into your daughter’s bedroom and convince her to dress like a boy.

Onward, Christian Soldiers—To War!

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

have i ever talked about that I like dolls

I actually really like dolls. I used to look at bjd blogs in secret as a teen, and not even the skeevy ones. Like mostly just the alt fashion ones.

Love dolls. It's not a hobby I can really afford to get into, but I do enjoy looking at them.

I never had any dolls, but in school I used to draw featureless women with weird hipster clothes that were trendy at the time. I think I wanted to be those women, honestly. That's probably pretty normal with fashion dolls, right? You want to be like your dolly, right?

If youre a little girl, i guess. except I was a 16 year old "boy" on antipsychotics and weed and mystery ziploc downers (this was before fentanyl hit the scene, but i think they probably had a ton of acetaminophen mixed in with the hydro or whatever i was plugging, but fuck)

I just love dolls and figurines and I like clothes. I like clothes so much

Why did they raise me watching fashion shows all my childhood and then act weird about my clothes when I started dressing different. What did you think was going to happen?

Idk. if anything, it was good and made me aware

being raised to be prissy and effeminate prevented me from successfully performing masculinity and forming male connections that would have held me back from transitioning

I didn't have a straight girlfriend or masculine male friends or any of that. I was a fag and everybody told me so from second grade onwards. All of my friends were druggies and queers and dweebs and that was the end of it. No doubts or sentimentality or social norms in the way. I was already a freak so i could just shit on my own grave if I wanted

I feel like I would have caved under the pressure and repressed if I had even able to be a productively miserable guy. It sucked enough that when they were forcing me to go through puberty uninterrupted, I was totally down to take birth control and starve myself on a boiled tofu diet to interrupt it myself, and I DID. There wasn't any DIY i could get.

I see pre-everything bitches waffling and I get it. It's rough. It's even rougher if you actually have a person life and normal people who will leave. Idk I didn't really have a life at all and I didn't care about those people at all and I didn't even feel like a person, so it was kinda easy for me to be reckless. So maybe I don't actually get it

but like girl stfu. Take your pills and buy even more pills on the internet and take those pills too. Spend 1k a year on pills. Get crypt and get bathtub shots even cheaper. Buy a fat wrap of raws from some wholesaler in china. Idk. It seems like a no brainer. It's like that meme. Your parents are already disappointed so just take the pills

Dolls though. I love dolls.

I'm so happy i spent my teenage years crossfaded and scribbling paper dolls. I need to go back to my parents' house and find the box i used to hide my paper dolls in the bottom of

Those dolls are a part of me and I want them back. They were my connection to femininity when they pressured me to cut all my hair off. I wore a beanie for two years straight because i couldnt handle being seen that way, especially when I got compliments on it. "You actually look like a man now."

FUCK THAT.

I love dolls. I know a lot of women have mixed feelings about dolls. I know that a lot of dolls kind of fuck you up and promote inhuman beauty norms. Idk. They're still special to me.

We have been cleaning the depression mess lately. Maybe I can put my figurines on the shelf

How and why am I alive and why is it impossible for me to appreciate that when I'm alone and sober

[ottiliere]

what are your go-to resources for phantom blood fashion historical accuracy...... ...

ok I'm glad you asked this because I've been writing up a whole other post on dio's fashion sense and i wasn't sure how much of the period's fashion trends to explain since I didn't want to make an assumption that nobody knows anything about late victorian fashion. this will be a good reference post for me...and you... and anyone else who wants to use it.

regardless; I hate to say it but the best way to start drawing period clothing is to do a little reading on the fundamentals of [late] victorian dress because it will seriously assist you in the long run, e.g., you won't have to scratch your head and spend time wondering why you keep coming across two different lapel types on tailcoat fashion plates if you're aware that both peak tips and shawl collars were in vogue in the late 1880s and the '90s.

I'll put some basic information that I've collected for myself here so you don't have to go looking for it; I'm going to write this assuming you're a newborn baby deer poking your nose into the victorian era for the first time in your life fully unaware of the customs.

reference links for the wayfarer so you don't have to scroll all the way to the bottom:

Etiquette books. Look for anything written in the 80s/90s; again, period trends change. There's usually always a section on how men should be dressing on different occasions (weddings, funerals, daily casual travel, etc.) in these. In an ideal world one would only have to reference books written/published in London, however I've found that there are many more from US. This is fine though IMO, there was a lot of cross-talk between countries due to the implementation of the telegraph and hence a lot of etiquette standards are "universal" (it's why fashion between EU/US/AU can look pretty similar at the same time--they were all talking to each other). If there's a difference between the "New York" way of doing things and the "London" way of doing things, the authors usually point this out. kind of funny. I love reading these, they're also very good for understanding the general quirks of late Victorian society and how the standards at the time characterize their behavior.

The National Portrait Gallery (link is an advanced search; you can change the dates. I set the results to be located in "london")

Victoria & Albert museum online gallery

The Met museum online gallery (in general for clothes on mannequins, but they also list an archive of fashion plates here, separated by year. A lot of them are misfiled though so be wary of that)

Alamy website. genuinely one of the most all-encompassing resources I've used, I use it for everything and especially when I'm into period pieces. "boy 188*" "man 1880s portrait" "man 188* suit" etc. you find a lot of illustrations from the time period this way too. it fucking rules. my computer is on the brink of crashing 24/7 because I keep too many alamy tabs open at all times. A lot of really good Vanity Fair illustrations are on here too, just plug it in with a year and see what pops up.

Sites like this (Gentleman's Gazette) with little articles giving a run-down of period clothing can be helpful...... to an extent. idk. I don't really trust them. GG is solid for the most part and so is The Black Tie Blog and Victorian Web, but I've spotted too many errors on other sites to trust anything they say wholesale. Fashion Institute of Technology is worth mentioning as well, though, despite their coverage on men's fashion being pretty brief. Goes by decade, though, with a lot of information on women/children's fashion, too (it's very interesting! I linked their 1880s fashion rundown, highly recommend going through it, especially the Aestheticism segment). TL;DR: My advice when it comes to website hopping is "stick with primary sources".

How to Read a Suit (A Guide to Changing Men’s Fashion from the 17th to the 20th Century) by Lydia Edwards. Look this up on libgen. It's broken down into chunks of decades; REAAALLLYY recommend reading the introduction to "Chapter 4: 1860-1899". Probably the most historically informative consolidation of relevant fashion information in one place. Very interesting writing, pretty short too. If you're gonna read one thing out of this whole list, make it this.

The Dictionary of Fashion History by Valerie Cumming. look this up on libgen. for when you don't understand what some article or book is talking about and google will not give you answers. as it is it wont to do. (could not wrap my head around top frocks until this point; the wikipedia article for it is quite frankly embarrassing.)

here's my google drive of fashion for this time period, I had just been keeping these on local folders but I think drive would be better so I started transferring them here... compiled myself. this is a "work in progress" and will be updated.

I am going to write a bit about men's fashion at the time period under the cut because I think it's important to understand, if you don't know much about the victorian period, that the dress decorum was heavily emphasized and if you wore the wrong ensemble in the wrong setting everyone WOULD think you were ill-bred and would not invite you back into their home again. because just seeing you exist like that was impolite and quite frankly very embarrassing to witness. these resources are great but not if you don't know where and when these guys would be wearing these things... for instance i know the fashion plate archive there are some drawings of men in livery and you may be tempted to put dio in something like this because WOW! they do look kind of cool. with the big brass buttons... but I think he would more readily batter another human being physically than dress up like a butler at a dinner party and get mistaken for a butler. it's the little things.

first thing: you were expected to dress differently for different times of day. This consists of: morning dress, afternoon dress (semi-formal; not really "mandatory" except at special events, like weddings, at least for men), and evening dress (anything past 6 o'clock or "by candle light" is the general rule).

here are overview excerpts from Modern Etiquette in Public and Private published by Frederick Warne and Co. in 1887:

and excerpts from The Complete Bachelor: Manners for Men by Walter Germain, written in 1896:

Cecil B. Hartley states in his Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness (1860) that "by dress we show our respect for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to mingle".

He advised men that there were “shades of being ‘dressed;’ and a man is called ‘little dressed,’ ‘well dressed,’ and ‘much dressed,’ not according to the quantity but the quality of his coverings.”

Black was "the" color. As Lydia Edwards writes in How to Read a Suit (2020), "while it is unrealistic to imagine that all men everywhere only wore black, the acceptable color palette was certainly more limited at this point than it had been for the first half of the century. The rising professional middle classes seemed to embrace a centuries-old association with black for certain professions, which perhaps made this an inevitable choice for the evolving and expanding world of work in the nineteenth century."

I'm going to add illustrations now; humbly request you ignore how terrible the paint canvases i threw things in. Things to note moving forward:

there were three different types of shirt collars in vogue at the time: stiff, high stand collars that hugged your neck, wing-tip collars, and one that's closer to the "regular" collars you typically see nowadays (banker collar). don't really see the last one in any of the fashion plates but you do see it in portraits.

Do note that walking sticks were commonplace and in fact expected to be touted around, hence why they (in addition to umbrellas) keep reappearing in the illustrations;

(1890)

Frock coats were the most "formal" of the daywear. When going through the National Portrait Gallery website you'll notice that most men are wearing either a morning coat or frock coat; the lounge coat was still too informal to be considered for how much money you'd spend to get a photograph taken. Don't you want to look nice?

Lounge suits, again, were the ultimate "informal"; they were viewed with distain by the frock-coat. (here's a good thread on this, actually; i love this fucking guy lol). really, really don't think Dio would be wearing one that often. maybe a double-breasted one? i really think he's too much of a snob to wear what he sees as filthy poor people rags. appearance is everything, etc.

~~~

waistcoats you have a lot of freedom/liberty with, at least in regard to design (except for evening waistcoats). different lapel shapes, no lapels... unfortunately shifting into the later decades of the 19th century it was pretty much expected that the fabric of your waistcoat match the fabric of your suit (along with your trousers; called a "ditto suit"). jonathan would conform to this mode IMO, i don't think it stops dio. he has a vision & his waistcoats are likely very extensively detailed. actually I just remembered that we do see one as depicted by araki's tenuous grasp of historical fashion and it is. awesome. i, too, love to wear cravats directly underneath my shirt

(1891 / 1892)

~~~

Evening dress is (comparatively) much more simple & men had much less artistic freedom in their choice of dress: black tailcoat, white gloves, white tie, waistcoat in either black or white, black button boots. Regardless, it was its own beast in the fact that this was something that you really weren't supposed to dick around with. (Dio would've found a way, but that's a discussion for a post that isn't crashing every 3 minutes.) From A Gentleman by Maurice Francis Egan (1893):

If a young man is invited to a dinner or to a great assembly in any large city, he must wear a black coat. A gray or colored coat worn after six o’clock in the evening, at any assembly where there are ladies, would imply either disrespect or ignorance on the part of the wearer. In most cities he is expected to wear the regulation evening dress, the “swallow-tail” coat of our grandfathers, and, of course, black trousers and a white tie. In London or New York or Chicago a man must follow this last custom or stay at home. He has his choice. The “swallow-tail” coat is worn after six o’clock in the evening, never earlier, in all English-speaking countries.

(1885 (misfiled) / 1888 / 1888 / 1890)

MET evening suit ca. 1888; different aspects of the ensemble displayed solo at this link.

In the 80s the "dinner jacket" ("tuxedo" in US) was introduced. It was used for more informal occasions.

final evening dress "tips":

~~~

Outerwear was pretty varied��� you can get a pretty wide dynamic of form depending on choice of coat, so keep that in mind. chesterfields tended to be pretty formless, top frocks a bit more fitted. Length/density would change depending on season, too.

~~~

Children's fashion:

end notes:

everyone would be wearing suspenders, not belts; belts were pretty much only worn with military uniform at this time (except in america)

sweater vests were really only considered sportswear until the first few decades of the 1900s. they would not be wearing these casually under jackets, they'd be wearing waistcoats

button boots were buttoned using a special button hook. video demonstration

NOTE: trousers being "creased" began to be more in vogue in the 90s; this is because they finally invented the trouser press. read article for more information--you sometimes see creases in the 80s, really not before then though. look at how they bunch at the knee (c.1880s)!

When it comes to gloves, different colors denoted different occasions to wear them. In the text screenshots provided in previous sections, it usually states which colors are appropriate for whichever situation. The paragraph I am about to end this on is relatively useless, but I thought I'd include it anyway:

[marzipanandminutiae]

I think the line between representing gnc women in the past and interpreting the NLOG trope as applying to any gnc woman in fiction is difficult to chart—I don’t deny that authors do this, but the thing is that real historical women did feel like this for very legitimate reasons, even if they come off as condescending today (I’d be pissed too if I was told I Had to wear skirts and corsets, and I am someone who personally really enjoys wearing skirts and corsets). Representing women who did not conform to gender norms on various different ways is important, and I don’t think Cox’s critique of any of her chosen movies/shows is particularly convincing in part because she does not acknowledge this at all—and while not every YouTube video essay has to be all things to all people, this is a touchy topic and some effort on her part would’ve been really appreciated, because it very much comes off as “gnc women make me uncomfortable” more than anything else.

See, I really don't get where the whole "she doesn't talk about real GNC women!!" thing comes from

because I am literally watching the video right now and, direct quote, "while rejecting traditional gender norms of their era happened, that doesn't mean it can only be expressed in the rejection of distinctly feminine articles of clothing..."

"And while I'm not saying there's anything wrong with breaking gender norms in historical dramas...Gentleman Jack is a good example of this...I'm frustrated with the reliance on 'Girly Bad! Boy Good!' clothing defaults...without what seems to be a second thought on how problematic it can actually be."

"The idea of creating the bloomers and the trousers could have come from this very genuine place of like 'I want...to be able to run...without having to deal with all these skirts around my legs.' And that is fair..."

and the big part, prefacing AN ENTIRE SECTION OF THE VIDEO: "Now, all that being said, I want to acknowledge the historic reality of women who did dress in masculine clothing." She actually goes further than I would in using they/them pronouns for George Sand (I have a "pronouns they used in life" policy, personally), and discusses in detail some examples of women who presented masculine at various times, for various reasons. She also gets in-depth about Gentleman Jack, and why the show was more authentic to Anne Lister's life (as a distinctly butch woman in the 1830s) for showing her having to bend slightly to accepted feminine modes of dress rather than just...sticking her in anachronistic pants all the time.

I don't think the video is perfect- it's clear what presentation Abby herself prefers, and thus she can sometimes muddy her own message. For example, to me it's clear that she's not saying it would be BAD for a suffragist character to be GNC, but it would be UNREALISTIC due to the emphasis the actual suffrage movement had to place on conventionally feminine attire to avoid distracting the press from their own message. But I can see how it might come off as "feminine suffragist character good, masc suffragist character bad" to someone with less baseline knowledge of the speaker's general views.

(It could also be hard to get that she's not decrying the rejection of feminine attire wholesale in criticizing Anne W*th an E, but rather saying that it's unfaithful to the character as originally written. Also she could have been clearer that the issue with Miss Stacy is that she would be INSTA-FIRED if, as a small-town teacher in the 1890s, she showed up to a town hall meeting in trousers. Like. I cannot overstate how fired she would get from any position overseeing children's education, as an outsider and not even an "accepted local eccentric," in a backwater like Avonlea.)

In short, while it has its issues, I don't really see that it's as horrible and prescriptivist a video as everyone makes it out to be. But you're entitled to your opinions, just as I am to mine.

[lboogie1906]

The Negro Silent Protest Parade, commonly known as the Silent Parade, was a silent march of about 10,000 African Americans along Fifth Avenue starting at 57th Street in New York City on July 28, 1917. The event was organized by the NAACP, church, and community leaders to protest violence directed toward African Americans, such as recent lynchings in Waco and Memphis. The parade was precipitated by the East St. Louis riots in May and July 1917 where at least 40 African American people were killed by white mobs, in part touched off by a labor dispute where African Americans were used for strike breaking.

The brutality of the attacks by mobs of white people and the refusal by the authorities to protect innocent lives contributed to the responsive measures taken by some African Americans in St. Louis and the nation. Marcus Garvey declared in a speech that the riot was “one of the bloodiest outrages against mankind” and a “wholesale massacre of our people”, insisting that “This is no time for fine words, but a time to lift one’s voice against the savagery of a people who claim to be the dispensers of democracy.” After the riots, many African Americans felt that there was little “possibility of the US ever permitting African Americans to enjoy full citizenship, equal rights, and dignity.”

Protesters carried signs that highlighted their discontent. Some signs and banners appealed directly to President Woodrow Wilson. A mounted police escort led the parade. Women and children were next, dressed in white. They were followed by the men, dressed in black. People of all races looked on from both sides of Fifth Avenue. The New York Age estimated that “fully fifteen thousand Negroes, who should have taken an active part, looked on.” Black Boy Scouts handed out fliers describing why they were marching. During the parade, white people stopped to listen to African American people explain the reasons for the march and other white bystanders expressed support and sympathy. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[miraculosus]

Fandom Response to Miraculous Ladybug 514 “Derision”

Reception of the episode “Derision” upon airing appears mostly positive. That means it won’t create a dramatic rift as some of those who saw the leaks had feared, and the status quo of the fandom seems more or less undisturbed on the surface. Perhaps it pumps a bit more gas into the righteousness tanks of some and sours opinions of Kim (but those who really cared about him were few to begin with). Most are integrating the new information into their understanding of the characters, which may be a bad thing if you don’t like this new information and prefer to stick to “earlier versions” of them.

My own personal feelings on the matter are neither here nor there because the discourse is the main course. I’ve written three mock-reviews based on all the posts I’ve seen: positive, negative, and mixed. Let’s go!

Positive

What an enlightening look into Marinette’s past. My poor baby girl! I love her so much, and it hurt my heart to see how much she suffered in the past. This was a deeply moving and impactful depiction of the horrors and effects of school bullying, and even the systemic inadequacy of the adults response was realistic. Some parts hit a little too close to home, haha! It recontextualizes so many of Marinette’s past behaviors big and small all the way back to Origins in an amazing way. Her view of Chat Noir in season 1! Her reaction to Adrien in Puppeteer 2?! So many dots are connecting I’m going crazy! How can people say these writers aren’t good at long complex plots and foreshadowing? I’m eating this up!

Adrien’s responses really blew me away. I’ve always wanted to see him stand up and fight like that, and for it to be out of protectiveness for Marinette? So romantic! I love when a character is so devoted that they’ll go murder-mode instantly on anyone who tries to hurt their beloved. This dark side of Adrien is awesome! Seeing him finally cut off Chloe once and for all was super satisfying too. And in the end, he was just so patient and understanding of Marinette. That’s true love! Who could ask for a better boyfriend?

Socqueline was super cool, and it’s adorable how Marinette got her pigtails from her. That makes Socqueline dressing up as Ladybug such a sweet full circle moment!

This episode added a lot of depth to both Marinette and Adrien, and showed great development for Adrinette. They are so cute, and things are only getting better for them!

Negative

It’s glaringly obvious that this episode was a late-stage retcon created predominantly out of spite, and boy is it ugly. Somehow, they managed to ruin every character.

With Marinette, they try to prove her haters wrong and make us feel bad for her by showing her past actions were due to trauma, but all this does is tell us those things we laughed about as comedic cartoon exaggeration like her Adrien calendar, obsessive celebrity research, keeping his hair as a souvenir, sneaking into his house and sniffing his pillow, stuff like that��� was actually genuinely problematic, creepy, and bad. Then they say don’t blame her for it, blame Chloe!

Could they leave Chloe out of it for once? I’m so sick and tired of the weird vendetta the writers seem to have against Chloe and her fans. They made her sympathetic by giving her that backstory and those genuine moments, now they punish us for not buying wholesale that this 14-year-old abused child who was never equipped to learn to be a decent person, is the root of all evil? We get it! Shes fucking sociopathic and malicious from womb to tomb! She’s worse than Gabriel ShadowHawkMothNarc Righteously-Enslaves-His-Son Agreste! I can accept the show will never give her a redemption arc, but this is exhausting. Love or hate Chloe, wouldn’t we all be better off if they just left her alone and wrote her out already? Every Chloe focus episode gets worse and worse.

Moving on, now they’ll make everyone hate Kim which was completely unwarranted. He already had his background arc from being a bumbling insensitive twat to a lovable goofy himbo. He may have been worse last year, but he denounced Chloe already after Dark Cupid. Plus, Kim and Marinette always got along just fine! Don’t try and tell me her trauma with him was just repressed until now? Kim was a great and fun side character that subverted the bully jock trope, and they had to go and ruin that for cheap points.

Adrien already had realistic and compelling character flaws they now refuse to address, instead going with the edgy murderous rage angle that completely goes against his whole established character and should have been left behind in bad OOC gender-roley fanfiction. Of course the Adrien Salters will never let this go, and then there are the Stans who think this glaring red flag is romantic. I get that some like the violently overprotective boyfriend trope, the guy who abandons principles of human decency out of passion and love, and takes care of all the girl’s emotional needs so she never needs to worry about anything, but it came out of nowhere. That’s not the kind of character or romance that made me like this show.

Finally, we have to mention how horrifically incompetent literally every adult looks here. Tom and Sabine didn’t do anything about Marinette’s suffering at school for years. Neither did any of the teachers or the Principal. They’re all rotten!

An utterly unnecessary and trash episode that proves the writers completely lost the plot and devolved into petty vengeance against insatiable fans they never should have paid any mind.

Mixed

School bullying can absolutely be traumatic and its effects should be taken seriously, and this backstory for Marinette does flesh out her character in some interesting ways. However, this episode or any involving Marinette’s past would work better earlier in the series. When placed this late, it can seem more like a response to a certain sect of Marinette critics in the fandom, which diminishes its value as part of the story. With all the other high-stakes plot left hanging, another one about the mean girl doesn’t feel like the most effective use of airtime. Moreover, a different one-off character (Gorgeous Nathan from the Gym Club, anyone? Or maybe one of the others shown in last year’s picture from Reflekta) would have worked fine in Kim’s role in the episode, and wouldn’t create the continuity issues that using Kim here does. But the contrast between his apology and promise to change and Chloe’s refusal and doubling down worked for the lesson.

There wasn’t buildup to Socqueline having such a major role in Marinette’s past, so that makes it feel shoehorned in as well.

Many apparent inconsistencies can be explained though. Marinette’s hang up is not about falling in love but about confessing and saying “I love you”. Luka never asked that of her. At first, Chat Noir was not a viable option because she could never know him the way she told herself she had to, but later, she realized she truly knew him through all the trials they endured together. But Adrien is a uniquely difficult target because he was friends with Chloe. The circumstances of their meeting was enough to sow seeds of doubt that were difficult to shake deep down. Marinette gave her all, but things kept going wrong. Now that she finally knows why, she and Adrien can work through it together. He already knows she loves him and will patiently accept whatever affection she’s able to express, so it’s not the end of the world.

As for Adrien’s violent outburst, as far as he knows, Monarch is still in ok condition. So he may believe on some level that cataclysm is not an instant kill but something rather less severe than that. He did lose control of his emotions for a moment, but it’s good for a character to have such flaws, especially one like Adrien who has repressed his negative emotions to be a “perfect son” in the past. His anger management issue and impulsivity could be building to something truly dramatic. It could be something that gets addressed in his character arc.

So there are things that bothered me about this episode, and it does seem to have been inserted fairly late, but overall it was alright and not nearly as awful as the reactions to the leaks made it seem.

[quicktimeeventfull]

ooh that language ask had me thinking... i think L learned lots of languages on his own and made Watari catch up, since it helps with detective work (also. hc that L is a weeb. he knows Hideki Ryuga a little too well. i bet he's read hunter x hunter twice)

however i do think the spk and the task force communicated in english - and how fluent is Light ? did the language barrier prevent him from being as persuasive as he was in japanese, now that he's forced into politeness patterns and nuances he doesn't get ? did this compound with his callous behaviour post L-death, and helped the task force realise he is Kira as they listened to his translated justifications ?

Misa would be fluent thanks to her job and maintains her image much better, but how does the task force deal, since i assume they're not all gonna speak english that well ? if Near used stronger and more direct language than they're used to, if only for the sake of simplicity, that would explain some of the reactions... (also: Mogi not speaking to Near bc he just doesn't understand english lmao)

this is what i think too!! strongly agreed with all of this. my personal headcanon is that L was born in japan & speaks japanese natively, but i can also see him as a primarily english speaker and/or someone who lost his japanese during his time in england and had to relearn as a teenger/adult. i also think he almost certainly knows loads of languages fluently and a few languages at a functional level — it seems fitting for his character and the whole concept of a superdetective. ALSO i’m so into the concept of L actually genuinely liking hideki ryuga. he even has his hair cut like him!! (my further niche hc is that L comes from kyushu and naturally speaks in an associated dialect, but code-switches to tokyo dialect around the task force. however, this is something i made up wholesale with no actual canonical basis other than that he’s a bit more formal in he speech than everyone else but much more familiar in his actions. he seems less like a city boy to me!) also strongly agreed with light and the task force!! i feel like it would be really beneficial for light to learn english well but i just don’t see where he’d find the time and opportunities to do so, at least in the first half of the series, so i personally hc him as having excellent highschool english. like, very functional but not something he can do perfectly or without a lot of effort. i never really thought about misa being more fluent because of her job but you’re 100% correct and i love that very much. the whole concept of misa maybe doing some translation for light is kind of delightful and i think would do interesting things to their dynamic? i always feel like it would make sense for near to do his exchange with light in a mix of english & japanese for that reason — like, force light into having to multitask between thinking up all his lies and coming up with pretty language to dress up his lies. plus switching between the two languages would allow near to control how much & how well the task force could understand what he’s saying. also, absolutely love the idea of mogi being able to be so resilient to near bc he doesn’t know what he’s saying anyway fgjdfg.

[houseofbrat]

Day 87737892901 of W’s fans making him the biggest victim of all the royals. And don’t get me start with the press.

Rebecca’s English last article about W, is about portraying him as the biggest victim in his father’s and wife’s illness. W’s fans aren’t different from H’s fans, all of them making those two men the biggest victims in everything, even when they f*cked it up, the press and their fans find a way to twist their mistakes and stupidity and start saying that they are ‘masterminds’, or are ‘victims’, or the ‘husbands of the year’, when they don’t do a damn.

What is wrong with those people? As I’ve said many time, sure, he isn’t having it easy, but some people need to touch some grass in their way they talk and defend those men. And don’t get me start with W&H’s fans only believing their PR bullshit their sell to the tabloids and believing they can’t do wrong because they are ‘handsome’. Tabloids needs to make some money, but they also need to touch some grass in they way they write about the royals, specially about Diana’s boys.

[this ask is about a month old, post-TTC, from 19 June 2024. sorry, I am behind.]

Becky English is a total fangirl, who gets paid to write for the Daily Mail.

For their father, approaching his 42nd birthday next week, the last year has seen him step up to the plate as the Prince of Wales and heir to the throne, as well as having to deal with first his father's devastating cancer diagnosis and then that of his wife. Throughout, William has dropped off his children at school each day, as well as cheered them on from the sidelines, in an attempt to keep their young lives as normal as possible amid such deep personal turmoil. As anyone who has nursed a loved one through cancer knows, the tumble of emotions it brings can be hard to bear. William will no doubt have found inner reserves of strength and resilience that even he did not know he had.  The Father's Day photograph was taken by Kate, 42, last month on the beach near Anmer Hall, their Norfolk home, during the half-term holidays. Casually dressed in shorts, hoodies and polo shirts – with a cap for William – its sweet simplicity makes it the kind of family picture many of us have in our albums.

Becky never bothers to mention the household staff William has that help out with all the basic functions of living--housekeeper, nanny, cook, etc. William deserves a medal for taking the kids to school "amid such deep personal turmoil"!

BUT a few months ago, Becky was telling us that William couldn't do "full-time duties" because things were so hectic at home:

And William has found himself facing a new battle: one that has struck at the very foundation of everything he holds dear. One can only imagine the weight on his shoulders at seeing both his adored wife and his father facing serious simultaneous health crises, while also trying to protect his three young children from this devastating blow to their little world. And while, fortunately, the King appears to be responding well to treatment and is hopeful of taking up more forward-facing public duties in the near future, recent events will have been a stark reminder of what awaits the Wales’ in the not so distant future. It is why, although his appearances today were both welcome and heartfelt, we should not expect to see a wholesale return to royal duties for the prince. Instead, I understand, he is likely to undertake one or two public engagements each week - often on the same day in order to minimise time away from Kate and the children - as well as continuing with his usual behind-the-scenes work. He will, I am told, almost certainly take some sort of role around the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings in June, as well as attending Trooping the Colour and the annual Order of the Garter service and, perhaps, one of the annual summer garden parties for worthy community heroes.

William couldn't manage basic normalcy a few months ago, which is why he barely worked after coming back from the kids end-of-term spring break, but now he has "inner reserves of strength and resilience that even he did not know he had."

But, hey, this is why Becky needed to make an article about William helping his mother-in-law when she got her shoe stuck at Ascot.

Becky must have been low on her monthly quota for articles to publish that hard hitter.

And now William will be on vacation until early September.

What a tough life.

[nonstandardrepertoire]

so we finished watching season 2 of Picard last night, and just. whew, friends, what? a truly baffling array of choices. things i simply cannot get over:

the commitment to doing every Single joke from The Voyage Home while simultaneously Strenuously Avoiding doing anything campy or goofy

like, the reason TVH works is that the main cast are all just Buffoons — Kirk does not know how money works, Spock is dressed as a jogger in a bathrobe, Scottie tries to talk into a computer mouse, and it is all GREAT. in Picard S2, it's like, they say they don't know much about this period in history, but they all seem to click into place fairly seamlessly. in general watching this new era of Trek, it feels like the writers have simply forgotten the pleasure of a good silly camp romp, and constantly referencing one of the best silliest campiest romps in the canon is uh, not helping

the climax of the season revolves around?? Q's character development??? Q???? QUEUE?????? baffling

in general what was even Q's plan here. is he . . . trying to sabotage the Europa mission or not? why is All Of This necessary for Picard to forgive himself, if that's Q's real goal? just like generally this framing does not make sense to me and so resting the entire season on it is. a choice, i guess

also when have we ever been asked to care about Q's interiority before, when have we ever been asked to be On His Side as opposed to whatever human he's fucking with

how are we relating to canon here. h o w. there are some Real deep cuts, but then also some like, fairly prominent episodes that are just?? ignored???

like, ok:

Guinan and Picard have a fairly significant adventure together in 1800s San Francisco (in “Time’s Arrow”). it is canon then that she doesn't know Picard yet. this is an incident she will remember for 500+ years and reference on board the Enterprise D. but in this season of Picard, she appears not to know him at all and to once more be meeting him for the first time. these two first meetings are . . . difficult to reconcile

but we are apparently doubling down on “Wesley Crusher was just the super specialest boy and he managed to transcend the limits of physical reality because of his big special brain”

we are apparently pretending that Robert Picard just . . . doesn't exist? isn't around for Jean-Luc's childhood? this isn't really technically a continuity error but Robert and Jean-Luc's relationship felt real and specific and grounded in the particulars of their two characters whereas Yvette just feels like generic sexist “ooooooh his mother was ~crazy~” schlock, and losing the former for the latter is uh. not an improvement

we're doubling down on Gary Seven, tho! Gary fucking Seven!!!!! remember that beloved character from an episode that was definitely a good idea??? why

actually, specifically, tho: it feels like this is a continuation of Star Trek’s reluctance/inability to grapple with the less savory parts of Gene Roddenberry as a human being, particularly his misogyny. to stick only to the example at hand, he made the “Assignment: Earth” filming experience so miserable for Teri Garr (by, for example, relentlessly shortening the length of her skirt, even over the objections of the costume designer) that Garr has absolutely refused to talk about Star Trek in subsequent interviews. i was obviously not on set, but the vibe i get is extremely that filming that episode would clearly and unambiguously been a hostile workplace environment by contemporary standards of sexual harassment. so i, personally, have a hard time being like “ah yes, ‘Assignment: Earth’, what a fun bit of forgotten canon to incorporate wholesale into our new series without grappling with the specifics of its creation in any way!”. the vibes are just . . . rancid

anyway, moving on from continuity gripes,

it feels like a real missed opportunity to have not cast David Duchovny as the FBI agent. this is really not the showrunners’ fault, but i’m in a hating sort of mood, so i’m going to take off points anyway

“Dark Page” was not a great idea in 1993 and it isn’t any better now

circling back to “covering the hits without any understanding of what made them good”, Raffi’s encounter in a camp of unhoused people feels like a nod to “Past Tense” without any willingness to actually . . . engage with what “Past Tense” was saying. for all that i have some issues with some of its narrative choices, “Past Tense” devotes significant, sustained screen time to characters that society has decided to discard and is relentless in hammering home the message that “this is not just and it cannot be reformed into justness”. here, Raffi stumbles across an encampment, someone immediately tries to mug her at gun point, she beats him up, she shares a rueful quip about “gosh, wild that such a prosperous society can’t be assed to take care of people”, and then we just move on and never mention this again. like, we get Words saying that Homelessness Bad, but what we are shown is “unhoused people are scary and dangerous and it’s ok for our heroes to beat them up”

(i actually think that In General there is a lot of wasted potential with Raffi, altho mostly the fault here lies in season 1. “very competent Starfleet officer who is also dealing with paranoid delusions and falling apart at the seams about it” is an interesting premise for a Star Trek character if done well! and then S1 is just like “oh, nope, actually, she was right about everything, there was a massive, bizarre conspiracy that did exactly what she thought they did, she's fine and correct and everyone who ever doubted her is an ass”)

(i also think that the “love always ends in grief” sequence from Discovery S4, for all of that season’s considerable messiness, is a much tighter and more powerful expression of that theme than the wandering, haphazard approach to it here. i think these shows are meant to be watched in concert, but the back-to-back seldom does Picard any favors)

we continue to lean into Human Exceptionalism and i continue to roll around on the floor going “ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” about it

more elaborate thoughts on that go in my “if i were making Enterprise” post, tho

THAT SAID

on the topic of exceptionalism, i hate the FUCK out of the bit in Crusher’s recruitment speech where he’s like “do you want to be ordinary, or do you want your life to have purpose and meaning?” as tho???? ordinary lives????? cannot have purpose and meaning???????????? look me in the eyes, writers. no, no, look me Directly in the eyes: fuck you, fuck that, i am doing cartoon violence to you. the mindset that only extraordinary lives are worth living is toxic bullshit that distorts so much of our mental, political, and artistic landscape. ordinary lives can have so much meaning and purpose, they can be so very beautiful and rich. ordinary lives can be very good to live. i think Star Trek, in general, focuses too much on elites as The Only People Who Really Matter, but to elevate that to the level of explicit text is just. fucking devastating. unspeakably bleak. absolute philosophical train wreck of a season finale, on a par with Discovery’s “a Starfleet admiral actively and deliberately planned and tried to carry out a genocide and faced zero career repercussions for it that we can see”. clown car nonsense

in conclusion: i have drunk the haterade, g-d this season sucked, i can’t wait to make April 13 “Jurati eating car batteries day” and take it away from the Homestucks

[positivelybeastly]

💬

"Whoop! Sorry there, didn't see you - what a night, right?"

Hank's pretty much barged right past her with the kind of shoulder charge only a high school quarterback or a superhero can have - and as it happens, he was both. Dressed in what looks to have been date attire, a rather swanky suit and pants (though no shoes, of course).

"Y'know, feels like I was sort of daring this to happen - you try and take a gal out to see Little Shop of Horrors, and, well."

He gestures at the massive plant creature that's savaging the city with a distinct air of 'figures.' This clearly isn't a new experience for him. He takes a moment to think things over, spotting an overturned truck on the other side of the street - past a veritable jungle of carnivorous, snapping plant mouths and violent, whipping tendrils - before snapping his fingers and shucking off his suit jacket, handing it to Skye.

"Hold on to that, would ya? A good friend of mine had that tailored for me, and I'd hate for Audrey II over here to get her nippers on it. Wish me luck!"

And with that, he dives in, bouncing, bounding, and practically ping ponging all over the place as he evades the plants, unable to stop talking the whole way through. Or, well.

Singing.

"Oh, da-doo~ I was walkin' in the wholesale flower district one day!"

"Shoop da-doo~! And I passed by this place where this - oh, yanno, we're just gonna skip that line."

"He sometimes sells me weird and exotic cuttings~ Snip da-doo!"

"Uh, because he knows, you see, that, that strange plants are my hobby~!"

"Da da da da da da-doo~! He didn't have anything unusual there that day!"

"Nope, da-doo~ So I was, ya know, just, just gonna walk on by!"

"Good for youuuuuu~!" He takes a moment in the midst of it all to snap his fingers, singing in the tone of almost a barbershop quartet (of one), before leaping away again.

"When suddenly and without warning, there was this, TO-TAL ECLIPSE OF THE - OOF!"

Hank let out a grunt when a tendril smacked him directly into a building, recovering enough to bounce right back into action. "Not a Little Shop fan, huh? Well, that's all right. I'm more a fan of one of the other songs, anyway."

"They say the meek shall inherit, you know the book doesn't lie, it's not a question of merit - da da da da daaaah, no way, forget it It's much too dangerous to keep that plant aliiiiiiive!"

With one last dive, Hank tumbled into the back of the truck he'd spotted, just missing the WHUMP of an oversized and very thorny, lethal looking limb that was just a hair away from turning him into a beastly pancake. He searched for a moment, the picture of controlled frantic, before finding a tank and grinning, cranking the top hard.

"No, no, you've got no alternative, Seymour, old boy, though it means you'll be broke again and unemployed, it's the only solution, it can't be avoided!"

"The vegetable must be destroyed!"

With an almighty pitch, the tank went sailing through the air and landed directly in the creature's mouth, taking just one pregnant moment to explode - in a shower of medical liquid nitrogen, causing it to shriek and spasm, right before Hank got to lobbing more and more tanks of nitrogen, freezing it into shocked hibernation, the almighty creature stuck in a beautiful icy tableau.

"Yanno, it's a shame we missed the winter season. Just a few weeks ago, they'da paid to keep you and move you to the Rockefeller Center. Heh!"

Whistling merrily as he made his way past the creature, Hank gave Skye a wink as he took his jacket back.

"You know what they say. Don't feed the plants!"