#everyone pronounces their neos differently!

[frostfire-17]

What is cuneiform?

@ipsomaniac asked if I could explain the cuneiform system, and so I am going to give it a shot. Here goes! (Update: it got long! But there's pictures!)

Part I: What does it look like? How do we work with it?

This is the cuneiform script:

This is a first-millennium BC text of Sargon II, in Akkadian (specifically Neo-Assyrian). My user icon is a much older Sumerian text. In a second we'll see some Hittite. Just like the Latin script is used for English, French, Turkish, and many other languages today, the cuneiform script was used for lots of languages in the ancient world. It changed a bit over three thousand years of constant use, but it remains pretty recognizable because of the wedges. "Cuneiform" is just Latin for "wedge-shaped," because scholars love giving things banal names and then translating them into Latin or Greek so no one can tell.

This is a Hittite tablet:

This particular tablet is part of the royal funerary ritual (which has many many MANY tablets, many of which are way more broken than this one, and/or missing entirely). It's been pieced together from lots of fragments, all excavated separately. (You can see their excavation numbers written on the fragments, e.g. 39/c.) It's written on clay, like most of their texts were. This is a pretty good amount of preservation for a tablet this size - many are more fragmentary. I wish the picture were better, but tablets are not catalogued by how good the pictures are and it would have taken a million years to find a really hi-res one suitable for our purposes.

You can see that each symbol is made up of a bunch of wedges. These were pressed into the clay with a stylus while it was still wet. If you look closely, you can also spot spaces between words (more obvious at the end of a paragraph).

Here's a little slice of our tablet:

And here's a drawing of that same little slice. This is how scholars usually interact with texts on a day-to-day basis, because taking readable photos of tablets is difficult and going to see the tablets is more difficult. Drawings are made by experts in the presence of the tablets and published so that everyone can look at them.

Here the scholar who did this drawing (published in Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi vol. 39, text no. 4) was working with only some of the fragments, and so has written in the transliteration of the left half, which they weren't copying. So you can see how each cuneiform sign corresponds to a written syllable, sometimes in lowercase, sometimes in all caps, and sometimes in superscript.

What does all this mean? How does it work? Okay. Cuneiform is a really difficult and frustrating writing system to read, for a few reasons. 1) It grew organically from a time before writing existed, so people were just kind of slowly figuring out how to use pictures to represent words; 2) it lasted for thousands of years, so there were all sorts of innovations tacked on without necessarily jettisoning any of the old stuff; and 3) it was borrowed through quite a few languages, almost none of which were related to one another, so it had to twist around and adapt to totally different sounds and word structures. So it's weird! And hard to learn, especially for us, because we are not native speakers of any of the languages that used it, and also we're not a single person existing in a snapshot of time, where cuneiform had a specific form and iteration - we're looking at its whole span of three thousand years.

THAT SAID. I can explain some stuff about it and how it worked! Here goes!

Part 2: How does it work as a writing system?

We start with a picture. Let's use a star. Like this: 𒀭

Or this:

(this is a student text copying the star sign over and over - ignore the leftmost column. I got it from this excellent thread here)

This is the cuneiform sign for the sky, or for a god. In Sumerian, the language that first used cuneiform, the word for "sky" is AN. The word for "god" is DINGIR. So this sign could be pronounced either AN, and mean sky, or DINGIR, and mean god. This sort of usage is called "logographic" - a sign equals a word. It started as just a picture of a star, and came to mean a couple of things associated with the stars.

Eventually, there reaches a point where it doesn't just only mean the word "sky," it also means the syllable "an." That is, you could use it to represent a part of a word, or a grammatical element, that was pronounced "an." (E.g., ma-ah-ha-an: mahhan, which is a Hittite word that means "when," and which is written with four signs, including our an.) This is called the rebus principle: like a rebus puzzle, a picture of an eye can also mean "I" because they sound the same. This usage supplements the logograms rather than replacing them: you could still use "an" to mean "sky." You know which usage is in play based on context. (Or at this stage, maybe you don't. Sumerian is real hard and we don't understand it perfectly.)

You can also use signs a third way, which is designed to make reading easier: as what's called a "determinative." A determinative tells you what type of thing a word is. So if you use the star symbol as a determinative, it comes before a word and indicates that upcoming is a god's name. It's not pronounced when it's used like that. Other determinatives include: male and female markers, plural markers, markers to indicate what something is made of, what kind of animal it is, etc.

So any sign you see could potentially be a word (logogram), a sound (syllable), or a soundless classifier (determinative). In practice, only some signs take on all three of these functions.

When we transcribe signs now, we write them in Latin script based on which function they're serving. That's why, in the above Hittite texts, some of the signs were written in all-caps (for logograms), some of them in lowercase (for syllables), and some of them in superscript (for determinatives).

So then Akkadian borrows the system. They like to spell words out a lot more than the Sumerians do, so more and more signs are used primarily for their syllables, rather than their meaning. The signs also take on more syllabic meanings, because Akkadian has different words behind the logograms, and also has different sounds than Sumerian. A lot of signs end up doing double, triple or even-more-ple duty (e.g. the sign for "ag" can also be read "ak" or "aq" in an Akkadian text). Once again, you know how to read a sign from context, and in Akkadian you usually actually do know, because Akkadian is a Semitic language rather than an isolate like Sumerian, so we understand it way, way better.

Akkadian keeps using the symbols as logograms, though, too. Sometimes they'll spell out a word, but sometimes they'll just use the logographic symbol for it - like how sometimes we write out "two," and sometimes just write "2". Sometimes there are full Sumerian words or combinations of words that have become logograms: that is, they're not loanwords. They're not pronounced in Sumerian. They're written as a symbol (like 2), and the Akkadian word would be pronounced underneath (like "two.") The Akkadians also keep using determinatives.

At this point, most signs at least have a logographic value and a few syllabic values. Also (to make it extra difficult) plenty of syllables have a couple of different signs that could be used to represent them. In total there's a bit over a thousand cuneiform signs, incidentally, but usually only a few hundred were in use at any given time and place.

Then Hittite borrows it! They actually overall reduce the number of signs used, and the number of signs doing double duty, so it's generally simpler to read. Hittite's sound system is totally different from Akkadian's, though - which is totally different from Sumerian's - so they do some weird stuff with which signs represent which sounds. (The result of this is that our understanding of Hittite phonetics is somewhat imperfect.) They do use a ton of logograms whenever they're talking about physical objects, especially ritual offerings. Ritual texts are A PAIN IN THE ASS to read because they're full up with obscure logograms, and so you pore over a signlist trying to work out what the bonkers twelve-wedge sign you've never seen before is, and then when you finally find it you're like, "oh ANOTHER kind of bread. cool cool."

Part 3: Let's Read Hittite! (This is probably excessive.)

So finally, let's read some together! This is two lines from the Ten-Year Annals of Mursili II, an account of the first ten years of that king's reign. It's mostly conquering, but this bit is calmer.

(ANNOYINGLY, Tumblr will not do superscript, or I cannot make it anyway, so I will put determinatives in parentheses.)

nam-ma (URU)Ha-at-tu-ši ú-wa-nu-un nu (URU)Ha-at-tu-ši

gi-im-ma-an-da-ri-nu-un nu-za EZEN4.HI.A ŠA MU.6.KAM i-ya-nu-un

That's the text rendered sign-by-sign. Everything that is separated by a dash, a period, a space, or a parenthesis is a separate sign. Words are separated with spaces. Here's a more normalized rendition of the words (still with the logograms, though).

namma (URU)Hattusi uwanun nu (URU)Hattusi gimmandarinun nu=za EZEN4.HI.A ŠA MU.6.KAM iyanun

"Then I went to Hattusa, and I spent the winter in Hattusa and performed the festivals of the sixth year."

The ú in uwanun in the first line is written with an accent because there are several signs that can mean "u" and this is the second one. Similar for EZEN4: there's more than one sign for EZEN, and this is the fourth. Scholars always write logograms and determinatives in Sumerian, because that's where the meanings were fixed. URU, used before Hattusa, is both the determinative for "city" and the Sumerian word meaning the same. ŠA in the last line is italicized and capitalized because it's a logogram that comes from Akkadian: "ša" means "of" in Akkadian, and the Hittites used Akkadian words as logograms just like the Akkadians used Sumerian words.

Anyway, that's how cuneiform works! If you made it this far you're a hero! <3

[the-silliness-system]

okay uh intro post

hiii. we're the silliness system, and welcome to our side blog. we made this bc. why not. so. yeah. welcome!!

#silliness system fictivez blogging - block this tag if you don't wanna see our posts on the total drama tag

more info under the cut!!:

-please interact

-thin ice

-dni

-pronouns

-rules for asks

-tag guide

please interact:

-other total drama fictives (preferably if you're physically under 18)

-artists and writers (you guys are cool)

-other systems!! hello!!

-other transmascs!! hi!!

-just uh. cool ppl in general.

thin ice:

-coderra, scike, n malejandro shippers (we're not rlly comfortable w/ hearing abt ppl shipping us in lots of detail. asks like "did you have a crush on x" or "how did you feel abt x" are okay though.)

-gore accounts. don't send it to us and ig you're fine??

-people who say a lot of slurs on their blog. only if you can reclaim them. people who say slurs they can't reclaim, dni!!

-anyone who makes kys jokes. don't say it to us and you're fine.

dni:

-racists, homophobes, transphobes, and ableists

-endos/"mixed origin systems"

-people who make nsfw of minors (this includes writing, asmr, and headcanons. not just art. even if they're "aged up for the art/writing/asmr/headcanon")

-anyone who hate furries/therians/alterhumans for no reason (what did they do to you???)

-anti sfw agere/age play accounts

-proshippers/radqueers/transdid

-anti recovery/pro ed

-anti recovery/pro sh

-people who say slurs they can't reclaim

here's everyone + pronouns

Ezekiel - He/Him (questioning they)

Cody - He/They

Sierra/Sisi (pronounced cece)/Kat/Strawberri (go crazy) - She/Cat/They (pretty much any neos)

Mike - He/She

Chester - He/Him

Vito - He/Him

Manitoba - He/Him

Svetlana - She/Her

Mal - anything but she/her. go crazy.

Zee - literally anything. go crazy.

we will be taking asks, but we do have rules:

nsfw is a biggggggg no. we're bodily and mentally minors

please do not ask abt syscourse as we don't want that on our blog. we are anti endo, but we're not interested in getting into any debated about it.

racism, homophobia, transphobia, or ableism of any kind will get you blocked.

sisi has VERY different source memories and does not want to be associated with their canonical actions. asks associating her with these actions will be deleted.

we can delete any ask that makes us uncomfortable for any reason.

just. don't be an asshole for no reason.

posts will be tagged w/ the name(s) of whoever wrote it, and posts with multiple of us talking will have a signoff after our name.

tags:

silliness system fictivez blogging - block this tag if you don't wanna see our posts on the total drama tag

#farm boy yapping - ezekiel

#the codester speaks!! - cody

#sisi blogging :3 - sierra

#mike speaks - mike

#old man uses the internet - chester

#vito postin - vito

#svetlana stuff!! - svetlana

#gday mate - manitoba

#malevolent posting - mal

#rambles from the rambling man - zee

and uh yeah i think thats it. so. have fun!!

banner credits

[hausofmamadas]

| The occupational hazards of living |

⁂

Narcos: Mexico/True Detective Crossover

Pairing: David Barrón & Rustin "Crash" Cohle & OC! Ziggy Morenas & OC! Ernesto "Chato" Quintana Colmenaro

For @narcosfandomdiscordNarcOctober - Day 22 - Day of Cross Pollination

Prompt: Create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom & fanwork with the plot or setting stolen from another fandom

Word count: ≈ 4.5K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, Light Prison Racisms, swearing, racial slurs, drug use, references to trauma/domestic abuse, white supremacy ..? that’s a trigger, right?

The two most important things anyone can do is give life and take it. But with how often both happened, it seemed people didn’t consider the gravity of either near enough. Killing wasn’t a trifling thing. Barrón has had it up to here with these Neo-Nazis and Rustin Cohle is there to support his teaching them a lesson. Also a couple of notes: La Eme = the letter M but stands for Mexican Mafia carnal = (pronounced carnál) made man of La Eme, putting in work = Doing Crimes, particularly violent ones in service to La Eme, vica = vice president, usually of a prison cellblock llevero = keyholder/shotcaller, Eme carnal who oversees a specific geographic region outside prison or an entire prison camarada = non-made Eme members, affiliates crimie = (pronounced crim-ee) short for criminal contra = short for contraband la raza = literally the race, but more the community/the people (similar to gente but more exclusive)

… but first! Let’s meet the cast:

Ziggy

Chato

Ginger

⁂

The most startling thing about prison wasn’t the violence. If witnessing his first drive-by shooting when he was six didn’t acclimate Barrón quickly, his old man’s habit of bouncing him and Matteo off the walls certainly did. So, while the tactics and flavors were new, the violence wasn’t. He likened it to living in a war zone. If you panicked about every shell that blew a road to bits, you’d drop dead of a coronary in no time.

No, the most shocking thing about prison was the tribalism. As a plebito in Logan Heights, he had friends belonging to almost every ethnic group the melting pot of San Diego had to offer. The project neighborhoods were chock full of families of different races, countries, ethnicities: Samoan, Filipino, Black, Japanese, Mexican, Guatemalan, El Salvadorian, and the like. It didn’t matter where the neighbor kid’s family was from, when all they wanted to do was play like Bruce Lee from Way of the Dragon in the scrapyard across the street.

So, when he arrived at his first Youth Authority facility, Rancho Del Campo, just outside the dirt town of Tecate, and was told by some of the older Sureños about the “rules” against consorting with Black or White prisoners, he thought it was a joke.

“Wait, you fucking with me?”

“Nah, lil homie. Deader than dead serious,” Eddie Monstruo aka Eddie the monster, Eme vica for his block, set him straight.

“Even if I knew ‘em on the outside? I can’t just eat a meal with ‘em?”

Eddie shook his head in lamentation.

“Trade contra? Say hi? Nothing?”

“Nothing. Con la raza baila el perro, sin la raza bailas como un perro. And they won’t tell you twice, te lo juro, guey.”

He remembered thinking, Are you kidding? This is America. So indignant. What he wouldn’t give to be that green again. But what really bothered him was how the rules weren’t the same for everyone. Like how the Sureños were more simpatico with White prisoners because La Eme was aligned with the AB. Aryan Brotherhood.

He rarely saw White kids on the outside save for when he sold them dope down by the boardwalk. He sure as fuck didn’t have any whiteboy homies. Shoot, on the outside, whitey was The Man. So, it was a blow when he found out the camaradas were aligned with the AB. The way it was explained to him, the Sureños did it out of “necessity” because of the longstanding alliance between the Norteños and Black Guerrilla Family. Norteños, or Nuestra Familia, were Eme’s sworn enemy. Sometime in the 70s, the top carnals saw the need to boost their profile and numbers with a similar alliance, so they took up with the AB.

Barrón never said shit, but the AB didn’t sit right with him. For guys who were supposedly the “cream of the crop,” the “superior” race, they were really a bunch of lazy, disorganized hicks. They talked a lot of shit about the white race being the “one true people,” “purest of the pure,” acted like they shit gold. But then they had to be off-this-planet high on whatever the crank of the month was, just to put in work. That, or they shot up places indiscriminately. No creep to ‘em. Worse yet, no concern for bystanders.

Barrón knew everyone in the game skated a line of amorality, but he drew a few more lines for himself. One from the beginning: at all possible costs, no bystanders. The other line came with time. After he’d been around the block some, he stopped getting blasted on dope and booze before a hit. He didn’t begrudge some of the guys that did and he had his fair share of early jobs where those gears needed greasing. But after a while, being spun on top of spun felt disrespectful. To the job. To his victims.

The two most important things anyone can do is give life and take it. But with how often both happened, it seemed people didn’t consider the gravity of either near enough. Killing wasn’t a trifling thing. So, what did it say about him if he tried to escape, check out by getting high? What did it say if he couldn’t, with his full faculties and finger on the trigger, look the person in the eye and feel the depth of what he was about to do?

There was no off the hook. Actions have consequences. Guilt and remorse? They were occupational hazards of living if your brain was wired like it was supposed to be. He knew there was a worthy place for him in hell. The least he could do was be an adult about it. It’s not that he fancied murder an honorable business. He just hated cowards and hypocrites. That’s why he hated the AB.

That and they just plain sucked. Best way to ruin a party? Be sure to invite the neo-nazis.

The last time he agreed to work with an AB affiliated outfit was a few years after he got out of San Quentin. The Logan Heights llevero, his old homie Mando, called on Barrón to help some biker gang take back one of their stash houses. Apparently, some AB higher-up named Geronimo Jerry was collecting on a favor Mando owed from back when they did time in Folsom. To pay up, Mando put together a team to back Jerry’s guys up, but a couple of his original soldiers got dropped by the cops and another got arrested, and he needed replacements for the six man operation. The minute Barrón heard whiteboys were involved, he tried to get out of it. But Mando was a full-blown Eme carnal by then, a made-man of the Mexican mafia.

Barrón had seen The Godfather countless times as a kid, one of his dad’s favorites. One of the few good things he could remember about the man at all. At five years old, he thought it entirely innocent when Vito said in that whisper of a voice, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Like Vito was offering Woltz a deal so sweet, he couldn’t pass it up. It wasn’t till later on, when Mando asked him to do this job that Barrón got what Vito Corleone really meant. When a carnal said “jump,” he had no choice. He was locked in.

Thankfully, the two others Mando put on it were Barrio LH guys Barrón already knew. He and Chato had been buds since back in YA and had already done plenty of rip-n-runs together. He’d never worked a job like this with Ziggy Morenas but Ziggy was a known quantity around Shelltown as a reliable soldado. He was also Matteo’s best friend since grade school, so naturally, when they were old enough to start puttin’ in work, they did it together. Matteo only ran with the best and taught Barrón to do just the same.

But it was tricky with Ziggy. Barrón got along with him fine but they’d never been close per se. Unofficial Big Bro Ziggy might’ve been more accurate. Still, when Matty died, they fell out for a bit. They’d only reconnected recently because Ziggy started going out with one of Cheli’s friends, Leó. Even then, the void of Matty was always there. A void they shared but could never relate to each other through. Plus, competent a soldado as he was, the thing about Ziggy? He could be a little serious even for Barrón’s liking, which was saying something. Frankly, Ziggy could be a downright prickly motherfucker. All that noise aside though, he’d take serious over reckless any day. There was no mistaking Chato and Ziggy were solid guys.

The AB crew, on the other hand. Well truly, he’d never seen a more unprofessional group of crimies, save one of their affiliates Barrón had met a few times before, a bony-faced, severe-looking guy named Rust who went by Crash. He had the rangy, haunted look of a starved alley cat and commanded an Ivy League vocabulary that, through a watered-down Texas drawl, betrayed just how whip-smart he was. He also seemed to be the only one who could hold his liquor and his crystal, a fact alone that should’ve meant he was the one calling the shots. Unfortunately for them, the actual “leader” of this mess was a brawny, bald guy with too-wide, glassy blue eyes and a long, braided, red beard, who they fittingly called Ginger.

The “safe house” they met at was a piece of shit, rundown bungalow owned by Jerry. Outside, it looked like an elementary school portable. Inside, it was a hoarder’s paradise. When Barrón, Chato, and Ziggy arrived, there were group of about nine or ten guys huddled around Ginger at a foldable picnic table in the kitchen area. Crash was the only one off to the side, smoking by himself in the corner.

As the three of them passed through the living room to join the AB guys, Barrón was overwhelmed by the stench of cat piss, lighter fluid, and an amalgam smoke mixture of PCP and cigarettes. The shag carpet was crawling with roaches and littered with cigarette butts, stag mags, and Skymall catalogs. And fuck finding a place to sit. Barrón had to slide clothes and stacks of papers off the arm of a dank couch that jutted into the dining area just to lean against it. Chato and Ziggy opted to share the edge of the coffee table facing the kitchen.

They all watched as Ginger laid out the half-assed plan they cooked up. Barrón caught Crash out of the corner of his eye, whose gaunt face seemed caught between an apology and a defeated look of warning, like he was telegraphing the breath and time he’d already wasted trying to reason with these idiots and that he shouldn’t be bothered.  

When it became clear these morons hadn’t done any legwork beforehand, Barrón asked if they had an alternate route to get out of the complex they were hitting in case they got boxed in. “Only one way in and out? In only one car?”**

Eyes buzzing with a kind of feral, wildcard edge that didn’t instill the slightest confidence, Ginger nodded slowly, licking excess coke off the edge of a credit card.

Ziggy too, looked unamused, the tell-tale whites of the skin spreading over his knuckles, visible as his hands balled into fists. Chato noticed too because he and Barrón exchanged uneasy glances.

Dropping some well-timed Spanish, intended only to be understood by the three of them, “Es lo que ya les pregunté. Todo se fija a ser un espectáculo de mierda,” Crash floored the whole room before calmly taking a drag from his cigarette like an asthmatic on his inhaler.  

A big guy named Mitch leaned over close enough to graze Barrón with his beard, and freebase-exhaled this poetry, “We hit trouble? Just gotta fuck it in the ass. Scoop out the soft brains and eat right out the skull.”**

One of the strangest attempts at reassurance Barrón had ever heard. Like he agreed, Crash scoffed at Mitch and rolled his eyes. Homie knew shit was about to go down. Probably because Ziggy looked like he was about to pop his lid. Barrón choked back a chuckle of surprise that Ziggy didn’t slug the fat fuck in the face, right then and there. It wouldn’t have been out of character. Or unwarranted.

Because this was typical AB. These guys never bothered to come up with a plan. They never needed one. Life cut them all the breaks and of course it did. They’d designed it that way.

But as fate would have it, Barrón was actually one to break. He’d reached his limit and put one of their guys down with a bullet in both kneecaps. It was after he questioned their exit strategy.

Some skinny dude, a guy called Whizbang, who’d been spun for probably 48 straight hours, accused him of asking too many questions. Undeniable proof he was an undercover cop. Funny thing was, this moron wasn’t even gonna be part of the actual boost.

“This spic doesn’t say shit the whole time. Now he’s askin’ about tactics? Shifty-eyed motherfucker hasn’t touched shit since we got here.” Whizbang pointed to the curated assortment of drug paraphernalia next to the assault weapons on the table. “What’s wrong? You some kinda beaner cop, ese?” He pronounced it ‘ess-ay.’

Barrón met him with a wall of inscrutable nothing.

The little creep walked over slowly. “You laughin’ at me motherfucker?” Funny, ‘cause he wasn’t even close to smiling.

Relaxed as ever, he drowned the room in a silence that put everyone’s hackles up. Especially Ginger, whose eyes couldn’t get any wider, the whites of his eyes near engulfing his eye-sockets, swallowing his irises along with those pinprick-sized pupils. The look of bored resignation Crash wore every other time Barrón crossed paths with him was now replaced with a smirk of satisfaction; someone who walked through life craving the unexpected and getting more than he’d bargained for.

“Got nothin to say, huh? C’mon Sancho, prove you’re not a cop.”

As he drew closer, he tried his level best to look menacing or as menacing as anyone named Whizbang might hope to be. Patience wearing thin, Barrón’s wall broke and he rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, muttering against gritted teeth and his better judgement, “Can’t believe we have to deal with this shit.”

Whizbang didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go Sancho, talk or take a bump. Show us you’re not a cop.”

Almost close enough to be nose-to-nose now, he took out a dimebag of what looked like PCP from the pocket of his kutte and waved it in front of Barrón’s face. No one but Ziggy and Chato caught his hand nearing a spot at the base of his back.

Eyes blazing like molten tar, nostrils flared, it was a preamble, simple and quick. “You talk too much.”

Then before anyone could blink, two loud pops and poor, skinny-ole Whizbang crumpled to the floor, howling and clutching his knees as blood spurted out all over his hands and seeped through his jeans onto the carpet. Barrón fixed his nine millimeter on Whizbang’s face, trying to decide if he was going to let the skidmark live. But, spotting a wooden crate on the floor next to the table, he aimed there instead.

A moment of stunned silence passed, until everyone realized what he was aiming at and then all the AB guys scrambled for the weapons on the table. Everyone except Crash who was laughing at the ground now, unperturbed and cracked-in-the-head in a way that indicated the guy had seen some shit in his life. What it was, Barrón could only guess.

Crash cut through the chaos with a whistle and a, “tsk tsk, I’d think on that, boys.”

They all froze and looked at him, then at Barrón, then to the barrel of his gun, then to the wooden crate that was filled with over a dozen live grenades, then back at Barrón. Just to hammer the point home, Barrón shot right, then left, on each side of the crate.

The AB guys looked green. Chato and Ziggy looked torn between panic and hysterical laughter, though he swore he detected a hint of approval on Ziggy’s face. Crash looked on the verge of straight-up applause. Based on the sheer glee this little turn of events brought him, he couldn’t have been with the AB. That must be why he wasn’t in charge.

Looking Ginger square in the eye, Barrón explained, voice quiet and even, “We do this my way or I can nuke us all, right now.” He waited a beat but stunned-stupid Ginger still said nothing. “So Chief, what’ll it be?”

Crash ventured, smirking with an I-told-you-so superiority only somewhat softened by the drawl, “Far be it from me to speak out of turn, here, Ginger. But based on the last few months I just spent in Ojinaga and Juarez, uh– I’d say– well, yeah, just– you’d be wise to take these motherfuckers serious, right brother.” He tacked on brother like an afterthought, maybe to soften the blow or maybe just to sound like a condescending prick. Somehow it worked on both fronts.

Ginger stared at the ground and clenched his jaw so hard it looked like it might dislocate. Then spat out, “Fine. Fuckit,” rolling his head around, glaring through half-lidded eyes, “what does Big Beaner over here propose?”

And just like that, Barrón was in charge.

So, of course then, the heist went off without a hitch.

∴

After the job was done, the loot counted and distributed among all interested parties back at the safe house, everyone exchanged tense, albeit still-amicable goodbyes; good will engendered, no doubt, by fact that the whole thing went off seamlessly. Still, Crash was the only whiteboy to shake their hands.

“Nifty little stunt you pulled there. I’d call you a crazy motherfucker, if you hadn’t saved me the headache of getting my ass greased,” he turned around to look over at Ginger’s crew, back to snorting PCP off the foldout table with plastic straws, “and buried six-feet-under with these fuckin’ imbeciles.”

Barrón smiled and nodded diffidently.

Chato spoke up for the first time since they’d gotten back. “Hey, we’re ’boutta grab some grub before we head back to give the lowdown to the big homie—” Crash nodded at Chato like he knew exactly who Mando was. And maybe he did, since he didn’t seem to be rolling with the AB. Just another soldier filling out the ranks like them. “—wanna roll out with us?”

“Sheeit.” Eyes alight with a crystal-meth vigilance that would’ve been off-putting if he weren’t so devil-may-care all the time, Crash surveyed the room, and shrugged. “Beats climbing the walls here with these assholes. Yeah, lemme take you up on that, buy you friendlies a round somewhere.”

Barrón smiled at Chato, little social butterfly. He, himself, would never have thought to invite the guy, but he was glad Chato did. Following Chato’s lead, he asked Crash, “Yo, you need a ride?”

“Nah, I’ll follow on my bike. Y’all know what’s good.”

The three of them looked at each other blankly until Ziggy offered, “Stoney’s?”

“Any place with booze’ll do just fine.”

“Oh, but we gotta make a pit stop at Micky D’s.”

They all looked at Chato like he’d been an extraterrestrial this whole time, and they’d only noticed just now.

“What?” He asked earnestly. “I want a McFlurry.”

They all just kept staring at him.

“Well, they don’t have McFlurries at Stoney’s, obviously.” Like they were the dumbest people on the planet.

Amused, Crash chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I’m in a position to judge, but he’s an odd duck, ain’t he.”

“Aight.” Ziggy cracked a rare smile, the kind really only Chato or Matty could get him to do. “Let’s get the kid a McFlurry. Then Stoney’s.”

The three of them piled into Barrón’s Monte Carlo and rolled out. Crash chugged behind on his Harley.

The crowd at Stoney’s was just starting to pick up, so they opted for the open seats at the bar on the patio.

“First round’s on me.” Crash flagged down the bartender. “What’s everyone’s poison.”

Barrón put his hand on his chest, “Corona,” then pointed to Ziggy. “Y tú, qué?”

Ziggy looked up from the spot on the bartop he had been mean-mugging since they sat down, “Oh, uh—” then glanced at Chato next to him, who was gazing, lost in love, into his McFlurry cup, spooning bite after bite into his mouth, and just ordered for him. “Well, for the lady, a tequila sunrise and me? I don’t— eh, fuck it. Shot of tequila. Nothing fancy.”

Narrowing his eyes, Crash regarded them like he’d been conducting a study that yielded some unexpected results, then passed the order on to the bartender.

When they had their drinks, Crash finally asked what was probably on everyone’s mind. “So, contestame eso,” he slid into Spanish, unclumsily but not entirely without effort. “Ya tango que saberlo. Back there. That just a performance? Or would you’ve done it?”

Somewhat blindsided, less by the question than by who was asking it, Barrón struggled to hide his surprise while he tongued the inside of his cheek, searching for an answer. He got the impression for some reason that Crash could take the truth. There was a hard-lived, stretched-thin quality to him, evidence of a man, unmoored, maybe a bit unhinged, operating at the edge of life itself. But he didn’t want to spook Chato.

And the truth was well, he didn’t actually know. Not then and not now. He didn’t need to because of what he did know: things never would’ve gotten that far. It was a play and the play would’ve worked, even without Crash’s helpful advice to Ginger. Because those AB guys? They were always chickenshit.

Okay, so there. That was an answer. Why didn’t he just say that?

Maybe because of what he wasn’t certain of. That if he’d misjudged the situation, if it hadn’t worked, would he have tried their luck and pulled the trigger anyway? Nah, but he knew that too. Yeah, he would’ve. He meant it. Or at least a part of him. Had to be serious for them to take it serious.

But he settled on equivocation. “What d’you think?”

Ball back in Crash’s court, and the way his jaw cocked to the side, it was clear he wasn’t much for accepting non-answers for answers. “What do I think? Well, what’s the use in asking if I already know?”

Fair enough.

An impatient Ziggy piped up, turning to Barrón. “Quién se cree que es, este pinshe gringuillo?” But before Crash could answer, Ziggy swiveled back around and laid it out for him. “If he hadn’t meant it, we would’ve gone along with their cracked, cracker-ass plan. And if we went along with their plan, we’d either be in jail or riddled with bullets right now, probably buried in the middle of some dirt lot along with those crusty hicks. Okay?”

Huh. Ziggy, having his back like that, defending him. That was … nice, new. Unphased though, Crash put his hands up in armistice. “I ain’t complainin’ insofar as I’m curious as to the level of commitment to the bit.”

“Alright,” Barrón said in a sigh. “Yeah, I meant it. Had to, didn’t I?”

Finally, that seemed enough truth to humor Crash, as he nodded, mouth cocked up in a smug half-smirk, and took a swig of his bourbon. Barrón saw it then. Este güey knew it all along but wouldn’t be satisfied unless it was said out loud. Ziggy scowled and rolled his eyes, maybe still irritated that Crash had asked in the first place. But probably more resentful that he’d folded so quick, telling this outsider the truth.

Poor Chato seemed to be the only one taken by surprise, as he froze mid-bite, eyes wide, plastic spoon hanging out of his mouth. And all of a sudden Barrón and Ziggy busted up laughing. With less investment but still in on the joke, Crash couldn’t stop himself chuckling too. As they all sat there, in varying levels of stitches, Chato just looked at them all, confused. Until he realized the joke was how ridiculous he looked, and then he cracked up right along with them.

When they settled down, Barrón wiped tears from his eyes while Chato contentedly sipped on his tequila sunrise, and Ziggy flagged the bartender again for another shot.

The bartender brought his shot and Ziggy knocked it back before asking Barrón, “Yo,” voice thick as he swallowed hard, “should we work on getting our story straight? Like, what do we tell Mando?”

Chato glanced nervously at Ziggy, agreeing, “Yeah, like are we gonna tell how you kneecapped that skinny guy–“

“Whizbang,” Crash cut in to remind them his name, as if it mattered.

“–and threatened to blow the whole crew away?”

Staring ahead at all the bottles lined up on shelves, lit technicolor by the bar lights, Barrón said cooly, “Is that what happened?”

Brows furrowed, Chato looked from Barrón, to Ziggy, to Crash, then back to Barrón. “Yo, is this a trick question or—?”

“No fool,” Ziggy shot him a disgruntled look. “It’s not a trick question. And yea, fool, that’s what happened.”

“So, that’s what we tell him.”

Chato couldn’t compute, looking at Barrón like he’d sprouted a second smaller, uglier head. With an air of amused cynicism, Crash watched the three of them bickering, citizens in the town square like they were on Court TV.

“Woahwoahwoah,” Chato practically gurgled with a mouth full of McFlurry, “you forreal right now?”

“Look, Jerry and Mando go way back. He’s gonna hear about it. Best he hears direct. Besides, you can’t lie to a carnal when you go off the reservation like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Barrón saw Ziggy’s head gravely bobbing up and down in agreement.

Chato was still in disbelief. “Dude, he’s gonna cap you right there on the spot.”

“Actions have consequences,” Barrón explained simply, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “I’ll see that it doesn’t blow back on you. S’on me.”

Ziggy seemed comfortable in resignation at the prospect of Mando losing his shit on Barrón. Chato was still unconvinced. Pobre was genuinely concerned for him.

Assessing Chato with something like doomed admiration, Crash pointed out, “Milkshakes aside, kid’s got the kinda heart they don’t teach in school.” Then looking around at all of them like the thought just dawned on him, he asked, “How old are you guys, anyway?”

Index finger pointing at his chest, Ziggy said flatly, “Twenty one, last month,” then pointed to Chato, “nineteen,” then to Barrón who finished for him, “eighteen.”

Crash whistled, “Sheeit. And I thought I didn’t have childhood.”

Chato still looked ill at ease. In an effort to cheer him up, Barrón quipped, “No hay tos, compa. I’m living on borrowed time anyway. Shoot, I was ready to die— what,” he smirked and glanced at the clock hanging above the doorway that led from Stoney’s patio back inside, “three hours ago?”

Chato gave him the side-eye but must’ve worked a little bit because his shoulders weren’t crunched up by his ears as much.

After a few minutes of silence, something occurred to Barrón. “Hey, why’d you ask?”

Crash downed the remainder of his bourbon in one big gulp and came back up smiling like he was waiting for that exact question to be asked. He set the empty glass upside down on the bar, and pulled out a cigarette, tapping the tip of it on the bottom of the glass, before putting it to his lips and lighting up.

Through another one of those deep, asthmatic drags, voice thick, he said, “Well, I was jus’ thinking, the kinda nuts it takes, going off book like that? But the three of you still kept your cool. Level headed nutjobs are hard to find. So, might be I got another job for you boys. If you’re interested. And Mando’ll lend you.”

Well that stumped them, as they stood there, puzzled looks on all their faces because actually who the fuck was this guy? And did he know Mando? Or he was just a that good a listener?

Crash gave them a wily look through the two thick columns of smoke that poured from his nostrils. “Y’all ever heard of a guy by the name of Amado Carrillo Fuentes?”

They came back at him with nothing but crickets.

“You might know him as El Senior de los Cielos.”

That’s when Barrón knew he’d sized this guy up correct. Crash, Rust, whoever this guy was, dropping a big name like that, guaranteed he’d seen and done some shit in his life.

And now, evidently, he was looking for business partners. Or maybe a couple of suckers. Which one would depend on whatever came out of his mouth next.

═

** indicates lines robbed directly from True Detective (Because you know I wish I came up with that soft brains line but alas, I am no Nic Pizzolato)

taglist: @narcolini @narcosfandomdiscord

[chthonicgodling]

10 for chal and 18 for pho and icy ?

Ty!!! again questions from here w ocs from here - aaaand again behind a cut cause LONG Lmfao aaughhhh

10- If they have a love interest how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? (Re: Chal)

FENIXE AND I DIDNT PLAN CHAL AND BEL GETTING TOGETHER AT AAAAALLLL just like everything we’ve ever done it just sort of happened! So Chal was pretty solidly the way she was since before Bel, BUT certain traits of hers did definitely end up becoming emphasized just by nature of putting the two of them next to each other especially one specific thing like

The thing about Bel is that, as a mindreader and also as a split god linked to his own twin sibling, Bel’s not…. good at…….. communicating his own thoughts and feelings? Like Bel’s always been used to Ty just knowing everything about him all the time cause the two of them are ALWAYS in each others heads they can’t turn it off. That’s not to say Bel isn’t extremely well spoken and emotionally intelligent he just uh. Forgets to Do That On The Outside.

‘Cause then you put him next to someone like Chal who is not only incredibly imperceptive of how other people are feeling (she has gotten so much better with this but lmao still!!) but also NOT in tune with her OWN thoughts and emotions, and so all of that “Chal-ness” about Chal just jumped way more intensely to the forefront. Bel’s always poker faced and never reveals what he’s feeling - Chal, his partner, is frantically babbling every single thing she’s thinking and experiencing the second anything pops into her head. Bel himself summed up pretty concisely a while ago (yes I went back to 2017 to find tbis exact quote lol) - “I think the way we love each other is different.  You're more intense, I'm more subtle.”

so was that on PURPOSE okay no like I said Chal was never designed with Bel specifically in mind but. Is this something about Chal that’s become more pronounced as she developed alongside Bel! yyeeessss. So to foil alongside Bel Chal has gotten LOUDER and BABBLIER

fun fact re all of this though that idk if I’ve ever shared - they have had MANY conversations about their extreme communication differences cause it has caused problems due to Chal not!! being able to read minds and Bel!! forgetting that not everyone can read minds!!!!! They have a rule set up between them that Chal can ask at any time “what are you thinking” and Bel will always answer honestly no exceptions 💞 Chal asks this 40 times a day and it’s become so second nature to them that she’s even occasionally slipped up and done it to like, Tory, Gany, lol

18- What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? (Re: Icy & Pho)

the way these are both Chal related cause the last time they were really around in canon doing anything was around her lmfao—

For Icy: I’ve yet to formally do anything about this in canon but Icy’s still on and off crushing on Chal solely because I think it’s really funny so i’m stalling as long as possible since Neo and Icy are forever endgame anyway. HOWEVER I have discovered in my daydream planning that the way Icy will finally and definitively stop fawning over her is gonna be the moment he finally has an actual in depth conversation with Chal in order to discover that Chal, just like Icy, is an anxious wreck disaster - maybe even more so - and the shock of looking in a metaphorical mirror will be enough to knock some sense back into him. No way can Icy be the put together confident one in a relationship they can’t BOTH be falling apart aahhhh. Icy’s gonna realise that he can only date an opposite! HMM WHO’S ICY’S POLAR OPPOSITE AND CONVENIENTLY HIS BEST FRIEND AT HIS SIDE —

For Pho: this came to light for me the moment Pho and Chal actually met each other in canon cause I hadn’t realized how Pho was going to behave until he was behaving as such (I said, as the person responsible for writing and controlling all of these characters — shhhhhhhh) — is the discovery that Pho REALLY can’t stand Chal and it’s NOT for any of the reasons anyone else has hated her lmfao?! Literally nothing to do with Thanatos?!?!!

Pho and his dayglo glitter projection self has always existed outside of “time” in the sense that since like, physical age 4 onwards Pho has never actually ACTED his age, babbling in competent paragraphs due to his powers as a brain-mental(dream) god advancing him well beyond typical development. Kid-not-really-a-kid. Who else in the palace was merely kid-shaped but actually mentally existing well beyond their physical age???

Why, mindreading mindgods Ty and Bel of course, who froze themselves deliberately in the shape of children at age 7ish to be 7 forever with their big sister Meli, despite their powers advancing them outside the confines of age and space and time. they’re mind gods - they’re every mind!

and that’s a lonely life to live forever but not when you have a glittery buddy who’s also masquerading the same way to hang out with :-) besties! Except of course then Bel and Ty moved to Chal’s house— and dropped the facade, for Chal’s sake, to actually appear as the adults they were. For Chal’s sake! happily ever after for Chal!

…well. then. Pho was quite dismayed to discover that his besties weren’t kids to hang out with anymore. they didn’t even tell him fffdkfkff whoops??? like they just showed up at the palace again all different and Pho hanging out there with Icy was like what the FUCK??? so when Pho finally met Chal the discovery - suddenly became very clear to me that he harbors QUITE a bit of jealous resentment against her for “taking Bel and Ty away” and uhhh. will this be a grudge Pho holds forever?! maybe lmao! everyone’s oblivious no one can read Pho’s mind cause it’s all glitter sooooo……….. hm…….. keeping that one in the back of my mind……

[mrnic0tinesticky]

( ◜‿◝ )♡...

!! meet the blogger !!

Name: nic / nicy (pronounced Nicky)

Age: ... Minor :p

Pronouns: they/he (I don't mind femme compliments/identifiers)

CW: 188 lbs (gross ew.)

CGW: 150 lbs

Ugw: 110 lbs ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

(American idk these weights in kg feel free to lmk tho !)

i LOVEEEEE all things pink and pretty !! My aesthetics very from time to time, but they mainly switch from grungy and masculine, to all things feminine and pink !!

I was born in Puerto Rico but I now live in the u.s, I speak English, Spanish, and a little bit of simplified Chinese (a little I'm still learning lol!)

BOUNDARIES!!!

Anyone below the age of 15 / above the age of 18 DNI !!

Trans-racial, trans-age, trans-species DNI !! I do not support those identities

Neo pronoun users (ex. Kitten/kittenself daddy/daddyself bullshit.) Xe/xem, and such is ok !!

MAPs/furries DNI !!

if your purposely using the incorrect tags to trigger others I will report and block you !.

Be respectful. Don't get competitive under my post ! Everyone's ED is different and not everyone is proud .

[pushingdaisies1]

Oh totally every PC character is dope.

For C1 I'd have to say Vex/Vax i love both of them incredibly much and i relate to them a lot on different levels. As an example i lost my mom early not in a death type of way but in the way that she isn't even trying to accept who i am by using my dead name and the wrong Pronounce.

For C2 it's Mollymauk just the minute he was introduced i connected with him because he's so incredibly eccentric and different. I've been named the "weird" kid for basically all my life so having a character that embodies that made me feel so good. After Molly died i was absolutely distraught and Kinda started to cling onto Caduceus. I also absolutely adore Veth thought because well after her True form is revealed to be on the chubby side it made me happy. I've always been immensely struggling with my body image due to different things so seeing that and the general body positivity in her character just warms my heart.

For C3 it's Ashton and Orym Ashton because as a Non-binary 19 year old who uses Neo Pronounce in a city which does not accept LGBTQ+ and a family which doesn't want to understand it, seeing a character use those pronouns made me feel so valid i also connect to him in a different way though.

Rehehe yah!! Ohhhh icicicicic, im really sorry about your mom not giving you the respect you deserve. Thats just uncalled for , but other than that I totally see what you mean<3 - out of the twins id probably relate most to Vex, both due to her personality and her connection with her brother Vax. Me and my sisters have a similar bond (being like hand and hand chaos gremlins) and we're just in general pretty close, which is where I also relate to Vax cause I think I'm just like a general protector type of person lol. SAME SAME SAMEEE!! To be fr... Mollmauk was the reason I realized I wasn't cis LOL. Hes always been very close to my heart as well haha , I always found his story super sweet. In general he was always a truly charming character , forever a bbg in my heart haha. Caduceus dudeee!! I love him so muchhhh!!! When he was talking to Fjord and said (this is my memory) "I don't really talk with people but I talk to people and I know people" During the episode after the whole blown up stuff in Nicodranas?? Shit hit super close to him , as well as he's just so awesome and fluffy and genuinely a true awesome character lol. I also get what you mean about Veth!! Her true form transformation reveal made me giggle and kick my feel back and fourth. Im also more on the chubby side as well as having some bad self-image issues , which made me gravitate towards Veths character more. She embraces herself and her identity/past sm it makes me feel so welcomed yk?? I totally understand where you come from when talking about Ashton and Orym. Your family should accept you dude, and it's on them for missing out on the amazing person you are<3 I definitely also gravitated toward Ashton cause of the fact I both use He/they pronouns and Im agender. Their very much like "fuck everyone and everyone else's opinion on me and myself" which just makes me feel really seen you know? I love watching them rage out and be the sickest punk rock rock out there lol. Personally I relate to orym cause Im used to being like the mediator/voice of reason in a lot of things you know? Like I try to make sure everyone's okay , doing fine , or always try to boost moods one way or another.

[blurred-pride]

Im glad the trips went well :D

:0 tag us if you post the Dino

Those sound like great ideas for gender system(s) I think some rly cool things could come from that >:D

Yeah same I’m slowly began fronting the most and-

>:) now I rly wanna make the coining blog

Have any name/url ideas?

It probably could be super “fancy” yk how made are like sunflower themed or lovecore etc I don’t think we could keep up with fancy tags and keeping the blog looking fancy but we could maybe keep up a space theme

Oh yea- gotta take care of the body /Silly/Cj (cope joke)

We’ll go enjoy that tea and time with partners (I need more info on the dnd story line lmao what’s going on, how did he get to the bar, why does he need to conceal his identity?!/Silly/Nf)

Dino post is coming up in a moment, I need to do the dishes real quick and take a picture of him!!! (And make an image description for said picture so that may take a small bit because I am Bad at those- /lh) Thank you!!

I don't front the most but I have a tendency to get stuck in front quite a bit when I do front, and I have to readjust to needing actual things like food instead of just needing that as more of a "this is a thing I do not because I need to because I'm a metaphysical human thing/snake but because it feels more normal and 'human-ish' to do so than to go without". (/source and headspace) I also end up having to remember I can't just shapeshift, and so I end up changing shape in the innerworld and then having phantom limbs or sensations in the outerword. I think our most frequent fronters at the moment are Remus (he/they/it/any neos), and Virgil (he/they/it/scary neos), but I don't know for sure because I don't really manage that part of keeping track of the system. /tangent

Make the blog!!! It'd be great!!! (/nf) I don't remember if our blog has a theme other than "queer mogai"? And then space because space is a long term hyperfixation of ours, and bat-cat from CRK because someone decided they liked him and used him for a barcode icon thing. /lh

Some name/URL ideas: Spacequeers, Coining-in-Space, and heyyyycoining !!

I will!!! And of course!! So basically our character is a bright blue and pink tiefling named Aribis, he uses he/him pronouns, and occasionally they/them alongside he/him, and he grew up in a temple so he's been really sheltered from everything as a kid, and never really got that whole socializing with people thing down as a kid, it was just a bunch of stuffy adults so he didn't really get the chance. One day he was out in town, just doing some stuff, when a deer lady named Mylico (pronounced my-lih-ko) came up and asked if he wanted to go on a quest. Aribis said yes, and he joined the party to find an ancient lost city. One of the first few days he threatened another player character named Ace (he/him), and Ace threatened him back until they made a truce. Eventually, the party split up, and he and Ace got paired together to go down a different path and explore. The two met an evil old lady, who fed Aribis a poison cookie that knocked him out for a while. Ace defeated the old lady and carried Aribis back to the rest of the party. Aribis remained passed out for a while, if I remember right someone healed him?? And then Aribis was awake for about all of thirty minutes, since the cookie had more effects and knocked him out again. Dude kinda went into a coma for four days (We had left town and couldn't play, so they just knocked him out again with our permission.) , and during that coma the party found the lost city, and Ace is carrying Aribis the entire time, except the city wasn't actually lost. In the world this is in, elves aren't liked or trusted at all, and tieflings are very much the rich and extremely upper class. Aribis is not trusted in this city at all, and it would go into lockdown if everyone knew he was a tiefling. So, the rest of the party raided a scarecrow and stole its clothing, which included fancy boots (Aribis had boots, but they replaced them anyways for some reason??), a flannel, and a comically large hat. Ace provided some gardening gloves and boom! Disguise for a passed-out Aribis!! The party then plans to stage a revolution to help make everyone realize that elves are not horrible, and to take down the tiefling government. (Aribis is chill with this btw, he does not like most tieflings because they tend to be snobby and rude from wealth and such.) The party plans said revolution at an EXTREMELY fancy restaurant, and brings Aribis along for some reason. They order him a fruit salad, and kinda just slump him over into a chair, still disguised as a gardener-cowboy. (I joked that he faceplanted into the salad and nobody noticed) Other things that happened while he was passed out, in no particular order: the party caught an owl for the goddess of winter and gave her proposal advice to help her propose to her girlfriend (Ironic because our last DND character, Finley (they/them), attempted to catch a blood hawk in a backpack and failed, thus exposing that their backpack wasn't sentient, but instead had a very small octopus shaped god in it, and Aribis missed the opportunity to catch a bird.), had Christmas and new years (days are different in this world), Ace and another character, Hermes (he/him), made a bet with a god, Ace gambled against said god, and now Hermes has this god who owes him unlimited favors forever, and some other things I don't remember. The session that we had today included Aribis waking up after four days, still dressed up, and getting a run-down of all that happened, another threatening match between Ace and Aribis (Aribis threatened to both bite and cry at him), and bonding time over laser tag. Aribis also at some point acquired a pet rat named Pi-Rat in the woods. I probably forgot a lot of stuff since I am not the one who played the last few sessions, but that's all I know right now. :)

-Janus (he/she, masc/neutral terms)

[neopronouns-list]

Hello I use xe/xeir/xem pronounced like zay/zem and I was wondering if there was any other neopronouns like such?

oh, there are LOTS. so many. these are just the ones i can up with on the spot, this specific type of neo is so easy to change letters around in and have it still sound amazing. and this is just x. same thing can be done with z.

xe/xem/xeyr/xeyrs/xemself

xe/xem/xer/xers/xemself

xe/xer/xers/xers/xerself

xe/xei/xeim/xeims/xeiself

xe/xei/xeir/xeirs/xeiself

xi/xir/xeir/xirs/xirself

xi/xim/xis/xis/ximself

xi/xis/xir/xirs/xirself

xi/xiy/xiyr/xiyrs/xiyself

xi/xiym/xiys/xiys/xiyself

xy/xym/xyr/xyrs/xyrself

xy/xys/xyr/xyr/xyself

xy/xyr/xyrs/xyrs/xyrself

xy/xye/xyer/xyers/xyerself

xy/xyem/xyems/xyems/xyemself

[sage-nebula]

Neo: The World Ends With You - Thoughts So Far

I’m on Day 6 of Week 1 and I want to compile my thoughts so far — not in a formal post, but at least all in one place, especially since I feel that jotting down what I think / feel as I go through will help me write my review when I’m done. Spoilers under the cut, obviously — and while it should go without saying, do NOT comment on this post with spoilers from later in the game, so help me. Even if I pose a question that gets answered later on — hell, especially if I do — don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I will find out in my own time.

With that said . . .

So obviously, I’m really enjoying it so far. You can tell that the writers / devs haven’t lost their touch despite it being thirteen years since the first game was made. You can also tell that a lot of love went into this; this isn’t something they churned out just to make money (if they thought this was a moneymaker we wouldn’t have had to wait 13 freaking years for the sequel), but rather something they really, really wanted to make. Not a total passion project, because those aren’t allowed in the world of capitalism, but there is still a lot of love there. 

That said, more specific thoughts:

THE MUSIC. It doesn’t really come as a surprise given that TWEWY’s soundtrack was phenomenal, but god, they brought it right back for this game. The remixes (“Someday”, “Three Minutes Clapping”, “Transformation”, “The One Star” etc) are all excellent, but the new tracks are phenomenal too. Tbh I’m not sure how any of the Players get any fighting done when the music makes you want to just bust a move right there in the scramble. It’s so good.

Most of the characters are great too. Of the Wicked Twisters, I think Fret is my favorite; he is pure of heart, dumb of ass, and I love that for him. I do like Rindo too, of course, and his habit of overthinking everything (since Fret has zero brain cells, Rindo has to make up for it), but him being standoffish / socially anxious and snarky makes him feel a bit like a toned down Neku, so he doesn’t catch my interest quite as much. And while I do like Nagi, the way she speaks in like . . . medieval-esque language is a bit off-putting. In particular it’s weird that Rindo didn’t tell her to knock it off with the “Lord Rindo” stuff since using such an honorific would be considered awkward / embarrassing in Japanese. I guess he’s just too socially anxious / awkward to tell her to stop, but it’s still a bit distracting.  Other than that, I’m really not a fan of Kubo (one of the Reapers) or . . . Susukichi, I think his name is? The leader of the Ruinbringers. I find them both to be pretty annoying, haha. But I love Shoka, as well as Kanon, and Motoi is a good bean, too. As for the Deep River Society . . . those nerds have issues lmao. Especially their leader. Although I can’t fault him for breaking down sobbing when he realizes that he now stands a very good chance of getting erased, which reminds me . . .

HOW ARE WE ON DAY SIX AND THE WICKED TWISTERS STILL HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BEING ERASED IS?? We have kind of an inverse situation where where Neku knew right away that he would get erased if he failed the missions / didn’t win the Game, but didn’t find out until later that he was dead. Here, the Wicked Twisters learn that they’re dead fairly quickly (and Fret has some realistic denial going on about it at first, though he gets over it pretty quickly), but they’re still completely in the dark about the fact that their souls will get wiped from existence if they lose despite erasure being mentioned at least a handful of times. Like I guess it was never spelled out for them, but especially as someone who played the first game about a million times, it’s a bit maddening to see them be like, “Why is he crying like his life is on the line? lol whatevs no big deal la di da!” Since the Wicked Twisters aren’t aware of the stakes, a new player wouldn’t be either, and so it rather tones down the urgency that was felt in the original game where everyone was very much aware that they were fighting for their right to exist.

Since I brought up Motoi, I want to say that I just played past the part where he reveals that he was An0ther, who is apparently Rindo’s favorite blogger / poet. I feel like this is meant to be similar to how Hanekoma was CAT, Neku’s favorite artist, but it doesn’t carry the same impact because a.) as far as we know An0ther didn’t have anything to do with how Rindo died; b.) we haven’t seen Rindo bring An0ther or his poetry up that much, much less have anything An0ther said be his entire life’s mantra; c.) we haven’t gotten to know Motoi that well either. Like we met him once before this revelation. That said I’m not sure it was supposed to have the same impact as the Hanekoma = CAT reveal, but if it was then it did fall short. (Also I saw it coming the second Motoi quoted An0ther lmao.)

Speaking of Hanekoma, WHERE IS MY MANS??? I know he has to show up at some point because if I’m not mistaken we saw him in the trailers. And if I am mistaken then he still has to show up at some point because he played a central role in the “A New Day” epilogue chapter of Final Remix, what with Coco being unable to control him and him knowing what was going on, plus he was testing Neku for something in “Another Day” and that has to be whatever is going on in this game. I’m sure he’ll come in for some big reveal later, but like, we have a new street artist in this game (MKN) with no mention of CAT as of yet, and I’m just like . . . where is he. Where is my mans. What is he doing. Bring him to me.

That said, we already got to see my #2 mans (Kariya♥) so I am happy about that at least. 

Back to my mans for a hot second: I actually erased my demo save data and started fresh to remind myself of everything when I got the game, and idk if it was in the demo or not, but regardless—at the end of the demo portion there’s this shot of the sky and then this nameless voice is like, “It’s finally starting. I hope you wake up soon. I don’t want you to miss all the action.” My current guess is that the speaker was Hanekoma, speaking to Joshua. Joshua being “asleep” would explain why the Game is as screwed up as it is right now, what with it having been going on for a year and people able to choose to play again and again and again while the rest of the Players—who tbh should also be counted as winners if they survive the week!—are trapped in limbo.

Because that’s the thing: I know that it was partially a lie to cover for the fact that Joshua’s game with Megumi was set to last three weeks, but at the end of the third week Megumi told Neku that a new rule was being put in place that wouldn’t allow repeats of the Game anymore. But even setting that aside, in the original Shibuya UG rules, anyone who survived the Game could get a wish at the end, whether that was to be brought back to life or made into a Reaper. This is why at the end of Week 1, the three winners were Neku, Shiki, and Beat. However, here the Ruinbringers are able to keep everyone trapped and they have been trapped for at least a year, given what Motoi said. It’s completely different rules and I’m sure that this has something to do with the fact that the majority of the Reapers we’ve seen so far are from Shinjuku (at least going by the spoilery trailer, and iirc it was confirmed in “A New Day” that Coco was from Shinjuku actually, but it’s been a while so I could be wrong about that).

Speaking of, has anyone noticed that the possibly-Shinjuku Reapers don’t have wings? No?

ALSO speaking of Coco, at least tangentially: Coco was the one who revived Minamimoto at the end of “A New Day”. However, he’s definitely not how I would have expected. Like despite Coco using the Taboo Noise sigil to bring him back, he’s clearly not in his Taboo form. He’s using psychs as a Player would, rather than a Reaper. And while it’s clear he’s up to some form of nonsense, it’s unclear exactly what form of nonsense he’s up to. I know that he’s here for fanservice and that him looking like Nagi’s bias from Elegant Strategy is a tongue-in-cheek nod to that, but I have too much faith in this series to think that’s all this is. I’m wondering if being revived for a second time fixed whatever screws were loose in his head before? Or if he was revived as a human Player by like, Joshua or something? (Although why Joshua would do that I have no idea. Maybe Hanekoma instead?) Hmmm . . .

Small aside, but we all know that Nagi has put herself into hundreds of thousands of yen in debt for Tomonami merch lolol RIP Nagi. (I’m also interpreting that she’s not actually older than Rindo or Fret, but she just skipped a bunch of grades. Like I feel like this might have been lost in translation a bit, and that she’s a senpai to them because she’s in uni but she’s not actually older than them. I could be wrong but that’s how I’m interpreting it right now. She just doesn’t look or act older than them.)

Oh another minor annoyance, but whether it’s due to the partial 3D environment or something else, I’m SO ANNOYED that some of the streets aren’t connecting as they should now. Like, how going in the direction of Molco spits you out at Spain Hill or 104 or whatever? I don’t remember exactly what area it was, but it wasn’t Molco!! I’m sure if I hadn’t played the original a million times like a loser this wouldn’t be such a big deal to me, but I have and it is lmao. Also, they’ve had the Shibuya Underpass / Cat Street blocked off this whole time and I’m like :( let me go to Cat Street :( let me see my mans

I’m relieved that Ken Doi is still making delicious food and I look forward to his ramen curry fusion. I was really upset about RamenDon being gone at first but as long as Ken Doi is still around I am happy.

My dinner just arrived so this is all I have to say for now, but I will update more as I play more. I love this game and I’m so happy to be back in Shibuya, even if the characters pronounce it wrong sometimes (saying “ShiBOOya” like pls . . . you are supposed to be Japanese . . . get it right . . .)

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Alt-pop newcomer LVRA (pronounced loo-rah, real name Rachel Lu) has shared her first new track of 2021, ‘DEAD’. Following up on 2020’s debut EP LVCID, she explains: “There’s a unique power you gain when you stop caring about what people think of you. It’s an ongoing battle, though, and ‘DEAD’ is about the conflict between the fantasy of not caring and how you feel in reality. The video captures that, with a version of myself who has her shit together and another that is fighting to survive.The use of red represents fear in the human condition, but in Chinese culture it also symbolises happiness. One rarely comes without the other.” The track – a cultural mix that matches LVRA’s heritage with bleeding edge ultra HD pop – is the first taster of a second EP, which is set to follow later this summer. You can check out an Oscar McNab (Lacuna Common, Oscar Lang). directed video above. [via Dork]

Los Angeles artist Wallice follows debut single 'Punching Bag' with new coming of age anthem, '23'. Wallice finds herself caught between two places on fresh cut, '23'. “Too old to be a runaway”, but also too young to consider herself as grown up, the 22-year old yearns for a past that still has not happened yet. Working with producer David Marinelli since her return to California, Wallice has crafted a sound that is unique without taking itself too seriously. An angst-driven remonstration at the powerlessness of her age, '23' is also the clearest stamp of her musical identity to date. The expression of this purgatory is a cathartic garage-rock headbanger complemented beautifully by Wallice’s playful lyrics. “I just can't wait to be / all grown up and 23,” she admits in the song’s irresistible chorus. “Tell me what is wrong with me / I miss my Ohio fake ID”. In artfully portraying the limbo state of the age, Wallice describes the events in her life that have led to her own disaffection. “It’s hard not to compare your own professional success to that of your similarly aged peers. I dropped out of university in New York after studying Jazz Voice for a year, and my dad was VERY disappointed, to say the least, so it was hard not to feel like a loser in that sense. “The specific age 23 doesn’t have any milestones associated with it, but it’s more the idea of just looking forward to the future,” Wallice continues on the meaning of the track. "Much like how people ‘reset’ every new year, it’s comparable to be ‘older and wiser’ with each birthday, but instead of constantly looking to the future, it is important to be happy with where you are”. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Coach Party have shared their new single 'Everybody Hates Me'. The Isle of Wight group are gearing up to release their incoming EP, with After Party pitting their potent indie pop influences against bittersweet lyricism. Out shortly, the EP is teased by new thumper 'Everybody Hates Me', with Coach Party adding a neat gloss to their guitar pop sound. Out now, 'Everybody Hates Me' comes equipped with a neat video steered by Daniel Broadley. Vocalist Jess Eastwood comments: “‘Everybody Hates Me’ isn’t a metaphor for anything; it’s literally about those times when you convince yourself that everyone, including your best friends don’t actually like you, and your self-confidence is so low that you don’t even blame them. Disguise that sentiment in an up-beat singalong, and there you have the third single from our new record. The video is a direct extension of the song. It swings between the insecurities of feeling like you’re not good enough amongst your friends, and the sense of unity you get from those same people when you finally wake up from your rut. Everyone feels that way from time to time, but you gotta remember that sometimes your irrational self is going to take over. And when it does, try to remember that you’re awesome, and your friends really are your friends.” [via Clash]

Pussy Riot have gone hyperpop on their latest song 'Toxic'. The Dorian Electra collaboration features glitched out production by Dylan Brady of 100 gecs and tackles a relationship gone bad. Written, directed, and edited by Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova, the music video features jarring, bloody imagery matching Brady’s production. “Care about yourself, cherish your mental health, and stay away from relationships that poison you!” Tolokonnikova writes in the YouTube description. “Amen.” In the song’s lyrics, Tolokonnikova tells off an ex. “You are my daily poison so annoying,” she sings. “You’re even more toxic than my employer.” The hook continues the theme. “This combo is deadly — ’cause we used to be friendly,” Electra laments. “And now my heart is a weapon / You made me… toxic.” [via Consequence of Sound]

Baby Queen has dropped a brand new track, ‘These Drugs’. Bella Latham’s second new track of the year – following up on the anthemic ‘Raw Thoughts’ – she explains in an Instagram post: “This is a story I really needed to tell you and I didn’t know how to for a long time. When I first wrote this song, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be allowed to release it or that releasing it would be a particularly good idea. It just felt really important and that’s all I’ve ever wanted music to be; so I knew I had to share it with you.I was in a very bad place at the time… very depressed and convinced I wasn’t a good person and didn’t deserve good things. Life is different now. I’m happy. I’ve learnt that the antidote to my misery is gratitude and caring about myself even when I don’t want to, until it becomes a habit. It’s natural to look for escapism but there’s more freedom in working to build a life you like… and by that I literally just mean learning to love yourself. You, with all your scars and all your regrets, are home to an actual life! You’ve been through so much and you’ve come out the other side stronger because of it – it’s remarkable really. You’ve got to invite the sad parts of yourself in to have a tea party with you. Don’t ignore them and cover them up. If you don’t look at them, they’ll make themselves seen! You are so worthy of love and I hope that if you don’t see that yet, you will learn to in time. Anyways guys,” she finishes, “this is all very intense. I love you very much and I hope you can understand and relate in some way.” [via Dork]

Greentea Peng has shared her new single 'Nah It Ain’t The Same'. The UK neo-soul voice is an outstanding talent, someone who pushes herself further into that hip-hop / jazz nexus with each release. Produced by Earbuds, new single 'Nah It Ain't The Same' is out now, one that reflects the chemistry she has with her live band The Seng Seng Family. Dipping into drum 'n' bass, her vocals have a calming, beatific feel, with 'Nah It Ain't The Same' tugging at matters personal. She comments: “Deliberations of a (hu) MAN, subject to the pendulum's swing, I give you ‘Nah It Aint The Same’ off my album MAN MADE. An expression and exploration of my utter confusion and inner conflicts amidst shifting paradigms.” Greentea Peng stars in the new video, with Machine Operated sculpting the video. [via Clash]

renforshort has debuted a brand new single, ‘virtual reality’. The first taster of a forthcoming second EP, the track sees her “connect” with Kellen Pomeranz (Pom Pom), Jesse Fink and Beabadoobee collaborator Pete Robertson. “’virtual reality’ is a song that tackles many topics. But at its core, it really is about anxiety, routine, boredom, isolation, loneliness, and fear,” she explains. “I think a lot of people have a very unhealthy relationship with technology because it’s never really been restricted enough to consider mental health and overall health, and that has fucked so many people up, now more than ever. Ever since I was young, social media has played a major role in my mental wellbeing, and I became so accustomed to it, it became a part of my routine and it came before everything else. The moment I wake up, almost instinctively, I check my phone. Depending on what I see in the morning, basically determines how I’m gonna feel for the rest of the day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. And what’s most ironic about this all is you’re likely going to read this on social media or listen to the song on some sort of electronic device…” [via Dork]

Flock of Dimes has shared the second single from her forthcoming album Head of Roses, out April 2 via Sub Pop. Following recent single, 'Two', 'Price of Blue' is another standout from Wasner’s second solo LP, an album that showcases her ability to embrace new levels of vulnerability, honesty and openness, combined with the self-assuredness that comes with a decade-plus career as a songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and prolific collaborator. It comes accompanied by an unearthly new video filmed in black and white, co-directed by Wasner with Graham Tolbert. Wasner says: “This song is about trying, and failing, to connect. It’s about the ways in which, despite our best efforts, we misunderstand each other, and become so attached to stories that we’re unable to see the truth that’s right in front of us. And it’s about the invisible mark that another person can leave on your body, heart and mind long after their absence. It can be difficult to make sense of the memory of your experience when the reality on the surface is always shifting—when the story you’re telling, or the story you’ve been told, unravels, leaving you with a handful of pieces and no idea how they used to fit together.”

Berlin-based indie-soul five-piece, People Club, announce their new EP Take Me Home, which is due May 7 and the band are sharing the title-track and new video. The title track 'Take Me Home' is a song about the realisation of mortality in old age and the cynicism that often plights the elderly after losing their loved ones and being left alone with their regrets. It is accompanied by a music video shot by long standing collaborator, Felix Spitta. Speaking of the process the band say, “Once again we worked with our very talented friend, Felix Spitta, who also shot the video for our last single Francine.  We basically spent a day fooling around at his house with a smoke machine and an old tape TV camera with a red filter.  The result is hazy and disorientating, just like this year has been so far.”

Introducing MARY., the dreamy alter-ego of musician and songwriter Stef T. The self-produced debut track, ‘Day to Day’, interlaces elements of electro-pop and R&B with a voice that enchants, along with an official video filmed, edited and directed by David Risdon and Charlie Rose Creative. Reading like a page in a diary, ‘Day to Day’ offers a candid and emotionally raw glance at being overlooked as a woman in a man’s world. She is put together, glamorous and poised on the outside, but on the inside she is simmering like a pot ready to boil over, fed-up and on the brink of snapping. Speaking of the track, Stef T explains, “’Day to Day’ is a reflection on what it is to be a woman in a role where you are always unseen; constantly giving yet never receiving. As woman, we are often undervalued for our day to day work in all aspects - as mothers, in relationships, in our careers; having to push extra hard to get the basic recognition and thanks that we are entitled to. This song is a commentary of a large part of my life where I settled, sacrificed and worked, only to be used and taken for granted. It is about learning to survive a toxic relationship, discover your own individual worth again and reclaim the power that you gave away to someone else. Producing this song myself is the only thing that made sense in context with the intention of MARY. as a project. She is an entirely self made, independent woman, who does it all and doesn't need a man to confirm that she's doing a good job. This is something I have personally struggled with, so I created the MARY. persona to feel more empowered in my storytelling as an artist, in an industry without a large visible number of female-identifying producers.”

Los Angeles based dream pop trio Tashaki Miyaki have just released a single and video of the title song from their forthcoming second album, Castaway, which will be released on April 23 via Metropolis Records. Singer, drummer and producer Paige Stark states that the song “is about the challenges of romantic love and how we are all bad at it in one way or another. The idea of a castaway in all this is that no one understands the relationship except the people in it, so you really are stuck on an island alone together there. Maybe you make it back to the mainland, or maybe you stay on the island.” Stark also shot the Sofia Coppola-inspired video on film, adding: "I wanted to tap into all the feelings that can come up in love relationships: anger, sadness, loneliness, vulnerability, stillness, joy, romance, longing. The actress in it has a beautifully expressive face and I've known her for a long time. I knew we would be able to create those moments together. I wanted it to feel like the camera was her lover, capturing her in various private moments, moods and feelings.”

With her Vanilla Shell EP celebrating its one-year anniversary last month, Danish-Chilean composer Molina is back with another abbreviated record in the form of the new single 'Cold,' featuring vocalist Jonas Bjerre, arriving with a pair of B-sides. The brief collection of songs continues her simultaneous journey inward toward the roots of Chilean music and outward into her own unique vision of the future. The project lands with a video for the A-side, which dreams up bizarre fantasy iconography in the tradition of Grimes and Björk to complement her subdued take on these artists’ out-there recordings. Blending ambiguous electronic sounds with the familiar drone of cello and Bjerre’s backing vocals, the track’s distinct persona may have more in common with the experimental soundscapes of artists like Jenny Hval or Julia Holter. [via Flood]

Maisie Peters has debuted her brand new single, ‘John Hughes Movie’. Described as the first single from her soon to be announced debut album, it’s a song about unrequited love, inspired by the legendary film producer and his classic coming-of-age teen comedies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. The track comes alongside a video co-written by Maisie and director Louis Bhose (Loyle Carner, Arlo Parks, Lewis Capaldi). Maisie explains: “I wrote ‘John Hughes Movie’ when I was 17 about a house party that I had gone to. It’s a really honest depiction of being a hopeless, melodramatic teenager, being awkward and drunk and getting your heart broken by people you don’t even remember anymore. John Hughes films encapsulate that foolish romantic energy of high school and everything that I, a small town English wannabe Molly Ringwald wanted to be, but was not.” [via Dork]

Chloe x Halle have shared the music video for their song 'Ungodly Hour.' The video was debuted on Wedneday night's episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and shows the Bailey sisters going underwater for a sci-fi-style visual filled with choreography and elaborate adventures at the bottom of the ocean. Watch the Alfred Marroquín-directed video above. [via The FADER]

South London's Josie Man has returned with sentimental new single 'Cuts & Bruise', marking her first release of 2021. 'Cuts & Bruises' follows October 2020's 'Grow' single, and is accompanied by a Andrea Mae-directed video that shows couples enjoying tender moments, including Josie Man and her boyfriend. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Jessie Ware has shared a new short film for her song 'Remember Where You Are'. Her album What's Your Pleasure? arrived last year, a disco-fuelled missile that presented some much-needed good vibes amid lockdown. The songwriter returns to the record for her song 'Remember Where You Are', a soulful and uplifting slice of UK songwriting. There's now a full video for the song and it's steered by BAFTA winning director Dominic Savage. Starring British actress Gemma Arterton, it opens on Valentine's Day and finds the star wandering through deserted London streets. A glimpse of hope and renewal, it taps into the growing feeling that this time, lockdown might be coming to a permanent end. "It was a real pleasure to collaborate with Jessie and Gemma on this short film that is inspired by Jessie Ware’s beautiful music. It was also inspired by the real feeling that was felt when we filmed in the deserted streets of eerily strange lockdown London on a Saturday night/Sunday morning,” Dominic said. “The feelings and emotions in the film are a true reflection of what that felt like, and what this time invokes. Sadness, nostalgia, pain and defiance. But when we climbed Primrose Hill and the sun started to rise above the city, there was real hope and joy for a future that will surely be ours. Listening to Jessie’s music. There is no doubt of that." Jessie adds... "This song has always meant a lot to me and I was determined for other people to hear it and for it to be single. I am so touched by how many people have embraced this song, particularly when it's one of your favourite actresses and an acclaimed film director. Working with Gemma, Dominic and their team has been an absolute joy. To have them realise my song with a beautiful ode to London and the longing for human touch and interaction couldn't be more of a compliment. It's a truly cherished piece of work." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has shared her new single and video 'CURLED IN' ahead of the release of her second EP ANTIHERO on April 16, both via Nettwerk Records. 'CURLED IN' presents all her best qualities at its outset. From the track’s rip-roaring, slicing guitar to her perfectly forceful, omnipresent vocals, 'CURLED IN' is a pure cathartic release. "Tear me apart, just tear me apart," she all but demands: "I've never seen wrong be done right." She's fulfilling her simplest needs, and it's freeing. "It's a bit of a twist for me to be a masochist." As a survivor of abuse, these words' unafraid power is all too apparent and an engaging statement to hear expressed.

Following the release of eclectic and impressive debut singles 'ASOS,' 'Right Time,' and 'Papercut,' rising left-of-center pop singer and songwriter Dava returns with a fresh and bold new single 'New Ceilings' available now via Sony Music's Disruptor Records. The moody anti-pop record was co-written by Dava and Mike Adubato (Del Water Gap, Grace VanderWaal) who also produced the track, and is the latest off the Los Angeles-based musician's forthcoming debut EP, Sticky, due out later this year. On the inspiration behind her new single, Dava shares, "This song was written about survival and staying true to yourself. I was having a hard time financially after moving to LA and my phone was shut off while on my way to this session. I was upset with myself for prioritizing music when I really needed the money from driving Uber to stay afloat." She continues, "The day I wrote 'New Ceilings' I was angry and I wanted a song that felt empowering and validated all the work I had put in up to that point. I ended up choosing different songs for my project but when I revisited this one year later, I felt it needed to be heard because of how authentically it embodies my struggle."

London-based Fifi Rong, a multi-talented avant-pop songstress, has shared the video for her stunning single, ‘Another Me’. Directed by Rok Pat, the video for ‘Another Me’ is stylistically simplistic, as Fifi Rong uses her own body as a medium of art, painting herself and inviting the simple imagery of waterside reeds and plants. A tranquil mysticism embraces the single as Fifi Rong acts as a gentle siren, luring the unsuspecting in yet known the inevitable outcome of the relationship. Speaking of the concept behind the single and video, Fifi Rong tells us: “In any doomed romance, timing is always mysteriously wrong. This is my first full CGI music video and it visually portrays the elusive nature of the character surrounding the key message: 'you won't find another me'. The undertone of the song displays a sense of pride and confidence in the character’s melancholy. Dressed in nothing but petals, I wanted my character to symbolise purity, nature, truthfulness, vulnerability and the divine feminine form. Acting as a rotating statue, I wanted to mark the passing of time and seasons as if a unique and lonely piece of art on display.”

[grandpasessions]

'There was nothing left for us here, everyone I knew felt reluctantly guilty for feeling lost, as if being lost was hesitantly, but most definitively, part of who they were.' 'The atomization had gone further than anyone ever thought it would, our own identities had fragmented into various abstractions of consumption; brands, shops, sexualities, traits, habits, software stacks, video games, TV series, cinematic universes, foreign food, reading lists, alternative spiritualities, ironic adherence to tradition, theological LARPing, this is what remained, ashes of reality scattered into the simulacrum for us to pick and choose from. Every morsel of personality and ego had become tethered to a commodifiable life-choice. I no longer knew any-one, only assemblages of pithy statements, purchases, and vices; what was anyone except a culmination of their hedonistic desires and shallowly pronounced social virtues?' 'Once your understanding has been replaced everything else falters rather sharply; meaning in general collapses and everything is transferred into a system of third-party checking, as opposed to personal investigation and belief. Nothing felt as if it were ever mine, nor as if I'd ever earned it, and that's because what was earned was backed by nothing.' '... It just did not stop, not for a moment; the clearest symptom of modernity is that all time was to be filled, and it didn't matter what filled it, as long as there was continual noise, static to be utilized as ignorance of [a] cosmic predicament.' 'Can it be considered sleepwalking if it encapsulates one's entire life? If one is asleep for the entire [e.d], then that quickly becomes one's reality.' 'The reason people purchased things relied on another abstract reason ad infinitum; the reason people did anything likewise relied on the will of another, rarely did one witness a man take it upon himself to act, buy or say something which arose from his wellspring of authenticity, there was always something else controlling his strings. And that's what modernity is, a material labyrinth of puppet-masters who are all interconnected and cordial, a multiplicity of effects trying to hide their causes, because once you get to the cause you can start to question it, until that moment of apprehension, anything you attempt to grasp immediately disappears. At all turns, man is left with another turn.' 'There is a difference between knowledge and understanding and the academy laps up the former without paying a moment's notice to the latter. To understand something is to take one's time, it is to draw its breath, and potentially act in accordance; the academy is bodies without souls, vessels to be filled, and upgraded. Graduate, post-graduate, and lecturer are beings of their own kind, molded by the suffocating atmosphere of strict interpretation. How can one talk of interpretation if there is only one?' 'I could not stand the paths I needed to take to supposedly acquire that which I desired, what I desired among all things, or so I believe at the time, was to gain an understanding of the world which allowed contentment, a teleology towards a personal peace. ... into the heart of familiarity I desired to go.' 'To think for oneself had become increasingly difficult, every structure and institution since birth had been constructed in such a way as to covertly remove all personal responsibility for individuals, and from there had since set up a monopoly where a heart and vision once laid.' 'The plan was a form of neo-asceticism, strip it all back; throw it back in their faces by way of refusal.' 'And therefore those who took interest were these [weird, odd, strange, peculiar] things also, and as such, status did the rest; eventually, all that came of the academy was an acceptance of those alike those accepting, dry, strained, professional and meek; I could call it a racket, but that would be too exciting, for its reality was one of a waiting room, the texts I once loved became cheap magazines strewn over its floor whilst I waited for my bureaucratically monitored acceptability rating.' '... one should only laugh at those who proclaim that truth is on the side of misery, for what can misery be but only understood as a solely human affair; the cosmos doesn't understand misery as much as we don't understand the passions of a boulder. To align misery, suffering, and decay with an abstract bleaker-than-thou truth is to make the same anthropocentric errors as those which you proclaim to hate. Many, myself included, wish there was more horror, for at least then there would be interest in the world.' 'To betray the pro-herd is to revere the anti-herd.' 'What the herd yearns for is not a life, but a pen. Who could blame them? With a pen comes purpose, something easy to moan about. Lyotard was right in Libidinal Economy when he declared that the working-class desire their subjugation - 'the English unemployed did not become workers to survive, they - hand me tight and spit on me - enjoyed the hysterical, masochistic, whatever exhaustion it was of hanging on in the mines, in the foundaries, in the factories, in hell, they enjoyed it, enjoyed the mad destruction of their organic body which was indeed imposed upon them, they enjoyed the decomposition of their personal identity. ... man finds his meaning in the collective in the very same way he finds meaning in masochism, by perpetually perusing his mandatory service, he seeks a greater and greater denial of his desire and potential. Yet, even if he were to go looking for it he'd be too scared to confront it.' 'This is what is comforting about the collective for your common drone, the ongoing, incessant, and indulgent whining and moaning, the oh-so-cumbersome depressions and anxieties brought about by the most minor of stresses and tensions, the adherence to a blank slate of tranquility and extravagance a priori. Lo-and-behold the user finds a shit-smeared socius, bulging at the seams with repressions, constraints, containments, rules, laws, taxes, usury, masters, cutbacks, limitations, diminutions, and attentuations, all of which are gorged upon by willing individuals, not in moments of begrudging compliance, but as purpose, as meaning.' 'I had no connection to nature, to family, to tradition, to root or stem, I was -- as all are now -- my own personal atom of modern ecstasy, economics, and envy. You could state with ease that this was some form of nihilism personal to me, or my immediate surroundings, except it wasn't, that's not how nihilism works. Nihilism is behind it all, there is the gloss of objects and apparel and the illusion of the subject. ... If there is such a thing as nihilism it's so indiscernible from the actions of the average modern man that it eventually begs no division of definition.' 'Where everyone was headed was precisely nowhere, but this too was an empty truism that helped precisely no one.' 'Also, one must cast off all material pleasures, a feat easily achieved for it feels like a virtue, but one must too cast off all material sufferings, the ones they most enjoy, depression, anxiety, malaise, melancholy and despair, those sufferings which are so indulged in on an almost constant basis, so much so that they covertly become pleasures; there's little meaning for modern man other than a common depression; Oh, the suffering! Oh, the despair! Oh spare me your shivers and whines and submit your body to all that is chthonic.' 'I found nothing that could offer me suffering, let alone relief or contentment.' 'I had burned through life's most basic settings at the rate of modern man in overdrive; I wanted more of the more. This had left me feeling alienated and lonely and listless. People who want something have a direction, those who have lost something do too, any cessation can give man meaning rather quickly, but what about an apathetic cessation of apathy brought about by apathy?'

The Methodology of Possession // James Ellis

[blerdstatic]

Microsoft Surface Headphones Review: 1st vs 2nd gen, and why they're great to Work-from-Home or anywhere.

So you're on the market for some new gear, and in your search you stumbled upon Microsoft's Surface Headphones, but you're not ready to make the plunge until you get some more research under your belt, right?

I don't blame you. The right head candy can be an expense these days, but hopefully this short and concise review can help!

Let me start by acknowledging that sound and music are more personal in nature, and everyone has their natural preferences. I happen to dig all kinds of music from musical soundtracks and trap to neo-soul and hip-hop. That aside...

Let's begin!

How much do Microsoft Surface Headphones cost?

Surface Headphones (1st gen) - $139.89 on Amazon

Surface Headphones 2 (2nd gen) - $250 from Microsoft Store

What's the difference between them visually?

To be honest, not much has visually changed at first glance. The design was pretty slick the first time around, and was well received. Even as I rode the subway or walked through the aisles of the grocery store, you could tell people admired the unique modern look. It's simple and clean just like the original.

The first gen headphones are grey/off-white while the second gen are charcoal black. They are beautiful shades, however it does make me wish for more colors. It would kind of be a good look if Microsoft offered four more colors that matched the colors of their logo (red, yellow, blue, green). But, I understand the safer play as opposed to going bold.

So what are some key differences that stood out?

Buttons: The 1st gen headphones had buttons that were almost flush with the cup, which was annoying. There were plenty times where I had to search frantically for the power button. The second gen fixes that by making the buttons pronounced.

Ear-cup Size: The size/diameter of the 2nd gen earcups are definitely larger, which is welcome because I have Will Smith ears. But not only that, it makes for an over all cozier feel.

Earcup Swivel: The Surface Headphones 2 earcups can spin around almost 360, which is great because I have more ability to wear them comfortably around my neck! I'm glad they fixed it this time around.

Multi-Bluetooth Connection: I was easily able to set up multi-bluetooth connections to my various devices, including the Android Pixel4a and Pro7. It was amazing to listen to music or video on my phone, then continue right where I left off on the Pro7.

Grease: One other thing to note...don't touch the black Surface Headphones with greasy hands, it shows much more than if you did with the white 1st gens. That's a user issue though, not a hardware one.

How do they feel once you pick them up?

Without a doubt, the difference is night and day. The 2nd gen headphones are more weighty, and for me that's a great thing. I honestly don't like my hardware/electronics to feel too light, because it makes me think there's not much going on inside to produce a quality experience.

Once I picked up the Surface Headphones 2, then picked up the Surface Headphones (1st gen), I was properly excited to listen. The extra weight provided a sense of anticipation that there would be more UMPH, in terms of low, mids, highs and bass tones.

Setup Time?

It took literally less than 5 minutes to open and pair the headphones to begin listening to music. It was quick, easy, and intuitive for me. I enabled blue-tooth on my phone, then powered on the headphones. Found the name of the headphones from my phone's blue-tooth list, and followed the onscreen/audio instructions, and boom I was setup.

Now if it's someone older or unfamiliar with blue-tooth devices, they might need some help going into their blue-tooth settings, etc.

What about the Sound?

I preferred the sound of the Surface Headphones 2 over the 1st gen. During my test I played all kinds of music at a 95% volume (almost on max...yes mom, I know it's not good for my ears).

One of my main gripes on Surface Headphones (1st gen) was that on higher volumes, and listening to music with more bass, it started to sound like 'rattling', as if the headphones could not handle the true sound.

The Surface Headphones 2 fixed that issue completely. I listened to all sorts of bass heavy music and not a single time did I hear rattling.

The treble is also more solid this time around, and truly shines when listening to slower soundtrack or classical music.

I would say that I'm highly satisfied with the sound on both fronts. And if you're curious here are some of the songs I listened to on both Surface 1st gen and Surface 2nd gen.

And here's the rest of the list in case you're curious or want some new jams:

Story of OJ - JayZ

Cyberpunk 2077 - Pacific Dreams Radio Playlist

Father Figure - Tobe Nwigwe

Will (Remix) - Joyner Lucas & Will Smith

O-o-h Child - The Five Stairsteps

This Land - from Lion King original album

Black Panther - Ludwig Goransson

Break You Off - The Roots

All the Stars - Kendrick Lamar & SZA

Nothing Without You - Tanerelle

Adonai - Sarkodie

Be Here in the Morning - Joy Denalane

Noise Cancellation and Ambient Amplification:

The noise cancellation is solid. With no music playing and maxed out ambient filter on, I couldn't even hear myself snapping fingers next to my head, or my wife talking to me in her normal voice (which is occasionally kind of loud - no shade).

The noise cancellation was great on SurfaceMulti (1st gen) but it's now even better with the 2nd gen, especially when drowning out annoying sounds when walking outside (such as people, cars, trains).

I also love the ambient amplification feature, that's easy to use by dialing up the level on the left ear cup. I use that regularly if I'm listening to music, but want to also know if someone says something to me directly. Or the other day, when I was in the grocery store and walked up to the cashier to checkout, I didn't have to take the headphones off. I was able to up the ambient amplifier to max, and speak with the cashier. Once I finished, I immediately turned my music and noise cancellation back up. It was pretty seamless.

Charging and Battery Life:

Officially the 1st gen gets 13 hours and the 2nd gen gets 18.5. After a full charge, and then turning on the Surface 2, the voice said I had 17 hours left. I typically only listen in 1 - 3 hour spurts at my highest usage, so that pans out to about a whole week almost without needing to recharge.

Overall Verdict:

I'm highly recommending the Surface Headphones 2. For the price point and quality, I feel like the Surface Headphones 2 are your better buy, especially considering how they stack up against similar competitors. I felt like Microsoft paid attention to all the things that actually needed improvement, instead of trying to switch everything up. That impressed me more than anything honestly, how they paid attention to the minute quality of life details. Compared to other headphones I've tried in the same range, excluding the Sony XMs, I'd say these are very well priced and outdo the predecessors as well as the competition. But even compared to Sony XMs, which are prices $100 to $150 more, the sound on the Surface Headphones 2 are definitely comparable. I certainly don't think you'll be saying "I'm really glad I spent that extra $100+ on these Sony XMs".

I would have no problem recommending these to anyone trying to figure out what to spend their next stim check on!

[wychive]

tagged by : @neo-shitty​ (toffee! ilysm hehe)

tagging: @noya-sannnn , @vitriosan , @hwanami , @luthenia and anyone else who wants to participate

slight warning : mentions of food

this is kind of long so it can help you relax if you want to do this!

[ one ] tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

wave // ateez

when jane showed me and fely (she already stanned ateez) the mv i was like :00 this song is really good and it goes with my type of music; pumped up and really fun. i decided that i wanted to stan them because of this introduction video that they did during pirate king where san broke the toy hammer trying to smack yunho’s ass SHHSSIJS,, i found them really funny and comforting! they made me so happy and that’s why they attracted me so much. + their amazing music ofc 

forever // exo

alright so i originally just casually listened to exo from wolf era up till 2017 when the kokobop teasers came out. they looked really pretty and so i watched them up till kkb was released. it’s what baekhyun’s voice in the forever teaser that captured me into stanning them. everything about the exo’s attracted me, their vocals, their dancing and ofc their visuals. bonus: their time on the ‘360 show(??)’! im not sure of the actual name for the programme but it was where yixing kept pronouncing jurassic park wrong pls that was so cute and funny how could you NOT stan them!

[ two ] answer the ten questions given by the previous person and write 10 of your own for the next person!

what’s your favorite season and why?

we only have two types of seasons here but if this includes western seasons, i would pick spring! flowers give me a sense of calmness whenever they start to bloom so being in a season where it’s just different coloured plants all around you? sign me up pls

are you a cat person or a dog person?

im a cat person! i currently have two cats as pets

what’s your current favorite song and why can’t you stop listening to it?

it would probably be fever by ateez! this is because it gives off freedom vibes and i’ve been stressed lately so the song is a little oasis for me

if you had the ability to do either of the following, would you rather change something in the past or see into the future?

i would choose to see into the future so that i could change what i do now, whether its related to me being lazy or me being selfish,, i would like to keep the past the way it is even if i had some scarring moments. it’s nice to look back on those and see how far you’ve come as a person.

what’s your favorite movie?

my favorite movie would either be spirited away or paper towns,, i actually don’t have a favorite movie because all of them have affected my life in different ways so yea :D

what did miss rona ruin for you this 2020?

probably the food fair this year,, my group of best friends were supposed to go there to celebrate jane and another friend’s birthday. the food fair happens yearly so it wasn’t anything big to anyone else, but to us it was something special. there are a lot more things but this was one of the major things she ruined :/

what’s your favorite album? (you can name one for each genre you like or you can just name one, it’s up to you.)

toffee why my top three would be day6’s sunrise, bts’ you never walk alone and lauv’s ~how i’m feeling~

if you could talk to your past self (person who lived your past life), what would you tell them?

“hey, dude, i hope you’re doing okay. stop being so selfish all the time alright? and stop comparing yourself to others, it wouldn’t do you any justice. make sure to spread A LOT of positivity even if no one acknowledges it. its okay to cry sometimes too. is my soulmate doing okay? i hope they are. i’ll make sure to find them in this timeline, and the next. whatever it takes. learn to love yourself.”

do you have a go-to person? who is it?

uh i dont have a go-to person,, i can’t vent or rant without feeling like burdening the other person or spreading negativity to them. instead i just kind of rant to myself on discord.

if you could tell your younger self something, what would you say?

“hey, kiddo. don’t fall in love too much nor fool around. it’ll affect you badly. appreciate the things your parents do for you, okay? don’t take anything for granted. ignore the people who call you names, they don’t matter here in the future. just be you.”

how do you spend your free time?

who or what is your biggest inspiration?

if you were a character in a horror movie, which stereotype do you closely resemble? and why?

your top 3 fanfiction tropes! (can be nsfw)

do you believe in soulmates and why?

painting or sketching and why?

what is on the top of your to-do list right now?

list down the top 3 things that make you happy.

who are you simping for right now?

what is your first core memory?

[ three ]  bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

[ four ] the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot.

personal 

name: [REDACTED], alachi nickname: teja, kai birthday: april 11 zodiac: aries nationality: malaysian languages: english, malay,  learning korean gender: female sexuality: biromantic height: 160 cm / 5"2’ or 5"3’

blog stuff

inspiration for muse: music, other people’s work meaning behind my url: fever (current fav song) + core (aesthetic??) blog established: around 2018 but i started becoming active in late 2019/early 2020 followers: 146  ( i love you all )

favorites

favorite animal/s: anything connected to the cat species  favorite book/s: the authentics (abdi nazemian), satellite (nick lake) favorite color/s: lighter shades/mid-tones of cool colours, a dash of yellow

random

average hours of sleep: 6 cats or dogs: cats coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea current time: 11:34 pm dream trip: south korea, japan, europe dream job: song producer, lyric writer hobbies: listening to music, browsing the internet hogwarts house: ravenclaw last movie watched: harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban last song listened to:  no. of blankets you sleep with: 1 random fact(s): my favourite subjects are biology and english!

[ five ] 10 songs i can’t stop listening to:

eternally - txt

fever - ateez

blue - keshi

lights out - exo

00:00  - bts

strawberries and cigarettes - troye sivan

maze in the mirror - txt

i loved you - day6

 illusion - ateez

 stolen moments - the vamps

[tothedarkdarkseas]

What do you think is the REAL difference between Stu and Murdoc? Is it upbringing, age, personality, or cocktail of things?

I’ve gotta tell you, of all the kind asks you sent (and what a nice thing that was of you to do, thank you, they were fun to ponder!) this is the one I’m like… jittery to answer because there’s just so much to be said. Put under a cut because it ended up kinda stupid-long.

I mean, what has to be determined first is– are Murdoc and Stu that different? I tend to think they’re not, not as much as they are alike. That’s actually what I like best about them and something I usually play to when I can, how much they both resemble a certain stereotype but with their own twist. Many of their differences are a little superficial, like Stu being a bit more geezery with his football and all, and Murdoc being less uptight with his hobbies (be it involving cheeky GTA or a gimp mask.) I joked the other day that the biggest difference between the two is just that Murdoc does uppers and Stu does downers, and that’s pretty much it. I do think on a “deeper” level, like a more innate behavioral level, they’re a lot more similar than they actually realize.

But with all that being said, of course they’re not identical, and there’s a lot that contributes to where exactly they differ. I think that everything you said is absolutely relevant to that!

Let’s start with age and upbringing. The age difference between Murdoc and Stu is actually fairly stark when you just look at the years, but it never feels quite that bad to me because Murdoc and Stu are both so emotionally stunted and immature. There’s a line in Bojack Horseman than I think is incredibly on-point here, about how “the age you are when you get famous is the age you stop growing.” I think for Stu, it absolutely damned him to become famous at around 20, it locked him mentally into an age where he should’ve been learning everything wouldn’t be given to him, and instead it was just… given to him. In excess. If you follow that reasoning Murdoc’s sort of odd though, in that he never actually achieved fame on any major scale until he was in his 30′s. It seems more like Murdoc’s exaggerated sense of self-importance (probably a response to knowing, very much knowing, that he was not in fact something towering and impressive at all, and there’s like… something absurdist in really choosing to think he is. That’s almost the ultimate form of his Humor As A Shield– what could be a bigger joke than not hating himself?! Ha! It’s funny because it’s sad!) set in way before he actually became famous. It’s more like his maturity is stalled at the time he started trying to be famous. Stu didn’t actually try to pursue music at all before, while Murdoc spent a decade absolutely convinced that it had to work and doggedly not accepting when it wasn’t. It feels like these two approaches enabled (or damaged) them in different ways, but both end up with the result of men who don’t act their age for many years and have hedonistic, stereotypically rockstarish ways of living far beyond that of their bandmates. Stu can barely claim he knows better though and is perhaps more… people are gonna yell at me for being so hard on him haha, but more spoiled and therefore more ignorant because he never actually lived a responsible adult life. (Does that mean Stu hasn’t had difficulty in that life? Absolutely not. The man has at least three counts of massive head trauma and was in a coma for an undetermined period of time, he has a permanent physical impairment that likely impacts his vision, I think he’s earned a few perks.) Murdoc on the other hand is very aware of what it was like to be a failure, to be conventionally unemployable, and to have so little to lose that he’d make incredibly stupid decisions that could’ve ended his free life. His indulgence now is frankly more extreme, but Murdoc has an even greater sense of believing he earned that and he owes nothing (whether that’s completely true or not.) 

And that’s just touching on the ends of their “upbringing,” not the actual 18+ years that went into it. It goes without saying that Stu and Murdoc had very different home lives– Rachel and David Pot are suggested to be rather precious with Stu out of some probable guilt for his first head trauma, in complete contrast to Sebastian’s humiliation and neglect– but on top of that, what seems to be glossed over at times is how they grew up in very different regions at very different time periods. I’m far from an authority on this or on anything (as always I really suggest asking @elapsed-spiral if you want better information, don’t let the hiatus thing fool you, Danni’ll still talk about British Shit Innit) but I’m told the British school system Murdoc would’ve endured in the 60s and 70s was unremittingly bleak and damaging to a child’s development. Despite his immaturity and my feelings that their age difference isn’t really so pronounced, Murdoc is older than Stu and unfortunately he experienced a much colder and rougher school environment, and it’s tough to argue that didn’t have an effect. (Though on the flipside, Stu was in school during Section 28, a thing I’m also not an authority on. Go figure a working class and very closeted bisexual man in the 80s might internalize some homophobia! The go-go 80s aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.) It’s not exactly surprising that Murdoc, who grew up on the lowest end of working class, in council housing, in an unglamorous Northern town like Stoke with a neo-fascist brother and a neglectfully-abusive alcoholic father, would come away an emotionally repressed and embittered person. It’s almost a bit bold that Murdoc is as “flamboyant” as he is (even if it comes with a hefty side of toxic masculinity)– he could’ve become hateful in a more stony way, but instead he’s like a giddy-cruel showman out of spite. You can argue that Murdoc’s lack of support system results in him feeling much more unfettered. He has no one to thank for getting him out of that and no one he credits for getting him where is. He very much has the mentality of “I take what I can and do what I want, because the world owes me everything.” And in a way, I can see where that’d come from.

He’s wrong though. Because Stu’s there. And Stu owes Murdoc nothing.

I know I’m really running on here, and I think you probably already have a picture of what I see Stu’s upbringing and childhood as. Rachel Pot is the unsung best character in Gorillaz, Stu was quite coddled by his parents, and Stu admits to being largely unmotivated and rudderless. It’s notable that Stu is in fact also working class but he’s presented like he’s not, I think just as a result of looking a lot better in comparison to Murdoc and us Americans not fully knowing the details of the British class system as compared to ours. (I don’t want to condescend to you anon, you may be British and know all this a lot better than I do. But because I am American, what would be more American than assuming everyone’s American?) I would say Stu’s family places on the higher end of that though (again, council housing for Murdoc, Stu had a garden with what must’ve been a decently big tree for him to fall out of) and isn’t portrayed as struggling in the same way. His job at Norm’s seems more like something he does because he’s not allowed to sit in the house all day, and he likes messing with the keyboards and he likes having spending money because he’s too old for allowance, and girls he’s fooled around with occasionally pop in to his work and bring him a pastry from the Tesco Express she works at and they make out in her car. Stu comes away from Crawley with quite a few “tethers” that disallow him from feeling as “loose” as Murdoc– he has a good relationship with his parents, a handful of mates, probably a handful of girls he wasn’t on bad terms with, at least one who’d end up becoming his girlfriend. So why does he have some of the same “cruel showman” qualities as Murdoc? Why does his entitlement end up looking much the same? That’s all personal interpretation of course, but I’d say it’s because Murdoc drove a car into his face and stole an unspecified amount of time from his life. I’d say because he’s out of his parent’s house for the first time in his life, and he’s going full throttle into being this person now. I’d say that in one night, and many unconscious nights following it, Murdoc smashed that same embittered attitude into the front of Stu’s skull. To be clear, that isn’t writing off Stu’s faults on Murdoc; it isn’t to say Murdoc made him egotistical or promiscuous or immature. But the attitude that you are fucking owed something is really only an attitude they share because Murdoc gave Stu someone to spite where he didn’t have that before.

(I recognize this whole dynamic isn’t for everyone and I do get it, and for what it’s worth I think it’s totally correct to say Murdoc gave Stu all the best things in his life. He just also gave him the worst bits too. The reality is neither would be here without each other, for all the good and bad that implies. It’s true that Stu’s famous because of Murdoc, but it’s also true that Murdoc’s famous because of Stu. What a tangled web!)

I’m sorry, I’m so off the question now, I just love this stuff. So, personality! That’s unquestionably a factor, the answer to the nature vs nurture debate will always be a little bit of both. I think if you tallied up all of Stu and Murdoc’s traits, desires, and behaviors after they’ve been living together a few years, you’d find a longer list in the similarities column than the differences. The environmental influence doesn’t just stop at where you’re raised, I think the environment you live in and the people who inhabit it continue to have an impact on you pretty much throughout life; even if moving to a richer city doesn’t “change” you, it changes the way you look at things, understand things, respond to things. It just inherently does. Still, I recognize that’s my own characterization of them and if you just look at the characters in canon, you’d be hard pressed to say they seem like the same guy. There are things about them that are just innately different, some of it learned through their upbringing and some of it dictated by… the way they’re wired.

Which is a point I’m really hesitant to comment on too much, but– mental health. It probably doesn’t look the same between Stu and Murdoc. There are other blogs who will discuss in more depth their neurodivergent headcanons and I see nothing wrong with that, I don’t really think there is any case that can’t be made, but I’m not especially confident making those cases myself. What I’ll say is that I don’t necessarily read Stu as having any specific learning disorder, because I fear it’s a little… iffy to have so many jokes in canon about him being thick or being slow. I think it really is just that, even prior to the injuries I reckon Stu was “a bit thick.” Head trauma doesn’t help that, though. Lifelong migraines and impaired motor function came about from the brain damage, absolutely, and I do imagine he must’ve suffered some neural response slowing, but his “lower intelligence” I feel a little less comfortable casually ascribing to anything and more to just Stu being Stu. Murdoc is also a case to be careful with, but within phase 3 it seems fair to say Murdoc suffers a psychotic break and is dealing with some delusions. Dangerously, I kind of lean into thinking this isn’t something that “just happened” because of the events of El Mañana and Plastic Beach, and that Murdoc had perhaps needed to be on an anti-psychotic like lithium well before that point. Again, I don’t want to insensitively represent this so I try not to really put such a fine point on things, but… I’m a little inclined to think Murdoc went undiagnosed in his young life and still may be demonstrating some effects of that. So, y’know, make what you will of it, but there’s that.

Sorry I nattered on about this, I do really enjoy examining both characters. Jokes about the drugs and stuff aside, I’ve always felt that the biggest difference between Murdoc and Stu is that Murdoc is adaptable, and Stu is malleable. Where that stems from is probably a combination of all these things. Murdoc knows what he wants and has no loyalties, he’s been without a future, he does what he can to succeed because he’s already done what he can to survive; Stu doesn’t know what he wants and he does have “loyalties,” but he has no sense of purpose, and he’s easily nudged in the direction you need him to go. While he can be stubborn, just like Murdoc, he’s also more sincerely shaped by his experiences even later in life into multiple, sometimes disparate versions of himself– I might even wager that’s why Stu becomes such a contradictory character without any of the contradictions feeling inauthentic. The two of them “being what they need to be” is part of the reason they accomplished as much as they did. But it’s also hard to say that they really “held on” to each other through the years, or if they just melded together in parts.

[holidayblindspot]

Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 2)

The second part of RAnsomedR0gue’s seasonal Reller fic - chapter 1 can be found HERE.

***

The place Weller has picked for dinner is perfect. An upscale but homey vegan restaurant with little private alcoves, hidden seating to shield from curious eyes. She can tell right away that Jane would love it.

Of course Remi tries to hate it, feels the need to be extra resentful after completely giving into his ridiculous spa day, failing to show any semblance of self control. But the whole thing had felt like a waking dream, all frosty and steamy. And in her dreams she lets herself love him, allows him to love her back.

She wishes it hadn’t felt just as good in real life, makes her eye Weller longingly even now. Luckily he’s not looking at her for once, is informing the hostess of their reservation, and she manages to snap herself out of it before he glances back at her.

Get it together, soldier, she tells herself. Orders herself to stop thinking about his thumbs running up her wet back, his mouth touching that sensitive spot behind her ear she hadn’t even known about.

Remi exhales a long breath, forces her mind onto something else, anything else. Even just the merry eco-warrior urbanites with their alternative diets, their pathetic notions that they’re making a real difference by eating chickpeas instead of chicken. If Remi gave a rat’s ass about small time shit like overly cooped up chickens, there would be a lot of poultry farms on fire. Now that would make change, she thinks. Not eating soy cheese.

Goddamned vegan food, she grumbles to herself for the millionth time. Even though she had stopped craving meat ages ago, hasn’t snuck a turkey club since Weller got out of the hospital and started cooking for her. He had even become proficient at making tofu taste good, just another thing to be equally impressed and irritated by.

Stop it, she reminds herself. Pushes to come up with other inconsequential mental snipes at the décor, the hipster staff. But of course all she can think about is how much it suits her with the dim privacy, the artsy noir style art. How Weller much have trekked all around the city searching for the right place to take her because it’s clear he did a thorough job, did not just look at internet photos and reviews.

Remi glances around the restaurant, again trying to shake her faux husband out of her head. It takes her a moment to realize she’s been idly scanning the crowd for danger, searching for the most secure locations, all possible entry and exit points. An old ingrained habit, residue from being blown up, left for dead. Though lately she hasn’t felt the need as strongly, isn’t nearly as tense anymore, so acutely aware of everything.

She still remembers too clearly what it was like after the drone attack that nearly killed her. That feeling that she could be ambushed at anytime, the only warning being a whine just before detonation. The need to protect herself in the most innocuous of circumstances, the fear of every possibility.

It’s the only thing she’s thankful for since she woke up in another life. That her PTSD symptoms aren’t nearly as pronounced, constantly plaguing her. She’s no longer hyper sensitive, too sharp and snappy. Which doesn’t make any sense to her, especially because she’s all alone in hostile territory all the time now, with no allies to help protect her.

Irritably, her mind flashes yet again to Weller at that moment, makes her glance up at him. Remi feels a sad smile touch her lips as she sees that he’s also scanning the restaurant, scrutinizing the patrons and the staff. He reflexively puts his arm around her back as he looks for danger, probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Similarly, he shields her with his body, guarding her from the unknown perils of the other vegan diners, the neo-bohemian servers. Because of course Kurt’s traumatic stress revolves entirely around her, just like the rest of his existence.  

His latent anxiety is making her feel edgy again too. But the fear she faces isn’t equipped with AR-15s, 9 mms. She’s just not looking forward to such a private dinner with Kurt, still can’t stop fucking feeling his hands all over her in the hot tub. It makes her cringe yet again, remembering how she had confided in him, let her real self slip through.

The worst part is he had given her an out, a guiltless way to escape his romantic plans. He would have even blamed it all on himself, somehow found fault in everything he did. But she hadn’t been able to lie to him, which was completely out of character for her. Worse yet, had then doubled down by grabbing onto him fiercely, letting him drown her in love.

Remi chastises herself again for being weak, susceptible to his charm. Is just telling herself that she’s going to re-establish her front lines at dinner when Weller slips his hand into hers, squeezes reassuringly.

“Ready?” he murmurs into her ear, so close his breath tickles.

No, she thinks. She’s not ready at all. Hasn’t the willpower to even harm him, much less kill him.

Remi nods, lets him tug her through to their hidden booth, in a back nook with good sightlines and egress routes. It’s both incredibly secure and charming, she has to fight hard not to love it. Even when she notices the cozy layout of the side-by-side seating.

They settle in and order drinks from their server, then it’s quiet between them for a moment as Remi pretends to look at the menu and Kurt does another quick glance around the place

She thinks how he’s so clueless about the danger he’s in, that she could easily murder him anytime. Yet he spends his days worrying about everyone else, her especially.

Case in point, he’s just done observing the entire restaurant and still feels tense beside her despite the fact there’s nothing even remotely threatening about their environment.

“Do you think something’s going on with our server?” Kurt asks, wearing his investigative frown.

Their server hadn’t said anything other than the usual season’s greetings, told them about drink specials. Nor had she seemed anything other than an average artsy vegan waitress, probably just another overworked wannabe actress.

“No, Kurt,” Remi sighs. “I think you’re being paranoid.”

Weller grunts his dissatisfaction with her answer, shakes his head thoughtfully.

“She seems tense,” he mutters.

This coming from the tensest man in the world, she thinks wryly.

“I’m sure everything’s fine Kurt,” Remi replies. “It’s not up to you to protect everyone.”

Kurt exhales irritably, like he disapproves of the mere concept. But he lets it go for the moment, turns to her and looks at her, his brow furrowed.

“No, just you,” he states, his blue eyes suddenly sad. “And I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

Remi turns towards him and frowns, finds that she’s somehow taken his hand in hers, is grasping it reassuringly.

“Kurt,” she groans. “It’s Christmas and I’m right here. Cheer up. Everything’s going to be fine, remember? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?”

She wins a rueful grin for that, feels that warmth in her chest again. Can’t help but grip his fingers even tighter, rub the base of his thumb with hers. Sometimes it’s impossible to deny that she wants to protect him too. Which then makes her do mental gymnastics afterwards to sort out why  

Sitting there though, she suddenly intuits the truth, it all snaps together.

Weller makes her feel safe. The overbearing protectiveness, so tight that it chafes, has an effect other than irritating the shit out of her.

Remi freezes at her revelation, shudders as the icy cold truth drips down the back of her neck. It makes no goddamned sense that knowingly sleeping with the enemy has somehow resolved most of her PTSD. She tries to tell herself it was the ZIP, that the drug was used experimentally as a cure for the disorder. But she knows that ZIP’s effectiveness in treating PTSD was highly questionable. And she can’t deny that Weller’s presence makes her feel secure, reminds her that he is always looking out for her.

Kurt pulls his hand free from hers, runs it up her back until he gets to the base of her neck, pauses there to rub her bare skin gently, as if to prove the point.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “You are right here. I shouldn’t waste that.”

The tone of his voice tells her what’s coming next, yet she doesn’t resist in the slightest as he pulls her into a kiss that starts out wistful and sweet, then deepens with urgency until they’re awkwardly interrupted by the waitress returning with drinks.

Remi pulls back, glad the darkness of their table hides the flush she can feel on her face. Weller’s wearing a look of irritated amusement, the blue of his eyes twinkling vividly despite the dim lighting.

“Well, that never changes,” he comments with a wry laugh.

She finds herself smirking too, a wisp of another life breaking through the barrier. It’s the strangest feeling, to be smiling and not really know why. Like Jane’s memories are there, shimmering in her subconscious. Not clearly enough to see, just enough to make her feel.

Like right now, this shared moment of annoyed amusement with Weller. An in joke she’s not in on.

Usually Remi clamps down on these glimmers of Jane, but tonight she’s all out of resistance. She has to admit that Kurt has played it well, has sapped her of any fight. So she laughs with him easily for once, even finds herself initiating a little footsy action while they order.

While they wait for their food they continue their back booth make out session for awhile then talk about Bethany’s visit the next day, which Remi can’t help but be excited for. Unexpectedly she likes Weller’s daughter, finds her little toddler grumpy Weller-face hilariously cute. And it’s hard to hate a kid that fucking adores you the way Bee adores Jane. Especially when you missed out on the life of your own kid, still regret it to this day.

Weller himself looks beyond excited about actually having his daughter for Christmas day, his eyes beaming, his body language all joyful anticipation. Of course he’s an attentive committed father, full of patience and love.

Like you knew he’d be, she thinks to herself, another distant echo.

It’s as if the walls have thinned with a day of snow dust, fairy lights. She feels the line between her and Jane flexing, dissolving. Usually it would fill her with anxiety, self-questioning. But Remi’s starting to think she can let herself off for Christmas.

Dinner floats by, Weller making her laugh a ridiculous amount of times with his laments about having selected Rich as his post-Christmas Secret Santa recipient, his absurd present ideas for the abnormally grating reformed dark web hacker. Which then leads to Remi confessing that Patterson told her Rich had fixed the draw and selected Jane as his present recipient, of course.

“But we picked names from a hat!” Weller exclaims, shaking his head in exasperation. “How can he rig something like that?”

Remi shrugs in shared mystified annoyance.

“It’s Rich,” she replies. “Everything about him is impossible.”

When their server comes back to ask about dessert they’ve moved on groaning about what Rich might be planning on getting her, the way he always tries to get a rise out of her. Weller glances at the dessert menu for a nanosecond before ordering the double chocolate lava cake, looks disappointed in her when she chooses something much less extravagant.

The waitress leaves with their orders, Kurt’s eyes following her as she stops at the bar to enter it into the system. Remi wonders what he sees, why he’s been half-watching her all evening. If she was less sure of his absolute devotion she would think he was interested. But she knows him well enough to read the protectiveness in his body language. He intuits there’s something wrong, that she needs help. Which is Weller’s way usually, an instinct that is annoyingly right most of the time.

Remi mostly thinks he’s being paranoid, somehow wants to self-sabotage Christmas because he’s so anxious about getting it right. But then again Weller does have some sort of spidey sense for people that need of protection.

She sighs, hopes he will just let it go and eat his ridiculous dessert. Kisses him on the edge of his forehead and tells him to not worry so much as she gets up, finds her way to the restroom.

She’s on her way back to their table when Remi hears the unmistakable sound of a gun shot coming from just out back of the restaurant. When Weller doesn’t come running through to check on the situation she sprints for their table, fear leaping into her mind as she remembers he had taken his weapon off while they were making out earlier.

She’s not surprised that Weller isn’t at their booth but she does swear and panic at the sight of his holster and gun, still wedged into the seating. He never forgets to take his weapon anywhere.

Remi tucks the gun into her pants, draws her own and runs for the back door

***

Weller smiles to himself, the feeling of Jane’s lips still warm against his temple as he watches her walk off towards the restrooms. The spa had been a winning idea after all, she’d been loose and expressive throughout dinner. This time It’s him that has the problem, the inescapable curse of worrying about everything, always being on guard. Especially since Jane’s been sick, he’s hyper aware of any possible danger, feels the need to protect her at all times.

Which is rationally ridiculous, because she’s tougher and more capable than he is despite the ZIP poisoning. And she hates it, is always sighing at him, telling him not to worry so much.

He can’t help it though, needs to be sure. It’s why he cased vegan restaurants all around the city before finding this one, both secure and private. Good entry and exit points, no one to stare at Jane except for him.

But despite the prime setting Kurt’s still been on high alert all night, has the worst feeling creeping at his neck about their server’s tight body language, her distracted glances around. He’s been trying to tell himself that Jane’s right, that he’s just reading too much into things, his anxiety setting off false positives.

Still, Kurt watches as their waitress walks down the hallway towards the back door of the restaurant with a bag of garbage and doesn’t immediately return. Feels his spine tingle with nervous anticipation.

Probably just going for a smoke break too, Weller thinks to himself. Though she hadn’t smelled like a smoker and he hadn’t seen her go out back previously that night.

The gears whirr in his head, his well-honed gut instinct fitting things together. The layout of the restaurant, how he’d seen a couple kissing in the alley just outside the back door when he’d come to look at the place a few weeks ago, the similarities between their server and the woman he’d seen. Now that he thinks about it, he’s fairly certain it’s the same person, just much tighter in her shoulders, a different energy to her.

It is most likely that he’s being paranoid, working himself up about nothing. But when he waits five more minutes and the waitress still hasn’t come back down the hall, Kurt can’t help but get up and go investigate.

Weller heads towards the back exit, hopes he’s about to run into his quarry and have to make some awkward excuse for following her down a dark hallway. But he doesn’t see her anywhere, opens the back door and is peering out when he hears the unmistakable sound of a strangled scream from across the alleyway.

Kurt bolts out the door, sees their waitress being choked against a concrete wall by a huge man with a gun. There’s a utility van with its back doors open nearby as well and it’s clear that the man is trying to abduct her.

“Freeze, FBI!” Weller hollers, reaching for his service weapon.

He’s halfway through the action when he realizes his mistake. He’d taken it off because it kept getting in his way while he was kissing Jane.

He’s going to die because he couldn’t help being handsy with his wife.

The man turns slowly and Kurt is already halfway there, launching himself into a flying tackle.

The element of surprise saves his life and Weller manages to knock the other man’s gun hand aside as he fires a shot. The bullet somehow skims across his collarbone instead of penetrating his chest cavity. Burns a bloody line along his chest as they hit the ground and Kurt slams the gun out of his assailant’s hand.

By that time the other man has read the situation and starts to use his size advantage to turn and pin Weller to the ground, hammer at his head with a giant fist. Kurt takes two hard hits to the temple, feels his skull crushed between the man’s knuckles and the rough concrete. Blood starts to drip down his face as he struggles to get free, just manages to knee the other guy in the crotch and slip out from under his weight.

Weller stumbles two steps towards the abandoned gun before he’s tackled from behind and tumbles hard to the ground. His attacker manages to get up before he does and viciously kicks him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot, then again in the head so hard Kurt almost passes out. He struggles to remain conscious, feels the foot connect again with his torso, directly in the sternum. Weller struggles for breath, tries to roll away when he sees the sole of the boot coming down at him and braces himself for having his teeth smashed in.

Jane is going to be really upset with him for dying on Christmas Eve, his half conscious mind thinks as the foot approaches his head. But then just as the rubber is about to touch his face, Weller hears a gunshot, feels a spray of blood that isn’t his own, sees his assailant fall to the ground clutching at his side.

Jane runs over, secures the perp with zip ties before kneeling down beside him and looking him over frantically.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” Jane exclaims. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” he grunts, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“You don’t look okay,” she replies, her green eyes dark with concern. “Your head is bleeding pretty badly. And your chest too, it looks like.”

She puts her hand on his jaw, lifts his head so she can assess his pupils and frowns at what she sees. He can tell she’s about to say that he’s concussed, that he needs to go to the hospital.

“I’m fine, Jane,” Weller groans, attempting a pre-emptive strike. The last thing he wants to do is spend Christmas Eve in the ER. They were meant to spend the rest of the night playing tourist in their own city, walk around to all the holiday displays, admire the festive lights.

“You call it in and see if our waitress is okay,” he adds. “I just need to clean up a bit.”

She’s still looking at him worriedly, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone.

“An ambulance and NYPD are already on their way,” she says. “And the waitress is fine, she’s the one that called 911. She’s inside with the manager now, everything’s being dealt with.”

Weller breathes a sigh of relief, scrubs his sleeve over the blood dripping down his face then winces at the sting of the cut. He brings his hand up again to probe at the injury but Jane catches it and puts it back down at his side before reaching her own hand up to tenderly wipe away the blood with a napkin, examine the cut.

“You’re going to need stitches,” she comments as she applies pressure to the wound, tries to stop the bleeding.

Kurt sighs, thinks it’s unlikely he’s going to win this argument. Jane’s too stubborn and is probably right. His head is still bleeding profusely and the pain in his temple has steadily increased to the point of being debilitating. So he’s probably going to end up in the hospital despite his annoyance with the circumstances, knowing that he’s managed to screw up yet another Christmas for Jane.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at her sadly.

Jane tilts her head and looks at him, her eyes twinkling with exasperation.

“You’re sorry you saved our waitress’s life?” she asks. “I still can’t believe you were right. Or that you forgot your gun.”

“I was distracted,” Weller declares with a groan. “That was so stupid. This is all my fault.”

“Hmm. Yeah, your fault for caring too much about everyone,” she replies, shaking her head at him. “Although I think it’s at least half my fault you weren’t wearing your holster.”

Kurt grins sheepishly, tilts his head towards her and then grunts at the pain of the movement, the nausea that washes through him.

Jane’s eyes emit alarm as he scurries away to vomit, heaves over and over until his ribs are screaming with the same intensity as his head.

Shit, you really screwed this up, he tells himself. Great worry free Christmas you’re giving your sick wife.

As if to prove his point, he feels Jane’s arms encircle him from behind, one hand on his bloody collarbone, the other rubbing his back gently. It feels incredible despite all the pain and he lets her soothe his hurt away even though he feels pathetic about allowing it.

“How bad is it?” she asks, her tone sadly stern, her breath soft against his ear. “The truth.”

Weller closes his eyes to push away another wave of vertigo, feels each shaky breath brush harshly against his broken ribs. His headache intensifies as he tries to resist puking again and for a moment all he can do is hug himself and softly moan.

“That’s pretty bad,” Jane states, answering her own question.

She’s still draped lightly over his back, her breath warm against his neck. He can hear the worry in her voice, the slightly tearful inflection. Knows she’s trying to hold it back so he doesn’t feel bad about upsetting her, which just makes him feel worse about it all.

It helps a bit when their waitress comes out to tearfully thank him, tells them how she had just left her husband and he’d started threatening her a few days ago, saying how he couldn’t spend Christmas alone. But she’d never expected that things would go so far, that he would threaten to kill them both.

The woman is extremely grateful, apologizes over and over while Weller tries to deflect her gratitude, tell her that he was just doing his job. Because all he can think about is how incredibly idiotic it was to forget his weapon, that he deserves everything he got as a result of such a basic error.

Eventually she tells them that their meal is paid for, that the owner of the restaurant wants to invite them back for another free dinner so they get a chance to finish their date. Of course Weller tries to tell her it’s not necessary and then shakes his head too vigorously, feels his body fill with nausea yet again.

Jane lets go of him so he can scurry away far enough to dry heave and groan with some dignity. When he’s finally done retching a few minutes later, the seeping cold of shock is starting to set in between his shoulders and Kurt begins to tremble uncontrollably in his soggy and bloody clothes.

Thankfully Jane must have seen him shivering and realized what he needed because she comes rushing over with his jacket, some towels, and a blanket. She sits behind him again and cuts his soggy shirt off with a pair of scissors, then wipes him dry with a towel before gently dressing him in his jacket. Next, she drapes the blanket over his shoulders and around his shaking torso, wraps her arms around his chest and starts to rub her hands up and down his arm while breathing hot air against the nape of his neck.  

“So are you going to let me take you to the hospital?” she asks, as if he could really deny her anything. Even if he wasn’t in a world of hurt, definitely needs medical attention.

Weller nods ruefully, then gasps as the throbbing in his temple becomes even more unrelenting.

It’s like Jane can feel what’s going on in his body, leans him back and cradles his head against her chest, rubs soothingly at the pain with her thumbs.

“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, her lips tickly against the back of his head. “And an idiot.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees. “Your idiot.”

“Yeah,” Jane replies. “My heroic idiot. That was pretty incredible, Kurt.”

He allows himself a half grin, despite still feeling like he’s messed things up yet again. Jane doesn’t seem to be annoyed at his stupidity, is just worried that he’s covered in blood and in a significant amount of pain. Which isn’t ideal, definitely not the perfect holiday he’d planned. But he can tell she’s proud of him as she nuzzles her nose into the nape of his neck, holds him to her as firmly as she can without hurting his sore chest.

“Well, I have a lot of catching up to do,” he declares. “You’re incredible all the time.”

He feels her smile against his skin, then kiss him on the top of his head.

“Shut up, Kurt,” she murmurs with a laugh. “You’re delirious.”

But he doesn’t follow orders, continues to lean against her and go on about all the ways in which he adores her. Because it makes her smile and sigh, makes him forget about the pounding in his head, the difficulty of breathing, until he finally hears multiple vehicles with sirens pull up in the alleyway.

The EMTs unload and ask him too many questions as Jane helps him lie down gently on the stretcher and they quickly load him into the back of the ambulance. The sudden movement of the gurney makes his vision swim again and he barely manages to keep from retching as they secure him for transport.

Thankfully Jane clambers in after him and sees that he’s struggling, grabs his hand and squeezes, then and skims her other palm over his chest lightly.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “They’re going to give you something for the pain, it should make you comfortable until we’re at the hospital. So try and rest, Kurt. I’m here, you’re safe.”

It’s what he’s meant to be doing for her, keeping her safe, protecting his wife.

But then again he married Jane, deadly compassionate, always more worried about everyone else than herself, even with a fatal illness. Capable of anything, including saving his life on Christmas Eve, soothing him to sleep in a sea of hurt.

[hope-spiel]

@more-than-a-princess​ [previous]

Ever since he’d woken up, Nagito had been what Sonia considered to be a silent patient. All of their friends who had been trapped within their comas, their minds damaged by the murders and executions from the simulation, seemed to be recovering in different ways. Some of them wanted to keep busy with their former talents, in the case of Teruteru and Tsumiki. Others looked for solace elsewhere, different distractions or simply the need to talk. To plead for forgiveness or just feel like they weren’t alone in the world.

But whenever she was assigned to look after Nagito in the island’s hospital, he seemed to be different: quiet, reflective, accepting her help as far as she could tell and nothing more. For days, Sonia bit her tongue and left him be. Now that all of her friends had woken up, she wanted to speak to them all and if it wasn’t painful, to ask them what they remembered of the simulation and perhaps even before it. So many painful memories and sometimes, the former princess couldn’t tell what had really happened and what her imagination had conjured up to torture her with.

Under Tsumiki’s instruction, Sonia quietly entered Nagito’s hospital room, his various medicines, a glass of water, and a bowl of rice porridge on her tray. It had been both the former chef and nurse’s joint decision, alongside Hajime’s, that Nagito wasn’t ready for the more complicated dishes Teruteru now created in order not to face his own grief. “I have your lunch, Nagito, and your afternoon pills,” She announced, her smile as bright as she could muster while still appearing genuine. Setting down the tray on his bedside table, her gaze flickered to the back of his head. It was likely he didn’t even notice her enter at all: with a beautiful day outside, his window shades and the window itself had been opened to let in the sea breeze and give him a full view of what transpired on the island below. Stepping closer to the open window for a better look, Sonia followed his line of sight to spy Hajime below,   working hard to repair another cabin with Fuyuhiko’s help while sharing his thoughts on the various machinery left behind on the island with Kazuichi, and the possibility of building better modes of transport, a boat perhaps, to ferry them all around much more easily.

“He really is wonderful, isn’t he?” She commented, turning back to Nagito with a softer, gentler smile. Sonia knew exceptional leadership when she saw it and without Hajime’s, none of them would have survived this far. Everyone owed him their lives and yet she still struggled with how she could ever sufficiently repay him or even show him her thanks. “If you’d like him to come visit, I’d be happy to ask him for you. As long as you eat and take your medicine first. I’m under strict orders to insist upon that.”

Watching Hinata, Komaeda was never more aware of the confusion in his memory. Hinata--that was the name everybody had opted to call him, rather than his other moniker, Kamukura. He was both, Komaeda remembered him explaining. Both... That just complicated things further. So many things were ‘both’. Coming to Hope’s Peak, ending up on Jabberwock Island, the killing game, dying-- No. Coming to Hope’s Peak, watching his classmates grow, then watching them fall, the Tragedy, Kamukura, years spent in a world of despair-- then Jabberwock Island, Hinata, the Neo World Simulation. If he worked through it rationally, he could figure it out. But the steps to the conclusion seemed so easily lost, as if he had to reestablish them every single time the thought came up. He was told this was to be expected.

But it didn’t stop him from feeling strangely lost whenever Hinata displayed such unwavering prowess, whenever Kamukura smiled...--

‘He really is wonderful, isn’t he?’

Komaeda straightened abruptly, turning to the sound of Sonia’s voice. His look of surprise quickly turned sheepish. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

At the glimpse of something new, his sight fell to the tray at his table. His breakfast. Was it breakfast? Porridge again, how unlucky... It would be nice to finally have something else once he could better convince his body to remember how to eat properly. Beside the food sat his medication in a tiny translucent cup. He knew he’d been told what each pill was for, but he just couldn’t remember what was said. It wasn’t as if he mistrusted what he was being given, but he would have liked to understand regardless, if only for the sake of his curiosity. He felt it better not to ask though--had the sneaking suspicion he’d already done so.

One had to be for his headaches, he deduced; that problem was clear enough on his mind. Perhaps another sought to combat his incessant fatigue? After spending so long asleep, one wouldn’t have thought he would be so deprived of energy. Surely it was because of his frequent need for naps that he couldn’t keep track of the days. He really didn’t like getting that question wrong. He knew he was being disappointing. Kamukura-- Hinata and Tsumiki assured him this was all within reasonable expectations, that he had been in a coma for the longest, so his symptoms would be more pronounced. That he was improving. But Komaeda knew if his body weren’t so useless, he would have been able to recover much more quickly. Even so, all he could do was...

(‘Do our best!’)

Komaeda’s gaze returned to Sonia, as if only just registering her present words, the bargain for compliance. A placating smile lighted his face.

“Don’t worry; I’ll do as you say. But... You don’t need to call Hinata-kun in to visit me. With all of his talents, he’s been so very busy. I couldn’t think to interrupt him just for my sake. Besides...I wouldn’t want him to get tired of me, if he somehow hasn’t already. It’s bad enough that he has to check in on my condition. You and Tsumiki-san, too... Having me on observation must be such a nuisance.”