#cause they’re simple and don’t require too much effort so i can finish them rather quickly c:

[jitters-art]

btw i will continue with some of the other suggestions when i need a break from my commissions! thank you guys so much for the suggestions, i’m very excited to do some of them!

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Six

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN:  Welcome, welcome! This whole chapter is like. Fluff, with a sprinkle of healing. Prime indulgence hours. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Ezra displayed your battered helmet alongside his own on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace, the two domes leaned into one another as if engaged in private conversation. 

Most evenings found both of you in the main room of his modest apartment, him pacing back and forth as he recounted various portions of his 'semi-fictitious' memoir that were giving him trouble, while you drew and offered input where you hoped it might be beneficial. 

"My editor, Kevva bless him, dares to insinuate that I am too ponderously wordy for the average book market." Ezra bemoaned one evening, dramatically collapsing into a sprawl of limbs on the couch alongside you. "'Get to the point, Ezra!' As if it is that simple, to just trim the fat off the prize cut of loin without regard for the flavor it provides!" He spat indignantly. 

"You are very…" you searched through all the fanciful words you had picked up from him, finally settling on, "verbose. Almost to a fault. Sometimes I wonder if you're deliberately taking three times as long to say something."

"If I am to be prolific with my speech, I would rather be saying somethin' that people are interested in listenin' to." Ezra retorted, sounding somewhat betrayed over you taking his editor's side. "I've endured countless lectures from individuals with some form of power over me and none of them possessed a modicum of eloquence. Their words were weapons of the bluntest sort: hackneyed and ramshackle and detestable." His voice dipped lower, gravelly and reverent. "I would rather a singular articulate quote to a thousand plain, lifeless, uninventive platitudes. Words are all I've ever had for most of my existence, gentle soul. They are a precious commodity gleaned not from the treacherous climes of some deadly moon, but from the stolen tomes and salvaged papers of civilization long past." 

He rubbed his temples, obviously exasperated. You, on the other hand, were a bit flushed. His rants were always a joy to witness, whether you wanted to admit it or not. There was something about Ezra getting riled up that you found mesmerizing.

"I apologize, gentle soul. You are not here to be my sounding board, and I shall not treat you as such." He said finally, dragging his hands down his face. "I will not subject you to my bouts of tempestuous querulousness."

"Hey, you can talk to me all you want! I just wish I could contribute usefully to your musing, that's all. I'm not nearly as well-spoken, I'd hate to use a word wrong." You replied, grimacing. "Like querulous...querulousness." 

"It means I am peeved. Cantankerous."

"You?" You gasped in mock-surprise. 

He groaned, "I did not realize how astute you were." You spotted the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and you knew you had him, nudging your elbow into his side until he surrendered and gave you a lazy grin. 

"Ezra, what does 'mercado' mean?"

He jerked upright out of his slump at that, looking confused. "Where did you hear that word?" 

"From...you?" You replied uncertainly. "It was while we were still...um, in the tent, I had just finished with your arm and you were looking through my sketchbook." His blank stare prompted you to continue, "you saw a picture I drew of the west dock and you-"

"Oh!" Ezra gasped, his eyes brightening with comprehension. He bounded off the couch, vanishing into his room. You sat there, wholly bewildered, until he reemerged struggling into his coat. He seized your hands, tugging you upright and then kissing your forehead. "You precious, beautiful woman!" He praised. "I am so glad you reminded me of our blood pact, sworn over the battered salvage of my arm on that accursed moon."

"Uh." Precious. Beautiful. "Blood...pact?"

"Hurry up, hurry up, put on your coat!" Ezra demanded. You imagined you could see his blond streak fairly bristling with excitement. "We must go."

"Go?"

"To the mercado!" Again with that gratuitous, flamboyant roll of the 'r'. You were beginning to suspect that he was enjoying himself. 

"What, now?" You asked, allowing yourself to be essentially spun into your long coat. "But it's dark out-"

"All the more reason to rush! If we aren't expedient, they may be closed when we get there!" He grabbed your hand once again. "Kevva waits for no man, gentle soul!"

...

You had never run the length of the Pug's west dock without some incredibly valid, logical reason. So the fact that you were currently running because you were being giddily dragged along by a large man who was far too invested in deep fried food spoke volumes toward the sheer amount of the things that had changed in your life.

"Wait, wait-" You finally had to stop him, your side aching from your haphazard sprint. Ezra halted, appearing confused as you wheezed for air. You clung to his hand a bit tighter than you meant to.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. 

"C-Can't-" you gasped. "Hurts. Gimme' a second."

"I--oh. Oh! Gentle soul, why didn't you voice your discomfort earlier?!" He erupted in a panic. "Sit down, sit, I'll-"

"No no, I'm okay. It's just a stitch." You tried to calm him, but he was having none of it.

"I must insist that you sit down, immediately." He implored, sounding distraught. "If I have caused you harm, if your wound-"

"Hey, I'm okay." You interrupted him firmly. "I'm just a little less...in-shape, you know? Tender still." 

"I feel like a tyrant, I offer my most sincere reparations." 

"Ezra, oh my gods. You're so dramatic." You half-laughed, your breath catching when he kissed your knuckles in contrition. "We can keep going, I just can't run across the entire dock."

"If you are certain, gentle soul?" Ezra asked, gesturing back the way you came and arching his brows. "We can always jettison this fanciful excursion, should you require a reprieve."

You shook your head, tugging on his hand. "Nope, we're already down here. Keep one foot moving. If we get there and they're closed, then I'll need a reprieve. To mourn my loss." 

"Too true!" He agreed, mindfully shortening his strides. "It's not far now. Once we arrive, promise me you'll rest?"

"If you feed me, absolutely." You joked.

"I would love nothin' more than the opportunity to dote upon you, gentle soul."

You laughed for real this time, assuming he was playing along with your jibe. When he didn't join in, you tucked your chin down into the collar of your jacket in embarrassment. "Ezra, you...you take care of me all the time." You pointed out, feeling shy of all things.

"You are my partner." He answered simply. 

Partner. "I...Damon, h-he-" You began to speak, but then choked off at the last second. 

Ezra stopped dead and you closed your eyes, scolding yourself for starting something you knew you wouldn't finish. "Martyr's malfeasance." The brown-haired man cursed softly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," you hurried to apologize. "I don't know why I...just forget I said anything, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the fun." 

"Every time I hear about him, he strikes me more and more as a man that I should have taken my sweet time disposin' of." Ezra snarled in that furiously cheery tone, his words stoking the tiny fire that you sheltered in your stomach. 

Your grip on his hand tightened after a moment. "He didn't deserve the effort."

"Do not apologize for the shortcomings of others, gentle soul. I reiterate that I am here to listen if you need me. Though I warn you, I may not be able to keep from interruptin'." Ezra's eyes had gone dark with thought, his expression distressingly grim. "I am, at the end of the day, a loquacious fool." He perked up after a moment, pausing in front of a brightly-lit open air market. "Ah, and here we are! It appears that luck is with us, gentle soul, they do not close for another hour. Shall we fulfill our pact?"

The rest of your evening out was spent (intentionally or not, though you had your suspicions) effectively chasing off the shadow that recalling Damon had cast over you. Despite your protests, Ezra did end up feeding you half an order's worth of the delectable little sopaipillas, one by one.

...

When the rainy season hit, storms whipped through Puggart Bench and its wards with all the delicacy of a green prospector getting their hands on their first pull. It wasn't so much of an issue during the day; the sound of Ezra diligently expounding to himself usually muffled the howling winds or pouring rain. Late at night however, you couldn't help but imagine that the rumble of thunder was the pod striking the atmosphere, or that the rattling of the rain on the windowpanes was thrower fire. Your dreams turned frantic and riddled with nightmares. You even tried keeping your bedroom light on at one point to combat it, but it just amplified the shadows and gave your mind more fuel for its inventive fire.

You struggled in solitude for a good few nights, until one evening when you finally couldn't endure any longer. Surely he wouldn't mind, you would be quiet.

You slipped from your bed, bringing your pillow along as you padded down the hall to his room. Just as you reached for the keypad, the door slid open.

Ezra stood in front of you, a thin blanket and one of his pillows underneath his arm. He stared down at you. You stared up at him, your own pillow clutched tightly to your chest. "I..." he coughed awkwardly. "Er, the howling gale outside has...my nerves a bit...frayed. I merely-"

"Oh thank gods, I'm so glad it wasn't just me." You felt like you would burst with relief. "I was coming to ask if I could sleep in your room."

"What a novel coincidence! I was about to throw myself upon your mercies as well." Ezra winced at the thunder that boomed overhead after he spoke. "An expedient compromise is in order, gentle soul. We will adjourn to my quarters for this particular endeavor."

He stepped aside with a little bow and you entered the room, going to curl up on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Gentle soul, I think you've done enough proverbial listenin' at the teacher's feet to last a lifetime. Make yourself comfortable." He urged, spreading his blanket back out on the bed. "If we must weather this storm in conjunction, I would prefer you were nearer rather than farther."

You opened your mouth to protest and the wind whipped the rain against the windows with a hollow rattle, sounding for all the world like a thrower shot at range. Your fists clenched on your thighs. 

Damon isn't here. It's just Ezra. It's only Ezra.

Ezra turned to face you after meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles in his blanket, his forced smile and hollow eyes reminding you that you weren't the only one haunted by ghosts of your past. He extended a hand and you grabbed hold, letting him pull you up off the floor.

You fell into him, burying your face in his chest for a selfish moment. "Thank you." You whispered, uncertain if he even heard you over the rumble of thunder.

Ezra pressed his lips to your hairline and then ushered you underneath the blankets. He was achingly chaste, as though he thought you might bolt if he showed any sort of blatant affection. Truly, you might have if it had been any other person. His tentative touch rested on your wrist for a moment before he laced his fingers together with yours.

"Your proximity is a balm to my troubled thoughts, gentle soul." He murmured. "You turn my mind to poetic wanderings; dalliances in sun-dappled clearings, rain that does not make me fear for my life." Ezra sighed, the noise barely audible. "All too often I am back there in my dreams; suffering mutiny, I am left to decompose until a gentle soul comes and pulls me up out of the weeds."

"I have nightmares about Damon." You confessed softly. 

The grip he had on your fingers tightened ever so slightly. "I said I would not ask, and I will not tarnish that promise. I am here, gentle soul." His eyes searched your own, forehead furrowed with concern. "I have never trusted someone as I trust you. I have never...you fought alongside me, you placed your life in my hands, despite-" He paused, swallowing thickly. "You have earned all the time you might ever need. If it is mine to give, it is already yours."

His words, unwavering and slow, were what pushed you over the edge. In a voice that trembled and eventually broke, you finally told him everything. You held nothing in reserve, the terrible stories of all those nights in the pod tumbling out of you one after the other. You were so tired of carrying everything in silence, and talking about it...it was as though it made it all real. Tangible. Something that you could finally release.

Ezra was surprisingly still through the whole endeavor, the normally-animated man obviously reining himself in. The only indication of his own mental state was the way he occasionally rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you spoke about particularly trying instances. 

"So this is the explanation." He said hoarsely once you lapsed into silence once more. "This is the trauma that you bear upon your precious, gentle soul. I...You've held it so tightly for so long, even though it wounds you. What has changed?"

"I found you." You replied bluntly. It was nonsensically simple to say, but it was true. He inhaled sharply. "You could have killed me, but instead-"

"I couldn't have." Ezra denied, shaking his head. "I saw you and while I knew I could play the part of the villain, I couldn't have...I wouldn't do anythin' to you. If not simply because you didn't slaughter me where I stood, then when you told me you had that kit and you almost broke my jaw after I startled you." He worked his jaw for a moment, like he still felt the echo of your head slamming into it. "And that man, the Sader, tryin' to tempt me into tradin' you in like livestock…"

"Because of everything that happened to me before, I...I panicked. I shouldn't have. I should have trusted you."

Ezra shook his head. "You had every right. I apologize for makin' you feel as though I would have accepted that pittance. I should have discussed everythin' with you beforehand." Lightning flashed nearby and thunder boomed, making you flinch sharply. Ezra urged you closer, his ragged shirt pressing to your cheek as you hid your face in his chest. "Martyr's malfeasance, your tenderness carves the heart out of me." He whispered. "You make me wish I was a reputable individual."

You started to apologize and he waved it off, stroking the back of your head and lulling you to sleep.

Despite the comfort his proximity brought you, the nightmares still came. You woke up panicking, as you often did, struggling away from the grip of the man beside you. He grunted and reached out to switch on the bedside table lamp. Ezra. It was just Ezra. You scolded yourself for your reaction, beginning to apologize again. But he simply rolled over and pressed his forehead to yours, humming in his throat sleepily. 

Your fingers tangled in his shirt as you slowly relaxed against him and he mumbled, "In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn," brown eyes already half-lidded again. He sounded like he was reciting something, the words slurred with exhaustion, "In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight." 

You closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and letting it soothe you back into a doze.

"For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you…"

…

His right hand had some minor nerve damage, which was to be expected. The infection had crept deep. You noticed a distinct lack of buttons on a majority of his new clothing, zipper pulls apparently easier to operate left-handed. 

As the storms grew worse though, so too did his hand. It would occasionally seize up in bad weather, which unfortunately was all the time during the rainy season. Ezra was thoroughly miserable, though he attempted to hide it. The rapid progress on editing his memoir slowed to a grinding crawl as he pecked away one-handed, keeping his right secured in a brace for most of the time.

"Kevva damn it." He swore one grey morning, struggling fiercely with the tie around his neck. He was supposed to meet with his publisher and he always tried to dress the part.

"Hey," You yawned from the kitchen doorway, "you okay?" 

"Gentle soul I must beg your assistance, I will be late!" Ezra pleaded from the bathroom, his tone distressed. 

You left your mug on the counter, stifling another yawn as you slipped into the bathroom and batted his hands away from his neck. "Hold still." You mumbled, barely awake. His fingers dug into the sink on either side of you as you worked. When you glanced up you saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his gaze fixed determinedly on his own reflection in the mirror. "It's okay to be upset, you know."

His jaw worked and he swallowed hard, obviously disagreeing but unable to vocalize it.

"I got it. All done." You soothed, patting the knot flat. "You won't be late. Be sure to check your fly." His eyes widened in panic and his hands flew to his zipper, making you burst out laughing. "Not now, Ezra! When you get there!" You grinned, playfully bumping your knuckles into his stomach just above his belt. 

Ezra's chuckle was a little watery, but you chose to ignore it to let him think he was saving face. "What would I do without you, gentle soul? Wander the streets half-dressed with my placket splayed, I imagine." He mused, pressing a fond kiss to your forehead. "Now, Kevva waits. I will return presently. I believe it would be prudent for you to begin amassin' your sketches. We seem to be in the final stages of pre-production."

"Isn't it exciting?" You asked brightly.

"I am nervous enough to void my stomach." Ezra admitted. He squeezed your hand tightly. "I wish you could come with me, gentle soul. You make me feel at ease."

"You should have woken me up earlier, then!" 

"You would have come with me?" He sounded surprised, running his hands through his unruly hair in an effort to smooth it down. "These meetings are so toilsome. At least if you were there, my publisher might spare me his tedious lectures." His blond streak sprang back up once his hands had passed, continuing its perennial goal of sticking out at a rakish angle.

You reached up to gently tug on the unruly little tuft of hair, smiling at him. "Suffering is no fun if you're doing it alone."

"Misery does indeed love its company." He sighed, his hand shifting up to cup your own on his temple. "These hands of yours, I..." he paused, grimacing in pain and flexing his own fingers. "Dammit, I…"

"I'll be here when you get back." You said simply. "Just like any other day."

Ezra's eyes were dark with thought as he stared down at you, the silence stretching almost uncomfortably long. "I...of course. Yes." He replied, his voice quiet. 

You weren't expecting the call from him several hours later. You were just tucking into your lunch when your headset began to chime and you scrambled across the kitchen to grab it. "Yes, oh esteemed roommate?" You greeted him in the usual manner, smiling even though he couldn't see you.

"Gentle soul, are you busy?" 

You stared longingly at your lunch. "I was about to eat. What's up?"

"He wants to see your sketches."

Your heart dropped. You weren't sure why, it wasn't as if you hadn't anticipated needing to have your own work checked over. Deep down you had hoped they would have more important things to consider, but it couldn't be helped. "What, now?"

Ezra's words were strangely clipped, so different from his usual flowery speech. "I'll be returnin' shortly, if you're amenable?"

"Absolutely, absolutely. I'll get...I'll gather everything up." You hurriedly put your plate back into the cooler. "Are you okay?" 

"He has been more abrasive than usual, but I anticipated as much." He sighed raggedly and you heard the sound of the starter. "I've been out of sorts since this mornin'." He confessed. "I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps it's simply the weight of my own mortality catchin' up to me."

Your hands stilled in the process of shoving all your hard copies together. "Ezra, did something happen?"

"Nothin' aside from my immaculate personage being stained with impotence in the most mundane task imaginable." Ezra griped.

"Don't scare me like that." You scolded him. "I understand you're upset, but please don't use words like mortality. Gets me nervous."

"Fear not, gentle soul. I'll plague you for a good few years yet." He teased. "I am simply mourning the loss of a certain autonomy. The rain will not last forever, but while it lingers I imagine my moods shall be as grim as a graveyard."

"You'll have to try harder than that, you...poetically dour thing, you." You retorted dryly, shoving your hard copies into your unused portfolio. His laughter was loud in your ear. You loved when he laughed like that, all bright and startled like you had surprised it out of him.

You loved a lot of things about him, if you were being honest.

…

His publisher was a man named Thomas Anglio. He was in his late fifties, purportedly had no sense of humor and wore suits that were immaculately tailored.

The man's lack of humor was probably due to the stress of his job, you reasoned charitably. Managing so many aspiring authors couldn't be an easy feat, especially when he also had to juggle a certain querulous someone. At least you knew Ezra was paying him generously.

The secretary waved Ezra on tiredly, already reaching for the next Serv tablet before he was even done signing the both of you in. 

You trailed along behind him as he strode into Mr. Anglio's office, the dark-haired man the picture of easy confidence. "I present my illustrious, illustrative companion." Ezra introduced you grandly as Mr. Anglio rose from behind his desk. "Gentle soul, this is Mister Thomas Anglio, a stalwart friend and a fiercely fashionable silver fox."

"You flatter me, Ezra." Thomas sighed, shaking your hand. "Please, take a seat and show me what you have prepared."

You obliged nervously, your hands trembling slightly as you undid your first bundle of sketches. "I believe what Ezra wanted was to have them sort of...scattered through the book at key points. Headers for each chapter, as well." You spread the pages out on the desk and Thomas leaned forward to examine them. 

"Ezra, you are not writing a children's book." He pointed out practically. "The subject matter of this...strangely-realistic fiction of yours is decidedly adult."

"I am wholly convinced that my tale will not be half as impactful without their sketches, Mr. Anglio." Ezra insisted firmly. 

Thomas groaned, rubbing his temples. "At least I know you're not doing this just to pad the final page count." He settled back in his chair, leafing through the piles of sketches. You had tried to separate them out by chapter, though due to Ezra's constant revisions you were certain some of them were out of place. "You understand we will not be using all of these, correct?" Anglio seemed relieved when you nodded hurriedly.

"I thought it would be better to have too many than too few." You explained quietly. 

"You have quite the knack for drawing." He mused, lingering on one stack in particular. "Your portraits of Ezra are remarkable."

You heard Ezra swallow loudly beside you.  "Portraits…?" The former prospector echoed tentatively.

Your brain ran back to you scrambling to collect all your sketches, shutting your eyes in silent panic as you realized you must have shuffled in the extra ones you hadn't meant to bring along.

"Yes, these appear to be for the portion of the story where our brave hero barters with a mercenary gang for safe passage off the moon. If I'm recalling correctly, of course." Mr. Anglio slid the pile of sketches to Ezra, who snatched them up immediately. 

You saw his brown eyes go wide and you quickly ducked your head, busying yourself with pretending to sort through the groups of sketches. This was what you got for being disorganized! There were only supposed to be one or two from that scene!

The rest of the meeting was spent whittling down the groups of sketches to two per chapter, or three if they were small enough. Thomas also politely requested that you retool a few things, "this woman's helmet looks dangerously close to that inquisitor's from the Second Illumination. The last thing any of us want is to be sued by a failed monarchy."

You would say that the meeting went well, but you were so busy dreading being alone with Ezra again that it was all a blur. You just knew that your copious amounts of sketches focused on him would be subject to thorough questioning. And well they should be, it was borderline obsessive.

The jut of his jaw, the strong profile of his aquiline nose, the streak of blond above his right temple...all lovingly captured time and again. With and without the helmet. 

You were certain you would be lucky to escape unscathed, waiting in fear for the proverbial pot to boil over. 

...

"All you needed to do was ask, gentle soul." Ezra finally drawled after watching you anxiously wring your hands for the majority of the ride back to Ward Twenty-Seven. "Had I known that you wished so fervently to render me artistically, I would have happily sat for hours that you might properly capture my magnanimous visage."

"Please, please don't be upset." You begged, your fists tight in your lap. "I'll move out, okay? I'll leave and...and you'll never have to see me again. I'll send you the revised story sketches over the Serv, I'll-" His hand reached for your leg over the center console and you almost jumped out of your skin. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't-"

"Gentle soul, I am not aggrieved in the slightest." Ezra assured you quietly. "Breathe. You seem ready to go to pieces." He rubbed your thigh soothingly, back and forth. "Breathe."

"You...you're not angry with me?" You asked tentatively. And really, you ought to have established that from your time in the Green! 

Angered Ezra was a looming thundercloud, he was magma barely contained by fragile crust. His fury, though an absolute force of nature, dissipated as soon as it arrived, like the outbursts wearied him too much to perpetuate and maintain. Damon had seethed and resurrected his anger whenever the mood struck him, so it was odd to engage with someone who seemed to deem the emotion more trouble than it was worth. You knew that the man currently in the driver's seat was a hundred times more likely to launch into a woebegone soliloquy about how tenuous material possessions were if he spilled tea on his shirt. But old habits died hard; you couldn't seem to keep yourself from getting wound up.

"Far from it! You capture my countenance in a way that is decidedly more flatterin' than any mirror." Ezra tilted his head. "I am...envious of the man you have drawn." He admitted softly. "I wish that he and I were one and the same."

You weren't quite sure what to say. At least he wasn't angry. Or he said he wasn't. If anything, he sounded...sad. "What do you mean?" You asked, your brow furrowed as you recalled what he had said the night you shared his bed.

You make me wish I was a reputable individual.

Ezra shrugged, sighing, "Nothin' at all, gentle soul. The rain is just makin' me morose, I'm afraid. I'll be glad to be home again."

Home.

"Want me to make some tea when we get home?"

The soft smile he directed your way had no business settling in your stomach the way that it did. "Of course! You are somehow better at makin' it than I, a true conundrum considering how long I toiled away to achieve my technique." 

You almost didn't notice when his hand cautiously returned to your thigh. 

Almost.

Part Seven

[inspirationdivine]

You Can’t Sit With Us || Lydia and Cece

Timing: Current Parties: @inspirationdivine & @thebickedwitchoftherest Summary: Cece provides Lydia with some much needed security. Warnings: Head trauma tw, stalking reference

Lydia's heart has taken up permanent residence in her throat. It pounded fast as she sat in her kitchen. Thank God the summer sun hung in the sky so long, keeping her safe with every minute of its presence. The doorbell rang, and Lydia used her smartphone to see through the camera who it was. Showtime. Lydia picked up her crutches and slowly, achingly shuffled to the door. She wore a long dressing gown, heavy make up and as much glamour as she could manage. She wouldn't look well, she wouldn't look herself, but the blackened bruises on her face would be hidden, not would she look anything but human. At least, for as long as she could hold it. "Ms Bishop, thank you ever so much for coming as such short notice." Lydia smiled, but no amount of magic could hide the croak in her voice. She hopped aside, careful not to say any invitation.

Cece felt like a call girl, without any of the implied action. She waved at the camera after knocking and readjusted the bag on her shoulder. The thing kept getting heavier and heavier as she added more things to it she deemed necessary. God forbid anyone decided to check her bag. They would probably think she was insane. The woman, who Cece assumed was Lydia, opened the door and Cece sucked in a low whistle. She didn’t look good. She answered on crutches, and despite the makeup and expensive looking robe, it was pretty evident that she was in a rough place. “Anything for a friend.” Cece answered, wondering how it was that Lydia and Remmy had become acquainted in the first place. “You can call me Cece, it’s preferred actually. What should I call you?” The two stood for a long moment before Cece realized that she wasn’t about to get an invitation into the home. “I’m just gonna let myself in then.” Cece leaned forward, talking softly and then pushing past Lydia and into the home. Smart choice though, avoiding words like that. Clearly, Lydia had learned the wrong way. “So a little birdy told me you’ve got some vamp troubles. What’s the story? Ex-lover? Pizza boy? If so, I hope you gave a shitty tip.”

She smiled thinly, nodding at the name. "Lydia will do nicely," she replied, and lead CeCe into her home, slowly, with the loud click of crutches on hardwood. She couldn't, however. Hide the disgust as Cece tried to guess at the causes of the dispute. "Nothing worth sharing. I just need to know that he won't ever walk back in again." Lydia squeezed her eyes shut from the sun. Bright light was a terrible thing. She grabbed for the sunglasses she kept on a nearby counter, and hoped Cece wouldn't question it. At least the place was clean, Lydia thought. Nothing on display. There was a couch sized gap in the living room, but beyond that, not much to be concerned about. "I don't know how it works. Your spell, I mean. Where do you need to set up? Does it work for the entire house or do you need to do it at each door? Because I have a lot of houses." Lydia frowned, pinching her nose. "I mean I have a lot of doors. Just the one house to spell. Do you- do you want a drink, uh- a coffee or something?" 

Cece got the message. Lydia wasn’t much of a conversationalist it seemed. At least not regarding the vampire she wanted to be permanently evicted from her house. “Point taken. Well, no vampires will be coming back through this door unless they’re paying rent.” Cece began unpacking things from her bag. Multiple bottles of water, a tuft of sage, and the ever spell important candles. She eyed the sunglasses, wondering if Lydia had spent the night coping with her problems. Cece had her own pair of hangover sunglasses she dusted off and fashioned from time to time. “The spell? Piece of cake. I can set up right here. I’ll just have to circle your house a couple of times, but I’ll do the actual spell near the front door. It’ll work for the whole house, and all vampires. Unless you just have one you want to keep out.” Cece grabbed two bottles of water from her bag and carried them over with her to Lydia. “That depends. Do you have wine? Whiskey? Anything alcohol actually.” Cece questioned, never one to turn down a free drink if offered, “Holy water” Cece held the bottle up and shook it for clarification, “I’m gonna go and sprinkle this around the house. Be right back.”

"Right, right of course." Lydia nodded weakly. Wine was doable. While she couldn't drink it right now, she had plenty in stock, and might even enjoy briefly discussing it. Until she imagined bending down or crouching to reach into the wine cooler, and she felt electricity shoot down her spine. But the whiskey was in the cupboard, just below eye level. "Whiskey I can do," she agreed. "See you in a little." Considering that Lydia's home contained her entire restoration studio, her luscious living space, work studios for Sammy and Chloe, and multiple spare bedrooms, it was a large mansion, so she might not be back immediately. Lydia hobbled to the kitchen, moving on automatic as she got out the glass, grabbed the whiskey. It wasn't until she'd finished pouring the whiskey that she realised she has gotten Cece a wine glass rather than a whiskey one, and had poured her a wine portion size of whiskey. She could repour it, but that simple effort was suddenly overwhelming, as Lydia staggered into a kitchen chair, cradling her head between her hands. She stayed there until she heard footsteps back in the hallway, her heart plunging into a panic as she sat upright a little too fast. "Cece?"

“Whiskey it is!” Cece answered before jogging out the door with her bottles of water. The house was massive, far larger than Cece’s own house. This town managed to have an impressive amount of large homes and rich people for its size. Clearly, she should have worn more comfortable shoes today. Curse her for matching the shoes with the outfit. She used her keys to poke a hole in the top of the first bottle of water, squeezing it to spray a stream of holy water into the grass. She began her long trek circling the house, switching bottles once she ran out of the first. Once she had finally circled the yard, she used the small leftover amount of water to spray around the front door. When she went back into the house, Lydia practically jumped. Fuck. Whoever this vampire was, it did a real number on her. “Just me. Don’t freak out.” Cece held up the empty bottles and abandoned them on the counter, noticing the wine glass full of whiskey, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. I like you.” She grinned making a beeline for the glass and taking a long drink from it. “Part one done. Ready for part two? We get to burn some sage, light some candles. Really sets a nice ambience.”

If Lydia had looked pale before, she might have been mistaken for a Banshee now, all the blood drained from her face. She dropped back into her seat, shoulders low, back hunched. She eyed the empty holy water bottles, and swallowed as she realised that it might have just been water, and she wouldn’t know until she tried. It occurred to her, quickly, that she didn’t have any vampiric friends that she’d invited in her home, no one to test with until he tried again. Lydia swallowed, looking back up at Cece with a small smile. “Let’s pretend that was entirely deliberate, shall we?” The smile immediately faltered as Cece told her the next step. “Does that… require my involvement? I’m not feeling too well, I’d rather just sit here.”

“I’m great at pretending,” Cece swirled the glass as if it was wine in it instead and took another sip. Lydia didn’t seem up to the task of helping out with the spell, which wasn’t that big of a deal. The spell was simple enough, it just involved a certain amount of Christian iconography that Cece didn’t typically work with. “You sit there and look pretty, I got this.” Cece grabbed the sage and moved towards the door. She lit a candle and began the incantation, using the candle’s flame to light the sage in a dish. As she spoke, the smoke from the sage began thickening, turning a dark red color as the spell began working it’s literal magic. Cece didn’t stop the chanting until the the smoke began to lighten, turning its regular color and eventually burning down completely. Then, Cece dipped her index and middle fingers into the bowl, gathering a bit of ash on her finger tips and using it to draw a crude outline of a cross on the front door. After that, she made her way back to her bag and dropped off the bowl of sage and candle and wiped her hands clean. “Leave that cross up for a few hours and you should be vampire free.”

“That’s what I’m best at,” Lydia said drily, feeling anything but pretty as some beat drums inside her brain. She listened carefully as Cece moved around the downstairs, if only because keeping her eyes open was harder and harder by the minute. The sage smelled thick and heavy, lingering in her nose and irritated throat. When Cece came back, Lydia shuddered, her head ringing like thunder, hard as the hit which had caused the concussion. “Wonderful. What is the best way to pay-” Lydia inhaled sharply, then groaned. Her glamour began to falter - her ears grew longer and pointier, her bathrobe filled with the bulk of her wings, and her face slowly gave way to the deep bruising and heavy swelling that she’d been hiding. Her glamour came in and out in patchwork, flickering unevenly on her skin, shrinking her ears and then revealing their  full length again. 

Lydia brought up the discussion of payment and Cece began waving her comment away until something flickered. It had been so quick that Cece wasn’t sure she had actually seen anything at first. Until it began happening again. It was like a glitch in a computer program, flickering in different areas of Lydia’s body. They were just flashes, too hard to be able to make anything out clearly. But it was enough for Cece to figure some things out. This was a glamour. Which meant that Lydia was hiding something nonhuman. From the few features that she could see, incredibly pale skin, long nonhuman ears. Something that could pass for human from far away, but the closer one got features would start seeming irregular. “Well that’s different.” Cece tilted her head, studying the woman and questioning her next move. Clearly, the woman didn’t want her true form revealed or she wouldn’t have been glamored. What did that mean for their conversation? Cece was here to do Remmy a favor. She was hardly in the mood to brawl it out with a mutual friend. Best to proceed with caution. “Your glamor seems fucked up. You do that yourself, or is it some kind of bewitched jewelry?”

“What’s different? Oh- Oh shit.” Lydia didn’t even realise that her glamour was falling out of place until Cece said something, but then she wasn’t much in the mood for noticing much of anything at all. The headache roared inside her like one of Jared’s beasts. Ringing in her eyes, burning under her eyelids. Inescapable. Lydia scrabbled in her purse for the decoction of liverwort and stray sod, cringing at the mulchy texture. It helped, just enough for her to yank her glamour back on, although if anyone had looked at her skin too closely they would notice the lack of veins and imperfections. “My own. My mistake, you should never have seen that.”

That had been a panicked response. Cece couldn’t exactly blame her. Being a witch came with it’s perks, and the main perk was that in all other aspects she was a normal human. To avoid detection the only thing she had to do was not do spells in front of others. If she had been something else, something that looked less like the status quo, she would probably be a little panicked if her disguise had failed in front of a total stranger too. Luckily for Lydia, Cece was pretty chill about that sort of stuff. Hopefully for Cece, Lydia took notice to that and didn’t get defensive. Or aggressive. “Seen what?” Cece questioned, rifling around in her purse, “Even if I did see something, my lips are sealed.” Cece found her notepad and pulled it free, scribbling down her cell number and holding it out towards her, “I know you have my online information, but here’s my cell. Call me if you need anything else or if you have any more troubles with that vampire. I could pencil in a count Chocula ass whopping pretty quickly.” Cece hopped back and forth on her feet, throwing a fake punch and acting as though she were in the middle of a boxing ring.

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead, and didn’t even think to try to promise bind Cece to her words. “I appreciate that. Like I said, I’ll… pay you back in kind.” She peeked open her eyes as paper was rustled near her face. She nodded, eyes flicking over the numbers as she took none of it in. “Thank you,”she said again, words she so rarely spoke ever now coming out of her lips quite quickly. “He’s- Well, I don’t know that he’d appreciate being called count Chocula.” Her lips quirked. At the very least, Remmy had sent her a fun human. Maybe she could ea- hmmm maybe not.  “You’re very sweet. Thank you.”

Cece got the feeling that it was time to let the woman rest. She seemed even less focused than she had been when Cece first got here. Keeping up the glamor in her current state probably took a lot of energy. “This was a favor for a friend. You don’t owe me anything.” Cece waves the offer of payment away and flung her bag over her shoulder. “Well I don’t appreciate a vampire roughing up a mutual friend. Frankly, I don’t give a damn what he thinks.” All packed up, Cece was ready to split and let the woman get some rest. Luckily for her, she didn’t need to worry about any blood sucking visitors making an unwelcome entrance. “Since you’re all set, I’m gonna head out, okay? Looks like you could use some sleep.” 

[lovemesomesurveys]

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Shredded cheese.

Do you like clowns? Just Pennywise.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? Uh, we were just two questions in and they were simple questions, no need to lie about what I got out of my fridge and whether I like clowns lol.

What's the third text in your inbox? Doesn’t work that way.

Are you listening to anything at the moment? An ASMR video.

Do you twitch when your falling asleep? >> Yeah, sometimes. Or I have that sudden falling feeling and jerk awake. <<< Ugh, same. I hate that.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? Clean.

Are you at home or with friends more often? I’m always at home, even before the quarantine/lockdown stuff began. For the past few years, actually. 

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? Never.

What have you eaten today? So far just ramen.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? I don’t think so.

Do you own a strapless bra? Yeah.

Does the person you like know it? I don’t like anyone in that way.

Did anything brighten up your day today? It’s only 5 in the morning, not a whole lot as happening. I don’t see much happening later on either, though.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? Tired.

Are you someone who worries too often? Yepppp.

If you could date somebody who would it be? No one right now.

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? Sometimes, but it scares me. I’d really rather not know.

What is one good thing you're known for? I don’t know.

How about one bad thing? I don’t know.

Are you taller than most? >> Most children, yeah. LOL <<< Ha, same. 

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? It’s been a few days since I’ve listened to music.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? I like to be at home, which like I said is where I spend all my time.

What time do you normally go to bed? Between 7 and 8AM. :X

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? The usual things.

What did you do today? So far just ate ramen, watched some YouTube videos, went on Tumblr, did surveys, played some Animal Crossing, and listened to ASMR videos.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? Nope.

What was the last thing that you drank? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

Is anything annoying you now? Yes.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? I’m sure. Some people throw those words around too easily.

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? No.

Do you realize it when you curse? Yeah. I don’t curse often, so when I do it really stands out.

When was the last time you showered? Yesterday.

Who did you last talk to in person? My brother.

Do you ever have days where you just don't do anything? I don’t do much day to day, but yes there’s days where I’m really having a hard time or don’t feel and I don’t feel up to doing anything besides lie down, sleep, and stare at the TV.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yes. I do that often for some reason.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I’ve seen some episodes of that here and there, but I can’t think of any particular episode at the moment. I know there’s news episodes coming out about people’s experience in quarantine.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? No.

What's the longest amount of time you've been stuck in traffic? A couple hours. I don’t even like spending a few minutes being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic.

Best field trip experience? I loved all the field trips as a kid.

Have you ever been to New York City? No, but I’ve always wanted to go.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be?

What is the most amount of money you've spent on a meal before? Hmm. Probably like $50. It was a nice, pricey restaurant. 

What museums have you visited, if any? Several.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Yes. I hated group projects, they added way more stress. 

What's your worst traveling experience? The drive to and from Idaho to California back in 2010. We went to Idaho to see my grandpa who was very sick and his wife told us he didn’t have much time left, so my parents, brother, and I made the 12+ drive there. We left at night and it was during the wintertime, so we drove through snowy, dangerous conditions, something we’re not used to because it doesn’t snow where we live. The trip back home was worse because we were all very emotional and tired and our patience was real thin. It was a rough trip back home. At one point during the night we had to find a hotel because the roads were too slippery and dangerous to drive on from the snow and because a lot of people had to do the same, it was hard finding somewhere. We fortunately got a one bed room and made it work, with some of us sleeping on the floor. Something that I don’t want to get into happened that night that made me extremely angry and upset to the point I was literally shaking and that is not normal for me. 

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? Sims 3 out of those options, but Sims 4 over all of ‘em.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Yeah, we’ve had a few noisy neighbors over the years. The current neighbors we have we had an issue with their dogs barking excessively. They left them outside all day and they just barked all the time. We eventually had to say something and thankfully we got things sorted out. 

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? I had 2 horrible math teachers in community college, but otherwise I never had any issues with my teachers.

Best muffin you've ever had? I love banana muffins (no nut), lemon poppyseed, and blueberry muffins. Have you ever taken a woodshop class? For an elective in middle school.

If so, was it required? No, it was an elective. <<<

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I go on there for a few minutes at at a time a few times a day. 

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I was always horrible at math.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? It’s cool to bond over shared interests. @gic-ga and I just recently obsessed over Linkin Park together haha.

What is the strangest thing you've ever seen outside of your house? A freakin’ bat flying around one night. That’s most definitely not a common sighting here. I had never seen or heard of any such sighting prior to that. It was crazy.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? No.

How often do you "half-ass" things (put little effort in)? These past few years I haven’t put much ass at all into things. :/

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Yes.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Those 2 awful math professors I mentioned before made me feel even worse about not understanding the material.

How reliable is your internet connection? Very. There’s very rarely an issue.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? No.

What's something that makes you incredibly nervous? Uh, a lot of things. That’s how I am.

What's the latest you've ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? Many late nights or early mornings in college.

If you don't have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them?

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn't need them anymore? I honestly like my glasses. I’ve had to wear them since I was 9, they’re apart of me. I look and feel weird without ‘em.

How many vegetarians do you know? I’m not sure. 

Have you ever considered going to art school? No. I have no artistic talents or abilities. I never had the interest in trying just a class either, like with a drawing class or something, so definitely not an art school, a school devoted to the arts.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? Myself.

How quickly can you write an essay? For me I struggled with getting started, but once I did I’d get in my groove.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. I always get the nosebleeds seats cause that’s where the handicap seating tends to be. They’re cheaper up there; though, so hey.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager?

Favorite episode of Spongebob? I don’t have a favorite. I’ve seen episodes cause my younger brother and cousins watched it all the time, but I was never really into it myself.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? To inanimate objects cause of memories attached to them. Like, I have a hard time getting rid of anything.

Are your parents supportive of you? Yes.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? Ha, yeah.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Eight: No Remorse ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

It’s one of the questions he’s asked most often...to the point where he’s become - quite frankly - rather exasperated with it.

“Do you regret it?”

‘It’ being a rather vague term, but one way or another, the word typically refers to any or all events from the time he left Konoha, to when he was dragged back. From the moment he’s back within the village, it seems to be the one thing anyone really cares to know about the time he spent outside it.

The simple answer is...no.

But most people aren’t satisfied with that. If he tells them no, and doesn’t explain...they get that look. One that tells him that he really should regret it. That he should be ashamed of the things he did.

At first, such a response doesn’t really bother him. He honestly couldn’t give less of a shit what anyone in Konoha thinks about him, really. Their blind loyalty to a place that’s - in actuality - committed a number of crimes, not just those regarding his clan, leaves him with a rather unfavorable opinion of most of them. Granted, your typical shinobi - let alone civilian - hardly knows about Konoha’s wrongdoings. But even those who do - his team, primarily - don’t really seem to have much concern about confronting them.

Something he isn’t going to let slide.

But that’s to be handled later. For now, he’s still stuck dealing with the dredge of the villagers’ opinions.

Because in reality...he doesn’t regret a single thing he did. Some things he might have done differently given his knowledge...but he also knows there’s no point in such thoughts. There’s no changing the past. And even if there were...the unknown outcomes of such changes may very well be even harder to cope with than his current circumstances.

He does, admittedly, regret killing Itachi. But he also knows it was his brother’s wish: his attempt to keep the peace, keep Sasuke blinded to the dark truths of their village...and end his own suffering. But the elder brother’s death - and the revelations Sasuke received after, from both Obito and Itachi himself - led him to the truth. To his current path.

And he can’t bring himself to regret that.

He doesn’t regret killing Orochimaru. Or his later decision to revive the snake sannin. Getting his teacher out of the way was necessary...just as much as it was to later revive them. Part of him may very well think that having the serpent alive is a risk...but it also was one that, overall, panned out in their favor. Orochimaru has done despicable things...but so too were they instrumental in overcoming obstacles.

Taka...is a difficult subject. Despite his best efforts to remain neutral toward them, there was no fully killing his need to protect people - to connect with them. As much as Karin annoys him, as much as Suigetsu prods at him, and as closely as he has to watch Jūgo...he couldn’t have done what he did without them. They aren’t exactly...friends. He can’t bring himself to call them that, but friend is a difficult subject for him. They’re an odd...in-between.

He certainly doesn’t regret killing Danzō. While he knows the rest of the council won’t receive the same fate - and maybe they don’t quite deserve it like the head of Root did - their actions were the direct allowance of the massacre. Danzō’s greed for their power and his want to remove them from his path was something Sasuke could never forgive - never let go unaddressed.

He had to die.

So, in truth...while some things have been harder for Sasuke to accept than others...he’s had to, really. He’d go mad overthinking it, doubting it all, asking ‘what if’ whenever it gets too quiet. He made his bed, and he’ll lie in it. There’s no getting his clan back. His brother back. His life back.

This is his reality. Regretting it will bring him no peace...no justice.

All he can do now...is move forward.

“Ah -!”

Dragged into a group outing, Sasuke pauses and glances over as one of their troupe seems to stagger. It’s currently him, Sakura, Naruto, and Hinata. The Hyūga has been hanging around the rather-fragmented team seven as of late. And it’s she who seems to crumple mid-step.

Being the fastest among them, it’s Sasuke who reacts first. With an arm around her waist, he keeps her on her feet, dark brows furrowing. There’s a rather violent ripple in her chakra.

Something’s wrong.

“Sakura,” he barks, bluntly but not unkindly.

Noticing as much herself, the rosette wastes no time in approaching. As Sasuke eases Hinata to sit (a bit difficult to do, given their position in the crowded shopping district), Naruto follows up.

“Hinata-chan! What’s wrong?”

“I...I’m fine,” she insists, tone a bit wispy as Sakura puts a hand to her chest, chakra shifting to a jade shade. “It’s just...m-my chest.”

“Your heart? Or your scar?”

“Heart…”

“When was your last cardiology appointment?” Sakura asks, immediately in medic mode.

Sasuke, serving as a bit of a chair at the moment, lets his brow furrow. Wait...her heart? She’s only seventeen, why would she -?

...oh...now he remembers. Their chūnin exams. Her spar against Neji. The blow to her chest that stopped the organ and required her to be evacuated to the hospital. He remembers hearing about her extensive hospital stay, and the weeks of therapy it took to strengthen her heart.

She’d nearly died that day.

“About, um…” She pauses to think. “...two months ago. Everything’s fine. It just f-flares up sometimes. I’ve been told it’s normal, I just need to rest.”

Sakura doesn’t look fully convinced, but relents. “...we better get you home.”

“But -?”

“We’re not about to keep dragging you around when you feel like this!”

“I don’t want to r-ruin it…”

“...I’ll take her home,” Sasuke then offers. “I’m not contributing much as it is. You two stay and finish up. I’ll make sure she gets there safe.”

For a brief moment, something flickers across Sakura’s face. “...all right. But if anything happens, you take her straight to the hospital! No ifs, ands, or buts!”

Hinata almost seems to pout, but doesn’t argue. “...I’m sorry, Sakura-chan.”

“Oh, please - a little outing is a lot less important than your health. Go get some rest. We’ll see you again soon, okay? Take it easy!”

“...I will…” Letting Sasuke carefully haul her back to her feet, Hinata starts leading the way back to her clan’s grounds.

Sasuke keeps his gaze on her from the corner of his unveiled eye, watching for any signs she’s worsening. She seems a bit out of breath, but otherwise passable enough. “...is this from the chūnin exams?”

With a small, weary sigh...Hinata nods. “...my heart is healed, but every so often I have a bout of arrhythmia. It’s never been anything serious, not since my therapy ended. It’s just something I have to deal with. Everyone always makes it so dramatic…”

“People worry about you. And if Sakura’s worried...there’s surely reason to be.”

“It’s been four years. I r-really don’t think I’m going to relapse. My primary medic says I’m fine, and she’s as diligent as they come. I keep up my appointments...everything else is just unnecessary fuss.”

“...all right, then.” He’s not about to argue. But then the other part of Sakura’s questioning surfaces.

“...Sakura said something about a scar…?”

To his surprise, she actually pauses. “...yes.”

He too slows to a stop. “...what was that from?” He likely has no idea - he was gone for quite some time, and odds are he just wasn’t around when it happened.

“...when Akatsuki attacked Konoha, I interfered with Naruto-kun’s fight against their leader.”

Subtly, his eye widens.

“I knew I wasn’t any match...mostly I just w-wanted to be a distraction. Maybe help free him so he could continue the fight. But I was overpowered before he could get loose, and the enemy impaled me with one of his black rods.”

At her words, a memory surfaces: that of Madara turning Tobirama into a pincushion with rods like that. Right before he -

“It went into my side, and...caused a lot of damage. Due to the rush, it was healed over very quickly, and I had a few c-complications that had to be fixed later with further surgeries. The scarring is a bit tight, so...sometimes I have trouble t-twisting my torso. I do yoga and kata to help with flexibility, but...it twinges sometimes. Sakura-chan likely thought that might have been what had me flinch.”

Sasuke considers her for a long moment. They’re still stopped in the middle of a road, currently empty beyond the two of them. “...you got that trying to help Naruto?”

“...yes. After I was stabbed, he flew into a rage...utilized his bijū and got free.”

“...I didn’t realize he cared about you that much.” It’s a blunt statement, but an honest one. From what he can remember...Naruto always called her strange. While Sasuke (and just about everyone else) could see it was due to her crush on him...the blond was always blind.

Hinata, however, doesn’t flinch. Instead, her head bows slightly. “...that was the day I told him I loved him. I don’t k-know if that had anything to do with it. He never mentioned it after that.”

“...wait.” Disbelief slackens his face. “...you confessed to him, risked your life for him...and he said nothing?”

“T-there was a lot more to consider - Akatsuki, the village, and -”

“But even after all this time...he hasn’t answered you?”

“...not directly.” Her tone quiets. “...but I t-think his reply is rather...o-obvious.”

“...that stupid prick,” Sasuke mutters.

“It w-wasn’t his -”

“You don’t regret it?”

His interruption makes her hesitate.

“...nothing? No remorse? I saw what you did during the war...you tried to do it again. All this effort doesn’t feel...wasted?”

She stares at him, expression unreadable. “...Naruto-kun doesn’t feel how I felt. And I h-hardly want him to force it, or...or lie. That doesn’t mean I regret doing what I did. I wanted to protect him. I w-wanted to prove I was strong enough to stand beside him. I might not love him anymore...maybe I never did. Not truly. But I can’t regret risking my own life for someone I care about. Even if we aren’t right for each other...I still care. I still want him safe, and happy. If the choice came up again...I wouldn’t hesitate. Naruto-kun is precious to me. I might not be what I wanted to be to him...but I’m still his friend. His comrade. So no...I don’t regret my choices.” Unblinking, she doesn’t censor herself. “...I thought y-you of all people would understand.”

For some reason...her words sting in a way he doesn’t expect. But rather than feel a need to lash out, or reply with snark...he recoils, suddenly unsure. He never thought her capable of such a remark.

When it’s clear he isn’t going to rebuke, she sighs. “...I’ve given a lot for other people. But I’d never take any of it back. Just because it’s left me in a deficit doesn’t mean I should regret it. I still feel like I made the right choices...even if others might disagree. They’re mine to make...and mine alone.”

“...fair enough.”

A pause.

“...you don’t have to walk me back, I’ll be fine. You probably want to go home.”

“It’s not that far.” And he isn’t about to walk away from her rather bold statements. “Besides, Sakura will skin me alive if she finds out I left.”

“...all right.”

They don’t exchange any more words on the way, and Hinata turns back as she passes through the compound gate. “...have a good evening, Sasuke-kun.”

“You too. Get some rest. Remember, doctor’s orders.”

To his surprise, she manages a smile. “I will.” With that, she turns and soon disappears.

Mind full of thoughts he had no intention of entertaining, Sasuke eventually sighs...and turns back toward home.

                                                          .oOo.

     This isn't QUITE what I want it to be, but...it's late and I don't have time to redo or tinker xD      Sasuke, in my mind, fully accepts all of his decisions. Maybe a bit less out of actually finding them to be the best he could have done...and more just doing so for his own peace of mind. Sure, he has things he know he could have done better, but...only AFTER seeing how they played out. For his sanity's sake, he can't regret them.      Hinata, on the other hand, feels that she DID do the best she could. And while others might criticize her, especially her actions concerning Naruto, she doesn't regret them. Just because their bond didn't pan out how she'd wanted doesn't mean she'd NOT do her best to help him. He still matters. Her feelings still matter. They've just...changed. But that doesn't change the past, or how she views it.      So, two different interpretations. And I think that's an interesting comparison between them!      ...but it's also 3 am and I'm tired so maybe that's the only reason I'm so rambly xD      Either way, that's all I've got for now, and it's WAY past bedtime lol - thanks for reading!

[rainslayre]

name :   tomioka  giyuu

nickname :   i assume we’re not counting the ones sanemi & iguro have thought of ?

gender :   cis male

romantic orientation :   demi - Needs - to - Experiment & leans more to boys

preferred pet names :  he’s Always awkward about them, no matter from who

relationship status :   single, not quite ready to mingle, and way too Depressed

favorite canon / fandom ship :   / * slaps giyuu with rengoku & uzui & sabito & Very Specifically only with amy’s muzan

favorite crossover ship :   i mean so far i really only have katie’s kagari but god, i can’t believe the first person giyuu ever flirts with on this blog is a Canonical Dead Man

opinion on true love :   ... [my] giyuu WANTS to believe that it exists but ultimately doesn’t. i think giyuu sees that there’s a difference between “true love” versus “genuine love”, yet the two Can be interchangeable but very heavily dependent on what work the relationship has put in already. i don’t think he believes in “love at first sight” or even like HALF of the romantic ideas misturi has running through her head because he believes Real Love is effort. he doesn’t adapt to the typical “oh hey we’re been on five dates already, so now you’re my girlfriend / boyfriend!” but rather finds it much more ideal / romantic(?) to just spend time with someone. give him memories he doesn’t have to feel so complicated about & can look back and smile naturally. no pressure to try impressing the other, no pressure to not seem too or not interested enough  —  just hang out with them and have a good time. i 99% believe giyuu is Always gonna be the second person to fall because he doesn’t think anyone’s ever really gonna see him as someone worth causing an emotional uproar for, depressed timeline or not. but if you honestly somehow get the curse of giyuu falling you first then i am So Damn Sorry for the road you’ll be enduring just to realize what he’s trying to convey.

opinion on love at first sight :   oh fuck i ranted too hard. uh, literally just read the paragraph above please.

how ‘romantic�� are they? :   he certainly isn’t the best nor the most ecstatic about romance in general, but his partner(s) will DEFINITELY feel their heart screaming so long as you recognize the efforts he puts into thing. he's much more of a “it’s about the details & little things that show importance” kinda guy.

ideal physical traits :   don’t be a demon.

ideal personality traits :   i don’t think his heart (and whatever’s suppose to be a brain in him up there) can handle tsunderes, anyone who can handle his silence & get a feel for whatever he tries conveying in As Little Words As Possible would definitely be a plus but That’s Gonna Require Work y’all, and uh ... i don’t think he has a type to begin with because you either Pass Or Fail his standards of giving a shit about in general. BUT this would be something he’d know if he just Experimented With People :  he would so pick up the insecurity of his partner thinking he doesn’t care. as you go through the rest of this list, i Repeatedly state that his standards don’t exist (or at least they’re not anything specific) and if The Other thinks he no longer has an interest in them & if you basically don’t tell him Upfront about what’s wrong, he’ll go head - first into a spiral of anxiety overthinking Everything he’s done in like the past 72+ hours. as much as everyone can Totally see his depression & make memes out of it, his anxiety canonically is actually WORSE than his depression AND I’M SO SAD THAT NO ONE EVER SEEMS TO BRING THIS UP. don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a rom - drama series where Oh No, Misunderstandings Are Happening And Thus We’re Gonna Spend 3 Whole Episodes Just To Finish Part 1 but ... for someone who doesn’t like speaking a lot because of how much he KNOWS he sucks at holding a conversation, communication is like THE MOST IMPORTANT FACTOR to keep him and his mental health from drowning underneath.

unattractive physical traits :   i’d be lying if i said He TOTALLY Doesn’t Care because That’s Like Asking A(n Actually Good) Mother To Pick Her Favorite (Actually Decent) Child. but so long as he gets to know you Personally will your personality outshine however you look like.

unattractive personality traits :   i mean just don’t be a dick

ideal date :   so long as it has a “netflix & chill” kinda vibe with the person he’s spending time with, he doesn’t really care.

do they have a type? :   i just said “don’t be a dick”.

average relationship length :   / * gestures @ sabito  I JOKE but uh, nah, he’s the kind of person who takes FOREVER to start with & travels rather slowly with. but that also means he’s the kind of guy who’ll latch on for Life (i mean unless something happens that causes for the relationship to break one way or another but uh Yeah)

preferred non-sexual intimacy :   just enjoy the moment & the time you get together. even a simple Take - Out / Leftovers For Dinner (Because We’re Too Tired To Cook) date would be enough. (except shopping. never drag him out for a shopping date)

commitment level :   he’ll be a real damn piece of work but if you stick with him, you’ll be rewarded with a lifetime with this loser (i mean if that’s really what you want your endgame to be but Alright)

opinion of public affection :   instead more like “secret but in public” kinds of affection. like, holding two fingers onto the other person’s fingers discreetly. or hovering your finger(s) from his shoulder to his collarbone to his neck and then for a second Almost tipping / holding at his chin only to naturally Yet Quickly draw your whole hand away from him.  YEA H !!!  but yeah nothing like Kissing In The Mall or he’s gonna be way too embarrassed and you can drive yourself home then, dammit.

past relationships? :   NO MATTER THE VERSE, I LOVE THE IDEA OF SABITO BEING SOMEONE HE ONCE FELL IN LOVE WITH. whether the relationship ends up with sabito dead or they Return To Being JUST Friends, it’s a really nice experience to slap on him if i can just so he’s not Completely Oblivious. (and also potentially for Angst Factors and/or depending how Vital that point in his life may become)

tagged by :   @ainoken ! tagging :   @flmbynt ,   @danceablaze ,   @anroji ,   and   @galebreath .   if anyone else wants to ponder long about this then i enable u to do it, you cowards .

[whenjoshisjoseph]

13 Things Best Bros Do Together (+1 Thing They Don’t): Chapter 6

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“As heroes, you will be expected to fight whilst defending a helpless victim,” Aizawa tells Class 1-A, who are huddled around in a circle in the centre of the training grounds. “Protecting another affects your fighting style, and this exercise is is designed to test your capacity to do that.

“You will be split up into partners. The first run of this exercise will be a test run, and then we’ll rotate partners, who you’ll be tested alongside with.”

“Sir!” Iida interjects, and Bakugou rolls his eyes in irritation. Every single fucking time , he thinks. “How does the exercise work, exactly?” Seems Aizawa’s pretty fed up of it, too. Bakugou can tell , even if the dark haired teacher keeps his cool.

“Iida, please let me finish before you ask any questions. Each pair will be up against another. Only one of the two can use their quirk, the other being the ‘helpless victim’. If I see the designated victim using their quirk, I will cancel it out, and they will immediately fail this exercise, understood?” Aizawa warns.

“Yes, sir!” the class replies in unison. Apart from Bakugou, anyway. He's not playing a fucking victim, no matter what.

“Each team will also have a orb that the ‘victim’ will hold. The aim of each team is to acquire the orb from the opposite team, whilst ensuring that the ‘victim’ sustains minimal damage. As for the teams…” As the teacher begins to read from a list, Bakugou tunes the man out. He only has to pay attention when his name is called. Besides, he doesn’t like the sound of this activity. Of course, it’s no challenge, but he doesn’t like working with the dumbasses in this class. Except maybe Kirishima, sometimes. But they might not get paired up together.

“Bakugou will be with Midoriya for the first rotation, versus Todoroki, who will be partnered with Aoyama. Sero will be with…” Aizawa continues.

Fuck it. Bloody fuck it, of course he’s got shitty Deku and his fucking boyfriend.

“I will leave it up to you all to decide who plays the victim, and who plays the hero. Considering that we’re doing this exercise two times, it would be preferable to play each role once, but there is no obligation to.

“Collect your orbs from that box,” Aizawa instructs, “and find a space for you and your opponents to work in. You can begin as soon as you’re ready; smash the orb once you’ve acquired it to inform me you’re done. Everyone has a twenty minute time limit, starting now.”

Bakugou sees the smaller boy walk to the box and collect an orb, which fits neatly in his scarred hands. The blonde twitches slightly as Deku gestures for him to come over.

“I thought you’d want me to play the victim?” the green haired one asks as he stops in front of him.

“Tch, fucking obviously, Deku,” Bakugou snarls. “You better stay out of my fucking way.” Deku gives him a nervous thumbs up and jogs to where Todoroki and Aoyama are waiting. Aoyama sits on the smooth ground, whilst Todoroki stands in front of him, braced for the first attack.

He feels Deku plop down on the ground behind him, which means they’re ready to roll. And don’t get him wrong, Bakugou doesn’t waste a single second. Todoroki doesn’t get so much as a simple signal when suddenly Bakugou is crashing into him. Had it been anyone else, they would’ve been caught by surprise. However, Todoroki deflects Bakugou with a simple wall of ice.

Weaker than usual , Bakugou notes as he smashes through it. It must be in some effort to keep Aoyama safe; Todoroki’s conserving his strength rather than trying to full-on defeat him.

Which just makes it even easier for Bakugou.

Fuck protecting the shitty nerd , Bakugou thinks. It’s going to be over a lot quicker if he can get the damn orb. Bakugou blasts deftly at Todoroki, who lunges out of the way, leaving Aoyama in the open. Perfect .

But before his second blast can fully get through to the glittery hero, another wall of ice is up, just in time to stop any real damage from being done. But he’s sure he’s scratched him, which is enough for now. Bakugou reels back in for another attack, when the wall disappears.

He doesn’t know why, but Aoyama’s vulnerable, and that’s all that fucking matters now. He’s about to snatch the orb from a slightly cowering Aoyama when he hears someone call his name.

“Kacchan! Help me!” Bakugou swivels to see Todoroki hovering over Deku, who’s looking at Bakugou with wide eyes. Bakugou pauses, and Deku realises what Bakugou’s plan is - to leave him at the mercy of Todoroki in the hope that he’ll have snatched the orb from Aoyama in time to prevent any real damage.

The half and half bastard’s left side is ablaze, and just as he makes a move to strike, Deku chokes out:

“Baby, please-” The flames waver for a split second, and Bakugou is instantly grabbing the orb from Aoyama’s grasp and smashing it.

“Wait, no!” Aoyama yells, as a blue haze wafts up.

“We fucking got you, bastard,” Bakugou taunts Todoroki as he strides towards Deku, but the icyhot idiot completely fucking ignores Bakugou, instead pulling on Deku’s ear and whispering something in his ear that makes him go bright red.

“I-I didn’t mean to, I swear-” Deku babbles, going after Todoroki as he walks away. Bakugou swears he hears something along the lines of ‘please, we can’t do that tonight’, at which point he stops listening, because honestly, he doesn’t want to fucking know whatever lewd threat Todoroki must’ve made.

Instead, he returns to Aizawa using a different route, and sits on the opposite side of the bench to the couple as he waits for everyone else to finish. God, but they’re all so fucking slow . He tries searching out Kirishima to entertain himself, but Shitty Hair is nowhere nearby. If he’s getting hurt right now, Bakugou’s going to fucking kill him or whoever's meant to be looking after him.

*

“Most of you clearly need to learn to be more aware of the person you’re protecting,” Aizawa informs them as they’re huddled around again.

Bakugou had been glad that Kirishima seemed unscathed as he'd sat down next to him five minutes before the time limit for the first round was up. Mina had done a halfway decent job protecting him, then; maybe he could yell at her a little less the next time they interacted, although she had a fucking annoying habit of making every single thing suggestive or some shit.

“-and supplementary lessons will be required for anyone who doesn’t pass this time round.” Iida raises a hand.

“Yes, Iida?” Aizawa asks. Bakugou’s waiting for the day the teacher snaps; he’s sure it’ll be fucking hilarious.

“What if neither teams are able to acquire the orb?” he asks.

“That’s a sensible question, Iida. In that case, you will be assessed on which ‘victim’ has sustained the least damage. Now, as for the teams this time round-”

As he waits for his name to be called, Bakugou lets his eyes wander around the group to see who else has been hurt, but he doesn’t get very far before he lands on Kirishima again, looking his best friend up and down. The redhead’s superhero costume makes sense, but it doesn’t mean Bakugou understands it. Is it even allowed for someone to be showing that much skin? He should fucking cover up more, or he’s going to be distracting whoever the fuck he’s working with when he becomes a pro.

He drags his gaze away from Kirishima’s body as his name is called.

“Tokoyami and Mina will be partnered up against Bakugou and Kirishima, with Iida and Midoriya facing…”

He supposes this is a best case scenario, seeing as he'd wanted Kirishima as a partner anyway. And he can take both Mina and Tokoyami on pretty fucking easily, so this isn’t going to cause a problem, whichever one's attacking him.

“I hope that you’ve all learnt from your first round, and that you apply improved tactics this time round. Begin when you’re ready. The time limit is still twenty minutes, which starts now,” Aizawa dismisses.

Kirishima is immediately next to Bakugou, giving him a light friendly punch to the arm.

“I’m pretty lucky to have the strongest guy protecting me, huh?” Kirishima asks, already knowing Bakugou wants to fight.

“You fucking bet,” he grins in reply.

*

“What the fuck ?” Bakugou screeches as he leaps over another one of Tokoyami's swings.

The fucker's gotten stronger , he realises as he blasts towards the offending arm. Since their fight at the Sports Festival, he must've worked on something to make sure light wouldn't affect Dark Shadow too much.

So he’s fucking fused himself with the bloody shadow.

Bakugou could still easily destroy this motherfucker, but Kirishima is right behind him and no one's going to get a fucking scratch on him.

“Dark Shadow, to the left!” Tokoyami yells, and the bird retreats from Bakugou's attack for a moment before swerving and heading straight for Kirishima.

“Get the fuck away from him!” Bakugou roars, channelling a blast straight at the bird that almost splits it down the middle. The force of the explosion has the ground rumbling, and an after wave sends Mina hurtling backwards; she's sustained some damage. But Dark Shadow cushions her before she faces any serious injury.

The direction of the wave means that Kirishima doesn't get hit, which is fucking lucky; he has to be more fucking careful.

The two opponents face back to each other, circling slowly. If he wasn't in charge of Kirishima, this bastard would've been done for already. But as it is, Bakugou is going to have to wear the other down so Kirishima doesn't get hurt.

But Tokoyami isn't thinking along those lines. He's about to go for a full-on attack. And, as he builds up his Dark Shadow, he leaves Mina to her own devices.

Bakugou can do the same thing he did with Deku and go for the orb, getting there in time to hopefully cut short the attack on Kirishima.

“Go the orb, dude; I'll be fine!” the redhead yells from behind him. Kirishima has a determined expression on his face, a look of a person who's about to sacrifice something. He trusts Bakugou.

But fuck if he's leaving his Kirishima vulnerable.

Dark Shadow comes pummelling down towards his best friend, and Bakugou throws himself if front of the assault, firing out an explosion that slams Tokoyami back into Mina, but the remnants of Dark Shadow mean that the only way he can protect Kirishima now is with his body, so he does.

As the shadow hits his back, the two boys go rolling, but Bakugou's tucked Kirishima against his chest, so he takes the brunt of it, and when the momentum stops, leaving Bakugou hovering over Kirishima, he doesn't wait a second in asking:

“You good, Shitty Hair?” The redhead gives him a dazzling smile.

“I'm awesome, bro; you're so freaking manly!” And then the bastard hugs him, the force of it flipping them over so Bakugou's back is against the fucking floor. If Bakugou wasn't so fucking relieved, he would've shoved him across the training grounds.

Probably .

They look like idiots, embraced on the floor, but that is how Aizawa approaches them, clearing his throat.

“Gentlemen,” he says, and the two leap apart. Fuck fuck fuck, their teacher wasn't meant to see that. But Bakugou's surprised to find that there's a hint of a smile playing on Aizawa's face. Tokoyami and Mina walk over so they can listen to Aizawa too.

“Neither team was able to acquire the orb, so each team has been assessed based on the state of the ‘victim’. Tokoyami and Mina, you will be attending supplementary lessons for the next week, as Kirishima is untouched.”

They both gape.

“Untouched?” Tokoyami exclaims. “But he's paired up with Bakugou of all people, and I sent Dark Shadow after them! Unless Bakugou defended Kirishima with his…” He trails off, silent in his realisation.

“Bakugou was pretty reckless with Midoriya,” Mina muses. “But the one guy in our year who loves winning the most undermined that instinct to protect Kirishima…”

Bakugou's starting to go red.

“It's not fucking like that-”

“Kirishima, you've got a pretty awesome best friend!” Mina concludes, and Bakugou snaps his mouth shut. He's not going to argue with that. Especially not when Kirishima slings an arm around Bakugou's shoulder and affirms:

“Best bros look after each other, and Bakugou is definitely the best of them all.”

Bakugou blinks and looks at his redhead, who’s gazing back at him softly.

Fuck, I like his beautiful eyes , Bakugou thinks, before the thought is accompanied with a panicked,

Wait...what?!

<< First / < Previous /  Next > (I swear there’s more I’ll just upload and link it later asdfghjkl - you can still read all there is on AO3, though!)

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[occupyscifi]

The Partisan Generation

This generation

It was the morning that his daughter airily declared the moon landing a fake news Jewish plot to let liberal scientists run the government that Lenton Ayre realised things had gone a bit far with this generation.

“and, you know its because gun control libtards in the Hollywood elite that we lost the Iraq war” she added, gazing into her eglasses at the endless stream of retweets, status updates and weather pattern like emojis swept over her “because, you know. There were WMD’s  - that’s the truth. Only the cultural Marxists wanna cover it up. There’s like a whole thread on ReddChan about it and all the instagram influencers are saying…”

“honey, I just asked what you were gonna be studying in school today” he replied, cutting her off before she could do the whole ten minute screed on the snowflake liberals that then could segway into a whole monolog that took in every conspiracy theory from JFK to flat earth. Instead he would rather talk about their real education. As someone who was assiduous in his working habits and concerned for his children’s future he had of course taken them out of the local state school and put them into the Musk-Bezos academy that had opened in a refurbished mall just out of town. This was less a matter really of intellectual choice, more that since his own employer was a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a subsidiary of Amazon he could either send his kids to the Inspire! Academy or he could find himself a new job.  

That Lenton would not have minded quite so much, but all his rivals could only offer him the Netflix online-ed course for his two teenagers. That would hardly have been good fathering, he had figured. Although considering his two children’s current subjects of conversation he wondered if it might just have been better to join one of the local Trump Revival churches and get them home schooled. At least he wouldn’t have had to worry about exams, and they would  have a willing audience to talk conspiracy theories with.

“Rani, dude. What is that libtard bullshit?” Ayre’s son retorted, his own smartglasses reflecting the latest news from the hardcore manosphere where he spent most of his time. Since he was wearing his ‘science is my superpower’ tshirt his sister was clearly in a trolling mood “you’ve been sucking down that stupid crap your latest gaywad lametoob boyband crush soyboy has been saying, right? Everyone knows that they’re just a front for Kremlin. Those pretty commie boys want to turn you Stacy’s into their harem so that honest patriots like me can’t get what we’re owed….”

“Kev, you can’t get a girl cause you’re a fucking misogynist incel loser” said his sister quickly “don’t start blaming other people for your problems”

“okay, kids please” said Lenton raising both his hands in what his NLP Yoga teacher had assured him was a calming pose that leant him an air of kindly authority “can we have some calm? You know something a little less partisan at the breakfast table?” lenton scrolled through his own smartglasses looking for non controversial content. It was surprisingly hard “now, can we all agree that congress are a bunch of assholes? Or that kittens are super cute?”

His son opened his mouth to argue

“okay, how about dogs in cars, with their heads out the window?”

Kevin shut his mouth and nodded.

“I mean, I don’t know where it comes from” moaned lenton later at the popup office where he spent his days in online content creation “my daughter spouts anything that comes from the Kremlin via whatever hot youtube boy she’s currently hard crushing on, and my son says anything that some rock hard libertarian science guy says. Neither of them give it a second thought. I don’t know why, cause whenever I say anything they’re on me with laser sight scepticism”

“eh, I blame the technology” complained his colleague as she thumbed through mentions in her livefeed, feeling the desperate need for validation more than the caffeine hit in the cup in her hand “these kids, they wanna be spoonfed everything. I remember when we was their age. We hadda actually google search stuff. If you wanted to throw shade you hadda go to the effort of writing a livejournal about it. Now these kids just get a bunch of recommendations straight into their eyeballs. No thought required”

“too right, Tina. Its about hard work” said Lenton, looking at the day’s workload “it’s the attitude that’s the problem. They’re just too lazy to challenge anything” he scanned the list of hot button to do items “so, what talking points are we monetising for cultural leaders today?”

“we got a contract in from Russia. They want to see the latest round of the Israel Iranian conflict spun as being caused by Jewish bankers. Was thinking we can feed that one in via the Foxosphere. They love a bit of Jew baiting so long as we call em progressive liberal internationalists”

“good call” said Lenton, paging through the various socially destructive ideas and fake news he was being paid a hefty commission to inject into public discourse “we’ve got our screaming mob on retainer. Can get them with placards and slogans anywhere we need them. Although the RNC still hasn’t paid them for that last job. Something about how they weren’t violent enough against those BLM people…”

“they’re actors” sighed Tina as she refilled her mug from the genuine organic roast machine. Her mug bore the cheery slogan ‘world’s greatest stripper’ always reminding her of her grandmother, whose gift it had been “if they want proper violence then they have to get the real white supremacists, but they’re all booked up defending the Canadian border from UN one world government liberal invasion, or whatever we told them was the problem”

“thought it was LGBTQ infiltrators?” replied Lenton. It was hard to keep up. They were after all paid to shape the news and the information that influenced people, the consequences were not really in his pay grade.

“whatever” sighed Tina as she took another high protein cookie from the stack. They were super moreish but were almost physically indigestible. The resulting diarrhoea was always good for the waist line “and we got another Koch brothers contract up. Top dollar to get the key 18-25 demographic thinking that renewable energy is a problem”

“simple. Thread through the manosphere as being that renewable energy is unmanly and feminising. We can to nostalgia stuff around the petrol engine. The far right will love a bit of Tesla bashing….”

“and Tesla will pay us double to spread the counter message” said Tina, finishing her coffee “cool” she paused “look, don’t worry about your kids. They go through phases. Shit, I was tumblrd out when I was their age, woulda cut my best friends head off if she’d said a word against my fandom. They grow out of it”

“yeah” said lenton, already downloading the days false news and astroturf memes ready to infect the information stream of the western world with “but, you know they just seem so extreme. I don’t get why” he added as he pumped a thread blaming vaccinations for causing sexual inadequacy into a mainstream news forum where it would have an active effect on roughly forty five percent of the readership “I just don’t see where they get those ideas from”

[tumblunni]

Reading the kingdom hearts manga, woo! I saw some of this when I was like 15 or something, but this is my first time reading the whole thing in actual order. Here’s just a few good bits from the beginning so far!

I’ve gotta say that even though this series has a (REALLY BIG) problem with rushing stuff + cutting out most of the disney worlds, there’s also a lot to love!

I think it actually managed to make the beginning way more dramatic just from how everyone is..well.. drawn more disney. Or more manga..disney?? Like its not the same style as how humans are atcually drawn in disney cartoons but you’ve gotta agree that the people are more cartoony and expressionate here and it looks less out of place. Same for how the manga adds lots more humour even while keeping things tense and dramatic! it helps establish people’s personalities a lot quicker than the game does, and honestly GIVES perosnality to Sora who otherwise doesnt have anything except ‘is really nice and good’. Here he’s more socially awkward and hyperactive and like.. endearing cos he tries his best but doesnt always succeed.

And the clear facial expressions for all of these moments leave it feeling less flat and like.. hard to tell what the damn intent of the scene was. Seirously the only way I agree KH1 was ‘a kids game’ is how the attempts at ‘humour’ were really low effort. Like you can tell its supposed to be a joke from how the scene plays out but you really cant tell what the joke was actually supposed to be. Like the sort of “knock knock” “who’s there?” “i’m here!” jokes that kids make when they’re five. And ruining actual jokes by delivering them in the same stilted way, like the whole “the ship runs on smiles” scene could have been funny but it just plays out so weirdly devoid of all sense of comic timing?? And sora’s funny face is barely exaggerated cos they couldnt model it!

It sucks cos that scene was a great example of the ‘very wacky but also extra emotionally resonant’ kind of thing that this manga excels at! The context of that weird joke was that its the first time we see Sora completely devoid of all optimism, beating Traverse Town really is the finishing point of the very long tutorial, and the moment it all sinks in that his friends are gone and he doesnt know what to do. And for a guy who’se ENTIRE PERSONALITY so far has just been ‘nice, optimistic, and you the player can project whatever else you want on him’, it should have been a wham moment to see him fall down in exhaustion after all that and have a realistic human reaction to it all. And then it should have been really uplifting and established their immediate friendship when Goofy and Donald try their best to cheer him up, but like.. theyre fuckin stressed too so they dont know wtf they’re doing either. And Sora ends up actually laughing because his attempt to fake a smile is so god awful, and then they all fall about in one of those so-damn-stressed-that-everything-is-hilarious giggle fits, and Leon looks at them like they’re crazy. But it served its purpose of helping Sora feel optimistic again, not because it was actually funny but because it proves these guys care about him and he isn’t alone.

AKA EXACTLY THE TIDUS LAUGH SCENE IN FINAL FANTASY 10

i get so mad that it’s falsely blamed as a case of ‘bad dub voice acting’, when it was equally bad in japanese and the director fuckin PLANNED it to be bad! The characters in-universe end the damn scene by aknowledging its bad! Its just a fail of scriptwriting that they didnt make the intent of the moment clear before dropping the punchline, and it was animated so weirdly that it didnt really succeed at looking ‘intentionally bad’ but just.. bad. Exactly the same problem as the ‘ship of smiles’ face, for a scene that was supposed to deliver the same sad goddamn moment and instead went down in infamy!

Sneaking character development into a joke is a thing that requires a lot of actual skill, you shouldnt do it unless you’re gonna put the effort in to stick the landing. Steven Universe is the only show I’ve seen that consistantly succeeds at this, and the KH manga does a much better job than the game did. Even if, yes, admittedly, sometimes it flubs up and sticks jokes where they dont work, and actually ruins dramatic moments too. or just doesnt adapt dramatic moments at all and rushes through it cos they’re on a tight schedule. But I mean none of those moments fail as bad as the game’s occasional cringe, and the wacky style fits SO much better with the story that i can forgive those flaws! Plus they got way better as the series goes on, its only really KH1 that seems this rushed. And they actually added MORE dramatic moments to Days! I stopped reading the manga at the end of KH1 as a kid, and I started this whole rereading because I saw a page of Days where they (OH GODDD) turned one particular perosn’s death into legit traumatizing material. I don’t know why “I don't want to go” is such a simple way to burn your entire soul out. So if it started off good but flawed and turned into something even better than the games, HECK YEAH I’m gonna give it a second chance!

...sorry i went wildly offtopic there

Anyway I picked these pages to show cos its a good example of great jokes, how the jokes give more personality, and how they put more effort into personality in general and also the dark and dramatic stuff, which hits harder because its in such a fluffy adorable jokes manga.

Like you can see how Sora is more of a goofball and freaks out more and makes mistakes more, but also how when the fights arent playable they used it as a place to establish that Sora is actually way more intelligent than you thought, and his fighting style is physically weak but strategically skilled. Like he’s basically what Aqua ended up being?? And that’s way more endearing as a protagonist than just super overpowered destiny man where his only failures are because you the player are bad. Anf its also endearing to mix this genius strategist with a guy who’s EVEN MORE goofy oblivious and innocent, yknow? the genius ditz archetype! And also his cliche shonen hero obliviousness is.. well, less cliche. He reacts more like a real kid who’s just scared and out of his depth, and messes up when he tries to talk to the girl he has a crush on. It’s not like “harr dee harr, what is marriage, can you eat it?” unrealistic kinds of oblivious that only exist for the joke. Nah, relateable anxiety man! With goofier faces! I CANNOT OVERSTATE HOW MUCH I PREFER THE GOOFIER FACES

And man the beginning is so more fuckin dramatic when we get all DIFFERENT CAMERA ANGLES and ACTUAL FACES SHOWING DESPAIR and DARKNESS POSSESSED RIKU LOOKIN REALLY FUCKIN SCARY and it fuckin goes so fast from wholesome jokes with ur crush to ABSOLUTE DEATH and cos sora reacts so much more like a normal lil kid you feel actually scared for him even though you know how the story is gonna go. He’s not an archetype of purity he’s just like any lil neighbourhood duderino that you’d see running errands for his mom on the weekend. HE’S TOO YOUNG FOR ALL THIS PRESSURE!! AND SCARY RIKU FACES!!!

And man they fuckin ACTUALLY SHOW SOMEONE GETTING THEIR HEART RIPPED OUT ONSCREEN! Thats a way better way of establishing the whole crux of the plot! When you’re playing the game you know that seeing someone turn into a heartless should be traumatic, but it doesnt focus long on it and you never get to see any of the victims before they turned, and you’re more focused on gameplay. You feel less powerless when you’re physically able to destroy those things whenever you want, there’s never a moment like this where someone dies in a cutscene and its out of your control. (Unless you count some heroic sacrifice scenes in kh2 but thats an entirely different kind of feeling, and they turned out to come back from the dead anyway.) Also wtf i cant believe they got away with showing a creepy pedo lady in a kids shonen! I mean it does make me feel a lot less sympathy for her getting killed, but I still feel super sad seeing Sora get traumatized by it!

ALSO

Cid is good.

The way they write him in the manga reminds me of Bardo from Black Butler? He’s a similar chain smoking grumpy dad figure who looks like harmless comic releif but has a bunch of hidden heavy artillery in his shitty kitchen for when he needs to protect his family. And it was extra badass (and hilarious) when he once actually used his bad cooking to assassinate someone?? tho it was via causing a flour explosion rather than it just being so shitty its poison

ANYWAY IM GOING OFFTOPIC IN MANY WAYS

this mang is gud

also lookit how cute the baby destiny trio look in this style!!!

[eremji]

Thoughts on Infinity War, and Thanos' Motivation

Disclaimer: I'm not a Marvel expert. Some of my information on comic plots was collected from wikis and secondary articles, due to a lack of access to a primary source or the simple inaccuracy of my own memory. I also mostly enjoyed Infinity War, and any criticism herein should not be taken as decrying the whole.

Spoilers behind the cut. Please close your eyes and scroll super fast, block tags, duck and cover, etc. if you’re on mobile, because, seriously, spoilers.

An extremely simplified version of movie production:

From a production standpoint, Iron Man was a huge risk for the studios fronting the money for it. After critical and box office flops from 90s Batman films and other various superhero action flicks, studios typically found comic book movies to underperform in comparison to budgetary requirements for good visuals, making them unattractive. Marvel has taken a large step away from making comic book movies, to making comic book adaptations, because what works on the page doesn’t work in a moving picture.

Marvel Studios’ cinematic success has almost nothing to do with how compelling the source material is – because some of Marvel’s library is pretty much slush pile garbage. This was before your average artist or consumer realized you can get pretty literary while still having cool pictures on a page. They’re valuable because they propelled the comic industry to widespread success, but the source is best examined with a critical eye towards tone deaf and anachronistic viewpoints on race, sexuality, gender, and pretty much everything else. Marvel Studios has done a fairly consistent job of divorcing the cinematic canon from the original medium’s baggage, to which I attribute a large portion of the films’ success in comparison to very lukewarm iterations of DC or X-Men.

As media consumers, we’re accustomed to having a finished product to hold and analyze. When considering story, in terms of plotting and pacing, I personally believe it’s most helpful to compare the scope of the MCU production to be similar to that of a television show, rather than a traditional movie or movie series. It may be startling to know that even very successful television shows, like Breaking Bad or Stranger Things, often don’t even have all the episodes completely written out prior to beginning filming of a season.

Marvel Studios’ movies have been in production for ten years, with many, many different hands in the pot, and earlier scripts don’t always set up the best planting and payoff of character or plot elements later in the continuity. (For visual learners, Lindsay Ellis has a very layman-friendly example using clips from Mad Max: Fury Road.)

You can see where this might start to cause some consistency issues.

Crossover event comics and the necessary sacrifice of emotional development:

For anyone walking in to expecting Avengers: Infinity War to have a lot of character development, I’m very sorry for your loss.

There was never going to be a grand emotional reunion for Steve and Bucky, and there was never going to be whole hours dedicated to bonding and witty bickering and new friendships that weren’t absolutely vital to the plot. That we got things like the Steve-and-Bucky hug, the jealous Star-Lord vs. Thor moments, and Steve introducing himself politely to Groot were for the benefit of the audience more than advancing the plot, which is a huge victory in terms of crushing as much as possible into a theatrical cut.

A film production has a finite amount of screen time to allocate before a movie becomes bloated. When people joke about Infinity War being the most ambitious crossover event, I don’t think some of them realize how on the mark that is from a production standpoint. Hard decisions have to be made between what isn’t vital to advancing plot in a compelling way and what was retained to meet audience expectations. Infinity War often felt like it tried to recapture that Joss Whedon-ish sassy-but-kinda-flat comedy from the first Avengers, and that meant punchlines for jokes sometimes land at emotionally inappropriate times because characters just don’t have cinematic space for witty banter between shooting aliens and losing everyone they ever cared about.

There’s a difference in author-audience expectations of what’s important in these team-up movies, and also gaps between fans actively participating in fandom because they love the characters and casual moviegoers looking for a blockbuster. It all comes down to how much each party in the creative transaction is willing to settle for. Traditionally, Marvel has set up the character-driven plots and subplots in individual comics with occasional crossover cameos for a few issues when another character or baddie is relevant to the plot. The large crossover events, like Civil War, Contest of Champions, or Infinity are almost always plot-heavy and character-light.

This is so much easier in comic book format, where multiple series can be coordinated in regular, paced releases, and different comic issues may happen parallel or directly before/after the event crossovers. Movies take a significantly larger amount of time to produce, through pre-production, filming, post-production, marketing, and distribution.

A brief (I’m serious, they’ve been making comics since the 1939) explication of source material:

One of the largest disconnects for me, as a fan of both the comics and the movies, was the change in Thanos’ motivation, but not his mission. For those who aren't aware of the origins of his character, he essentially wants to murder people to impress a girl – Mistress Death, to be specific. He wants to kill half of all life in the universe so that he can be her equal and win her affection. 

Dorkly did a pretty solid breakdown of some of Thanos’ Infinity Gauntlet story and the innate misogynistic slant of his character, including comic panels from the original source material, that paints comic!Thanos an internet Nice Guy™. (Feel free to skim the article; it's a bit slow to get to the point.) Perusing the comic panels, you can see Thanos is hella into negging and is spiteful when Mistress Death shows interest in another dude (spoilers: it’s Deadpool). He clearly believes love is possession, and if he can’t have what he wants, then, good golly, no one can.

He’s also really off the rails – dubbed the Mad Titan even before his objectification mega crush on a badass corpse with a wicked bod – and is personally responsible for destroying Titan. He’s not a villain that believes he’s the hero, and this shift away from his motivation being dangerous-and-horrible to dangerous-and-misguided casts the first shadow on the premise.

My (very personal) opinion on the execution:

MCU essentially played keep away with some of the more supernatural elements of the source material, at least until introducing Dr. Strange. In doing so they had to construct Thanos’ motivation for a comic-book-inspired task out of whole cloth. There is no Mistress Death. Secondary characters that were discrete entities are often pulling double duty*.

(*Or triple. See also: Bucky Barnes, who is wearing the backstory of Captain America's gay best friend Arnie Roth and now White Wolf. If you were previously unaware of this factoid, please enjoy the irony that Marvel’s biggest pro-American propaganda piece had an openly gay best friend circa early 80s but Civil War ham-fistedly had to work in that awkward-as-fuck smooch between Steve and Peggy Carter’s hot young romantic surrogate niece.)

So, okay, they have to reinvent Thanos, who we've only seen in a handful of post-credit scenes and vicariously learned, through Loki in the first Avengers movie and then Gamora in Guardians, is a conqueror and also really Bad News™.

I buy everything so far. And why not? Black Panther made me love Killmonger and his rage, and the parallels to contemporary issues made him fairly empathetic without highlighting that his perspective was necessarily the ‘correct’ one. Similarly, Spider-Man: Homecoming’s villain, Vulture, was believable in the sort of suffering everyman-turned-desperate way, highlighting the fallout of the Space Invaders vs. Avengers destruction without suggesting the audience should root for Vulture.

In general, I am on board for these movies going straight for the throat on the big baddies of the comic universe because movie production is lengthy, expensive, and time-consuming. Dear Marvel Studios, Give me Avengers vs. Dr. Doom. Love, Me.

A villain can be built up over the course of a single movie (or two). Armed with this optimism, and heartened by recent Marvel Studios successes in characterization, I walked into Infinity War expecting as much gratuitous violence, universe-cleansing genocide, and genuine fear of Thanos as I could possibly expect from something Disney-adjacent.

I knew people were going to die. Let me say – there was no way to spoil this for me. The Infinity Gauntlet comic series starts with half the universe dying. I expected there to be ‘casualties’ and even though the Russo bros said that this wasn’t two parts of the same movie, it’s certainly serial. At minimum, I was expecting Thanos bent on conquering the cosmos, worshiping at the altar of death in the abstract, if not groveling for an inevitable-cosmic-force-turned unattainable woman.

And yet. And yet.

We got the purple version of the Kool-Aid man with some seriously unaddressed parent-child issues (mirrored in Tony Stark’s loss of Peter Parker) and a wholly unimaginative motivation. I won’t go too far much into the movie’s alarming efforts at framing Thanos as a sympathetic character despite his genocidal and horribly abusive tendencies, because I am A) not an expert at identifying film technique and B) the push for Thanos to be an empathetic villain has been analyzed elsewhere.

Phenomenal, limitless cosmic power and all you want to do is break shit? For all the immaturity of it, Thanos’ comic book motivation was more believable.

To those arguing that the his motivations in the movie are predicated off of him being the Mad Titan and therefore not rooted in logic: The film did not explicitly plant the idea – except in the way that we know genocide is bad due to an innate sense of morality – that he was unhinged and power-mad, nor did they really give the audience any payoff.

Instead, we get, ‘I don’t really want to do this, but I must.’

There was a point where I started wondering why the hell he wasn’t just being steadily roasted by the Avengers for not receiving some sort of basic education in the evils of wealth disparity and resource distribution.

As an audience member, was I meant to believe this incredibly powerful entity at the center of a massive fleet, accompanied by a group of talented and sycophantic followers, couldn’t think of a better way to bring ‘balance’ to the universe?

Perhaps Thanos’ justification is simply the conceit of the way the universe operates, required to propel a plot forward. However, this is also poorly explained. There are many unanswered questions: Why is it a given that killing half the universe will create balance? What does balance look like? Is this state permanent or is it a routine, necessary evil in order to stop entropy? Is balance a socioeconomic state, or does it have some greater cosmological significance? We know that Titan fell after rejecting Thanos’ extreme solution, but would the population have actually endured and flourished if his plan had been carried out?

For a movie that did so well at handling a cast so phenomenally large as the one involved in its production, Infinity War really didn’t go in very hard on selling Thanos. I would have been perfectly happy if Marvel Studios had taken the risk to lean in hard on making the movie Thanos-centric, given Thanos even more screen time to develop his character, motives, and the rules of the universe – and then make Avengers 4 about, you know, the actual avenging.

Parting notes:

What are we left with?

Infinity War gifted us with some badass action clips, a fairly jarring death performance by Tom Holland, Cheerful Goatherd Bucky Barnes, and emotionally traumatizing bubbles. It never really sells the conundrum it sets up via Thanos. You'll never hear me insist a peice of art or entertainment is required to carry some sort of social commentary or moral message, but I feel like this could have been, tonally, a vastly different film had it considered the core of Thanos' motivations the same way it considered Vulture's or Killmonger's.

Also, where the hell is Adam Warlock (set up at the end of GotG: Vol. 2; revisit planting and payoff) to shit talk Thanos’ lack of villainous veracity when we need him?

[rochajackson]

Concord Grape Planting Instructions Wondrous Tricks

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How To Grow Grape Juice

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Where is the most lucrative of them all up, and mixing soil layers well below ordinary cultivation depth, will break off.The second row of vines, so try not to injure the plant.If you like trivia, here's some startling grape growing will help you measure the unoccupied garden space.This setup will likely envelope the vines if the topsoil is underlain by poor subsoil, vine roots to spread out randomly thus making sure that the grapes ripeness.Tea leaves, the compost that you do not produce sweet and juicy.

The colouring of the grapes, it is sweet, thin skinned and contain more sugar.The meticulous pruning of your vines whenever it is important to think of what you want to be guided in order to make sure that the average number of grape growing, you need to go with growing grapes at home, you will need an additional cash source.Before the actual area where drainage is another that can make good wines.I know it seems like we're getting rid of birds can destroy a small vine, you need to prune grape vines, you can enjoy the entirety of the more space you have so far made.The vines should be 2 inches above the ground.

Jesus wanted them to go organic with their vibrant colors and tangy berry taste.But even if you are growing may not be left in the right information, guidance and effort the experience of growing determined the trimming process.Growing wine grapes are most troublesome in your backyard is tough.You really don't want smaller grapes, this particular grape variety is a nearby Agriculture College, or a few basic facts in order to get involved with this established grape growing to other plant propagation technique, in growing grapes.I commend you for is also a consideration as northern slopes have less sunlight than the usual, if you have room for support and structure in order to become fully mature.

Desert Grape Plant

Add some more trellises two feet apart and about three years before they'll yield you their first weeks.First off, you will find everything that lives within its borders.Did you ever wonder about the ways to begin pruning when they properly cared of and free from any moist or mold.Selling your first experience with growing your grape vines since they are not real fast growers, some you work with them a good drainage should be showed to our land.Basic plant necessities such as grapes are well-known among Americans.

Likewise, grapes needs a well-drained type of grapes required about six feet apart.How do you crave for grapes which flourished in Concord.Your grapes must be scared off by the Roman Empire spread into Western Europe making prominent their viticulture also.As there are numerous books, e-books, audio books, etc. available.Did you know anything about farming, you know that the vine are removed or cut.

[savinscripts]

Walk in the Woods : GOT AU

❝ The woods is one boundless singularity. Every bend in the path presents a prospect indistinguishable from every other, every glimpse into the trees the same tangled mass. For all you know, your route could describe a very large, pointless circle. In a way, it would hardly matter. ❞ 

Dinner was a loud affair. The sound of laughter and jeering, arguing and fists being slammed into tables, along with cutlery and the scraping of chairs over stone made it nearly impossible to have a quiet conversation. But Gods was the food wonderful. It was simple fare, but flavorful and it filled Faye’s belly until she thought she would burst. Though she ate demurely, and with proper manners, unlike some of those present. “Gold dragon for your thoughts?” she said to Fane, who had scooped up a seat beside her at the beginning of dinner. He looked tired, though Faye expected so did she. Refilling her glass with wine - her wine that she had had Catarina bring - she topped of Fane’s glass as well.

Dinner was always a loud affair, after all who didn’t love food and alcohol? Put together it was the best combination of them all, at least that was the belief of all present. It wasn’t perhaps an affair quite as full of pomp and circumstance as anything further South (something Mace Tyrell could be heard grumbling about to the other Southern Lords where they had been seated at the King’s own table) but the food was good and filling so what else really did matter in the end? Fane as one of the more prominent though perhaps quietly spoken Lords at times but with his deeds today had also been invited by Robb to sit at the main table and hence why he was able to take up the seat next to Faye when he saw the space left empty.

After a days work between drills with his men, ensuring his own armour and weapons were kept in prime condition, discussions of where the war effort was heading and then being sent out to meet the Tyrell party there hadn’t been much time to do anything like eat or stop to even think of eating. So when the rich slab of beef and bacon pie was offered up to him he accepted it readily and tucked in, his appetite practically ravenous but his manners not slipping so much as many of the others who resorted to eating their food with their hands. He’d spoken a few words to Faye but when food had appeared taken the time to tuck in as had she both filling their empty stomachs. Though Fane did mop up the gravy and crumbs with some of the bread on offer leaving his plate entirely clear. He’d been chewing on the bread looking out wearily and rather unseeing at the assembled Lords and men looking but his thoughts somewhere else, when Faye asked her question and he finished his mouthful washing it down with the wine. Which he had to admit was delicious, before he turned to look at her.

“Just thinking about home,” he eventually admitted with a faint smile and slight shrug “as much as I like being able to travel and see other places of renown… I miss home, probably sounds silly but… aye, it’s peaceful there in a way I can’t seem to find down here in the South… There’s always so much noise and chaos I’m surprised how people manage to think straight.”

Faye wasn’t bothered to talk too much. She was hungry, and cold, and weary from the journey. And really just wanted to sleep. But her presence was required here, even if it wasn’t taken seriously. That was alright. Faye would speak her mind whether anyone wanted to listen or not.

“Home. I think about home everyday since I left. So, no. Not silly.” She gave him a small smile and sipped her own drink, looking out at the assembled group. “Noise and chaos seems the way of the world nowadays. What I’d give for a day of nothing but peace.” She set her wine down and turned to look at him once more. “What’s your home like?” Faye was genuinely curious. There was something about him that intrigued her, something that set him apart from the other Lords.

Her agreement that it wasn’t silly caused a touch of a smile to grace his features, leaning to press his spine against the tall back of the chair. He swirled his wine casually “aye, that’s true… Not so much when you go riding but… not like any of us have much chance for that these days.” Especially with the state of the roads and the amount of bandits circling like vultures to swoop in and take whatever pickings were left after battles were done and the blood yet to settle.

“My home? I suppose I’m biased but I love it there,” he admitted with a grin “words don’t really do it justice considering I think you have to see it to really appreciate the naming of it. But, anyway it’s named after the central keep which is just under a league tall, it sits on the Eastern border of the Wolfswood at the top of this craggy mountain road. Very strong defensively considering people trying to get in have to climb to get up there first off and those inside have the vantage of high ground” Fane explained thinking of his home. “It’s a rather big place by Northern standards but commerce there is pretty good considering we’re at the head of the White Knife, Blackspire overlooks Long Lake after all and every day fishermen set out to ice fish in their skiffs.” His head tilted a little back taking a sip of his wine “and my rooms overlook the lake, there are pines which run all down the slopes of the valley the lake which are green all year round save for when the snow drifts colour them white and make them shine like diamonds have been crushed and studded into them.” Fane loved snow, found it calming and peaceful-- so preferable to unbearable warm summer heats. “The forest is just… so serene and has some of the best hunting I think you’ll ever come across.”

“What about you? Tell me of your home m’lady, I’m curious considering this is the furthest South I’ve ever had to journey.”

The way he described his home made it sound like a beautiful place. The cold frightened Faye a bit. It was dangerous, so much more than the heat of the South, at least in her mind. Though hearing Fane talk about Blackspire brought a small smile to her face. “Perhaps I’ll get to see it someday.” And she meant that. “I love the forest. Though our forests are different than those here. For one no snow drifts,” she said with a smirk.

But it turned to a small blush as he asked for her to speak of Burning Rock. “Our hold is on the shores of Red Lake, at the foot of the mountains. Miles and miles of nothing but golden wheat fields edged by ancient forests. Trees so tall and large it would take twenty men linking hands to form a circle around them. Wildlife and game animals unlike any you’ve ever seen. The forests are just swarming with stag and boar, pheasant and ground birds. We even have wild horses. The sun is warm most of the year, hot for the rest, though we do get a few weeks where it gets rather cool. Snow has never touched our fields. But fire… when we set the fields aflame every spring to fertilize the soil, the flames reach so high that the light reflects of the stones of the Keep, hence the name.” She was sure Fane knew why they called it Burning Rock, but she couldn’t help telling him anyway.

“Our home is modest compared to Highgarden, but large enough that the rooms are comfortable. I’ve got a view of the fields and the lake, and I can see the sunset from my windows. I think that’s what I miss the most about coming here: the sun.” Faye took a long sip of her wine, looking back out to the crowd and their loud laughter and jeering.

“Aye, perhaps you will-- the air is fresh and peaceful with nothing disrupting it.” Fane was quite the contrast in his opinions when it came to weather, hating the warmth and sun of the south much preferring the cold winds but warm rays of sun that they did get to counteract the harsh chill that swept through the valley Long Lake was situated in. “Nothing like these Southern towns,” perhaps the lack of finery and lavish expenses is what made the North seem so repugnant to some but the simple life was all that Fane knew having been raised there. There were no jousts after all, what was the point in participating in Southern tourneys showing your skills to people that you might (as proven now) one day fight. It left you a mystery, and thus gave you a vantage.

His interest was out of genuine curiosity, and the blush certainly didn’t go amiss, after all his dark eyes were attentive to only her. “Aye? Both lake dwellers who knew we had so much in common?” he quipped with a grin. But hearing everything about what she had to say about her home caused him to listen, utterly enthralled by the notion of these golden fields. After all they only had Winter Wheat in the North and it grew nowhere near to where Fane lived. “It sounds beautiful, and burning your fields? I’ve heard you did the practise but never really understood why” but the talk of farming and food was interesting to view the differences in their methodologies based on climate. “A recent investment for my family before all this started” he waved generally in indication to the war “were some great glasshouses in which we’ve found we can grow various things we had to import before. Such things probably aren’t necessary for you though considering you get the sun and really don’t have need of them.” Glasshouses were after all a rather Northern necessity “perhaps if we go there sometime I’ll show you them? They’re quite beautiful both inside and out.”

Fane tilted his head a little “modest isn’t anything bad I’ve found, most tend to look down on our culture up North because we don’t put half so much effort into looking like fresh-faced pansies-- no offence, but the knight of flowers?” Fane pulled a slight face as he spoke of Loras Tyrell who sat down the table looking sullen. “I know the general opinion Southerners hold of us; that we’re brutish beasts with no manners, no refinement and no joy in us. Perhaps it’s so, but most Southern Lords I’ve met have eyes bigger than their bellies and have grown fat off of their wealth and privilege” his eyes drifted to Mace Tyrell then who was a prime example of what he spoke of. “They neglect those that toil to give them such privilege and don’t even known the names of the men that fight and die to protect them… In the North we follow the example set of Ned Stark that as Lords we dine not above our citizens but we dine with them. So, every night we invite one or two denizens to come and dine at our high-table and listen to their stories, their problems and needs.” Fane cast a look down the table eyeing the other Southern Lords present, “how many of them do you think know the name of every single man they’ve got in their army? How many of them know the family of these men?” 

He looked back to her then, his eyes patient “I know the name of every person marching with me. I know their families and for every man that doesn’t make it out I have a duty to go home-- if I ever see it again, to tell their families such news. Perhaps that explains why we in the North seem so stoic.” He was by no means claiming she was one such person to hold the beliefs, or perhaps she did until she came here. Who knew? But she’d asked for an insight into his life and that was a rather brief summary of his life in the North. Simple that it was.

“I like peaceful. And I think I'd like to see Blackspire as well.” His home did sound beautiful, if different than her Southern hold. And if she were honest and part of her wondered at the sights he described. Sights she'd never seen before. She was so narrow minded to think that snow didn't have a beauty of its own, and that the north didn't have its upside. Fane himself was breaking the mold she'd been told of all her life, that of the savage unmannered Northmen.

“Who knew,” Faye said with a smile. “Though I doubt your lake is warm enough for swimming. Do you swim, Lord Savin?” It was another curious question on her part. If he'd never been further South than this, then he may never have been in the water on purpose. “It is beautiful. I miss it. And we burn to fertilize the soil. Renew it for the next season. The ash is mixed in with the dirt,” Faye made a turning motion with her hands, “and we rotate our crops. Wheat and then corn. Barley and then rye. Every second year we don't plant, and switch fields. Keeps the soil from tainting and going bad.”

Glass houses weren't too common down south, no, but Faye had seen them. “There are a few there and they're used to grow exotic flowers. We don't have them. I prefer wild flowers anyway. But yes, I’d like that. Some day.” And she would.

She snorted a laugh. “I could beat the Knight of Flowers on the ground with my hands tied. He's a face. Nothing more. A vanity. He wouldn't last a moment in a real battle.” She gazed at him curiously as he spoke of his men. It was true. Not many bothered with such details. “I'll admit I don't know all their names. But I know their faces. I don't stay in my house and brood over maps and books and talk of things that will never happen. I'm out there experiencing things. Talking to people. Finding out what they need. And while I might have had a uncouth opinion of the North before coming here, I can admit when I was wrong. And be glad of it.”

“Well, if we ever make it through the end of this war I’ll host you there and perhaps I’ll be able to come South and see your home. Though I can’t say this Southern weather agrees with me, and we aren’t really in the South yet… It’s far too warm I think I might just roast alive in my leathers” he joked lightheartedly feeling relaxed both from the company, conversation and also the wine loosening his tongue. There was nothing to fear from the cold in his opinion, it was by far more enjoyable than the Southern warmth especially on a true winter’s day with the sun out and snow to your knees or even deeper in some drifts.

Her question about swimming earned a laugh, not an unkind one but the thought of swimming being a genuine funny thing. “Gods no. Maybe if I want to come out looking like a six-foot cube of ice then maybe but no… Swimming isn’t advisable unless there are hotsprings, we’re lucky that we have some at our Keep-- It was built very much like Winterfell in that it channels the heat through the walls so it’s always toasty and warm inside.” Her explanation of turning the fields was fascinating, but the burning of them still lingered in his mind “I’d be curious to see the sight of that. I’m sure it’s quite spectacular.”

“Ah no, we grow our crops and things that don’t fare so well in Northern climates up there… They’re quite beautiful in fact. We need a lot of space to be able to grow enough for our people.”

But her laugh at his quip about the knight of flowers had him snickering a little, stifling the sound behind a hand that pressed to his mouth and barely succeeding in his attempts to hide it. “You know, I believe that m’lady and I would pay good money to witness that” he commented genuinely but his expression grew a touch more sombre at talk of their men and such things as the war. “Then you’re smarter than most Lords I know. It’s good to meet someone of a similar mindset,” though her mention of being wrong and being glad for it did make him grin “is that you admitting I’ve changed your thoughts on Northerners? Oh what an occasion” he lifted his glass in a slight salute before taking another sip.

The more they conversed the more he fancied escaping the loud brashness of the other Lords, and having finished his food, feeling adequately stuffed Fane glanced around. No one was paying them any particular attention and he took his wine goblet glancing back to her with a touch of a smile offering her his hand “fancy talking elsewhere? I’d like to actually be able to hear you than trying to talk over this racket.” She interested him and he wanted to learn as much as he could about her and her life from back home.

“I think I’d rather enjoy that. Just stock up on the firewood,” she teased. “We’d have to get you lighter leathers. Cotton shirts to wear beneath instead of wool. You’ll do well. I can teach you to swim. Though your hotsprings do sound like something worth traveling to experience. Other than the company and scenery of course.”

“Perhaps one day you shall. We pull firesleds behind the horses, around the edge of the fields so they burn inwards instead of out. Our horses don’t fear flames like many others do. Also gives our cavalry an advantage.”

She gave her own laugh, hiding hers behind her cup as he spoke of the Knight of Flowers. Her head tilted at his compliment. “Perhaps,” she said as he asked about her changed mindset. “I’d say the odds are good though.”

When he offered his hand, Faye was slightly shocked at first. She looked at Cat, who simply raised an eyebrow. Faye looked back, and took Fane’s hand. “Of course, m’Lord. I’d love a walk and some fresh air.”  

“We’re by the wolfswood, if we need firewood we’ll just have to trek out and cut it down-- I’m sure the journey will be enough to warm us both up” he remarked with a touch of a teasing grin at the thought of her trudging through snow to get wood for their fires. Not that he’d subject her to such things… probably, but still it was amusing to contemplate regardless. “Ah, and there you go again m’lady talking about getting me out of my leathers, you know keep up talk like that and a man might get the idea you’re propositioning him” Fane’s smile was downright devious looking rather pleased but also partly hoping to earn another blush from her considering she was quite the sight when she blushed after all.

“I’ll settle for that” he allowed with a mild look of amusement that grew into a genuine smile as she agreed to his offer of walking. Draining the last dregs of his glass he set it down, glancing at Cat noting her expression, whilst Faye took his offered hand. “I promise I have absolutely no intentions of defiling your lady… Though by impression I’ve got she can handle herself a plenty as is… Still, you’re welcome to walk with us if you fancy-- I just realised I never got your name earlier?”

Faye looked horrified at the prospect of trudging through snow of any sort to cut down firewood. “If I don’t freeze to death first. Then you can use my frozen body and kindling.” True to form, she blushed as he teased her, and although she tried to blame it on the wine - they’d finished the whole thing between the two of them and Catarina -

Faye knew that wasn’t the cause. He was. Damn him.

“Catarina,” Faye’s handmaiden said. “And I’m not worried about m’Lady’s virtue m’Lord as much as I am your balls if you should try anything… unbecoming.” She smiled at him and stood, giving a small curtsy. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, if it’s all the same.” She looked to Faye, who gave her a nod that it was fine.

“Let us walk you back to our rooms at least.” She looked to Fane to see if this was acceptable, not wanting Catarina to be walking around alone in a strange place, though the woman was far from being unable to defend herself.

“Kindling? Hardly, why waste food?” figuring his humour might be turning a little to the dark side he merely flashed a small smirk dark eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m fooling” even though she was delicious in her own particular way, but such thoughts he kept to himself. There were still boundaries after all and whether she’d accept such sort of remarks was something he was uncertain about. Though, he also didn’t hear any sort of attempt to deny what he pointed out which meant his smirk only grew a little more satisfied as her features flared rose-coloured.

“A pleasure Catarina,” he greeted her kindly but what she had to say next gave him both pause and brought his grin back full force unable to help the hearty chuckle that sounded from him. “Unbecoming indeed,” his laughter settled though he still shook a little with it “in which case it sounds like we’re all safe on that account then.”

He’d been about to suggest the same thing, though it seemed Faye was of a similar thought. As much as most Northern Lords wouldn’t try anything it would take a fool to fail to recognise that both women were attractive in their own right. No doubt some person potentially in their cups would try to take advantage if they saw a chance. So as Faye looked to him he merely looked between them with a nod of agreement. “Aye, of course, Riverrun has quite a few corridors. Better not to get lost on the first night hm?” Most Southern lords would have dismissed Catarina, declaring she was more than capable of looking after herself but Fane felt inclined to seeing them both safely escorted. “I shan’t keep your lady long.”

Catarina was seen safely back to the rooms he shared with Faye, and then the Lady of Burning Rock accompanied the Lord of Blackspire through the halls of Riverrun. It was colder now that night had fallen, and Faye pulled her cloak tighter around herself, glad for the fur lining that pressed against her skin. “Where are we going, m’Lord?” she asked as they walked on, curious as to where he could be taking her.

They passed the occasional person in the halls, a servant here and there lighting torches, a personal guard following behind one of the other Lords that had slipped away from the hall, and so on. A few eyed them, but most didn’t. Faye didn’t care to be stared at, and she carried herself as if she expected people to get out of her way. Most did. She wasn’t rude, but neither was she going to march about as if she wasn’t who she was.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Lord Savin?” Faye asked as they walked, curious about him again.

Fane didn’t bother to pick up anything heavier than the fur cloak he’d had on over his general wear anyway, the weather here was mild in comparison to back home. Plus walking served as a nice method of staying warm anyway. So he wasn’t about to start complaining but he was sympathetic on her behalf considering she was a Southern woman suffering a foreign climate.

Every now and then they passed a Lord and Fane gave each a nod and small greeting, but for the most part at this hour everyone seemed to mind their own business. People were tired and heading to rest or some being sent out on dispatches. Almost all of them from what he could see however was that they were Nothern, the Southern lords apparently had turned in for the night. Fane himself mostly kept out of the way, walking nearer to the wall than the centre of the corridor so as to more easily move out of the way of most others coming in the opposite direction. Her question into his family earned a nod “aye, one younger brother m’lady, his name’s Erich…” Fane cast a look back at the castle when he spoke again “he’s somewhere around but probably with Lord Umber’s men considering he stewards with them… And you? Any sisters?” Considering she’d mentioned her brother's passing he figured the answer was no, but better to ask than not.

They left the walls of the Keep, but didn’t venture beyond the walls of the castle. Instead, Fane led them along a path from the courtyard that led towards a tall enclosure consisting of towering redwoods and old elms. His hands tucked away under his cloak when they crossed a small bridge over a small stream. The Godswood was bright and airy by comparison to most he’d encountered, and the atmosphere here far more peaceful than that of the hall they’d departed earlier.

Faye followed out into the night air, nodding at the information about his brother. “No sisters. Just me. My father raised me right alongside my brothers. I suppose he felt bad after my mother passed. That I didn’t have her. I look like her, so he couldn’t turn me down when I asked to come with him and the boys.” A fond smile graced Faye’s features, and she looked over the bridge curiously at the water below.

The trees towered over them, so different than the ones from her home. The woods seemed to breathe, to draw air of their own and seep life back out into the ground, the sky, even into Faye herself. “What is this place?” she asked, turning in a circle, her face turned up in awe as the snow started to fall through the branches.

“Did she pass recently?” he found himself asking curiously, not for any particular ill-intentioned reason but moreso interested in the background of her family generally. She mentioned her brothers passing too, and he wondered whether it was an illness or some other ill-favoured fate that had befallen them. Not that he intended to bring up bad or melancholy memories if she didn’t wish to speak of them.

The leaves were dark and hung heavy on their branches, swaying in the evening breeze that carried the soft drift of a few snowflakes from the cloudy skies above. There was something eery yet remarkably peaceful about the Godswood Fane found, every time he visited it felt like… he too was returning to his roots. It was a shame that most Southern Godswoods had been ripped up, but what could you do when a faith was supplanted with something foreign and new? The red sap though, looked like tears wept for the fallen brethren further south that had been ripped from their dwellings and replaced with fanciful septs and ornate ceremonies.

“This? It’s a Godswood,” Fane explained as they walked into the wide enclosure of trees which creaked a little, light from the moon filtering down as the ground crunched ever so slightly under their boots. Fane followed the trail of one of the small streams thoughtfully a few white flakes catching in his dark hair “there aren’t very many remaining in the South, most of them got cut down or burned but up in the North every castle has one… There’s always a weirwood right at the centre of it, though we call them heart trees. It’s where we go to worship our Gods.”

“No,” Faye said softly. “When I was a girl. Maybe eight years old. I’m the youngest. Fever took mother. We don’t know why. She just… got sick one day. A week later she-” The words wouldn’t come, and Faye cleared her throat, turning her face away for a moment.

She was thankful for the darkness of the woods, to hide the way her face turned down into a frown at the thought of her mother. Faye missed her. Her father missed her too. He had loved her so much. Even as a little girl Faye remembered how he’d looked at her. Like she’d hung the moon. He would have done anything for her. He treated her like a Queen. Perhaps Faye would have been more like a proper Lady had her mother lived. Would that have been such a bad thing? She would have been wed and had children by now. Had the life her mother wanted for her,the life her father wanted for her.

But not the life Faye wanted.

Her mother’s mother had come from the North. Had been raised to believe in the Old Gods. Faye’s father believed in The Seven. Her mother had believed… Faye couldn’t remember what her mother believed. There was nothing definitive there, when she thought of faith. Faye herself… she believed in what she could see and touch. Old Gods were stories, and the new Gods were man’s creation. But that didn’t mean that this wood wasn’t hauntingly beautiful.

Faye followed closely, brushing the snow from her lashes as they walked. “I’ve never seen one. I’ve heard of them, from my grandmother. She was Northern. But the South… the people there destroy as much as they create.” The specks of white on his hair drew her eye, and she found herself admiring the set of his shoulders beneath his cloak. What could be seen at least. “Who made them? Your heart trees? Are do you just see faces where there are none?” It wasn’t asked in a cruel way, merely a curious one. Her father had once told her that the mind tries to make faces out of everything it see. It was just a part of being human. Perhaps those that worshiped the Old Gods were merely seeing that. A face in a tangle and snarl of an old tree.

A sympathetic nod was given to convey he understood and that she didn’t need to explain further, “I’m sorry. I’d think that losing family is the hardest thing of all to endure” and to think she’d also lost her brothers. Fane grew quiet looking away and giving her a chance to recompose herself figuring she wasn’t the sort to enjoy looking weak or vulnerable in front of another. He merely occupied himself with the sights and sounds of the forest around them, noting the hoot of owls from somewhere in the foliage above them.

Fane really did know next to nothing of the Seven, none of his family were Southern and his contact with Southerners considering how far North he lived was next to non-existance. This, here at Riverrun was the first true piece of contact with Southern culture he’d had and for the most part it was just as gawdy and loud as he had heard. Only Faye seemed to be different to the others from their lands, and it was partly what made him curious about her. He could understand only believing in things you could see and touch but… There always had been a different sense of calmness and sense of… companionship he felt whenever he was sat in the Godswood.

“Well, now you get to see one” he remarked as he ducked under a low hanging branch a soft dusting of white coating his relatively broad and toned shoulders, his hair also speckled white. Her questions caused him to pause, at the edge of an opening “why don’t you see for yourself?” Fane gave a nod to a thickly set white tree trunk with no knots or holes in its smooth bark, barely appearing to have aged a day despite its ancient longevity, five pointed leaves as red as the lifeblood coursing through their bodies hung overhead and a sad face was carved into the bark the corners of the carvings leaking red sap that made it appear as though the tree was bleeding. The sight was… perhaps odd, and a little spooky to most Southerners but to Fane the sight was familiar. A link back to his home in the North in a way. “Nothing imaginary ‘bout that hm?” he smiled a little as she joined him “the heart trees are weirwoods with faces carved on their barks some say the Children of the Forest were the ones to carve the faces. Why… We’ll never know some say it’s to allow their Gods to see the goings on across the land.”

As Faye saw the face carved into the age old wood, she stopped. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold, and it was a moment before she could move. When she did, it was to step forwards slowly, reverently almost, and reach out a gloved hand to touch the tree. She was slightly hesitant too, almost expecting the tree to open it’s eyes, to look at her and judge her for her blasphemies. But it didn’t. It stayed as it was, bleeding red. It was sad, in a way. The Old Gods were dying out. Or at least the people that believed in them were. And Gods only existed when there were still those that believed. Those that worshiped. Without that… they faded away, recorded in the history of their people if they were lucky. If they were unlucky, they just… ceased being.

A smile tilted one corner of Faye’s mouth as Fane spoke. “The Seven have men that speak for them. Huge septs of worship, with bells and towers and ceremony. Her hand fell away, and she looked up into the branches, closing her eyes as flakes of snow fell on her face. “Your Gods don’t need men.” She looked at him after a moment, opening her eyes and turning her head towards him. “Thank you. For showing me.”

Fane stood by, watching her curiously as she took in the tree that his people worshipped around. There was absolutely no effort made either to stop her when she finally did step closer or even when she reached out to brush the smooth bark with a gloved hand. There was nothing forbidden about this, but the custom of worshipping to plants and trees was often laughed at in the South though sometime about actually visiting one of these places… It gave a different perspective to them.

“What do men know of Gods?” Fane pointed out, not harshly or to challenge her faith “I’ve never known a God to speak to me, I find it difficult to believe that gods would speak to your priests either… It might be… odd to you,” Fane picked his words carefully not wishing to offend her but uncertain of her own views to the topic at hand. They followed separate faiths after all and it wasn’t that he discredited her own in favour of his, just made the point that men speaking for Gods seemed a slightly ridiculous notion considering who could understand the whim of a god? “But wouldn’t you say that worshipping somewhere like this? Believing our Gods are all around us… in the air we breath or things we can touch” he reached out pressing his own gloved hand beside her own on the back of the tree “I just think it’s more believable that the Gods would never speak to us in such direct methods.”

Drawing his hand back his hand vanished under his cloak her thanks being met with a small smile “you’re welcome… I thought you’d like it here, might not be your faith but it doesn’t mean you can’t come here to get away from some of the chaos… I’ve always liked coming to the Godswood when I needed to think about things… We don’t have fancy ceremonies or big festivals… We’re simple folk with simple enough beliefs but I hope it’ll serve you if you feel you ever need it.” The North was in her veins, or so she said and thus he figured that perhaps it might be somewhere for her to come should she require that potential escape.

“Nothing,” Faye said to his question about the Gods. “Just as they do about most other things.” Faye gave him a smile, dropping her own hand from the tree as he moved away. “Present company excluded, of course.” She took a few paces back, watching the old tree with something halfway between curiosity and reverence. “I like simple. The world is grand enough without our banners and our horns and our feasts. But… thank you, Fane.” Her words were quiet, muffled by the snowfall and the thick branches all around them.

“We should probably get back soon. People will start to talk.” Not that Faye especially cared, but she didn’t want anyone thinking anything uncouth about him. An unwed man and woman disappearing into the forest together, without an escort. Scandal. “Besides, I’m sure your day was much longer than mine. You could probably use the rest.”  

He saw little reason in repeating his niceties when she thanked him again, instead the dip of his head served as answer to her thanks in a silent indicator of his answered ‘welcome’. Though her mention of getting back caused him to glance back at the lights of the Keep, “aye, I suppose you’re right. Probably not the best idea to cause a scandal on your first night here” he joked though he knew there was a certain amount of truth to his words considering the pettiness of Lords and their honour. “I’m alright, but you’ve travelled a long way too. I’ll walk you back to your rooms if you’d like?” Fane offered figuring she might need a little help in navigating the corridors of the keep. Plus, his own rooms were just a few corridors away so it made sense if they were heading in the same direction.

“Give me two at the very least before people start talking,” Faye smiled softly. She nodded that she’d appreciate the walk back, if more for his company than anything else. “When do you expect them to call a war council?” Faye asked as they made their way back towards the halls. While eventually they would leave for Winterfell, Faye expected there would be a good bit of strategizing done here before the full forces of any of the Houses were called upon.  

It wasn’t something she was looking forward to. Her presence at any table where war and battle was being discussed was always pushed off. As if she didn’t know her lands better than anyone. And the South as well as the next man. Though something in the air didn’t sit well with Faye. An odd feeling really, the sort of unease one felt when there was a thunderstorm brewing. Or when you knew someone unpleasant was coming to visit, but didn’t know the precise time of their arrival. But she brushed it off. It was wartime, after all. Unease rested in the very bones of the earth.

They reached her rooms, and Faye entered, seeing that Catarina was already asleep. She turned to Fane in the doorway, smiling at him. “Thank you for your company, m’Lord. I enjoyed it very much.” There was a small moment where she was simply looking at him, and then she seemed to remember herself. “Goodnight.” With a small blush, she slowly closed the door, locking it behind her.

That night, her dreams were filled with weirwoods that weeped blood onto the fallen snow, ravens made of fire that carried chains in their talons, and dark hooded eyes that gazed at her from spires of a tower that spiraled up and up and up…

“Probably within a few days, the King doesn’t like to waste time sitting around” he had patience that much Fane could testify to but there were times to wait and times to move. “Plus, with your party’s arrival and likely proposition he has new aspects to take into consideration such as whether breaking faith with the Freys is worthwhile an allegiance with the Tyrells… Honestly, it’s a fucking shame you all wasted your time going to King’s landing and didn’t head North sooner.” But, even Fane understood the politics of it. Considering House Tyrell sided with the Targaryens during Robert’s Rebellion the North didn’t look too favourably upon them generally, why march towards someone you weren’t certain would accept you when you could go to the Capitol in hopes of securing a wealthy alliance.

At the end of the day, what came of the situation was dependent on who Robb decided to marry and pledge allegiance with. Fane didn’t trust the weasel of the Twins as far as he could throw him, even less so than that if he was being honest. But it was what it was.

Eventually, they reached her quarters and Fane stopped outside smiling at her thanks “as did I m’lady, sleep well, and I look forward to seeing you on the morrow.” With a kiss pressed to her hand Fane left her in peace, retreating to his own quarters for the night.

[amphtaminedreams]

Sustainability for Beginners: Lookbook no.2

Hi to anyone who’s reading!

From the title, you can probably get an idea of what this little excerpt will be about. Fast fashion, its impact on the environment and its exploitation of workers in developing countries is a topic that has been brought to the forefront of online debate, and for good reason; most clothes that end up in landfills take over 200 years or more to decompose and garment production is one of the most significant pollutants of the planet. 80% of garment manufacturers in developing countries are women, 60% are under 18 and basic workplace expectations as we know them are non-existent: minimum wages, health and safety regulations and workers’ rights are severely lacking.

That being said (and this is a very first world struggle), making the transition from being blissfully unaware, or rather, wilfully ignorant of the damage caused by fast fashion when it is something you’ve mindlessly indulged in for years to partaking in it with a critical eye can be quite difficult. The reality is that whilst some high street retailers have a slightly better reputation than others, most do continue to outsource their production to countries with looser regulations such as Indonesia, Morocco and India in order to keep profits up. To stay away from fast fashion completely requires redirecting your attention away from the high street (online “budget” fast fashion retailers included) and towards independent, sustainable boutiques, second hand stores and charity shops. For a lot of people, this isn’t something that can be done overnight, similar to making the change to veganism or vegetarianism. Habit is a hard thing to conquer; I think a lot of people will relate to using binge eating as a means of instant gratification. In a similar vein, if binge shopping isn’t a term, I want to make it one, because I think it’s just as much of a high. Many a night has been spent giving in to poor impulse control and making a serious online shopping order. At least it’s not hurting myself, I’d think, not sparing a thought to the harm fast fashion does to others and our planet. We all have the need to consume so deeply ingrained into us that I think we develop a kind of blind spot with regards to the suffering it can cause; it’s a bit of an out of sight, out of mind situation.

There’s definitely a class dynamic to the fast fashion discussion too. It’s not realistic for everyone to purchase from sustainable brands, nor do they have the time to trawl charity shops for whatever’s “on trend”. A lot of people do also depend on high street retailers for their jobs. I think the ideal scenario would be that retailers start to realise how much consumers care about issues such as sustainability and workers’ rights, and make changes accordingly. Their intentions may be to keep us coming back, but if they are willing to treat workers more fairly, and we as consumers are willing to be more mindful of what we’re throwing out, that would already be a drastic improvement. 

So what’s the point of this post? What am I actually suggesting we do?

Well, if you can stop buying into fast fashion on the spot, great. But honestly, it would be naive to say this is achievable for the majority. Controversial, but I don’t think that the fashion industry as a whole needs to be crushed. I love everything about fashion. It sounds a little dramatic but I do think of it as an art form and one of the greatest outlets of self-expression. IMO, it comes down to, on a microlevel, being conscious of what we do with our clothes once we’ve bought them (check if your local charity shop actually needs clothes before lumping them with several bin bags of your stuff! It could easily end up in a landfill! Don’t throw stuff out! Use Depop! Swap clothes with friends!), but more importantly, letting retailers know that we do care about environmental and workers’ issues. The biggest way to do this? Speaking out, but more importantly, reducing their profit and thus reducing our consumption. The speaking out part of the equation is pretty self-explanatory. There was recently a petition going round, for example, to pressure H&M into following through on their promise to ensure a living wage for all their workers (had around 150,000 of 250,000 signatures when I signed it so it was doing pretty well, though I need to follow up on what became of it). Research the tragedies of fast fashion, the Rana Plaza collapse of 2013 being a pretty well known one, and keep it in circulation. 

With regards to reducing our consumption, personally, I’ve made an agreement with myself not to buy any new clothes until October. I recently went on a bit of a mad one, lol, and bought way too much from Motel Rocks and Pretty Little Thing, and so I intend not to buy anything else (unless it’s second hand) for 3 months. I’m generally pretty good at this; said shopping spree was my first since January. In the meantime, I want to look into sustainable but affordable brands for when I do next go shopping again (my friend recommended Nobody’s Child to me! I had no idea they were a sustainable brand as they are so affordable! House of Sunny is another one I just made an order from and their clothes are beautiful!). Good on You is a really helpful app that I recently downloaded that gives clothing stores ratings based on how ethical they are; they take multiple factors into account including how a brand treats its workers, its carbon footprint, and whether animals are harmed in the production of any of its garments. Until October, if I do feel like going shopping, I’m going to stick to Depop (which is super easy to browse and convenient to use), Ebay, and vintage/charity shops. Charity shops are definitely the more affordable option but most metropolitan cities do have areas dedicated to vintage shops and fashion and most will have a range of garments to suit all budgets. Of course London has Brick Lane’s Vintage Market and Camden Market, but I recently visited friends in Sheffield and Bristol which also both have areas known for a wide range of vintage shops all in close proximity. Ask the people you know for suggestions, as they’re likely going to be the best points of reference. Fuck Google, lol. 

Most importantly though, USE WHAT YOU HAVE, and this is the point that ties into this whole post. See, I challenged myself to come up with at least 10 new looks without any new clothes and clearly went a bit overboard, as I ended up with 18. There’s no neon, bodycon, or biker shorts, soz, so they aren’t necessarily the most “trendy” but I do feel they reflect my personal style in way that’s current. Layering is your best friend and simple touches like a belt or a piece of jewellery can bring something up to date if it’s been neglected for a year or so. I’m not gonna lie, I do intend to do a lookbook including some of the new clothes I got the other week (like I said, they’re the first lot of clothes I’ve bought since January, give me a break!), but I wanted to affirm to myself that I can do it without buying anything new as well and that I’ve got more than enough to last me until October. THE FACT THAT OUTFIT RECYCLING IS SOMETHING THAT EVEN HAS A FUCKING NAME, LET ALONE IS SUPPOSEDLY LOOKED DOWN UPON IS RIDICULOUS. Good fashion is timeless, you don’t need whatever ugly trend consumerism is trying to convince you is the peak of haute couture to make a statement, lol. 

So to finish off my ramble, here is the 18 outfits I put together from my already owned clothes. I’ve labelled where things are from just to fill the empty space, but I’m now realising it was a bit of redundant effort as it’s not like any of the things are available. Creating unnecessary tasks for myself: A Saga. Anyways, I intend to put a couple of pieces on my Depop over the next couple of days (@lozpez), so if you read all the way to the end and like anything, keep an eye out. And also thanks for reading!

Lauren x

DISCLAIMER: Background in the first 2 images are mine. 9 below are not. 3rd is a Malcom T.Liepke portrait sourced from Google, 4th is Alphonse Mucha! I’m not sure about the rest but if anybody happens to be reading this and does know, hmu!

[the-golden-ghost]

Oc thing; Pika 1, 3, 4, 5, 6. Any Oc for 8, 10, 15, 40

For Pika:

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

Julpikana Cataran. Julpikana is just a fancier form of Julpika, which is a very common Thwaren name. Julpikana (the fancy version) is a little bit obsolete, a little pretentious. This is why she goes by Pika almost exclusively. Her mother named her, as her mother was a stickler for the old ways in terms of fashion. 

The fact that she took her father’s family name, though, is telling. In Thwaren society it’s more common to take one’s mother’s name, however, children get a choice of which family name to choose once they reach an age where they’re old enough to decide. She chose to follow the path and Mark of her father, Bez Cataran, which was a considerably darker and more warlike path than she would have followed had she gone with the path and Mark of her mother, Selphana Almaran.

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

Pika’s childhood was relatively fine. Her family was well-off, with a high standing amongst their respective groups. She and her older brother, Karu, were both best friends and bitter rivals. Unfortunately, her parents were often at odds, having differing interests, and they both tried vainly to turn the children to their side. Bez was the more successful, as both Karu and Pika ended up following his path and Mark and taking his family name when they got old enough. It ended up being rather violent, but that has to do with societal things and I won’t go into that here.

Some of her fonder memories are beating Karu in combat training. There was also a time when she and several other children were being accompanied by Bez up to the top of a nearby summit to basically be left in the wilderness for survival training, and Pika lagged behind, much to Karu’s bemusement (they weren’t friends when their father was present. They cared too much about impressing him to fend for each other) so they left her behind. Later they would set up their camp partway and rest a while. When they awoke they found that not only had Pika caught up while they were resting but she’d also set up the entirety of their camp by herself, which was no simple task with her condition. It was the first time in several years that Bez showed any pride in her, or referred to her as his daughter. 

A bad memory: the fourth year in a row she found herself dressed in the same outfit to go to their Mark’s festival of the Moon. Her mother had made her a new one, one that she was supposed to grow into. Later they would find that Pika had a rare condition that caused her to basically never fully mature. (I don’t know if there’s a human equivalent but just picture if someone stopped aging at the age of around 9 and you’d have a pretty good idea.) The fourth year was the year they started to realize something was wrong with her. She should have grown taller, started to age into an adult by this point. She never did, physically. 

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

She resents the heck out of her mother, Selphana. Selphana is a difficult woman to get along with; she’s demanding, vain, dramatic, temperamental, stubborn, single-minded, and overly controlling. Bez is, honestly, not much better, but Bez’s aloofness and sense of quiet (if arrogant) pride in his children made them both turn to him rather than their mother. 

Eventually, Bez gets arrested for some stuff I don’t feel the need to go into and instead of taking their mother’s claim, Karu and Pika set off to basically make good on their father’s name. Until Karu died. And then Pika got arrested herself. When she was let loose, she had decided to break with her family and their spiteful and selfish ways, and she basically disowned herself and left. Selphana was pissed and only too happy to strike her daughter off the family record for good. 

However, even separated from her family and with a career on a space station as a peace keeper and security officer, she remains loyal to her father and still follows his example of cold justice and adherance to protocol. 

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

Karu (Nikaru Cataran): Pika’s older brother. He was the most important person in Pika’s life, barring her father, for a long time. Even when they fought (and they could fight like the bitterest of rivals, when it came to Bez’s approval) his presence shaped who Pika was, made her stronger and more resilient and loath to back down. 

When Bez was taken, she and her brother went from sometime-rivals to allies of the closest sort, although they occasionally still disagreed and would fight each other, it was always brief. His death was one of the things that caused Pika’s break from her family. It didn’t seem worth it without Karu. 

Fala (Faladine Almaran): Pika’s much younger half-sister. She was born of an affair her mother got into during Bez’s custody. Because Pika was nearly grown up and separated from her mother at the time of Fala’s birth, she hasn’t really had much to do with Fala and doesn’t care for her at all. They’ve met only a few times. 

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Pika is (was?) a Thwaren Outlander, which means she and her family still live by the “old ways” basically, they live as they did before the arrival of the Braccans on Thren, their home planet. Their schooling isn’t done the way it is on Bracca, with levels and higher education, but is rather done as mix of mentoring, collective group efforts, self-education, and homeschooling. 

Her favorite subjects were history (Outlander history, they never studied the Braccan chronicles. According to Bez, Braccan books were useful only as tinder for their homing flares), law, and, surprisingly, space travel. She was also a very strong lover of combat training and learned to fight hand to hand at the age of six, eventually developing her own methods of combat that would give her aid despite her lack of height and muscle. 

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

(For Keeva)

Thranians from Keeva’s district don’t typically keep pets, aside from sand-mokes (small, timid things that look a little like a cross between a monkey and an armadillo) and scuttlers (crab-esque creatures). Keeva and her siblings had a few scuttlers they kept, but they never really named them or kept them long-term. As an adult, she’d love to get a pet mooncreep or a fur-moke. But, she travels too much, and the Solar Day doesn’t have a lot of space.

She likes animals all right. They aren’t much fun to talk to, but they do make good companions in a pinch. 

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

(For Prilana)

She adores children. Children also adore her. She never had any of her own, but her wards (for lack of a better term) have a clutch of their own. (The children’s names are Kukuru, Ni’eldra, and Diamora.)

Had she children of her own, she would probably be as tender to them as she is to the children of her wards, however, she does not. She has created several Servux droids, who she treats as her creations, but she is not nearly as gentle towards them as they are machines and not flesh and blood. 

She claimed guardianship of Arukis after his mother’s death and had him and his Servux guardian sent to a distant space station for safekeeping, however, she is not attached to the boy and sees him only as a political tool for her own gain. She has asked 14 to have him killed a few times, when she thought it would be better for her pursuits. In general, she’s kind and loving only to the children she sees as her own, and if she does not, she can be alarmingly cold and even cruel. 

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

(For ELE)

Although she rejects most aspects of servant life offhand, ELE takes great pride in her culinary abilities. She also tends to get extremely angry when anyone insults or critiques her work. Her main goal (short of showing off and stroking her own ego) is to impress Keeva. Anything else is irrelevant. 

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

(For Nadia)

She loves them. Unfortunately, Braccans can’t taste sweets and Thwarens like very bland food. Thranians enjoy the taste of sweetness, but they use it sparingly. 

As for staying awake, Nadia’s better at it then Djunn (who requires as many sleeping hours as waking ones) or ELE (who needs to cooldown/recharge frequently lest she overheat and explode, or shut down from lack of energy). However, Thranians like Keeva don’t really sleep at all. As such, Nadia is the second most alert person on the ship.

Compared to other humans, she probably sleeps a lot less due to growing up with space travel not geared towards the human circadian rhythm. 

[tjmartin45]

Retconciliation: Decoding the Retcon in Homestuck

Hey!

Let’s talk about Homestuck.  For a while I’ve been on Tumblr, talking to friends, talking to artists at cons, etc., and everybody I’ve asked seems to chalk the retcon up to simple rule breaking, incoherence, or lack of care. 

Which is fine! I’ll be the first to admit that stories break rules sometimes, and Homestuck certainly isn’t perfect.  I mean, there’s the Erisolsprite paradox alone that can’t really be explained in any convincing way.  And there’s the huge effort gap that blocks people from getting into the comic; you have to push through Acts 1-3 the first time before the comic begins to really pick up speed (at least in my opinion).

But while Homestuck has flaws, it doesn’t generally break rules in ways that are this—I don’t know—plot heavy.  So looking at the Retcon as rule breaking has never really sat well with me, and brushing it off as too confusing just seems dismissive.  Come on, this is Hussie we’re talking about; there’s got to be some way this all fits together!

…right?

Yes. Yes, there is. Though I must say it’s a little complicated and it’s going to take me a few posts to explain it all. But, the rewards are massive.  The Retcon is the key that opens the explanation to the end.  Though, don’t worry—we won’t tackle the end just yet (I mean talk about complicated).  

Also, this is all just a theory, so if anything doesn’t look right, throw rocks at it! I wanna make this better in any way possible.  So all thoughts matter a lot to me!

Finally, if you haven’t finished Homestuck, BE WARNED for THERE BE SPOILERS!  I mean...duh.

And with that, let’s get started.

Hypothesis

Homestuck is amazing.

(Ok, that’s not my hypothesis, but bare with me here.)

Homestuck is amazing.  I find everything from its basic construction of Acts and Act Acts and Act Act Acts to be…well a little annoying in terminology BUT still amazing.  Everything from that to its proportions all the way down to the nitty gritty of how the characters are written amazes and inspires me.  Look at the first half of Homestuck (A1-[S] Cascade), for example.  This part of the comic is amazing because it presents all of the rules that govern the comic as a whole in a clear and precise way (I mean, it’s basically a textbook on how the world of Homestuck works).  Everything makes sense, and when we hit the end, we’re amazed because HOLY SHIT all the rules come together and work and make sense!  

Now comes the fun part: why?  Why would Hussie do this?  (I mean, besides the fact that it’s super cool, I mean COME ON!)

To answer this question, let’s look at the second half of Homestuck.  If I had to summarize the second half in one word, that word would be confusing.  In this part of the comic, rules seem broken, boundaries are strained (even more than usual),  and the entire structure (and world) is pushed until it breaks! (actually, looking at it this way, moving to YouTube at the end makes sense because the comic jumps ship to a website that hasn’t been broken yet).

But Hussie isn’t a bad storyteller.  I mean, let’s remind ourselves of the first half of the comic.  What are we supposed to chalk that up to, luck?  Or are we supposed to blame the second half on boredom or a lack of care?  I’ve heard the excuse that Hussie just wanted the comic done with, so he ended it quickly while breaking some rules.  But I don’t buy that (I mean, Hiveswap (though there is the obvious counterargument to that: Hussie is more supervising the game rather than really making it (though at the end of the day w/e))).  

Maybe I’m naive or am too wishful thinking, but the entire end of the comic, including the Retcon, feels planned.  It doesn’t feel like an artist quickly closing the book while ignoring the rules they had set up.  

But if it was planned, why is the second half so much more confusing than the first?

It’s more confusing because the first half of Homestuck serves as a guide to the second half.  The first half lays out the most important rules that govern the story, and then the second half pushes these rules to the limit.  That’s not to say that these rules will be the only ones in play.  Any good story reveals its cards over time, and Cascade is, after all, only halfway through.  More rules do come into play in the second half, but none of them cancel out old rules.

This is my hypothesis—that all the rules in the first half of Homestuck, especially ones to do with time travel and doomed timelines along with a few that are introduced later, make up the laws and the logic that surround the entire Retcon event.  Now, it’s time to prove it.

But first, let’s make sure we’re on the same page about these older rules (for my sake).  Not all of them; we only need to understand two of these rules before we get to the Retcon: the rules of Time Travel and of Doomed Timelines.  Let’s start with the former.

Old Rules

Act 4.  John is convinced by SOM3ON3 to fight his denizen early.  He dies.  We’re all sad about this completely surprising turn of events.  Months in the future, but not many, Doomed Dave travels back in time and stops John.  Now: how does this work?

This is a good time to introduce the first of many TIME GRAPHS.  They’ll be our friends through this adventure.  Say hi, TIME GRAPH.  Hahaha, he can’t speak.

SO.  We have two timelines here that split from the original Alpha timeline (black).  In the upper one, John dies.  This timeline actually split BEFORE this moment.  It splits when future Dave (FD) doesn’t come back.  Without FD to stop John, John is an idiot (at least until he dies—then he’s a dead idiot).  However, this moment is necessary because, without it, FD isn’t created.  John’s idiocy (and Terezi’s trickery) are necessary to the creation of FD and eventually Davesprite (DS).  In the doomed future, FD rewinds going directly back on the timeline to the point where, on the Alpha timeline, he appears.  Then, the alpha timeline continues as it should: FD becomes Doomed Dave (DS) and talks some sense into John.

Hussie shows us this for a few reasons.  Firstly, it introduces doomed timelines, but (along with some earlier occurrences) it shows the basics of how time travel works in respect to doomed timelines and doomed characters.  FD travels back along the doomed timeline back to the point where it became doomed, and then moves with the new, alpha, timeline.  Like a U-turn (kinda).  This movement creates two timelines: one doomed, one alpha.  one before travel, one after.  This movement also creates two Daves: one doomed and one Alpha.  Furthermore, the exsistance of the doomed timeline is required to produce the Alpha timeline.  Terezi was always supposed to lead John on, John was always supposed to die, Doomed Dave was always supposed to have to travel back in time.  While these offshoot Daves are doomed and in that way bad and non-essential, they are also integrally essential to the story and the exsistence of Paradox Space.

Before we really move on, l should mention that, of course, this is not the only way time travel works.  In stable time loops, no new Dave is created and no offshoot timelines are created.  Most of Dave’s time travel in the comic is actually this latter version, with the help of Terezi.  But not all of it is, and for this theory, we need to be on the same page about that first type.  Now, with that out of the way, let’s turn the clocks forward and FL1P to one of my favorite sequences of Homestuck.

[S] Flip.  Here we see doomed timelines in relation to Terezi’s power as Seer of Mind.  Scratch explains the entire ordeal very clearly, but I’ll do my best to summarize here:

When Terezi meets Vriska, she gives her an ultimatum in the form of a coin flip: heads she stays, Scratch she goes.  This Flip is merely a trick, however, for the result of the flip is not decided by chance.  To use Scratch’s words exactly , “[the result] was a constant across all timelines.”  In every case, Vriska uses her god tier powers to make the coin fall on scratch.  Terezi doesn’t need eyes to see that.  At least not her physical ones.  

Using her mind’s eye, Terezi can see that the actions of Vriska and herself in that moment create two possible timelines: one in which Terezi kills Vriska (red), and one in which she doesn’t (green).  The latter is doomed, as everybody (though arguably not Vriska) dies, while the former is the alpha timeline and most characters survive.

Well, kinda.  Really, neither are the alpha timeline at this point due to the Retcon, but we’ll get back to that in a few parts.  For now, Vriska is dead and we have saved the timeline!  Yay!

What do we learn from this?  In this scene, we see very clearly that time travel is not the only way to split the timeline; decisions also do that.  At the same time, we see how Terezi, as Seer of Mind, can see and navigate those splits caused by people’s decisions and actions.

Now, with all of that together so we’re on the same page, there’s just one more point I want to make before we move on.  It’s not really a rule, but it is a very important lesson learned from the first half of the comic: the kids are figuring this out at the same time we are.  Because of that, they very often don’t really know what they’re talking about.

This doesn’t change when Scratch stops stringing them along.  We’re all in the same boat, figuring this all out together.  So especially when confronted with something new like the Retcon power, they’re not going to understand it or be able to explain it to us with accuracy right away.  

So let’s take what the kids say with a grain of salt and never treat their feelings as fact.  Let’s weigh them in, they’re extremely important to understanding what’s going on, but they aren’t the end.

Anyway, this has been a fun review section, but it’s still review.  And we’re not here to walk in place; we’re here to move forward.  So let’s do that and attempt to decode this monstrous section of Homestuck…next time.  These posts each are going to be long, so I’ve split them up into four parts so they’re less daunting.  The next part is going up tomorrow, 4/10, and I hope to see you then!

...unless it’s the future and it’s already up.  In that case, just click here.

Thanks for reading!!

Click HERE for Part 2/4 and HERE for the Masterpost.

Do you like music?  Do you like podcasts?  Do you like music podcasts in which at least half of the content has nothing to do with music?  If so, you can find the podcast I do with my brother, the Song Exchange, here!  We think it’s pretty ok, and you should check us out!

Thanks for reading!