Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 10: More Deepground with Some Hojo Mischief
Rating: Mature
Warnings: hojo, canon-typical violence, referenced abuse and medical torture, two guys saying some misogynist BS, and i was gonna say nudity but it's just written, so it only counts as nudity if you imagine the character naked you dirty minded perv
NOTE: There's a scene in this chapter that was directly inspired by @siringadev 's beautiful artwork of Nero and Weiss and they gave me permission to post it with the story! Hit up their blog or twit for more awesome arts!
Unbeknownst to either of the brothers, Director Hojo had decided that now was the time to initiate his planned breeding program, for Weiss. The other scientists begged him to reconsider (out of fear for their own lives, more than any particular compassion for the twins), but he was adamant.
With Nero safely out of the way, for at least a week, including recovery, what better time to put Weiss to work servicing the various incubators he’d chosen to gestate his precious subject’s progeny (Hojo’s actual words).
That morning, after Nero had been taken away, a handler came to inform Weiss, who was grudgingly teaching some parrying moves to Rosso, that Director Hojo had selected a group of high-performing individuals, as potential entrants to Deepground, and that Weiss was to test them and choose the best candidates, after lunch.
When these ostensible prospective teammates were shown in to the arena, later that day, Rosso rolled her eyes and snorted audibly, at the transparency of Shinra’s intentions. All of them were female, and of a certain phenotype—small waists, round hips, and large breasts, with pouting lips and big, doe-like eyes. Most notably, none were mako-enhanced, which was the clearest indicator of their real purpose here.
As if it were a legitimate ranks inspection by their new commander, the young women lined up and stood at attention, then introduced themselves, giving their names, ages, and qualifications. They were all educated, accomplished, between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and despite their rather delicate appearances, combat-trained officers or elite troopers.
Naturally, they had been informed of their intended breeding partner’s age and inexperience, and had been quite expecting to find a gawky teenager. Thus, they were pleasantly surprised to see that Weiss was tall, hyperbolically fit, almost shockingly handsome, and in all ways looked like a full-grown adult male.
Their flushed cheeks and heated gazes were not lost on Rosso, who was a predator herself, and knew another when she saw it sniffing around her territory. She may not have had any interest in taking Weiss as a mate, herself, but he was her idol and leader. The idea of her leader having a gaggle of silly concubines following him around was an affront to her personal dignity, and got her hackles up.
Weiss, however, far from being enticed by the prospect of healthy, attractive females with which to mate, appeared entirely oblivious to their feminine charms. To Rosso’s endless amusement (and the flat disbelief of the observing scientists), he took the characterization of the situation as ‘vetting prospective teammates’ at face value, and proceeded to do just that.
When the introductions were got through, he ordered Rosso to test the candidates in hand-to-hand combat, then stood by looking bored, while she gleefully thrashed them, one by one.
To add literal insult to actual injury, Weiss ruthlessly rejected each one, as they were defeated, pronouncing them ‘weak’, ‘pathetic’, ‘worthless’, and so forth.
At the end of an hour, the fifteen bewildered and badly beaten young women had all been sent limping away, to complain to Director Hojo about that evil little harpy, who wouldn’t let them anywhere near Weiss, and beat them all black and blue.
“Well, the boy is young, and he’s not exactly versed in the ways of the world,” Hojo reasoned. “Perhaps he requires a more direct approach.”
When Weiss arrived at his quarters, that evening, two young women were waiting, lounging in a provocative pose together, on his bed. He stopped short, tense and wary, as the door shut behind him. Desiring to communicate that this was not an ambush (not that kind at least), the young ladies smiled and winked, sliding their hands invitingly up and down one another’s bare thighs.
Weiss’ silver-blue eyes flickered over their soft, curvy bodies, then he turned and slowly shrugged off his jacket, his ropy back muscles flexing and rippling with the motion of his arms.
This only encouraged the girls, and they redoubled their seductive efforts, beckoning to him and pressing their ripe, round breasts together, under the transparent lace of the lingerie they’d been dressed in.
Weiss hung his jacket on the hook, then approached the bed, with a beatific smile on his perfect lips.
At that point, anyone who was at all familiar with him would have been making peace with the god of their choice, but the two young ladies had never seen him before today, and took his placid demeanor for approval of their presence.
“I guess Professor Hojo sent you here,” he said mildly, looking down at them. “He really expects me to fuck this kind of haggard trash.”
At these unexpectedly harsh words, both young women bridled indignantly, jumping to their feet and dropping the femme-fatale theatrics.
“Hey, asshole! We don’t like it any more than you do,” one shot back. “We’re following orders, so just hurry up and fuck us, so we can leave, ok?”
Weiss summoned a blade to his hand. “You have polluted the bed my brother and I share, with your whorehouse perfume. Would you like me wash out the stench, with your blood?”
“Brother?” the first girl asked, confused. “Wait, what do you mean, you share a bed?”
“Please, Weiss!” the second girl begged, actually folding her hands in a supplicating pose. “If we don’t get your seed, Professor Hojo said he’ll use us as test subjects for his horrible experiments!”
“Oh—yeah, he did!” the first concurred, nodding vehemently. “You’ve seen the twisted shit he does to people, right? We’d rather die.”
Weiss lowered his blade and hesitated, furrowing his white brow. “It…would be cruel, to allow you to be taken and used for the professor's experiments.”
“Right!” the girls agreed. “So please, help us out, ok? We promise we’ll show you a good time.”
He drew a deep breath and then nodded. “Very well, I’ll help you.”
Neither of them even saw him move. But neither of them ever saw anything, again. Hojo later remarked, (far more admiringly than was strictly proper, given the circumstances) that not even a world-class surgeon could have done a cleaner, more elegant job of severing a human being’s brain stem, let alone two, and within a millisecond of one another.
Weiss, pleased with himself for his uncharacteristically charitable deed, dismissed his blade and went to the bathroom to shower, leaving the two young beauties lying on the floor by the door, neatly wrapped up in the bed linens they had lain in, which now stank of their unpleasantly heavy, floral perfume.
While he showered, he reached out to Nero, using their psychic link, only to find himself firmly rebuffed. He was so stunned, that he immediately tried again, from sheer disbelief. Once again, he ran into a solid wall. Weiss was dumbfounded, and immediately worried.
It was a shared ability, but Nero’s was far stronger, so he had the power to shut Weiss out, and Weiss would be helpless to do anything about it. Only, he never had, before. Why would he do it, now?
When he emerged from the shower, the bodies were gone, the linens were freshly changed, his supper was waiting, and there was a video call flashing on the monitor. He touched the screen to answer the call, and continued drying himself with his towel.
The face that popped up was a thin, weathered, middle-aged man, with long black hair, a hawkish nose, and round spectacles, which reflected light in a way that often concealed his eyes.
“I see you didn’t like any of the gifts I sent you,” His nasal voice said, in a tone of exaggerated disappointment. “Well, no matter. I have many more to choose from. Why don’t you tell me what you prefer, and we’ll go from there.”
“I prefer not to find your ‘gifts’ in my room,” Weiss returned, tossing his towel into the laundry bin. He was stark naked, but had absolutely no sense of bodily modesty, having been watched every moment of every day, since he was born.
The old man on the screen pushed up his spectacles, running his eyes over his subject’s flawless body, in undisguised admiration. This truly was the body of the perfect SOLDIER. Of all his experimental results, over the decades, there was only one who’d turned out better, so he had something of a soft spot for Weiss (as much as a eugenics-obsessed psychopath was capable of, at least).
“Fair enough, fair enough. There’s no need to send them to pester you in your down time. I can arrange for you to visit them during training hours, if that’s more convenient.”
“Not interested,” Weiss said flatly, as he sat down at the square, steel table, and began to eat his dinner.
“Don’t be difficult, my boy,” Hojo admonished. “You were always slated to be a sire for this breeding program. I won’t hide from you that the success of the project is depending entirely upon you, now. The other intended sire has turned out to be sterile.” He said the last part with an air of grievance, as if the individual in question had been infertile on purpose, to spite him. “Since the girls don’t appeal to you, tell me what incentives we can offer, to smooth the—”
“Professor, you are wasting your time,” Weiss interrupted, setting down his fork. “I will not be acting as a breeding stud, rutting with females at your command, like a pig in a sty. The prospect is as repulsive as it is insulting.”
Hojo was out of patience, now, and the mask of civility came off. “But it’s perfectly acceptable to you, to fuck your little brother? Who can’t even make use of the valuable genetic material your are wasting on him? Which, I might add, is proprietary Shinra biotechnology!”
“My brother is still a virgin,” Weiss replied tersely. “He’s not old enough for sex.”
“Semantics,” Hojo snorted. “Does it really require penetration, to count? Or is that just what you tell yourself, to excuse what you’ve been doing to that naïve child, who trusts his elder brother so much.”
If Weiss had the intelligence of a normal sixteen-year-old boy, or a much lower opinion of himself, this attack may have worked. However, he was neither stupid, nor plagued by paralyzing self doubt and ego shattering insecurity, like that certain subject that Hojo had been accustomed to dealing with. As such, the blow glanced off his hide like a wooden spear from the hull of a supertanker.
“I love my brother, professor. I will not betray him.”
Hojo waved hand irritably. “Oh, please. Don’t feed me that trite sentimentalism, it’s just copulation! Biology!! What does love have to do with it? Come, now. I’ve been more than reasonable, but I am growing impatient. Everyone has a price, so name yours.”
“There is none.”
“I see. I did not want it to come to this, Weiss. But if you persist in refusing to cooperate, I’ll be forced to use the stick, rather than the carrot.”
“Is that a threat, professor?” Wiess asked.
“I don’t have to make threats, my boy,” Hojo chuckled. “Don’t forget that I own you. And your precious brother. You have twelve hours to name your terms, or there will be consequences.”
With that, the video call disconnected and the screen blanked. Weiss sat perfectly still and calm, finishing his meal, betraying nothing of what was passing in his mind, through his posture or expression. Internally, however, his stomach was twisted into knots of anxiety.
Hojo’s message was clear: do as I say, or I’ll hurt your brother. But doing what Hojo said would hurt his brother anyway, and thus Weiss was chained between two unacceptable choices.
Agonized with indecision, and utterly lost without his other half to guide him, he tried to connect to Nero again, but that solid wall was still up.
What could he be doing, that would make him shut Weiss out like this? They’d always used their connection to comfort one another, especially when they were injured or undergoing some painful procedure or another.
Then a dark thought crossed his mind. What if the prototype prosthetic was an excuse, and they’d separated them for the purpose of making similar overtures to Nero, regarding breeding.
What if he’d agreed, out of concern for Weiss, and was with a woman, right now? What if he’d refused, but they’d drugged or restrained him, and forced him to…
No. That was paranoia talking. Nero himself had verified the information about the cybernetics specialist, from some handlers’ minds. He’d have known if he was being lied to.
That still left Wiess in this precarious position, alone, which was certainly Hojo’s intention, knowing the Nero was the brains of the operation. Now, it was up to Weiss to think of something, quickly. When Hojo contacted him, the next morning, he found the boy in a more cooperative frame of mind.
“Why does it have to be sex?” Weiss asked. “There are other methods of creating a pregnancy. Isn’t that how Nero and I were made?”
“Of course, in vitro fertilization is my preference,” Hojo answered. “Much cleaner and more reliable. Easier to control all the variables. But the costs for extraction and cryo-storage and implantation are prohibitive, on the scale I desire. Deepground’s budget is tight, and the board is already looking for excuses to slash it. They’ll never approve the extra expense.”
“That must be because they haven’t seen any results, yet,” Weiss pointed out.
Hojo pushed up his spectacles. “Ah, I see you’ve been using the enhanced brain I gave you. Well, go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Why don’t you let me show them that Deepground deserves just as much attention as SOLDIER. That it could be better than SOLDIER, like you always said. If we convince them that it’s worthwhile, they’ll increase the budget, which will free up funds for the in vitro procedures, and benefit the whole program, as well.”
“Interesting, interesting. But that’s a tall order. Just how do you plan to convince them?”
“Let me fight Sephiroth.”
Had the old man been sipping a beverage at that moment, he’d have spit it out, all over the monitor. “F—fight Sephiroth! You??” he sputtered, nearly choking with laughter, now that the initial shock had worn off. “You fool, he’d kill you six ways before you hit the ground!”
“I didn’t say I have to win,” Weiss returned, gloomily. “I just have to not lose badly enough that it’s an embarrassment to Deepground. He obeys you, right? Set up a match between us, for the executives. The board will love it, because it’ll be good PR for their poster boy, and it’ll also show them how successful the work you’re doing here has been. All you have to do is tell Sephiroth the plan, and that he has to beat me without making me look too bad. And get him to endorse the Deepground program. Unless…you can’t control him.”
“Tch, that child is putty in my hands. There’s no need to worry about his cooperation.” Hojo sat back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “The tricky part will be creating a pretext for a sparring match between Shinra’s superstar and a total unknown, like you.”
Weiss shook his head. “That, I can’t help with. I’ve never even been outside. I have no idea how things like that proceed.”
“Never been outside,” Hojo muttered, absently removing his spectacles to wipe them with the sleeve of his lab coat. “Pity, too. You’re such a good boy. The only one who hasn’t disappointed me.”
“Except for Sephiroth, you mean.”
“I mean just as I say. Sephiroth may be well ahead of you, but it’s only because he’s so much older. If you work hard and don’t get lazy, you’ll surpass him, one day.”
This was news to Weiss, and happened to stroke his ego in exactly the right spot. “You…really think so?”
“Indeed. Your genes are purer, since his parents were chosen…impulsively, whereas yours were carefully selected. Most importantly, your mentality is superior to his. You are much less morbid and sensitive, and you have drive that he lacks. You’re ruthless and calculating, and you’re not ashamed of it.”
“Sephiroth seems fairly ruthless and calculating, to me,” Weiss hedged.
“Bosh. He knows how to seem cool and in control, for the public, but it’s all a façade. That boy is moody and temperamental and capricious, like a woman. Not only that, but he doesn’t enjoy success, at all, and spends all his time moping about killing people. And he’s always on about not having mother. You don’t have a mother, and I don’t see you crying about it.”
“What does he need a mother for?” Weiss asked, with a disdainful curl of his lip. “He’s the greatest warrior of all time. He should be proud of how he was raised, without the influence of a woman, to make him soft.”
“Ha! Try telling him that,” Hojo snorted. Then caught himself and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Well. I’ll take your suggestions into consideration. One way or another, we need to arrange a demonstration of your abilities to the board. It’s high time I got a chance to show you off.”
“Professor?” Weiss said, stopping Hojo as he was about to disconnect the call.
“Hm? What is it?”
“My brother. Is he alright?”
“Yes, yes, no need to trouble yourself about that. Dr. Ikari is the best in the world. I’m going to look in on him now, in fact. I’ll make sure everything is proceeding as expected. Is that all?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Weiss spent the next two days going through the motions of training, gazing absently off toward the surgical ward for minutes at a time, and letting Rosso follow him around everywhere, because it made no difference to him, if she was there or not.
He actually grew from grudging tolerance to tentative acceptance of her, during those few days, because she obeyed his orders without question, and didn’t try to talk to him, otherwise. Both excellent traits in a subordinate.
They were in the middle of a particularly intense virtual battle, when the simulated beasts and mountain landscape around them suddenly disintegrated, and the room went pitch dark. Then the flashing, red emergency lights came on, casting the room in bloody crimson. The floor shook, with the heavy clang of the reinforced blast doors coming down, over the top of the doors to the training room, as the alarm klaxons began blaring.
“Lockdown,” Rosso muttered. “But we’re both here, so—”
“Nero,” Weiss said, finishing the thought.
Rosso stood tense and ready, awaiting further orders, but after a minute had passed, and he hadn’t spoken again, she could no longer bear to remain silent. “Commander? What are we going to do?”
“Nothing,” Weiss said tranquilly. “They will come to us, shortly.”
Rosso glanced reflexively toward the doors, then back at Weiss, who was seating himself in a lotus position, with his long sword balanced across his knees.
She knew better than to question him further, so she did the same, swallowing her deep dread of being locked in a training room, in the dark, and forcing herself to take slow (though rather shaky) breaths.
Perhaps five minutes passed, then suddenly a voice came crackling loudly over the intercom, nearly startling her out of her skin.
“Weiss! There you are! Get the hell over here and control your lunatic brother!”
“Good afternoon, professor,” Weiss replied calmly, looking up toward the camera. “I’d like to comply with your order, sir, but we are in lockdown status. The blast doors have closed.”
There was rustling and some garbled cursing from the other side, then Hojo’s voice returned, sounding annoyed and impatient, but not particularly worried. “These imbeciles can’t lift the lockdown for that room, without lifting it for the entire complex. I assume you can get out on your own?”
Weiss’ eyes glinted in the red glare of the emergency strobes. “Not without causing damage to Shinra property.”
“I hereby authorize you to damage whatever you need to, just get to the surgical ward ASAP. He’s already killed three squads of guards and Hades knows how many doctors and scientific staff.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rosso was a bit confused by what she saw next. Weiss seemed to vanish, from his seated position, and almost simultaneously reappear, standing before the doors, amid multiple flashes of white light.
“Go protect Director Hojo. Stay with him, until I am sure my brother is safe,” he said over his shoulder, as the steel doors to the training room, and the three-foot thick reinforced blast doors outside those, collapsed to the ground, cleanly sliced into dozens of geometric fragments.
“Y—yes, sir,” Rosso answered.
Before the words were even all the way out of her mouth, Weiss had vanished again, displacing air behind him like a small explosion.
Rosso stood gaping, for a few seconds, before she dashed off to obey his orders. Her heart pounded and her breath came short as she sped down the hall, but it wasn’t from the running. It was from the adrenaline pumping through her body, at the sudden, staggering revelation of Weiss’ speed and strength, and the swiftly dawning realization of just how little of his power she’d actually ever seen.
She wondered if the Shinra people were even aware of his full power. They must not have been, if they thought that lockdown doors like those were enough to contain him.
Though, Professor Hojo hadn’t seemed to harbor any misguided notions. He hadn’t questioned for a moment that Weiss could break through those doors, and only told him to hurry up.
What was their relationship, anyway? The two spoke so familiarly with one another, and the professor seemed to have quite a bit of trust in his imprisoned test subject. Well, whatever it was, her orders from Weiss were clear. Find Director Hojo and keep an eye on him, under the pretext of guarding him, as insurance, in case Nero wasn’t alright.
She almost wished he wouldn’t be. Not that she wished Nero any particular harm (she rather liked the vampiric little psychopath), it was just that, in the case that Nero was killed, or even irreparably harmed, Weiss would certainly revolt against their captors.
Then she would be free to slash and slaughter to her heart’s content, as they fought their way out of this place. And then…and then she would find either her death, or the open sky. What a glorious day that would be.
Weiss reached the surgical ward, within two minutes of departing the training room, moving like a rush of wind, far faster than the human eye could perceive him, and blowing through the many layers of locked down security doors on the way, like they were nothing more than tissue paper.
The last set were the double-doors leading into the ward. He kicked them open with a boom, and surveyed the situation. The lights in the main hallway were out, and with the equipment and papers and things strewn all about the floor, and the place lit only by the red emergency strobes, it looked very much like a hospital from a horror film.
Weiss had never seen a horror film, however, and wouldn’t have been frightened by one if he had, and strode into the scene of pandemonium unconcerned.
The hallway branched left and right, and he didn’t know which way Nero was. The cameras and intercom were out, as well, so Hojo couldn’t tell him. The only way was to try their connection.
When he reached out, this time, he thought he’d hit that wall again, but when he tried to draw back, he found himself unable to do so. It wasn’t like Nero holding onto his strand, but more like he’d collided with a wall of thick, sticky tar and sunk a few inches in, and now it didn’t want to let him pull himself free.
Rather than struggle like a fool, he relaxed and let himself sink deeper and deeper into the cold, clinging slime, till suddenly, he popped through on the other side…into a lightless void, so black it was like swimming in ink.
He was pondering which direction to go, when he heard screams, suddenly, and looked over, to see faintly-glowing bluish shapes, being dragged deeper into the blackness.
Seeing his bright, white light, they reached out and begged him for help, probably mistaking him for an angel, come to save them. He ignored their pleas, only following behind as they wailed and bawled, struggling impotently against the inexorable force that was pulling them along.
This force that was pulling them along was actually thin strands of sticky, black shadow, like nightmare spider’s silk. Weiss knew this, because the strands kept brushing against him, but they never grabbed hold of him or even adhered to his body (or rather, his human-shaped psychic projection).
For what seemed a long time, he followed the doomed souls into the darkness, till at last, eight red suns rose in the black sky, a crown of immense, bloody jewels, emitting no light and yet bathing everything in their crimson glow.
Weiss realized with a thrill that sent shivers up his spine, that these things were neither suns, nor jewels, but titanic eyes, belonging to a spider the size of a planet.
It was a colossal beast of ancient power, impossibly massive in size, wreathed in writhing shadow, blacker than the abyss, as if the essence of its being was the negation of light, rather than simply the absence thereof. Its eight segmented legs reached out from its thorax, spread wide enough to encompass galaxies, had there been any stars in the abyss.
With careless ease, it consumed the microscopic souls, which passed in through its fanged jaws in the blink of an eye, and were no more. Then its eyes fell upon the tiny, silver-white star, that had descended into its domain.
Rearing up suddenly in defense, as high as a nebula rising into the reaches of space, it raised its enormous forelegs and snapped its mandibles, with a sound like the crackling of thunder.
Weiss, who alone had the strength to maintain a human form in this realm of chaos and annihilation, spread his arms in response, and a ray of light reached out from him to pierce the darkness.
The spider shrank back, curled into itself, drew its galaxy spanning legs in tight against its black bulk, and hid its eyes from the blinding light. At the same time, hundreds of thousands of black strands of web shot out and wove themselves into a defensive mesh of shadow and confusion, to disorient and keep the angel away.
To the behemoth’s disbelief, the light passed right through its barrier of webs, and the tiny angel kept coming, unhindered and unafraid.
The closer it came, the more the spider curled and shrank into itself, until it was hardly larger than a human child. A tiny, pathetic thing, trembling and quaking before a towering angel of light.
“Brother,” said a voice, as soft as a baby’s breath and as mighty as the roaring of the sea. “Why are you afraid?”
The spider shook harder, and tried to hide what it knew was its hideous, arachnid face, with fanged mandibles and eight eyes, but the angel reached out and took its head in his strong hands.
“Nero. You are so beautiful,” he said, gently stroking the horned, oil-black exoskeleton. “Never hide your face from me. You may conceal yourself in darkness, and hide away from all the world, but never from me.”
As he said these words, he leaned in, heedless of the huge, venomous fangs, and pressed his perfect lips to the spider’s horrific maw.
Lured by his warmth and softness, the spider reached helplessly toward him, with its black pedipalps, which seemed to suddenly look much more like human hands, where they touched his broad shoulders.
Slowly, very slowly, its eight legs uncoiled and wrapped themselves around the angel’s silky, silver-white body, taking care not to hurt him, with the sharp tips of the arachnid appendages. As the angel deepened the kiss, the spider’s fanged jaws spread wider and wider, and began to recede altogether. At last, they revealed the smooth, white, lower half of human face.
The angel laughed softly and kissed him again, holding onto his bulky thorax and pushing his lips apart, sliding his tongue into his mouth, eager and possessive, and infinitely tender. A kiss filled with a love so profound, it shattered the rest of the spider’s black carapace and fully exposed the tiny, fragile and vulnerable human body, that he had been trying so hard to protect.
But that didn’t matter now. Weiss was taking him in his arms and holding him close, against his big, solid, blazing hot chest, and Nero’s mind was filled with his strong heartbeat, that sounded in his ears like the music of life itself.
Nero buried his face in his brother’s neck and breathed a shuddering sigh. It was alright, now. Weiss had him. The spider could hide away in abyss inside, again. Weiss would protect him. Everything would be alright.
At that time, he had truly believed it.
LINK TO NEXT CHAPTER:
14 notes
·
View notes
Eurovision 2023: #04 & #03.
04. BELGIUM
Gustaph - "Because of you"
7th place
Decade Ranking: 11/116
[Above Måneskin, below Monika Liu]
HOED BEZIG DADDY!1!!1!1!!
Another wonderful example of 2023 gaslighting doing its work - I decided around April last year that Gustaph could get a top 10 and because of the, um, reception he got online, I gaslit myself into thinking 10th was his absolute ceiling. Maybe, maybe on the cusp of left side?, I thought.
In reality:
Remember when they tried to break him? Well look at him now :-)
I love a good underdog arc and the best arcs are served with casual Surprise (not rly) Top Tens, defeating the underwhelming fanfave beasts along the way. There WERE murmurs by certain fans about how PUZZLING it was Gustaph got a SEVENTH PLACE (often lumping him in with Alika, Vesna and Voyager) over TeyaLena and Blanca and (mild cringe) LaZarra and (megacringe) Iru. WHY IS IT A TOP TEN SONG?
Here's a question babe. Why was it not a top six song? This is what finished ahead of Gustaph:
Let's see: A boring default winner, Käärijä, evil nepobaby with the worst song ever, italian himbot with a some song, pulpy tiktok nonsense, miserable ukrainian song about the war. What A Wonderful Top Six, how could anyone like Belgium enough for top ten.
Fortunately as the months ticked by, the sensibles concluded that yes, "Because of you"' slaps and is iconique. Which is ofc, the conclusion I reached before the liveshows���� Yeah okay that's supercilious of me, but I'm living the moment, let me have it, okay! Seeing the light took less time for me because granted, I am Belgian (and worse, Flemish) so I always have to convince myself our entries work if I like them (lmao tough luck Mustii!!), and when they work, they work, you know. "Because of you" IS Eurovision to its very core:
A CHARISMATIC LEAD WITH A GREAT VOICE AND A MEMORABLE STYLE
AN UPBEAT BOUNCY TUNE CELEBRATING A POSITIVE NURTURING TOPIC
A GREATLY STAGED, VISIONARY ACT (which is mandatory nowadays)
ADD SOME ░P░ U░S░S░ Y░I░ N░B░I░O ░
(and the not unimportant accolade of being the new jingle for misja eurovision...x)
It came together better than Imagined. The live was a meteor shower of slays and serves. Daddy slayed, his hubby that made the graphics served, the girls slayed, PussyServeCunt slayed AND the jury rightfully served up three twelves (including the Greek one lmaooo - pwnt Andrew!!) to commemorate this beautiful triumph over prejudice, pettiness and internalised homophobicuntitude. His hecklers can touch grass by faceplanting into it.
This was the best Belgian entry in a long time. Easily the best one since the terminally underrated Blanche (who is still the best winner we've never had) and that is good grief, already six years ago? Seven after the current contest? We were overdue for a good result.
Anyway, this was an erratic write-up, but honestly, I don't feel like I need to explain much anyway. Gustaph rose from an act most people pretended to dislike from an entrant that is universally well-regarded and beloved by both the fandom and critics. If that is not a satisfying growth arc, then I don't know what is. SERVE, HAT KING, SERVE.
in sum, see you in Antwerp for ESC2026 after we win it with a GUSTAPH x MEROL collab...x:
-------------------------------------------------
03. SLOVENIA
Joker Out - "Carpe Diem"
20th place
Decade ranking: 7/116
[Above Barbara, below Daði]
:GASP: Only third?! Boris how could you - shush shush bish calm ur teats, my opinion on Joker Out has remained completely unchanged. Maybe that's the point? "Carpe Diem" is still probably my favourite 2023 track. On-curved indie rock with on-trend styling, what is this? Almost too good for the contest, that's what.
MI BOMO CELO NOC PLESALI
LUBILI SE IN SE IGRALI
KOT DA NAS JURTI VEC NE BO
And well, let's also be very clear here - Joker Out lived up to exactly what I wanted from them. It's one of those entries that does exactly what it says on the tin (see also: Pasha). The older I get, the more I appreciate the Actual Songs in Eurovision for their reliability and "Carpe Diem" was a really good song. Three minutes of unbridled indierock fun, that quickly turns addictive if you're not careful - it does get better than that, but it's a high bar that not many other entries pass.
Besides, the live was you know, living up to my expectations and that's worth a lot in 2023, where most acts let me down. It was a joy to watch. Bojan devoured that live -
but it still felt like a group effort, as and the rest of the gang more than pulled their weight. Jan and Kris as the silly foils to Bojan's seductive self -
and Nace and Jure (who can both so get it 👉👈) as the two who would whip up the crowd making "Carpe Diem" well and truly feel like the concert that it was.
THEY WERE FUN
THEY HAD "RIZZ" (i really hate this word btw - or rather i hate how ESC.tv used this word to appear "cool" 🤢)
AND THEY HAD A TRUE EUROVISION LOVE STORY
(it is still wildly amusing to me that my two preshow favourites entered a bromance so electrified by reciprocal, yet unfulfilled sexual tension it felt like watching a Basement Yard Podcast 😍 Bojan x Käärijä 5ever💚)
So yeah, this was just all sorts of excellent, really. Ofc, 20th place is um... really disgusting and outrageous, specifically for an entry that brings me so much joy, but hey that's democracy for you. Results are being decided way ahead of time so the people with godawful taste that lead happy lives feel like they are relevant, or summat.
However, Joker Out didn't lose Eurovision 2023, they won it. Out of everyone, it was their fanbase that grew the most after the contest ended, so much that they're now considered a welcome staple at ESC preparties, alongside the likes of Daði Freyr, Go_A, Senhit and Anna Bergendahl, which is not a bad line-up to be a part of. They'll be back as Slovene reps in a few years, hopefully with a more immediate song and will do significantly better. 😁
Finally, yes, Slovenia went from first to third on my ranking, but eh. I figured out quasi immediately after the finale that my top 3 would be Czechia, Finland and Slovenia, and figured out just as fast that Slovenia were third in that equation. I hope it's been made clear that my feelings on Joker Out just stayed the same, while Vesna and Käärijä were subject to positive morphs, and the novelty of those arcs is worth a splitscreen ending.
WILL IT BE THE GREEN FIN OR THE PINK SISTERS?
it was actually... a very, very close call. 😲
THE RANKING
14 notes
·
View notes